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bloodinwine · 1 year ago

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Bloodpop

Story Summary: It's Astarion's birthday and you made him a rather sweet surprise Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav ; Astarion x Reader

Warnings: 18+. Smut; Dirty Talk, Hair Pulling, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex

Word count: 2524 words

A03

Master List

It’s Astarion’s birthday….well, one year anyway since he reclaimed his own destiny and rejected Ascension for a life of his own. A life with you.

You spent weeks coming up with the perfect gift idea and even longer making it.

It is near sundown, about the time he would be up. You’d adjusted to his schedule easily enough, but your excitement has you awake before him and you couldn’t keep it to yourself a second longer.

“Astarion.”

You run a hand down his arm.

His eyes flutter open and he reaches for your wrist. He closes his eyes again and pulls your hand to his lips. He kisses your wrist, your palm, your fingers in sleepy, slow movements.

A year together and the way he touches you still has you spellbound. More so, now that you’ve grown closer in love.

“My star,” you whisper. “I have something for you.”

“Mmm. Please say it’s you.” He breathes deep, his eyes still closed. He was always difficult to wake up. But he doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he parts his mouth slightly and slides your finger in.

You feel his wet tongue press up against your skin. You watch as his lips purse lazily around your finger and he guides your wrist until they reach the hilt. The sight of him sucking on your digit sends a hot shiver through you.

You try to focus on the task at hand, which is to give him his godsdamn birthday present, but then…maybe a surprise would be better.

You pull your finger back from his mouth slowly and wet the bottom of his lip with his own spit. You relish in the way it makes his mouth sheen.

“Keep your eyes closed then, love,” you instruct.

His throat bobs from his low purr of approval.

You reach into your pocket with your dry hand and remove a small candy on a stick.

You peel the wrapper away with your teeth.

You put your thumb to his lips, prompting them to part.

He doesn’t question it. He trusts you.

“You look beautiful, my love,” you coo. You enjoy the way his pointed ears twitch at his favorite words.

“Are you ready for your present?” You ask.

He nods, with your thumb in his mouth, the corner of it creeps upward into a languid, half-grin.

Whatever is happening to him, he likes it.

You put the lollipop in your mouth first, to wet it for him. Its taste is coppery, metallic, with a tinge of sweetness. It’s sticky. It’s you. A bloodpop.

“Happy Birthday, sugar.” You put the now-slick treat to his mouth, in place of your thumb.

You relish the moment his tongue touches the candy. His eyes shoot wide with surprise.

He’s fully awake now.

He blinks, then pulls the stick from his mouth, resulting in a delicious pop of his lips. He stares at the candy, as red and round as his eyes.

He looks back at you. He’s shocked.

“You didn’t.”

You laugh.

“I sure did.”

He draws the sweet back in his mouth, sucking greedily, the stick fixed tight to the edge already stained pink. His eyes flutter with pleasure.

“ Delicious .” He nearly moans between his suckling.

Something about the taste of your blood springs him to life. He stirs upright, the silken sheet slipping to his waist. The hard lines that lead to his pelvis peek above the hem. He’s bare and beautiful and it has you licking your own lips.

You can still taste your blood on them.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” you say, but it sounds more aggressive than you intended. You can’t help it.

Your greedy hand grips at the sheet, you want to pull it down.

You want to see more.

Astarion’s eyes narrow at your clutching. They travel up your arm until his lashes lift and his eyes fix on yours. All the while, he works that godsdamn candy in his mouth in a manner so carnal that you’re almost jealous of it. He pulls it away slowly, the shell of it teasing his lip.

“Come here,” he says.

At his command, heat pools between your thighs. You can’t resist. You crawl across the width of the bed, cool air brushing your backside as your little nightgown hitches up past your thighs.

“Stop,” he rasps, as you come within reach.

You oblige.

He bends low, his mouth nearing as if he might kiss you and you really hope he will.

His lips are just a breath from yours, you can smell your own blood on them.

“Turn around.”

You don’t listen this time.

“Astarion.” His name comes out as a whine. You try to close the gap between you.

He pulls back, ever so slightly, and the distance deepens your hunger.

“Oh, my darling,” he sighs. “It’s my birthday, remember? Do as I say.”

You can’t deny his first birthday wish.

Your face heats as you turn and settle on all fours. You’re all too aware of your half-exposed backside, but suddenly it doesn’t feel cold anymore.

“Good girl.”

Your knees almost buckle under his praise.

Then it’s quiet for a moment. Too quiet.

All you hear is the sound of his sucking on your bloodpop followed by a rustling of the sheets. You feel the bed dip as he moves.

Without warning, you feel his cool fingers trace up the back of your thigh and slip beneath the hem of your gown. His touch trails over your naked rear until it settles onto the small of your back. The movement forces the end of your dress up to hang around your stomach, revealing you fully.

“Such a pretty present,” he hums approvingly. You can hear his teeth click on the shell of the candy, as if he’s contemplating on what to do with you next. The sound sends a shudder through you. You’re not sure how long you can hold yourself up.

A depraved part of you wishes you could see his face taking in the view of your slick core.

“I can see there’s more to unwrap.” His hand leaves your back and cards through your hair, until he has it firm within his grasp.

“My star, I—” Before you can finish your plea, he pushes your head down against the soft silks. You’re forced to drop to your forearms and lift your posterior higher; it slaps against him and you feel the hard shape of his cock tease against your folds.

You groan with frustration. You try to bring yourself up to your hands, starved for more contact, but he still has you by the hair. You’re pinned to the bed, his other hand steadies you by the waist.

“Oh my love, don’t you know?” His murmurs are slippery around the candy. “Presents are meant to be savored, to be opened slowly .”

As desirous as you feel, your body melts under his words. You know he won’t leave you hungry.

He untangles himself from your hair, and even as he frees you, you remain still. Eager to please him.

His hand presses more firmly down the nape of your neck and along the arch of your spine, leaving a hot trail in its wake despite his cool touch. It feathers over your ass, then he squeezes hard.

Your breath hitches.

“Unravel for me, love,” he beckons. His knee slides between your legs and nudges them apart.

You do as he says, but your eyes sting from how painful your need is.

“My, my,” he pauses to slurp, “what a pretty, pink ribbon.”

Your body quivers from just how lewd his words make you feel.

You hear the wet sup of his lips as he plucks the bloodpop from his mouth.

Your brain is hazy with want and when his tongue rakes wide along your engorged clit, you clutch at the silks as a desperate sound escapes you. There’s a burst of relief that devolves into a ravenous thirst for more when he pulls away.

Your hips buck to meet him once again, but his grip catches you around the waist and he flips you on your back. Your body bounces lightly. You gasp with surprise but you’re immediately silenced by the sight of him kneeling upright between your legs, drawing them up and wide apart. His hand, clutching the bloodpop, is settled on your knee to keep him steady and it dawns on you that he’s just as desperate as you are.

His lips are stained a bright red, almost the same shade as his eyes. Your gaze travels along the lines of his chest, to the sharp angles that direct you to his throbbing erection. His cock is so hard and swollen, it almost looks painful.

Your mouth waters at the sight and when you meet his eyes they tell you everything you need to know.

He’s about to lose it too.

You sit up to reach for him.

He holds you by the wrist, as if to keep you at bay, but his clutch feels unsteady.

You want to taste him so badly, you can’t help yourself. You know he wanted you to be compliant, but you were never good at following the rules. You press a desperate kiss to the sex line by his hip as your fingers reach to tease the tip of his cock. It’s wet with precum and you spread it gently over his aching head.

Astarion’s body trembles and his head is thrown back as he groans. You let out a laugh, a hot huff against his skin, now wet from your kisses. You savor watching him come apart, there’s little else that satisfies you more.

“Look at me, please ,” you ask. You ask very nicely.

He staggers at your request when he brings his gaze down. His hand rakes through your hair as your kisses become more urgent and sloppy. You’re practically slurping at him, staring into his eyes as you do. He looks drunk, seeing how thirsty you are. Your own need is so ripe, you’re half tempted to reach down and touch yourself, but you’ve waited this long.

“I want to lick your cock. Please, can I?”

You might be the one begging, but you thrill at his wordless surrender when he nods his head.

“Thank you.” You smile up at him and he nearly sways at your appreciation.

He’s so beautiful.

It takes the edge off your hot desire when your tongue runs from the tip of his cock up to the base. He pushes back your hair and you crane your neck so he can see more of you. So you can see him. You taste the hint of his salty precum and you lick and preen at him for more. He smells of brushed sage and sweat and your own spittle. You lap at him as greedily as he did your bloodpop, but you refrain from pursing your lips around him fully.

His grip tightens and you can sense his composure crumbling.

You hear him whine.

You love that sound.

You pull away. “What’s wrong, my star?” you ask, playing dumb.

You are relentless.

“I want—” He chokes out. His eyes flutter before they draw wide. A small laugh escapes him, seemingly surprised by his own petition. He looks down at you.

You tilt your head, questioning.

He takes a steadying breath when he lifts his hand to put the bloodpop back in his mouth. He hasn’t forgotten it. The lust in his eyes narrows sharply to something more animalistic with the hint of your blood in his mouth.

You’re yanked back by the hair and your neck is turned upward to him. The aggressive shift sends a note of pleasure through you as you bite back a moan. His hand caresses your bare throat and his eyes narrow on your neck vein. His hold settles firmly onto your collarbone and shoulder until he has you fixed. Then in one swift motion, he lays you down on a slope of pillows and your head grazes the headboard.

You barely register the speed in which he’s moved you when his cock, drenched in your spit, buries straight into your aching core all the way down to the hilt.

Your hips buck on instinct, your needy clit aching for more friction, and you let out a moan so loud and obscene that he can barely drown it out with his own mouth as it crashes against yours. His tongue laps hungrily at yours and you can think of nothing else but the way he tastes as he slams into you hard, again and again, in long, even strokes. He growls in your mouth and the sound has you thrusting your hips up to meet him with the same speed.

You feel your orgasm rising, clawing its way towards release. Tears leak from your eyes from pure rapture and your heart swells with how much you fucking love this man.

His mouth rips away from you and you cry out his name in mourning. You’re almost scared he’s going to stop.

But he doesn’t let you go, and he’s still driving into you. Your view of him is hazy from how fucked-out your brain is and the tears in your eyes, but you covet the way his cock plunges in and out of you, and how your wetness has him lathered and drenched all the way up to the root.

You hear him chuckle darkly between his panting. “You like what you see, darling?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper.

Astarion half smiles from the way he has you crumbling. Any second now you’re going to…

He brings up the bloodpop and drags it hard across the path of your swollen clit. You nearly scream from the new sensation, but when Astarion brings the candy, now dripping from your wetness up to his mouth, it’s the way he sucks at it that has you break. Your thighs clamp around him and your orgasm has you babbling incoherently as it rips through you. Your vision spins out, you see stars.

Astarion pulls out of you and brings himself up to thrust his cock in your inviting mouth. You feel him hit the back of your throat and your mouth pools with his spend. Your core stirs again from the predacious moan that leaves him when he comes.

He withdraws from you slowly, your lips pursing tight to suck and clean him off properly. He sighs with pleasure and collapses back, landing on his elbows. The both of you are completely spent and take a moment to drink in the sight of each other.

“Happy birthday, my star,” you pant as you lick away the remaining spend on your lips. It’s only the start of the day for you two, but you’re not sure if you’ll have much energy for anything else.

Astarion chuckles and bites down on the candy, a final satisfying crunch. His eyes are blissed out, half-lidded from the afterglow and he smiles at you with bloodied lips.

He looks happy .

“Thank you for my gift, love. I won’t forget it.”

#smut #astarion smut #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #ao3 fanfic #astarion love #astarion x tav #one shot #fluff and smut

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daylighted · 23 days ago

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ㅤㅤ ㅤa birthday like this ─ dean winchester.

baby sister!winchester oc & dean winchester, called bug. or, the only one to remember her big brother's birthday.

not a series! exists purely for writing ideas i get that cannot fit an x reader plotline. dean is 22, bug is 6. bug will gradually age in each possible coming part.

warnings. pure fluff! dean's birthday has the baby fever so high. there's, like, background angst, but it's nothing too bad<3

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dean winchester decided that morning that he was not celebrating his birthday today. it'd been an idea long in the inner workings of his brain, mostly because there was no reason to celebrate it, on his end.

sam was away on a high school trip. john wouldn't be home for weeks, dean figured, so he signed the return slip in his place to at least grant his little brother that simple sense of normalcy. and bug was only starting to figure out that she was a person, let alone know what days were important compared to other days.

john was notorious for forgetting birthdays. he'd had a little girl when dean was sixteen and brought her home and seemed to forget that she even existed, most of the time.

the idea was cemented the morning of january 24th, when he woke up to his cellphone ringing on the bedside table next to him. for a moment, he really thought that his dad was calling to tell him happy birthday. for a moment, he was almost struck speechless.

but all john said on the other side of the line was a location, and a general debriefing of a case, before not-so-politely telling him to get on it.

dean was not disappointed, because he hadn't been expecting anything. but he was irritated. it was a prime example of the fact that he was only at home right now because someone needed to watch over bug, and it certainly wasn't going to be her father, who slipped away at the first chance he got. conveniently, dean was not told what to do with bug, so long as he took his father's orders and got shit done.

he slipped out of bed, a hand ruffling through his sleep mussed mop. through his gapped door, he could already hear bug singing to herself, and the sound of something getting scribbled on. of course he was set to have to clean crayon off of the walls on his birthday.

he changes out of his pajamas quickly and into a variation of his everyday wardrobe, and sighs heavily as he pushes open his bedroom door, bracing himself for the worst.

to dean's surprise, there was no mess. just a little girl sitting at the small kitchen table, hair more mussed than his was, still wearing the cowboy hat pajamas she loved so dearly. a piece of paper was in front of her, one that was being utterly decimated by the scribbles of a red crayon.

"hey, baby bug," dean sighs, his lips pulling into a tight smile, "hate to interrupt your riveting morning, but dad's got us goin' on the road tonight."

"on the road?" she asks, her head tilting to the side. still, her eyes don't leave the paper, her eyebrows furrowed as she focuses so heavily on the scribblings.

dean huffs out a laugh. "tell me about it."

bug is quiet for a second, the only sound in the room being the rough etches of her crayon against the paper. he realizes very quickly that if he wants to be in the car and to georgia before sundown, he's going to have to take matters into his own hands and get his baby sister moving.

his footsteps echo on the hardwood of the apartment's floor as he approaches, clapping his hands together a couple of times to gather bug's attention. his arms slip under hers as he yanks her out of the dinning chair. bug's fist crumples her paper to grab it as she's yanked, already stringing out unintelligible noises that he assumes are little kid curses.

"i know, i know," he says, tucking her to his chest with one arm as he carries her into what was once her and sam's shared room, but has now become hers alone. "but i wanna beat the sunset, and we can't do that if we're coloring all day."

bug's head tilts again. she looks so much like dean, sometimes. she's only his sister half-biologically, but there's so much of him and sam in her that he forgets it often. sam's little smile when she's amused, dean's nose scrunch when she's pissy. her nose is extremely scrunched up right now.

"can i bring my picture?" she asks as he rifles through the mess that was her room. at one point, a low point, he got tired of being her primary caregiver and let it get to this point. toys everywhere, sam's clothes littering the floor, her clothes in his dressers, her favorite dresses in her toy box...

he'd clean it up eventually, he promises himself every day. but rarely did he get time for himself or time at all to try, and most nights anyways, he had bug in his bed, an arm secured around her. there was no way he was going to run the risk of nearly losing her like he had with sam so long ago, when she was too little to know that possibility even existed.

dean helps her get properly dressed, running a brush through the tangly knots of her hair, before he answers. "promise not to color all over baby?"

the smile in the mirror's reflection was often the one thing that kept him from losing his mind. no, bug was not something he asked for, especially not to play father over her, but he could never be mad at her for that. "i promise."

"then sure," he says with a little shrug, grabbing a little sparkly ponytail from the top of the dresser and looping it through her hair, "only bring like, six colors, though. so we know if you lost 'em."

"my favorite ones?"

dean shrugs again, giving her ponytail a little tug before leaning down to scoop her up again. "you bring your favorite ones, i'll make sure we don't leave 'em anywhere, yeah? extra special crayon patrol duty."

packing for these on-the-spot trips had become routine at this point. bug had gotten used to it, too, by now, even unceremoniously declaring herself on snack duty, which meant dean was eating strawberry banana puffs and sipping apple juice for the duration of the drive. he handled the scarier stuff; the weapons, the toiletries, and diapers, before she'd grown up and no longer needed them.

it gives him pause for a second, when he's loading her into her carseat in the back, at how big she's gotten. does their dad even know that bug is nearly at his waist now? that she can argue dean in circles?

he doubts it. their dad didn't even remember his oldest's birthday, after all.

dean studies the map and the route while bug scribbles more in the background, still humming to herself. he's certain it's a baby medley of metallica songs, as certain as he is that this trip is going to take past sunset, regardless.

he scrubs a hand over his face and tries, really tries, to keep the irritation at a minimum. it was never bug's fault, but he wished sometimes that he didn't have to drag her into all of this, and so young, too.

the drive is strenuous; back roads melting into back roads, driving through small towns of people who also don't know it's his birthday. at least they have an excuse.

"dean!" bug screeches over the rock music, and when he glances in the rearview mirror, he meets her bright-eyed expression. "blue or purple?"

dean's mouth scrunches up as he thinks, an expression that bug mimics in the reflection back at him. his heart warms. "both."

"i can't do that!"

dean scoffs. "baby bug, you can do anything. you could make the freakin' sky green, if y'wanted."

he's guessing at this point, unsure of what she was even coloring back there. he hadn't gotten a glance at it back in the apartment, and definitely couldn't see anything but a mass of blurry colors from the rearview mirror.

"there is no sky." said as if dean was supposed to know the inner workings of his baby sister's brain. "it is a flower."

"blue petals, purple petals. easy."

one more glance in the mirror, and he watches as bug's expression shifts in realization. catches the start of an approving nod. of course he knew what he was talking about; who did anyone think taught her how to color within the lines?

it's always peaceful, somehow, on these long drives. bug keeps him company, which he actually appreciates. the silence might have ruined him if he kept subjecting himself to it. he remembers a time when she used to wake up from every car nap wailing, and he'd have to pull over and soothe her to sleep or handfeed her strawberry banana puffs. now, she was pretty much a little human, and he still couldn't believe it.

not his daughter, but he loved her like one, he thought. dean only wished that their father did, too.

the diner he pulls into is a little rundown, but he knows from experience that these are the best ones. hole in the walls of small towns that don't get the luxury of keeping them secret. he finds them all.

it's not even ten seconds after they're seated that bug cuts in, interrupting the waitress's rehearsed lines. "it's his birthday."

dean actually falters, stuttering over the stern words about politeness and whatever else you're supposed to teach to kids to not let them turn into his father.

the waitress's eyebrows raise, a little smile curling on her mouth. "that so?" she taps her pen on the pad of paper in her fingers before she looks over at dean. he doesn't like this. there was some sort of communication in that look on her face and on bug's that he was not getting. "want a milkshake?"

"no," dean starts, his lips pulled tight, his throat tight, everything a bit more intense now, for some reason, couldn't understand why.

at the same time, bug says, "yes."

the waitress winks and stalks off before he can do a thing about it. "baby bug." his voice is stern, but not as stern as he wants it to be.

bug sits up straighter in her seat, tilting her chin up in a way that indicated he was about to have his ass handed to him. "why don't you want a milkshake?"

the truth was that he didn't want a birthday, but he couldn't explain his pessimism to a toddler, so he says, "because big kids want something stronger than milkshakes."

"two milkshakes?"

his eyes close for a second. alcohol is probably not a good thing to teach toddlers about, either. "i didn't even think you knew today was my birthday," he says instead, nudging her little hand over the tabletop.

a look of pure befuddlement crosses over bug's expression. "i know birthdays."

the picture that she'd been working on all day makes an appearance on the table. he knew she'd been clutching something in her hand when he carried her into the diner, but hadn't been very focused on what she was doing. it'd been a long day, long drive. it was probably a crayon she'd lose and they'd have to come back in for before they continued driving. extra special crayon patrol duty and all.

it's edges are crumpled from her little fist gripping it so tightly, and the fold of it is jagged, but there in front of him is a card. the front of it is entirely made up of red hearts, only little bits of white paper peeking between them.

dean's eyes flick between her and the card a couple of times, his jaw loosing and closing and opening again. "you've been making this for me? all day?"

"it is very special." bug adjusts on her side of the booth, balanced on her knees as she leans across to the center of the table to open it. "look."

on one side is a giant purple and blue flower. purple petals scattered between blue petals, and a clear mix of blue and purple for the stem, layered atop each other. on the other side, in big letters, some backwards, some uppercase and some lowercase, is happy birthday dean!!!!!

dean feels a little like a baby himself, with the way his breath hitches. he can't cry over a birthday card. how pathetic would that make him?

"the back is not done." she slides the card closer to dean, urging him to take it, nose scrunching up in that familiar contempt. "you said we have to come n' eat."

dean takes it from her, flipping it over to see what had her so twisted up. his eyes actually do well up, then, at the sight of a big stick figure drawn in blue and purple, and a littler one next to it, holding its hand, in blue, purple, and pink. the dress on the littler one, as she said, was not done. neither was the green sky.

"thank you," he says, his voice a little more breathless than he wanted it to be, a lot more choked up than he expected. "m'gonna keep this forever, y'know."

bug doesn't even look fazed at the fact that he was damn near crying over a handmade birthday card. in fact, she looks downright smug, wearing sam's dimpled smile. "y'better. i worked really hard."

"yeah, baby bug. it shows."

the waitress slides a milkshake in front of dean, and a littler one in front of bug. then she turns without another word to go to the back of house again. dean's a little too raw to care that they hadn't even ordered yet, plucking the cherry off the top of the whipped cream and chewing on it to keep from thinking too hard.

bug's chugged half of her milkshake by the time the waitress comes back, a slice of pie on a little plate with a lit candle in its center. "it's not much, but..." she trails off, glancing between bug and dean with a little smile, "i figured this was a very big deal."

bug nods furiously, still not having stopped drinking her pink milkshake. the sugar rush was going to be impossible when they reached the hotel, but with how light dean was feeling, he might end up jumping on the bed with her.

"make a wish!" bug huffs, her little leg kicking out at dean's knee beneath the table.

dean stares down at the cherry pie, the whipped cream hiding the candle's base in it's foam. what did you wish for when things never tended to go right?

in his pocket, dean's phone buzzes. he blinks once, blinks twice, before answering. "sam?"

"hey!" sam's voice is like a soothing distraction to the ache in his chest. he figured the field trip would take up most of sam's attention, hadn't been expecting any sort of phone call or word from him until he came home. he'd had a lifetime of doubts that kept him from believing that anyone could consider him. "happy birthday, dean."

his heart falters in his chest again. dean smiles before he can stop himself. "thanks, sammy," he says, his voice still rough on the edges, "wanna talk to bug?"

bug's already reaching across the table to steal the phone, and as she does, dean considers the candlelit pie again. he listens to sam's muffled voice from the other side of the booth, and bug's excited recounting of her birthday card making, and he knows what to wish for.

another birthday like this, dean thinks, as the flame dissipates into smoke.

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notes, cried writing this thank u for asking. this was one of those shower ideas that wouldn't go away, so... wrote it! anything for my birthday baby.

tags. @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @florchids @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous

#──★ dahlia's jrnl #sibling!reader #baby sibling!reader #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester drabble #supernatural #spn #supernatural one shot #spn one shot #supernatural drabble #spn drabble #happy birthday dean winchester!#i don't remember who made this divider #but if u know #pls let a girl know

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httpiastri · 2 months ago

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PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER SIX (BARCELONA & SPIELBERG)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, the usual.

word count: 6.8k

warnings: more heartbreak 😭 sorry but it has to get real bad before it gets good again

author's note: aaaaa thank you all for your patience!! december 7th is officially pepe day now. <3 im kinda mean to pepe here tho, but i also did one good thing which... if you notice what i mean when i say i gave him what he deserves, lmk and i'll give your head a little pat. okay anyways, hope you enjoy :) (also!! i feel like this isn't my best work but i am so so excited to write the silverstone chapter!! stay tuned for that for way more action (and heartbreak)!!!)

series masterlist

BARCELONA

returning to racing after a break always comes with a mix of emotions; anticipation, nerves, and the trace of hope that lingers in the air. this time is no different.

qualifying went great – another session in the top ten meant a good starting point for both races, a result that left the whole team buzzing with optimism for their home weekend.

but the real headline of the day wasn't about you; it belonged to someone else. the boy who had earned his first pole position in f2.

paul.

even though he was the on average fastest qualifier last season, he didn't grab a single pole – but now, he's finally done it. and when you close your eyes, you can still see the way his face lit up with a grin as he got out of his car and celebrated with his team.

it's well past sundown by now, but the paddock is still buzzing with anticipation for the weekend when it's finally time for you to go back to the hotel. having said goodbye to all remaining staff members, you pick up your backpack from the floor and make your way to the door of the truck. right then, your phone buzzes with a text – a congratulatory one from your father, happy with your results for once.

well, as happy as "congrats, good job today" can be interpreted.

with your eyes stuck on the screen of your phone, trying to figure out an answer, you don't even notice that you're about to walk right into someone as you exit the truck. thankfully, the other person does notice, placing their hands on your upper arms to keep you from stumbling into them. you almost consider not looking up, too embarrassed to want to acknowledge that this incident even occurred, but then you recognize the voice. "in a rush somewhere?"

your gaze snaps up instantly, meeting a pair of baby blue eyes slightly covered by a fringe of gorgeous, blonde curls.

right. the hitech truck is parked right next to the campos one this weekend. you already knew this was bound to cause some awkwardness.

"no, i'm not, sorry-" you shake your head to stop your rambling, instead taking a deep breath. "congrats on your pole position."

paul smiles at that – a very gentle one, but still one you recognize to be sincere. "it's pretty great, isn't it?" he asks, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "i mean, i still have to make good use of it, but..."

"i'm sure you will."

a few moments of silence follow. it's not too awkward per se; after everything that's happened between you both recently, you feel a lot more comfortable and safe around him after monaco. but then again, the last time you spoke was in the middle of the night, when you were dizzy and weird and possibly drunk, with your boyfriend sleeping just a few feet away with no idea of what was going on.

when you try to speak again, paul speaks up, too. "i really should-"

"could you wait here for just a moment?"

you really should go – a picture of ollie pops up in your head, and you suddenly feel an urge to check that his promise ring is still wrapped around your finger – but something in you tells you to nod. paul drops into the hitech truck again, leaving you to wait outside for a few moments, before re-appearing in front of you with a little box covered in wrapping paper in his hands.

"i know your birthday was the other week, so," he starts, holding out the present to you. "happy birthday."

for a couple of seconds, you don't say anything and don't move even an inch, just blinking down at the box in his hands. "are you serious?"

"you don't have to take it," he adds at that, suddenly a little insecure after seeing your reaction. "i just thought... i don't know, i'm-"

"stop, of course i want it," you intervene, shaking your head slightly as you finally take the box in your hands. it's heavier than you'd expected; you wouldn't have been surprised if it had been just a box filled with air, some kind of prank, but this box definitely has some kind of content. when you remove the wrapper, you're left with just a classic, black jewelry box. "paul..."

"i bought it for your birthday last year, but... you know that stuff happened." he shifts a little in his place, hands moving back to his front pockets. "since we're kind of friends again, i wanted you to have it. i have no use for it anyway."

as you slide off the lid, you almost lose your breath there and then. inside the box lies a golden chain, with a little heart pendant hanging from it – engraved with your initials.

"are you serious?" you ask, but you don't wait for the answer before stepping forward, engulfing him in a big hug. paul hesitates for a moment, and it makes you freeze. was it too much too soon? too big of a reaction for just a gift he would've thrown away otherwise? but then, you feel his arms wrap around your waist, and you can relax again. "thank you so much. it's gorgeous."

"you don't have to wear it if you don't want to," he says as you pull apart from the hug, but you shake your head.

"of course i'll wear it. i probably won't ever take it off."

but despite how happy you are that he not only remembered your birthday but made an effort to bring this to you, there's one thought that just won't leave your mind.

why did he keep it all this time, when he could've thrown it away or sold it?

"don't be too hard on yourself," you say, walking over to where pepe sits on the couch in the campos truck. your hand instinctively reaches down to his hair, messing up his dark fringe. "you did well, and you're going to do even better tomorrow. i have no doubts."

the spaniard merely groans, arms crossing over his chest as he slouches down even further in his seat. "i wanted to do better in front of my home crowd, you know?" he asks, shaking his head. "last year i won, and... i just wanted to give them as big of a show."

"you still can," you tell him as you slip onto the couch right next to him. "you have all race tomorrow."

your teammate rolls his eyes at this, but you see the hint of a smile on his lips. "you're just optimistic because you did well..."

"well, finishing in fifth after starting in fourth isn't the best i've done. but points are points."

"still, you- wait, is that a new necklace?" he asks, eyes darting to the pendant hanging around your neck. "let me see it!"

you're just about to swat his hand away when he reaches for it, feeling your cheeks heat up – from bashfulness or guilt, you're not sure – but you stop yourself in the last second. "it's a birthday present."

"from who?"

your answer doesn't come out as confident as you had hoped. "my mum."

he gazes up at you, an eyebrow raised. "you don't have to lie, you know," he says before looking down at the necklace again. "it's really sweet that ollie would buy you something like this."

ollie?

you can't help but look down in your lap at the mention of your boyfriend, your eyes already prickling with unshed tears. definitely guilt this time. pepe notices instantly, as he always does, and reaches over to place a hand on your arm. he doesn't say anything, knowing that you'll explain if you want to. "it's not from ollie…"

the confusion grows even stronger in the poor spaniard, frown so deep the lines in his forehead might go permanent.

"ollie gave me a ring. a promise ring, even…"

"a promise ring?" pepe asks, a gentle smile on his lips. "so things are really getting serious between you two? where is it?"

it hasn't occurred to you before this moment that the ring isn't actually on your finger right now.

you've been taking it off for most sessions – and whenever you work out, do the dishes, shower, sleep… really any chance you get. not because you don't like the ring; it truly is beautiful, but something about it feels off.

maybe it's the fact that it feels like he gave it to you just to trap you with him. it's a thought you've been trying to shake off since the moment he slid it onto your finger; the piece of jewelry should only be bringing you good feelings. why else would someone give a promise ring, if not to vow their unwavering commitment and ask for the same in return?

but with ollie, it doesn't feel like a shared promise – it feels somewhat like a leash.

as much as you've tried to convince yourself otherwise, it's hard to ignore the underlying truth that's been gnawing at you. he didn't give it to you because he wanted to, but because he needed to. like some kind of proof that you wouldn't slip away, that no one else would steal your attention.

it was more damage control than romance.

"it's somewhere in my bag," you say, throwing a glance towards your backpack on the other side of the room, before looking down at your lap again.

"somewhere in your bag?" pepe is trying so hard not to intrude or be too rude; he wants to be supportive, but something about your actions and words is making him suspicious. "you don't really care for it, then? is it ugly?"

"it's gorgeous, but… i just…"

he takes your silence as a sign to keep going. "who gave you the necklace, then?"

the first tear falls from your eye now, accompanied by a few more slow drops that roll down your cheeks. you're not in any rush to wipe them away; you know pepe has been studying you cautiously for a while now, so he definitely noticed already. but it isn't until you remain silent, other than a few occasional sniffles, that it clicks in his head.

"you're kidding," he says with a shake of his head. "paul has got a lot of nerve, you know that?" there's steam blowing out of his ears by now, and he stands up in just a second. "let me go punch the shit out of him-"

"don't!" you manage to grab the sleeve of his maroon redbull hoodie before he gets the chance to leave, pleading eyes staring up at him now. "i wouldn't be wearing it if i wasn't alright with it, i promise."

"then- what?" confusion takes over his expression once again, and he's still struggling to find his words when you pull him down to sit next to you again. "you're a smart girl. i think you know that the charm you're wearing is a heart. and, well…" he shrugs, still unsure of what to say – and with the whole situation, to be honest. "boys don't give away hearts to female friends."

"they don't?"

pepe shakes his head. "i thought you loved ollie."

"i do," you counter instantly, though you don't sound very sure.

"really?"

"well, i- i think i do." you reach up to your cheeks, brushing away a few tears from them. "maybe… maybe i don't. i don't know, pepe."

pepe has no idea how to react or what to say, it's easy to tell – so you choose to explain it all to him.

you tell him about how you were still in love with paul, even after breaking up with him. you tell him about how ollie wasn't supposed to be a rebound, how you felt like everything seemed so perfect from the start, but you could never really grow past that initial stage of adoration and go deeper.

you tell him about all of the moments that have made you doubt; the little interactions with paul where he's acted like the paul he used to be before your breakup, and the times you've been with ollie and felt like you should've been more present than you could be.

you tell him about the guilt of knowing ollie loves you, but not having been able to say it back even once. and you tell him that no matter how much you want to love ollie, no matter how perfect he is to you and how it all just clicks, you still aren't sure if you actually do feel it.

"can i give you my honest opinion on this?" pepe asks when your sobs have died down, streams of tears turned into mere teardrops waiting at the corner of your eye. "what paul did… you may see it as just something sweet that a good friend would do. but something is seriously suspicious about it." he pauses for a moment, and when you remain silent, he speaks up again. "like, why would he still keep that necklace a year later? and why would he bring it this weekend?"

"what are you saying, that he's still in love with me?" you question, eyebrows furrowed. "that he's trying to steal me back?"

"i don't know exactly what he's thinking, but i think you should be cautious." he leans forward ever so slightly, placing both hands on your shoulders. "i think that – and i say this in the most platonic way ever – you're so lovely that if someone were to fall for you once, i don't think there's such a thing as falling out of love. i'm sure he still feels what he felt a year ago."

"and what, you think i'm just going to let him steal me away? like it's that easy?" you shake your head. "i get to choose who i'm with, not paul."

"don't think that i don't know you're a strong and independent woman. but, you also just confessed to me that you're not even sure if you're in love with ollie, so…" he takes a deep breath. "don't get mad at me for thinking that you haven't really made up your mind, or for being suspicious of paul."

"they actually called you in to pit?"

ollie groans, running a hand through his messy, newly cleaned curls. "my steering was completely off," he says, leaning back against the desk in his hotel room. "what was i supposed to do? i had like ten warnings for track limits."

you shrug, flopping back against the bed behind you. "you did what you could, ollie," you say, hoping to bring him at least some solace.

however, the tone of his voice is far from one you had expected. "well, that hasn't been enough all season, has it?" he counters, crossing his arms over his chest. "i've barely scored any points all season. even compared to rookies, i'm terrible."

he doesn't need to say the name for you to know exactly who he means.

your eyes widen at this, and you struggle to find the words. you knew he's always been setting a hard standard for himself to live up to, but since when was he self-deprecating? "darling, we still have half the season left. it'll be alright-"

"easy for you to say," he snaps. "you're not at the back of the field every single race."

you've never seen him like this. he's practically oozing with anger, his gaze drilling holes into your soul.

you knew he was mad, frustrated and about a million other things.

you just didn't expect him to take it out on you.

he realizes it instantly – he notices the way your eyes flicker to the floor, your shoulders slumping slightly and your breath hitching – and regret flashes across his face immediately.

you press your hands into the bed, pushing yourself up to stand. "i think… it's time to go back to my own room," you say, voice much lower than before. "early race tomorrow, you know…"

ollie makes it over to you in just two quick strides, hands finding your hips easily. "hey, i'm really sorry," he says. when your gaze remains fixed on the floor, one of his hands reaches up to cup your cheek, tilting your face up. "i didn't mean to snap at you like that. i'm just frustrated, and… you didn't deserve that."

"it's alright, i get it." you try to put on as much of a genuine smile as possible. you do understand it, at least partially; he's under a lot of stress and doesn't mean whatever he's saying. but at the same time, are you really the person he should snap at? "i really should go, though."

he gives you a nod. "kiss?"

he leans in, pausing just before your lips meet as if giving you the chance to pull away. you don't, and the kiss feels tentative, as if he's testing the waters. there's no spark, it just feels... mechanical. a fleeting press of lips that in no way conveys the comfort he's trying to offer.

ollie pauses for a moment, his nose brushing yours as he whispers. "i really am sorry..." his grip on your waist tightens momentarily, as if trying to hold onto something that's slipping away.

you nod faintly, not trusting yourself to speak. the warmth that usually lingers after a kiss is missing, leaving only an awkward stillness. you step out of his grasp, and before he can say anything else, you've grabbed your bag and made your way out through the door.

the sound of your footsteps against the carpet fades quickly as you walk down the hall, leaving a silence that seems to echo louder than his earlier apology.

p7 to p3 in the feature.

another good race, another podium, another congratulatory text from your father. what could be better?

the post-race media duties took ages this time, and yet, pepe promised to wait in the truck until you were ready to leave. despite the fact that he's most likely drowning in envy, seeing his teammate get on the podium in his own home race, the smile on his lips as he hugs you when you've come back to the truck actually seems genuine. "are you sure you don't want to stay?" you ask as you part from the embrace. "breathe in the atmosphere some more?"

he shakes his head softly. "with the roadshow and fans forum on wednesday, i feel like i've had tons of atmosphere by now," he says, doing his best to hide the hint of pain that attempts to make its way onto his face. "maybe i'll see some fans on the way to your hotel, who knows."

with your bag slung across your shoulder and your third-place trophy securely in your embrace, the two of you finally make your way out of the truck, saying your goodbyes and thanks to all nearby staff on the way. everyone seems to be in a good mood – even apparently your boyfriend, who walks out of his truck just as you're about to walk past it.

"congrats on the points," ollie says as he gives pepe a pat on his shoulder. "even got the fastest lap, right? well done, mate."

the spaniard offers him a smile back. "pretty alright day," he hums, before looking over at you. "though, this one was outstanding."

"isn't she always?" ollie asks, hand instead finding the side of your waist as he leans down to press a fleeting kiss to your cheek. "good job today, love."

"thank you," you answer, unable to stop smiling so brightly. yesterday night is long forgotten by now, your argument seeming nothing but tiny as you look at the bigger picture. how could something like that bring you down on a weekend like this one? "i think-"

you don't think he intended to cut you off by the action, but your breath hitches in your throat mid-sentence as you see ollie's hand nearing your throat. it takes a few moments to realize what he's doing, and when he's got your heart pendant in his hand, it's already too late for you to react. "cute necklace," he says, flipping it over to see the initials engraved in it. "where did you get it?"

now that you've practiced this answer once, it comes out more confident and believable. at least, you hope it does. "it's a birthday gift from my mum."

pepe seems to understand the subconscious signals you send him, because he remains quiet even if he doesn't agree with you lying to ollie like this. ollie puts on a smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and brushes his thumb over the initials again. "i've got some competition, huh," he says jokingly, but you hope he doesn't catch your small, nervous swallow.

more than you could ever guess.

his words make you instinctively take your hand into your other behind your back, fingers instantly reaching to check the length of your ring finger. empty. you just must've forgotten to put the ring back on after the race. no big deal, right?

pepe can't hear your thoughts but he takes the now awkward silence as a sign that your mind is spiraling again. "we were just about to leave," he speaks up, giving your shoulder a pat. "you coming with us, ollie?"

he shakes his head, finally letting go of the necklace. "i have another meeting to get to," ollie answers. "but i'm sure i'll see you both tonight?"

you and pepe both nod as you part ways with your boyfriend, gentle smiles on your lips. however, your stress is practically oozing off your skin, and pepe picks up on it instantly. he slings an arm across your shoulders, holding you close as he leads you down the paddock. "he didn't catch on," he reassures you, seemingly managing to read your mind this time. "but it's better if he hears it from you than someone else, you know."

you swallow down the lump in your throat, giving him a nod. "he won't overreact, right?"

pepe keeps quiet for a few moments, picking his words carefully. "ollie is a good guy. one of the best." he takes a deep breath. "it will be alright."

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yourusername podium for the team's home race, couldn't be more happy. thank you team for the hard work. 💗

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SPIELBERG

"it's not that i'm greedy or anything," ollie starts as he flops down on the edge of the bed, a huff escaping him. "i just… it would be nice to score some points, you know?"

if he had been greedy, you would've understood it. a mere three point-paying performances so far this season and a top result of p4 is not what he – or anyone – had expected. with the amount of pressure on him to perform, and all rumors about his future, everyone anticipates good things every time he jumps into the car.

you hum, pulling the duvet over your body as you get comfortable in bed. "you're in a good position for it, you know," you remind him. with his second top ten qualifying of the year, except for his pole in jeddah which he didn't get to claim the spoils of, he sure has a great chance for the sprint race tomorrow.

he nods slowly, pulling a hand through his messy locks before holding up his duvet and slipping in underneath it. "and you will do well on sunday. tomorrow too, of course," he's quick to add, turning to face you, who's already lying on your side. "good job today, love."

"thank you," you hum. a smile appears on your lips when his hand reaches for the side of your face, pulling you into him. his lips mold lazily against yours, fingers tapping against your cheek before tracing down your neck and arm. when he reaches your hand, his thumb draws random figures against the back of it, before finally falling down to brush against your fingers – and your breath hitches in your throat.

your ring finger is empty.

but where did you put it? when did you take it off? was it when you washed your hands before dinner? or when you showered after quali?

you don't know if ollie has noticed yet, or if the action is purely unconscious because he's too focused on your lips against his, but you pull away just in case. "i forgot my phone..." you mumble, retrieving your hand from him and scrambling to get out of bed. "have to charge it overnight..."

you rummage through your bag with feigned urgency. the phone is already exactly where it should be, on the floor where you'd placed it earlier, connected to your charger. but ollie doesn't need to know that.

what's important is that he doesn't know about the ring, or about the currently cool press of the gold heart against your chest beneath the fabric of your shirt. the thought sends a chill down your spine, and you force yourself to breathe as you stall for time.

your actions are all for nothing, however. of course he noticed.

a first podium of the season is always a lovely feeling. you would know, having already experienced it, and now you got to be happy for your boyfriend claiming not only his first podium but also his first win.

it's even better that he got to share it with pepe and paul.

even though things currently are a bit tense between ollie and paul, those two have been through so much together. they've been friends for years, and all that doesn't disappear just because they've dated the same girl, right? on the podium, you're supposed to let go of everything else and just have a good time with the other two drivers, no matter who they are.

so why were both ollie and pepe so reluctant to pay any attention to paul? why did neither of them seem to want to spray him with champagne or pour it over his head? why did they walk away from paul to pose for the cameras without him?

you saw how paul and pepe clung to each other on the podium in bahrain. that weekend, it was those two who left another driver out. what's so different now?

ollie and pepe could've been heard chattering from miles away. you only noticed the sound once they stepped out of the elevator on your floor of the hotel a little past midnight.

you hadn't seen either of them since the podium – and frankly, you hadn't wanted to, either – but you assumed they would be in their best spirits. unfortunately, the videos and screenshots of the podium ceremony, along with other content the formula two instagram account posted, have been constantly appearing on your social media feeds all day.

needless to say, this hasn't put you in the best mood.

you stick your head out through your door once you hear their voices get closer, and the two of them are clinging onto each other and giggling like never before. ollie is the first to notice you, his pace slowing and his smile faltering. "what's with the frown?" he asks before you even realize that you look about as mad as you feel. "bad race?"

he usually isn't this blunt. has he been drinking? despite the fact that he has a race tomorrow? "i couldn't care less about my race," you tell him, still staring the two boys down. pepe looks about ready to crawl out of his skin already; sure he's done something wrong, just unsure what.

"then..." your boyfriend begins, eyes flickering up and down your pyjama-clad body. "what's up?"

"what's up?" you repeat with a scoff. "the two of you are terribly immature, that's what's up."

the boys exchange a look before inching closer to you, soon standing right by your door with you. "it's really just the champagne- maybe one other drink, but..." pepe begins, words slurring and mixing in one big mess. "but we'll be okay for tomorrow."

"do either of you have any idea what the time is?" you pull a hand through your hair, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "the feature starts in like ten hours-" you interrupt yourself, taking a deep breath. "that's not even the point."

"okay... what is the point?" ollie asks, voice weak and unsure.

"i'm so disappointed by how you both acted today on the podium." neither of them seem to understand, so you keep going. "how you treated paul... that was so childish of you."

"wha-"

you don't even let them interject. "it was obvious. you were both shutting him out, even though he's done nothing wrong. he fought just as well as you both for that podium – if not even more, considering how he gained more positions than both of you together – and he did not deserve to be ignored."

the boys are speechless.

they stand still right in the middle of the corridor, mouths hanging slightly agape, not believing their ears at the sound of your little outburst. however, you don't feel even a sliver of guilt; they deserved it. "neither of you have anything to say, huh?" you ask eventually, shaking your head. "unbelievable."

without giving them a chance to say anything, and without wishing them goodnight, you slam the door in their faces and retreat into your room.

the silence on the other side of the door confirms one thing – they got the message.

after a quite chaotic feature race on sunday, with dennis stalling on pole and ollie having to retire due to yet another engine issue, you and the team managed to squeeze every little drop of success out of the race. two podium finishes – you in second and pepe in third – meant that you got to strengthen the lead in the team's championship even further.

considering the fact that you were also shoved wide at one moment when battling with paul and still managed to secure that podium finish, you're definitely pleased with your own race. you and pepe celebrate with the team when you get out of your cars, but the only acknowledgment of his race you give him is a quick pat on his back without even looking at him.

instead, you reach gabriel with a big grin on your lips, throwing an arm across his shoulders as you congratulate him on his first win. he doesn't even seem to notice how you both leave pepe behind as you walk towards the cooldown room together, already going off about the different happenings of the race.

pepe arrives a few moments after you, grabbing his flask of water and slumping into his chair without a word. gabriel tries to involve him in conversations, seemingly too stuck in his race-winning haze to notice the tension, but both you and the spaniard stay mostly quiet throughout the cooldown.

when the cameras cut out and someone tells you all it's time to get to the podium, you're the first to stand and make your way towards the door. but suddenly, a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back a meter until your shoulder bumps into a body behind you. pepe's breath is warm against your ear when he whispers into it. "are you going to ignore me all day?"

you turn to throw him a glance over your shoulder – your first eye contact since last night – and after a few quiet moments, you shrug. "probably."

and with that, he's left speechless behind as everyone else hurries to the podium for the ceremony.

with dino's third place in his own race, it meant that the entire 2023 prema f3 lineup got to stand on the podium this weekend. your friend even climbed up to fourth in the f3 championship, so when you two accidentally ran into each other back in the paddock, you threw yourself into his arms instantly.

getting dino to leave the post-race chaos was no easy task. between his habit of stopping to chat with everyone and his claim that he needed to "soak up the podium vibes", you were forced to practically pull him with you to the shared f2 and f3 hospitality.

"things looked quite tense between paul and ollie on the podium yesterday," dino says with a chuckle just as you're reaching into a refrigerator for a soda, making you stop in your tracks. not only are you surprised that he brought it up; the fact that there was a joking tone in his voice is what made your eyebrows furrow.

"that's funny?"

dino blinks at you. "no, i guess not," he mumbles, brain working overtime to figure out what's gotten you acting so strange in just a second.

"i thought it was extremely childish, actually," you say with a shrug, shutting the refrigerator again. "the way that they ignored him, only paid attention to each other…" you watch as dino leans his shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "you're still paul's best friend, so you get what i mean, right?"

"i mean, sure. but i also get why ollie and pepe would do that." he puts his hands up in the air as if surrendering when he sees the glare you throw him, yet he keeps speaking. "come on, they're just protective of you, and-"

"oh, so you're on their side now?"

"i'm not on any side!" he exclaims, dragging a hand down his face. "i just think-"

your shoulders feel a little lighter when a voice interrupts dino – and you feel yourself even smiling when you realize who the voice belongs to. "oh, look! it's the podium duo!"

dino laughs and hugs the blonde man who just stepped into the room. paul is already dressed out of his white hitech suit and into regular clothes, curls messy and still a little sweaty. "podium trio, now that you're here," dino says, patting him on the back before pulling away. "good race yesterday."

"thank you, mate," paul smiles brightly. "you deserved that second place, shame it didn't happen." he then turns to you, the brightness of his smile not faltering. "congrats to you, too. things are really turning around, aren't they?"

in more ways than one. "yeah, two feature podiums..." you let out a chuckle, reciprocating the hug he gives you with an equal amount of warmth. "i wouldn't have guessed that after imola."

paul chuckles, too, parting from you to step over to the coffee machine nearby, continuing your small talk for a little while. dino has already stepped away to talk to some prema staff at a nearby table, but you don't mind. being alone with paul doesn't feel strange at all anymore. even if you can't come up with anything interesting to say, it's not like the air is so thick with tension that you can't breathe. your skin doesn't crawl, and you feel at ease – the awkwardness is replaced by something warmer. "so..." he starts, pressing a few buttons on the machine before shooting you a glance. "i'm glad i ran into you. i was actually going to go look for you."

"oh, really?" you ask, unscrewing the cap of your soda and taking a sip. "and why's that?"

"I wanted to apologize." you bite back a comment about that being the first time those words have left his mouth. "about the situation there, when i... fought you a little too hard. it was unnecessary."

the corners of your lips twitch with a smile. "crashing into me would've been unnecessary. this was just racing," you assure him. "you got a penalty for it anyways, right?"

he nods and shrugs, picking up his paper cup when all of the coffee has been poured into it. "just figured i should say it anyways."

"it's alright. besides," you begin walking towards the exit again, and paul instantly follows. "i don't want you to race me any less just because we're friends again."

"oh, so we're friends now?" he asks with a grin, pulling the door open and letting you step outside first. "did you think to let me be a part of that decision? or did you just decide on that all by yourself-"

paul cackles when you shove his shoulder, and you roll your eyes in response. "yes, we are. but i still want you to give your all out there; i wouldn't want to win over you just because you're holding back."

he gives you a nod, opening his mouth to speak again – but when his eyes focus on something behind you, he closes it again. you raise an eyebrow, a lump gathering in your throat when you turn around to find ollie walking over to you.

his dark sunglasses sit perched atop his nose, hiding most of his facial expression, but you assume there's a frown hiding beneath it. "am i interrupting anything?" he asks when he approaches, and your hand instinctively reaches up to the side of his arm when he stops.

"nah," paul is the first to respond. "i was just about to leave, anyway." he looks down at you again, offering a quick smile. "congrats again."

you return the smile and then watch him leave, before tilting your head up to ollie once more. when ollie's gaze still follows his back many seconds later, not even throwing you a glance, your hand drops back to your side. when you begin walking in the opposite direction, ollie finally snaps out of his trance and arrives by your side in a few long steps. "hey," he says, neck craning down in hopes of getting your attention. "i wanted to congratulate you, too."

"sweet."

your chest tightens when you say it, and you know you'd feel even more guilty if you'd look back up at ollie and catch his reaction. so instead, you keep your eyes straight ahead as you try to navigate your way back to the campos truck. "you did really well, you know," he tries, hoping for a better reaction.

however, he doesn't get one. "i do know."

just as you reach your destination, ollie reaches out to grab your wrist, not letting you run away from him. when you finally face him, he pushes his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head instead, revealing those deep brown eyes you've come to love. he doesn't look as irritated as you'd assume; they're more pained and confused. "can we talk?" he asks after a few moments of silence.

you take a deep breath through your nose, turning your head to the side again. you couldn't even keep eye contact with him for ten seconds. "can we do it later?" you mumble, fingers subconsciously reaching up to fiddle with the heart charm hanging from your neck. "i really need to get changed and pack my bag... my flight leaves in just a few hours..."

he sighs, just loud enough for you to catch it over the rest of the commotion in the paddock. "you can't even spare me five minutes?"

"do you really think here and now is the right time?" you counter, looking back up at him just in time for him to turn his own gaze away. he shrugs.

"i guess not." he takes a few steps back. "see you in england, i guess."

and with that, he's gone.

you don't usually pull up your journal in public places; you wouldn't want to have to explain to some nosy staff member if they caught you with it. but right now, the truck is completely empty and silent besides the soft hum of a self-cleaning coffee machine, so you curl up in the corner of the couch with the book in your lap.

is this the end?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername a new podium! so grateful for everything. even dino spamming my phone with selfies. ❤️

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guiltyasdave · 11 months ago

Text

joel miller - oneshots - part 1

fic recs masterlist - please check the tags and warnings on each fic! if you enjoyed a fic, please show the writer some love <3

fool me twice by @inklore

you should be my only girl, comfort came against my will by @undercoverpena

fucking your best friend's brother, i might kill my ex & pillow queen by @beskarandblasters

squirming by @frannyzooey

little black dress by @hellishjoel

sweet spot & for you, i would by @javiscigarette

sequins & happy birthday by @trulybetty

i did something bad, but why's it feel so good? & sylvia plath in the toilet by @louswrld11

my girl now, biting down & that pretty girlfriend by @psychedelic-ink

sweet dreams are made of this, quit it & some rotten man by @iamasaddie

old dogs don't change & body language by @futureman

develop by @missredherring

call me by @macfrog

a sheep in wolf's clothing by @jupiter-soups

where you want your gift, girl? & she a bad lil bitch, she a rebel by @thetriumphantpanda

you're a mansion with a view by @atticrissfinch

sundown by @bageldaddy

sleepless by @covetyou

flesh and metal by @swiftispunk

what do you need? by @whatsnewalycat

sick days with joel miller by @bearsbeetsbeskar

shared by @swiftispunk & @joelscruff

looking back by @eupheme

no closer could i be to god & grab the bull by the horns by @proxima-writes

red light by @kiwisbell

observations by @ezrasbirdie

hypothermia & my protector by @morallyinept

traitor by @chaotic-mystery

what you need by @endlessthxxghts

truth or dare by @joelscruff

moon, a hole of light, trust fall, made by hand & where you sleep by @tinycozycomfort

little mouse by @josephquinnswhore

someone to lean on by @cavillscurls

attraction spell by @jksprincess10

sweets & old man by @hearteyesforjoel

mystery by @honeyedmiller

wake by @notjustjavierpena

born lucky, under a bad star by @softlyspector

curled in by @bonezone44

unlikely friends & it takes time by @sweetercalypso

no control by @fhatbhabie

love me better, kiss me back & be my daddy by @bastardmandennis

never enough by @amanitacowboy

sugar rush by @beardedjoel

go ahead and cry, little girl by @party-hearses

flannel by @romanarose

strawberry by @joelsgreys

vicious by @sinsofsummers

ensnare & knife play by @ozarkthedog

#fic recs #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction

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casuallivi · 1 month ago

Text

The Midnight Kiss

Warning: blink and you have a giant doc worthy of flashbacks but moving the story forward is a hassle to you, huh? this is a self critique. I guess in the end we do write what we want to read, there's no escaping our kinks.

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 9: 500 days of Azriel - part 2

DAY 348

“Hold for me!”

The feminine pitch echoed in the parking lot, bags fumbling against her ribs and sneakers thumping in concrete as she ran for the elevator, Azriel using a hand to keep the door open.

“Good morning, sexy.” A slightly out of breath Elain greeted him coming into view, a messy braid swaying from one shoulder to the other.

“That’s no way no greet your boss.” He stepped aside, allowing her to enter. “Don’t mimic me.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Elain denied mid eye-roll, mouth already twisting to repeat his words. “I wasn’t! Gosh, you’re stiff from sunrise to sundown, and not in the fun way.”

Ignoring her blunt lie Azriel took the heavy black bag containing a heavy camera support from her shoulders and pressed their floor number.

“You chatter from sunrise to sundown, and don't see me complaining.”

Her braid slapped him in the chest, Elain turning to look at a him, mouth hanging open as if she could not believe her ears.

“Are you freaking kidding me!?! Of course, you do! You complain about it all. the. time!”

“Nah, that doesn’t sound like a me thing.”

“Unbelievable. Hold this.” she muttered pulling the light orange scrunchie from the end of her braid, nimble fingers combing through her hair to undo the thing. Azriel slipped the accessory in his wrist, watching she bang her head from one side to the other.

“Are you trying to get messier?”

“I’m giving it a sexy spin. You wouldn’t know nothing about that miss my-mommy-combs-my-hair-every-morning.”

A couple more shakes and she was done, picking her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and opening the camera app, moving her neck this way and that to check herself.

“Say My girlfriend is the sexiest in the whole world!”

Azriel frowned at the blinding flash lights coming out of nowhere.

“A little warning.”

“I like organic moments. And you never come out looking ugly anyways. Is infuriating.” She moved closer to him, opening her phone gallery and proceeding to show him the picture.

Azriel barely paid attention to himself, eyes fixed entirely on Elain, mapping the constellation of freckles framing the bridge of her nose and puffed cheeks pushed upwards by a big smile. Then her finger was swiping on the screen, showing him three more photos she managed to snap in succession

"Look at my lazy eye! Christ, even glaring you look good. Never managed to catch up with an open mouth, eyes rolling, sneezing, poking your nose, nothing! It’s like you are prepared every goddamn time.”

He chuckled at her indignation.

“Why do you take so many pictures?”

Elain shrugged.

“I like documenting stuff. Stuff that catch my attention.”

“Everything catches your attention. You have the attention span of a hyperactive toddler.”

“Oh, shut it. I bet you have some weird photos in your phone, you probably collect feet or something. Where is it?”

A sneaky hand quickly found its way to his front pocket, Elain made sure her eyes were wild open to taunt him. "My, my, is this phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

She didn’t wait for him to answer, taking the phone out with a false victory cry.

“What’s your password? No! Let me guess…. 0828?”

Her question caught him by surprise.

“You remember my birthday?”

“Sure! How could I forget you’re a tight little virgin?” Elain pumped her eyebrows up and down, getting an eye roll as response. “Wait a minute,”

“Here we go.”

Azriel stepped out from the elevator making away to the rented shoot set, not bothering to check if Elain was following. He knew she was. She would never pass an opportunity to tell him whatever nonsense she had come up with.

“Now that I think about it… does that mean I get to pop your cherry?” She gasped exaggeratedly, placing a hand in her heart. “Do not worry Marino, I’ll do right by you, I’ll give –”

“All right now, let’s not. 1234. The password is 1234.”

Elain typed the password clicking her tongue, a fake expression of disappointment fixed in place.

“Christ, you’re a grandpa. This is a terrible password, too easy to remember.”

“That’s why I put it.”

“That’s why is bad.”

She went on and on about him being an old guy who was not deserving of technology, Azriel not really paying her much attention until she squealed like a guttered bunny.

“Oh my god,”

Elain exited the gallery and return dozens of times, thinking his phone may had malfunctioned or something. Nope, the phone was working just fine. She waved it in his face.

“Why are there no pictures in here?”

“There are.” Azriel said nonchalantly, jerking his chin at the few images appearing in his gallery.

All impersonal and irrelevant, mostly pictures exchanged throughout the day in Marinos’ group chat. Elain shook her head in denial.

“I mean personal pictures, pictures of things you captured with your camera because you liked them, not because they are in a vision board from next month’s issue.”

Azriel frowned in confusion

“Why would I take pictures? I can just look at the things I want.”

Elain let out a dramatic gasp, hand to heart and everything. Before she could berate him a chirpy blonde fellow approached them.

“Morning boss. Morning El. What me to set you up?”

“Morning Tommy. You can take the bag from the handsome.”

Nonchalant, Azriel dropped the bag in the boys arms not bothering to make the transition easy, Elain’s assistant for the day nearly collapsing under the weight. Azriel watched the new intern struggling not to drag the bag away.

“I don’t like him.” He said serious. Not an ounce of strength in those arms. He would not last.

"You don't like anyone."

Morning El.

"I specially don't like him."

“Are you a serial killer?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

"This is not normal."

His phone was pushed on his chest and then Elain was back on her phone, frantically swiping her fingers across hundreds of pictures gleaming in the bright screen. Literally hundreds. She gave him the phone and Azriel kept scrolling. Different shoots of ice cream, juice, pizza, donuts, pasta and other food related items passed by.

“Are you setting a portfolio for a culinary magazine?” he joked.

Elain slapped him in the arm, the aggression changing to a caress when her fingers splayed over his shirt, curling around his covered biceps.

“God, you’re big. Strong too.”

“Open space. Office hours.” He chanted, not bothering to remove her hand. Once could say he flexed a little, but Azriel would firmly deny.

“I know. What were we talking about?”

“Food.”

“Yeah, food… I could eat you up.” She sighted lost in a dream.

“Elain.”

“I said food gives me joy.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. Judging by her phone gallery, everything gave her joy. Parcs, dogs, kids, houses, rain, trains, books, fresh laundry. Eventually, his employees began to fill the screen as well, goofing in their spare time, posing in the allocated sets with some model, posing with props, taking mirror selfies, cataloging material in their reunions, then it came him. Azriel clicked on a couple pictures of him taken recently, face serious and sleeves rolled upwards as he examined a variety of reports covering the meeting room table. He turned to Elain, questioning her with a look

"You look good when you are focused." She shrugged. “By the way, you don’t have to make the intern cry. I know you don’t believe it, but it is possible to treat people nicely and not die on the spot.”

Azriel sighed deeply. Never a single topic with this one. Elain’s mind had a tendency of jumping from one subject to the other, the conversation never floating in a single direction.

“I’m not running a daycare, Archeron. I’m their boss.”

“I know that. I still think you can be less of an asshole,” suddenly, she pointed a finger at him saying, “and praise! Everyone likes a little praising every once in a while. You never praise anyone! It’s absurd.”

“When one of them do something worthy of my praise, they’ll receive it.” A bit of silence passed, and Azriel could feel Elain starring a hole at his face. “What?”

“It’s that your kink? Making someone working hard for your praise?”

The more his ears turned red, the playful glint in her eyes shining brighter. Where Azriel wasn’t one to make jokes or sexual innuendos in public, Elain used them as a second language, not ashamed to shoot her shot any time. At first he thought he hated her jokes, annoyed at how inconvenient she was. Later, Azriel realized his annoyance came from the fact that he was not able to quip her with a response, a fitting rebuke only coming to mind when it was already too late.

“Do you like receiving it or giving it? No matter, I guarantee I can satisfy you either way.”

“Nope. I’m done talking with you now,” he announced walking away from her. “I have real work to do.”

“I work too you know! I make the stars in this set shine!” She yelled after him. “Have a good day, lover!”

DAY 424

“All I’m saying is you can tell me. I’m your brother, for fucks sake.” Cassian whined loudly from his chair, legs shaking like a goddamn toddler.

“I’m not talking to you.” Azriel said from behind is computer.

“Come on, bro. All I’m asking is a little bit of gossip from how are things progressing with our sweet little Lainy. For example, has she taken your virginity yet?”

"She's not yours anything." Aziel said monotonously, not bothering to give his brother too much attention. “And I am not a virgin.”

“Men don’t count.”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure our Lainy won’t –”

“Not yours.”

"Agree to disagree. Since you decided playing this fake dating shit, she sure ought to be my something." Cassian taunted. “Come on Az, I know you are not dating her. You can come clean now, I won’t judge. Much.”

Azriel watched his brother, his restless hand tapping against the armrest, the smirk that didn’t quite meet the eye. His brow furrowed.

Azriel and Cassian had a complicated relationship in boyhood, having to relearn how to navigate around each other once they were adults. The boys weren't in speaking terms for two years of their late teens and the majority of their twenties. When they were seen together at last, everyone assumed the brothers made piece to take over the family business because it was the natural outcome for them.

In reality the biggest reason behind Azriel’s return to America was Marinos wasn’t as profitable as before. While Azriel followed Morrigan across the globe her modeling career took flight but his grandfather got sick, and Cassian –who had always been the favorite for choosing to learn the finance trade– took over the family publishing business, only then discovering the trojan horse his favorite relative had left him. Their grandfather’s entire publishing business was facing bankruptcy, the magazine being one of the remaining divisions that still hadn’t gone under.

By the time he asked for Azriel's help, it was too late to save most of the branches, but Azriel did his utter best to save Marinos –a fashion magazine originally envisioned by his mother that no one ever really cared about. It cost him four years of strenuous hard work, twenty percent of the shares sold, multiple department changes, function extinctions and staff rearrangements, and the woman he thought it was the love of his life gone, but Azriel got Marinos back to its feet.

Azriel watched his brother, the nasty memory of their split replaying in his mind. It would be a lie for him to say pettiness wasn't what guide him to drop himself -almost- on top of Elain Archeron on that night. The woman had a massive crush on Cass, and knowing his brother's ego as he did, Cass was probably nursing said crush to act on it. That night Azriel’s drunken mind conjured a reality where if he was lucky, he would make his brother a little jealous, just enough to give him a bit of satisfaction. A petty payback for succeeding in doing what Azriel never could.

“You are awfully interested in my girlfriend.”

“Am I?”

Seeing his brother show such blunt display of interest in Elain gave Azriel a couple emotions, and satisfaction was none of them. It doomed on his mind that he had become attached to Elain rather quickly, because playing petty games Morrigan and his brother didn’t seem so interesting anymore.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, Cassian sneer daring him to submit, to speak first, to cry and beg and plead for his brother to leave him alone as he would do when they were kids. Azriel wasn’t a kid anymore.

Cassian opened his mouth, and Azriel would never hear what he was about to say. Two knocks on the wood and the brothers broke their staring contest as a twirling Elain made her way into the room, the skirt of her dress swaying around her legs.

“See? I told you it wouldn’t wrinkle! I’m all ready for – Cassian.”

Her eyes grown bigger mid-sentence, surprised to find his brother there, same brother who wasted no time in placing two finger on his mouth whistling loudly.

“I'm ready for you too. Looking good, Lainy.”

"You're back."

Azriel watched her expression change from mirthful to bashful. He wondered if she was feeling shy of embarrassed. He hoped it was the latter.

“Yep, and just in time to make your wishes come true. I’m not Santa, but you can sit on my lap and tell me everything you want. I'll give it to you."

“Christmas in long gone, Cass.” She snorted.

“Oh, a daddy is never of duty,” he winked at her.

Elain suppressed her giggle, Azriel gagging all the wall to the coach hanger. “You are disgusting.”

Cassian ignored him, all smirk and bravado as he got up and moved toward Elain, malice radiating from every step. He appraised her from head to toe. It was a rare event to see Elain in a dress. Glittering eyelids matched the cleave-free green dress that stopped a few inches above her knees, white flats completing her look. His eyes returned on her knees, his smile dropping, replaced by a frown. There, pinkish than the rest of her skin, laid a perpendicular scar dividing her knee in half, stretch marks from the stitches leaving the skin heightened in a standing position. Cassian had never noticed that scar before. He wondered if it was new.

Elain cleared her throat, a blue jacket appeared in his line of sight as she repositioned the piece of clothing in her arms to cover herself, uncomfortable with his stare. Cassian smiled at her, deciding it was best not to ask about it.

“So, where we going?”

He offered her a hand, the promise of a kiss in his eyes. Elain had always loved the kisses he deposited in her hands and cheeks, lips lingering on her skin to enjoy the squirm she thought he couldn’t notice. He did notice, every time. Cassian loved making her squirm, delighting in her little crush.

For the great shock of a nation, Cassian had not fucked Elain, but now that his brother was he wondered if he had missed some kind of swift opportunity. Elain wasn’t ugly, and it had been a long time since he found a match to his twisted sense of humor. What a delight it was that her sense of humor came wrapped in a package with a killer pair of legs, which should definitely be exposed more often. His look drift to her chest. She didn’t have much in that department but that didn’t matter much, he was more of an ass man anyways. No, Elain wasn’t ugly at all, and Cassian liked looking at her very much.

She could dress better, tho. He preferred his women with smoked eyes, sexy dresses, thigh slits and high heels. Women looked very fuckable in heels, all perched ass and tits pushing in his direction. He loved it.

Brown eyes sparkled with joy, a pretty smile blooming on her lips as she raised her hand. Except she did not place it in his expecting one, no. A harsh push forced him to the side, Azriel replacing him to take her hand, a light kiss landing on the back.

“You looked lovely.” He complimented taking her from the room. Not bothering to say goodbye to his brother, choosing to forget he existed all together.

"Good enough to eat?"

"Behave."

"Only 'cause you asked, love."

Contrary to Azriel, Elain had not forgot Cassian was there.

"We are going on a date!" She shouted back at him while Azriel walked faster to get her away from his brother. Cunning bastard.

Cassian watched her wrap her other hand around his brother’s flaccid biceps, smiling as she murmured softly to him. His expression faltered for a second. What was so funny about Azriel’s sad lack of mass muscle? Fixing his face, he jogged towards the couple, reaching them near the elevator, meddling in the middle to keep them apart, an arm around his brother and the other around Elain.

"Now this is a development I had not seen coming. Lainy, is this some kind of bet gone wrong? You can tell me if it is, as his boss I have the power to set you free."

"You are not my boss," Azriel pipped at the same time Elain said, "We are good."

Under his arm, Elain shrugged. Azriel breaking free to go stand at her other side, pulling her by the waist till she parted from Cassian.

“This makes no sense. You are two fight like dogs… Is little Azzy threatening you?” Cassian concluded at last. “Is that it? You can tell me if he is, I’ll beat his ass for you.”

Elain simple laughed.

"Please, like he could handle me. Did you know that my sister,"

"Is a professional MMA fighter." Azriel finished the sentence in her place, winning an ugly glare. "Yes, he knows, everybody knows. You've mentioned it. Several times."

“Meddlesome.”

“Broken record.”

“Maybe he didn’t know.”

“He knows.”

“How do you know? You’re not entitled to everyone’s knowledge.”

She bumped him with her hip, Azriel not moving an inch, and turned to Cassian.

"Anyway, your brother confessed his undying love for me, and how all that stress was his way of demonstrating affection. Like a little boy pulling the pigtails of the girl he thinks is pretty." She sighed deeply. "I knew my irresistible charms would get me in trouble someday."

"I'm right here." Azriel reprehended pulling her closer.

"Oh my, you are here, love? You are so pretty for a second there I thought you were a painting." She slapped him lightly on the cheek, Azriel grabbing her wrist on the second tap.

“No hitting.”

”Why? Is it that your kink?” She asked using a tone Cassian could not distinguish, as if she was sharing an inside joke with his brother.

The elevator doors opened, his existence completely forgotten by the couple bickering as they walked inside and off they went.

DAY 489

Had someone told him he would be outside his girlfriend’s apartment, making out against a door like a couple of fucking horny teenagers, he’d have called the bloke mad. Now here he was, being the mad man himself. One side of her overall had unbuttoned, the metallic piece rasping on the wood as Azriel pressed Elain harder against the door, two bodies merging together.

The goodnight kiss was supposed to be gentle, a tender caress to remember till he saw her again. Azriel would be gone for a couple days, and Elain insisted he walked her upstairs before he left.

“I’m not coming in,” he warned her back in the car.

“Just walk me to my door, that is.”

“I will. But I’m not coming in.”

“Gee, you said that. I just want to give you a proper goodbye,” she said with false innocence.

Liar.

Once upstairs she invited him inside again, but Azriel would budge.

“Fine. Can I at least get a kiss?”

He gave her a peck.

“Goodnight, Elain.” He said knowingly. Azriel called her by last name to annoyed her, a petulant childish trait that he seemed to have absorbed around her.

Determined hands wrapped around the lapels of his suit, Elain tiptoeing to tug him down.

“I wear black and white you think I'm a nun? Don’t you dare leave after giving me this slob sorry excuse of a kiss Azriel, or I swear to God –” Her empty threat was swallowed by a kiss.

Azriel wouldn’t admit to a soul, but riling her up was fun. Their breaths mingled in a slow and sloppy kiss, Azriel walking her backwards up till she hit her door, a painful hiss drowning on the slow sleek of his tongue. In the many days following their agreement Azriel and Elain had kissed many times, which had him quickly learning that she was a frenetic kisser, aggressive in her necessity to take the lead in a succession of hurried uncoordinated motions as someone who was ready to torn her clothes apart, moving too fast as she often did in every other aspect of her life.

Like a caveman first discovering fire, he enjoyed her enthusiasm with an intense amount of male pride burning in his chest. The problem was his body was still recovering from the aftermaths of a bad love. Until Elain, Azriel had only ever loved one woman in his life, had only ever been with her. Sure, he had been on a date here and there when things went south and they broke up for a few days of weeks. Pity-dates set by friends who could not understand why a twenty-something hadn't had a single girlfriend in his entire life, pity-dates set by worried familiars who secret thought him homosexual.

He remembered being set up with solid young women whose personalities were nearly a mirror of his own, having forgettable dates where he couldn't, for the life of him, recall what they talked about, kissing some of them goodbye with a lie ready on his lips that they should do it again. Tepid kisses that were closer to a handshake than caress between possible lovers. He went to bed with none of them.

Looking back, it was almost laughable how he caught Morrigan in an intimate act with another men more times than he liked to count but had never managed to move forward with another woman himself. Too hung up in a promise she had no interest in fulfilling. Now Azriel was done chasing a woman who had no love to give him, but his body was still fearful of getting with someone different, someone new.

He needed more time to adjust, time his volcano of a girlfriend seemed to not need at all. Tenacious hands found their way inside his jacket, running wild all the way from his hip to his neck, pressing him harder against herself, her soft breast rasping against his dress shirt with every move she made. So he had to educate her.

Where Elain was a trashing hurricane, Azriel was a placid running river, moving with deliberate slow and steadiness, guiding the kiss to a less hectic pace, leisured wet tongue kisses mingled with soft peck to stable his breathe, strong hands shaping the outside of her body without being too brazen, bold enough to soothe his curiosity in caressing her body but enough to blur the lines he wasn't ready to cross.

Hands moved to him front, trailing down from his chest to his waistline, closing precariously around his belt to get him closer. Azriel stopped the kiss, pulling away slightly. Blown-wild pupils had nearly encased the entirety of her irises, a breathless Elain looking up and expectant at him.

“I want to see you naked," she hushed. Quiet words spoken in a frenzy, a solid request with no shyness in the borders.

Despite his efforts to mellow the kisses, his heart thundered inside his chest. The feeling of soft curves molding perfectly to the hard shapes of his body making him dizzy. He collared her neck, not to choke, just to hold her in place.

“What would your neighbors say?"

Azriel meant to sound playful, calm. He sounded lustful and agitated.

Elain watched him like a hawk, searching his eyes for a bit, noting the tension in his shoulders, the uneasiness in his strained smile, a quiet tell for a question she would not ask. Not yet. With a yielding sigh, she hid her face in his chest.

"She’d probably thank you, that lady is a pervert,” came her muffled reply. “We could put on show for her.”

"Is that your kink? Exhibitionism?" His smugness could not be missed, Azriel feeling pretty proud of himself for the quick thinking. Elain had been antagonizing him about kinks for weeks, now it was his turn to make her hot and uncomfortable.

"Dunno. Wanna help me figure it out?" He groaned lordly. Of course she wouldn’t stay down. “I bet she’s more kinky, tho. Did you know she watches porn without headphones?” She lifted her head again, face soured by the memory. “We do not have good soundproofing walls, Marino. Sometimes I can hear it as I'm climbing upstairs!"

Azriel chuckled, moving his hand to her face, his thumb making circular motion in her cheek. Even at night Elain seemed to glow, her supple skin calling at him, begging for a stroke, for a touch, for a kiss. So soft and so, so,

“So pretty,” he finished out loud. The unsolicited compliment turning her face red.

She recovered quickly, fully leaning into his hand to say, “I’m prettier naked. Wanna see?”

“Out in the hallway?” He challenged mildly.

“Out in the hallways.”

“For everyone to see?”

“Eve-ry-one.” She said secured. “But mostly you.”

“You are confident."

“Maybe I am an exhibitionist.”

Azriel laughed quietly, cradling her face in both hands now, a kiss landing in her forehead. Having known Elain for over a year, Azriel has lost count of how many sexual innuendos he heard coming out of her mouth. He was mostly shocked at first, mildly annoyed later, and full-on done with them once Cassian joined the mix, an insufferable nasty match that could put hookers to shame. Then he asked her to date him, and Elain perverted agenda had seemed to find a new single target: him.

Azriel would have been caught by surprise had he not been so used to her being deliberately inappropriate. Elain wanted to have sex with him and would spare no efforts to make sure Azriel understood that, but Azriel was scare to correspond because he wasn’t sure of how his body would react with a new partner.

Truth be told, he was scare he would not react at all.

“I’m sorry.”

"If you apologize for that I'll feel like a predator." Elain grimaced, exhaling in defeat. "It’s all right, rain check on exhibitionism. This is actually a very good choice you know, I remembered I'm wearing an ugly beige bra."

Azriel gave her one last kiss.

“My favorite color.”

“You would, wouldn’t you? You do seem like a guy with a boring favorite color.”

DAY 500

Her shirt had been distracting him all afternoon. The darned thing wasn’t even a sexy one, just a simple white cotton t-shirt with a stupid drawing of potted plants having a conversation.

Azriel used her jeans belt loops to turn her around till her ass was pressed on the table "You are fun, but funny, tsk tsk. Funny is a big stretch."

His fingers dug in her in waist, cutting her cognitive abilities, stopping her from registering the insult. "Cute shirt."

Elain looked down on her white tee design, where two potted plants were having a conversation. One saying, "Aloe, how are you?", the other "Hey, long Thyme no see."

"Thanks."

He traced her lower lip, muttering. "No lipstick, today?"

Her tongue darted outside, meeting the pad of his thumb. "Didn't want to smear you."

"Glass walls. Office hours." Came his low warning.

The usually cool space of the meeting room now felt like a glass furnace, his body burning from the inside out.

"Technically, we are past office hours.” She countered with a sassy tone. “I'm friends with Marie, you know, the cleaning lady. She gave these glass walls an extra glow this morning, I can guarantee you'll find no germs in it. Now, if you wanna put some germs in it, I have a few ideas about what we could press there. Who. You. could press there. But I should warn you, the dress code suggestion may get a little skimpy."

There was no hidding his smile now, except he wasn't amused. His smile was wicked, smoldering hazel eyes hiding delirious promises. Azriel cleaned her saliva over her cheek, finding her neck. Before he could rip a page from her book and make a nasty suggestion of where to put her tongue next, knuckles rapped on the wall, a voice calling for him.

"Az."

Azriel blinked, relaxation morphing into anxiety. He didn’t recognize it at first. The voice that had not called him in a while. Her voice.

“Az?” She tried again.

Blood drained from his face. Azrriel didn’t move. Couldn’t move. The sound of clicking hills filled the unnatural silence, and he knew he could not escape any long. It would come any time now.

"Az... Azriel."

There it was. The trembling call, the crying in her voice. He withdrew from Elain completely, no wanting to soil her with the disgust leaking out of him. Taking a deep breath, Azriel faced Morrigan at last.

“Hi,” she said with trembling lips.

He didn’t greet her back. Didn’t bother too.

"Can we talk? Please. I really need to speak with you."

His heart beat faster. Beneath his skin a new kind of emotion began to shimmer, rageful and blinding, so overwhelming he didn't process Elain's soft "I'll give you a minute," didn't felt the comforting swipe of her hand on his back before she left them alone.

Elain left him and Morrigan stayed.

“I missed you. I’ve called and called and you did not answer me. You know I need you,”

Morrigan was talking.

Morrigan was talking to him.

Her mouth was moving and he had no fucking clue about what she was saying.

Azriel couldn’t listen to a single word, too busy watching her. Watching her meticulously painted cherry red lips. Not a smudge in place, not even when a tear slipped past her black-lined eye the red did not smudge. She remained perfectly put together. He followed the lonely tear all the way to her chin. From there, Azriel kept going, descending to the gold choker around her tanned neck, to the strapless blood red jumpsuit that left her arms and neck uncovered but protected everything else all the way to her ankles, finishing in the black stilettos that made no more noise because she hadn’t move an inch.

Azriel would have easily fell for it in the past. The watery eyes, the singular tear drop streaming down her cheek, the trembling lips to make sure each word came out a little shaky, just enough to make her look pitiful, careful to still enunciate them properly for him to understand every word.

Words he'd latch on, let it sink, let it drown him in guilt and misery and a feeling of longing for a relationship that never existed outside of his head.

Now that he didn't listen to her, Azriel saw her. Her well-manicured coffin nails, the sunglasses on top of her head, the lasted Dior jumpsuit draped over her body. Nothing in her posture or clothes showed a person suffering as she claimed to be.

Azriel saw Morrigan and it saddened him how easily it was to manipulate him.

To let himself be manipulated.

“Are you done?” His question was cold, cutting her sob story in half.

Morrigan sniffed, big brown eyes looking pitifully at him until she saw his resigned expression. His lack of will to entertain her. That's when her face changed, her real self breaking through the cracks of the insecure and pitiful persona she was trying to play. She looked at him regal and feral, Morrigan looked at him with the uttermost conviction that she could bring him back to her world in the snap of her fingers.

"Are you done?" she repeated back at him. Voice clear as water.

"I'm done with you."

"Stop this bullshit Azriel, we both know you don't have it in you." She pulled a small hand mirror from her purse, padding the area beneath her eye where a second tear was coming down. "I've entertained you long enough. It's time for you to go back to where you belong."

"And where would that be?"

"Beside me."

Azriel was stunned for a second. Then he was laughing, howling even. His laughter was a sad thing, carved from disbelief. He must have misheard her. Behind me, that's where she meant. Behind her, after her, pinning for her like a dog while she lived her life to the fullest not bothering to give a fuck about him. Azriel ran a hand over his hair to pull the edges hard, moving on to rub his face furiously. No, no, no. He wasn't doing this, he wasn't going to entertain her anymore.

Sharp nails carved a path on his forearm as he tried to pass by her, Morrigan grabbing him with all the strength she could must.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"I'm talking, Azriel."

"I'm not listening, Mor."

Azriel held her stare, all the love he once felt turning into an ugly thing inside his chest. She held him harder, nails sinking deeper. Her voice reflecting every ounce of authority she deem to exercise over him

"I'm talking, Azriel. And you're listening."

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