#clear the mind ❁ ask meme ❁ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eddiernunson · 7 months

Text

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

taglist for Waiting Room Problems: @skrzydlak @delicatechaos @ali-r3n @suckerz @cam-peggio @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @emxxblog @lilrubles @dandelionnfluff @babygirl229 @let-love-bleeds-red @kurdtbean

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

2K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 6 months

Text

Sergeant Snuggles

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky wants you to get some much needed rest. Word Count: Over 1.6k Warnings: Fluff, swearing, humor, reader is tired, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best boyfriend, okay?). A/N: I'm tired. I want Bucky to fix my schedule. Again! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You should’ve taken the afternoon off. You knew that. There was no reason for you to remain in the building beyond your earlier debriefing. The mission you completed was successful, but you hardly slept over the last few days because of it. Describing yourself as tired was an understatement.

But you had a tendency to stretch yourself thin at times and were stubborn, a trait Bucky both loved and fought you on.

The beautiful brunette you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend leaned over in his chair as you stifled a yawn. “That’s the fifth time you’ve done that in the last two minutes,” he whispered low enough to not draw attention.

“Glad you’re keeping count,” you whispered back, feeling his steel eyes linger on you as before he turned his focus back to Steve. At least he didn’t say he told you so after you turned down his suggestion this morning to call in.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, the stubble on his strong jawline catching your attention. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Hardly slept either. Still looked gorgeous.

How was that fair?

“Just take a break,” he urged, tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear. “It’ll help.”

“No, I’m fine,” you argued, picking up your drink and downing the rest of it, as if it would give you a boost. “We have a busy day. I don’t have time to use one of the pods.”

S.H.I.E.L.D. had recently built a lounge area for agents to rest and recoup during the day and between missions. Some of the pods were large enough for two people to rest comfortably together. Why not cuddle with your soldier for a short time? As nice as it sounded, you had to get through a few more hours of work.

“I love you, but you’re about two seconds away from putting your head on the table,” Bucky whispered, your heart skipping a beat. It did that whenever he professed his love for you. But you were also feeling a bit grouchy, even though he was only trying to help

“And I love you, but I’m about two seconds away from flipping this table,” you hissed before Steve cleared his throat. “Sorry,” you added sheepishly. It wasn’t his fault the mission cost you precious sleep.

The blonde’s brow furrowed. Like Bucky, he knew you pushed yourself too hard some days. You had to though. You weren't a super soldier like they were. “It’s okay,” he said before he continued.

Exhaustion veiled your normally bright and attentive gaze. The Captain had a commanding presence, yet your eyelids drooped as he kept talking. You weren’t sure if you were able to fall asleep sitting up and you didn’t want to find out. With a shake of your head, you had to try and fight the waves of drowsiness that crashed in your mind and washed over your body.

It was a losing battle. You used to laugh at memes that talked about meetings that could’ve been done in an email, but it didn’t seem so humorous now that you were living it. Why didn't you just stay home?

You jolted when your boyfriend suddenly placed his hand on your thigh and you wished you could say you blamed it on his touch. “What? What happened?” You asked. Did you fall asleep or just zone out?

“The meeting’s over,” he replied, nodding to the now empty room. You hadn’t seen anyone walk out. That wasn’t good.

“Shit.” You rubbed your temple, an ache building in your head. You’d have to apologize to Steve later because there was no way you retained anything he stated. “What time is it?”

Bucky checked his watch with a slight frown. “It’s 10:55.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s lip twitched in a smile when you realized you said that out loud. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.”

You huffed, your head cloudy again before you slumped in your chair. There was no way you’d make it through the day, as much as you wanted to try. You were useless in this condition. “Okay. I may need a nap,” you admitted.

He smiled softly as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. “I had a feeling. That’s why I booked us one of the pods before we got here,” he said. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew you better than you knew yourself. “Let's go.”

You pouted, but took his outstretched hand. “Are you sure I can't just try and suck it up?” You asked, covering your mouth with your other hand when you yawned yet again. “There’s still work to do.”

“And you're not going to finish it right this second,” he stated firmly, the drop in his voice making your throat go dry. He meant business when he used that tone. “You're going to let everyone else handle it, and they can handle it, and you are going to get some rest.”

You loved this man for putting up with and caring for you. “Yes, Sergeant, but I still don't want a nap,” you grumbled, wondering just how whiny you sounded.

He chuckled, the sound making you giggle. It was infectious. “Just twenty minutes. It’s all I'm asking for to start. You worked hard and deserve a nap,” he said, sneaking a soft kiss in when you pouted again. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me? Please?”

Something vulnerable flashed in his eyes before he blinked it away. Nightmares still plagued him and you discovered that he rested easier with you beside him. Your presence didn’t always chase the horrors away, but it helped. Maybe he needed this nap just as much as you did.

What kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

“Okay, Bucko. For you,” you smiled, leaning into his side as he guided you down the hall. You’d do anything for him. “You know, my caffeine let me down,” you added.

“I know, baby.”

“It’s a betrayal. It was supposed to stimulate me,” you mumbled.

“I know, baby,” he said again, going along with your tired rambling. “But we both know I stimulate better than that ever could.”

“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. He was very good at that. “And this is a good excuse for us to cuddle.”

“As long as you get some sleep, you can have all the cuddles you want,” he promised.

A tired smile touched your lips. “I should call you Sergeant Snuggles.”

It was at that moment that Sam walked by, the smirk on his face telling you that he at least caught the nickname you just came up with. Your gaze flickered to Bucky’s profile, catching the clench in his jaw as he stared at his colleague and friend. It was a sexy look, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. And Sam, the good man he was, didn't say a word. He nodded and went on his way.

Which likely meant he pocketed the nickname to bring up at a later time.

“Sorry,” you whispered, hoping you hadn’t embarrassed him.

Fondness took over Bucky's blue eyes when he swung his gaze back toward you. “Don't be sorry. You can call me whatever you want,” he assured you, taking you into the longue.

The low light created a peaceful atmosphere and you found yourself longing for relaxation as Bucky brought you to the pod furthest in the corner. He helped you in before he climbed in beside you, his massive frame making you feel safe and warm as he held you against him. His fingers moved along your back in a slow and soothing pattern and your breathing began to match his after a minute. It made it easy for your eyes to slip shut.

You still couldn’t believe that you had someone in your life like Bucky. The man did everything in his power to put your needs first and make sure he took care of you. Not because he didn’t think you were strong or capable enough to do so yourself, but because he recognized that you didn’t have to do everything alone. That was why he was your partner.

In work, in love, and in life.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you sighed, wishing you were awake enough to say how much you appreciated him. “Sorry for whining and bitching and being stubborn.”

“You don’t need to thank me and you didn’t whine or bitch. I’ll give you stubborn though,” he said, casually tossing a leg over you before you could move away. If you asked it of him, he’d lay on top of you like a blanket. “Just get some sleep and don’t push yourself today, please. I’ll feel a lot better if you relax.”

You’d feel a lot better, too. “One more question and I will.”

He hummed as he waited for you to speak.

“What's the policy on sex in the pods?” You asked, resting a hand on his chest and feeling his heart start to race. “For future us, for the record. I love you, but we’re not trying somnophilia here today.”

He exhaled a laugh against your forehead before he kissed it, warmth spreading like a balm through your head. “I love you, too,” he whispered. Dragging his lips down to yours. “And I’m sure we can find a way to make it work, but not until you rest, okay? Need you at one hundred percent for that.”

“Yes, Sergeant Snuggles,” you replied, feeling him hold you a little tighter before you finally got some much needed sleep.

I hope this reads well. 🤣 I'm le tired. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

2K notes · View notes

kazumist · 3 months

Text

WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?

✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)

✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))

✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda

✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).

a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.

it’s another long night for him.

sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.

it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.

“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies.

“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”

wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.

the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.

“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him?

the answer was most definitely yes.

“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.

and again

and again.

he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.

“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?”

you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well.

wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.

“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”

“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.

“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.

“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.

actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.

“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.

wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.

“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.

“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.

“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”

“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”

“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.

however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.

“fine. you got yourself a deal.”

and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.

“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?”

“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”

“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”

“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.”

it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.

the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”

“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”

with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.

time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.

to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?

maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.

he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.

“safe travels as well, my duke.”

— — — — — — — —

word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides.

the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”

“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”

“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”

“i guess you could say that.”

“well, then tell me all about it.”

“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.

she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.

“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”

“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”

“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.

as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.

“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”

— — — — — — — —

the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.

but again, that is up until now.

you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”

“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?”

“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.

“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.

(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)

“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?”

“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”

“perchance.”

“you cannot just say perchance!”

a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — — — — —

by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.

“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”

you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.

“i shall agree… on one condition.”

“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”

“you must call me wriothesley.”

there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”

he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.

“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.

wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.

“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.

“have faith in us.”

— — — — — — — —

meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay.

it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).

there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.

wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.

(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)

tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.”

“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”

“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”

“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”

“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”

“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.

“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”

“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.

if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side.

this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss.

his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.

you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.

well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?

“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.

but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:

the duke of meropide is one good kisser.

however, what will become of your relationship now?

— — — — — — — —

you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.

“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.

you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.

as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you.

“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.

“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”

“do you love him?”

“huh? love who?”

“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”

this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.

it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him.

fuck.

“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper

“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact.

yes, you do love the duke of meropide.

and you stand by that.

meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips.

wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.”

“shoot.”

“do you love her?”

wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.

he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back.

“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.

no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.

(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)

— — — — — — — —

it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.

it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.

“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.

“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”

wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?

ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.

he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.

he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”

and he leaves. just like that.

the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour.

“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.

“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.

— — — — — — — —

“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.

you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”

“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”

“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”

“you’re not helping!”

“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”

— — — — — — — —

seven days.

seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since.

just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold.

your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.

wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?

the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.

looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.

“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”

wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”

“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”

and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.

“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.

your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”

“it can only be up to you.”

he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?

he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.

“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”

“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.

#( writings )#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #x reader

564 notes · View notes

brunchable · 6 days

Text

FREAKY FRIDAY | Body Swapped Steve Rogers x f!reader.

Pairings: Johnny Storm Possessed Steve Rogers x f!reader Themes: Body Swap. Sexual Themes. Funny? Horndog Johnny, for an unknown reason, body-swapped with Steve. Summary: You woke up with Steve suddenly out of character and having an overflowing amount of rizz. A/N: It's comedy central in my blog this week. . . I can't help but insert one particular meme lmao

taggies: @mrsevans90

Like you did every morning, you woke up to the gentle warmth of Steve next to you, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you today. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he leaned in close, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Morning, gorgeous," he murmured, his voice smoother than usual. You blinked in surprise. Sure, Steve was affectionate, but this was... new.

You smiled back, albeit a little wary.

"Good morning?" Before you could say anything more, he captured your lips in a kiss that was how to describe it-more confident, more playful than his usual gentle morning kisses. You pulled back slightly, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Wow, someone's in a good mood today,” you said, trying to shake off the weird vibe.

Steve just grinned and gave you a little wink. "What can I say? I'm just appreciating my girl."

You squirmed under his intense gaze. You couldn't help but notice how his hand casually trailed down your arm, lingering a little longer than usual. You weren't sure if you should feel flattered or... flustered.

“Should we stay in bed a little while? You know…” he asked, his voice dropping suggestively as he wiggled his brows.

But this time, he didn’t stop there. As he leaned in closer, he slowly stuck out his tongue and wiggled it playfully, making his intentions blatantly clear.

Your face immediately turned bright red.

“Steve!” you exclaimed, quickly pressing your hand to his lips and pushed him away to stop him before he got any closer, utterly flustered by the suggestive gesture.

He chuckled against your hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief. For a second, you felt him wiggle his tongue against your palm, teasing you further before you jerked your hand back with a mix of shock and embarrassment.

“Unbelievable!” you muttered, feeling your face heat up even more.

He gave you a devilish grin, clearly enjoying how flustered you were.

“What? Just offering some ideas, sweetheart,” he teased, giving you a playful wink.

“No, Sam’s going to be here soon for your morning run, so go prepare.”

The excitement drained from his face, “I do?”

“Yes!”

Johnny—or rather, the man you thought was Steve—let out a low chuckle, clearly unfazed by your refusal. This wasn't like Steve at all. Steve was always respectful, sweet, and… well, a gentleman. But today? He seemed like a different man entirely.

“Guess I forgot,” he said with a smirk, sitting up slowly and stretching. His tone was casual, but the grin he gave you was anything but innocent.

As he shifted in bed, he leaned back casually and gave a quick, deliberate glance downwards before gesturing toward the noticeable outline in his sweatpants. The fabric clung snugly, revealing the distinct, firm shape of his dick pressing against the material, enough to leave little to the imagination.

“But if you change your mind about staying in bed…” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you know where to find me.”

You blinked in disbelief, your cheeks burning as he got out of bed and strolled toward the bathroom. He threw one last playful wink at you before disappearing behind the door, leaving you there in a state of complete confusion.

"What the hell is going on with him today?" you muttered to yourself.

You climbed out of bed and started to get ready for the day, you tried to shake off the feeling that something was… off. Maybe Steve was just in a playful mood? Maybe he was testing out some new approach to your relationship, though you couldn't help but wonder where it had come from all of a sudden.

But, soon enough, you heard the front door open and Sam's voice echoed through the apartment. "Yo, Rogers! Are you ready for our run?"

You peeked out from the bedroom just in time to see "Steve" step out of the bathroom, giving you another grin before heading out to meet Sam. He greeted him casually, as if everything was perfectly normal.

Sam looked over at you with a quick nod. “Hey, Y/N. Morning.”

“Morning,” you replied, though your voice sounded more distant than usual. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look directly at Sam, worried your face might give away just how weird the morning had been.

As they left for their run, you were left alone, still wondering why Steve was acting so differently. But then, you shook your head. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe he was just feeling particularly confident today. Either way, it was Steve, your Steve, and you trusted him.

Right?

× × × ×

You made breakfast while ‘Steve’ is out on a run. You tried to shake off your confusion by busying yourself with making coffee. It wasn't helping. The memory of Steve's unusually bold behaviour lingered in your mind.

And just when you were about to pour yourself a cup, you felt a sudden smack on your ass. You yelped in surprise, nearly spilling the coffee. Whipping around, you saw Steve standing there with a smug grin on his face, looking very proud of himself.

"Steve!" you gasped, your heart racing for all the wrong reasons. "What are you—"

"What?" he said with an innocent shrug, though his mischievous grin betrayed him. "Just saying hello."

You narrowed your eyes at him. “By smacking me on my ass?”

“Can't help it, you look too cute when you're all focused," he teased, stepping closer.

His hands slid around your waist, and before you could protest, he lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. Your breath hitched. This was not the Steve Rogers you knew. But as much as his behaviour was throwing you off, you couldn't deny the butterflies his actions stirred in your stomach.

"Steve, what's gotten into you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Instead of answering, Steve leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes, peppering kisses all over your face—your forehead, your cheeks, and your nose—until you were giggling uncontrollably.

“Steve, stop it!” you laughed, trying to push him away, but he was relentless, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Your laughter was cut short as his lips trailed lower, brushing down to the side of your neck. The playful atmosphere shifted instantly, your breath hitching in your throat. His kisses became more deliberate, slow and teasing, sending sparks of heat through your skin.

“Steve…” you whispered, but your words melted into a quiet gasp as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear. He lingered there, pressing soft, lingering kisses, making your pulse race.

His warm breath fanned over your skin, and without warning, his lips latched onto your neck, sucking gently but with enough pressure that you knew he was leaving a mark. A deep, guttural hum escaped him as he continued, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled your body against him.

The sensation of his lips and the gentle tugging of his teeth made your head spin, and you instinctively tilted your head, giving him better access.

“Steve,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body arching into his.

“Can’t help it,” he muttered against your skin between kisses. “You drive me crazy.”

His voice was low and rough, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. He sucked on your neck again, his tongue flicking over the spot before he pulled back slightly to admire his work.

"You’re gonna have to explain this one," he murmured with a grin, his lips ghosting over your ear, still hovering close enough to keep you breathless.

× × × ×

For the next hour, you tried to regain some composure, but it was hard with the heat of Steve’s kisses still tingling on your neck. Every time you moved, you could feel the slight sting of the mark he’d left behind, a not-so-gentle reminder of how wild this morning had been.

After making the bed and tidying up, you decided to head to the living room to relax for a bit, hoping that "Steve" had calmed down from whatever flirty streak had taken over him. You still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was a little… off. He's been too quiet.

You stepped into the living room, you stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw practically hitting the floor.

There, casually sprawled on the couch, was Steve in his birthday suit. Stark naked. The only thing covering him was your guitar, strategically placed across his lap. His posture was relaxed, one arm draped along the back of the couch, while his free hand strummed lazily at the strings.

He looked up as if nothing was out of the ordinary, a casual, half-lidded grin spreading across his face.

“Hey,” he said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked. Once. Twice.

“Steve… what the hell are you doing?” you finally stammered, struggling to form coherent words as your brain scrambled to process what you were seeing.

He shrugged nonchalantly, still strumming the guitar.

“Just thought I’d serenade my girl.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he tilted his head. “You know, I think I’m getting better at this guitar thing.”

Your cheeks flamed red as your gaze flickered between his shamelessly exposed body and the guitar that, frankly, wasn’t doing the best job at covering much.

“Put some clothes on!” you squeaked, your face burning from the sight in front of you. “What if someone walks in? Sam might—"

“Sam’s gone,” he cut in smoothly, winking. “It’s just you and me, babe.” He tilted his head, clearly amused by your reaction. “Besides, you weren’t complaining this morning.”

You could feel the heat rising to your face again, this time in full force. "That doesn't mean you get to... to do this!"

He just smirked, lazily leaning back on the couch, the guitar still resting against him. “Come on, don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“Steve, for the love of everything, PLEASE, just put some clothes on,” you muttered, rubbing your temples as if that would somehow erase the image from your brain.

Instead of listening, he suddenly stood up, the guitar still barely covering anything, and with the confidence of someone performing at a sold-out show, he started singing. Loudly.

“And you're kissin' on my neck, I'm like, “Oh”, Got your hands up on my chest, I'm like, “Oh”” he belted out dramatically, grinning ear to ear as he took a step toward you, his voice echoing through the room.

You panicked.

"Oh my God, Steve! No!" you squealed, immediately clamping your hands over your ears, turning away from him as fast as possible

“Kiss me 'til there's nothin' left, Oh my god, oh my god!” he sang even louder, walking toward you like some rock star, his guitar still precariously covering him as he inched closer.

You darted behind the coffee table, creating a barrier between the two of you, your face blazing red.

“Lalalalalalalala!” You covered your ears tighter, trying to block out the sight and sound of your naked boyfriend serenading you. “Lalalalalalala! I can't hear you.”

But he wasn't stopping. If anything, your reaction only encouraged him further.

“Why are you running, baby?”

He grinned wickedly, circling around the coffee table like a predator playing with his prey. "You could really tear me apart, but- I love you like that, Everything you do just turns me on, I love you like that, Body on my mind like all night long.”

You squeaked and moved in the opposite direction, keeping the table between you, but Steve—guitar still precariously positioned—was unstoppable, matching your every move. It was ridiculous, like a slow-motion chase scene in a rom-com, but you couldn’t help but laugh through your embarrassment.

"Steve! Seriously, stop!" you cried out, ducking and weaving as he chased you around the table, his singing never faltering.

"I love you like that!" he belted, reaching out with one hand as if trying to grab you. You yelped, dodging him by moving to the other side.

"Lalalalalalalala!" you cried, your hands clamped tighter over your ears as you rushed toward the door, desperate to escape.

His laughter echoed in the living room, the sound of his voice-and that ridiculous guitar performance following you as you fled to the safety of the kitchen. Behind you, you could hear him laughing even harder.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop!" he called after you, his voice still tinged with amusement.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your face still burning red. Today was officially out of control.

And this wasn't the Steve Rogers you signed up for.

× × × ×

As the day finally wound down, you were still trying to recover from the whirlwind of events that had unfolded earlier. After a long, flirty, and borderline chaotic day with “Steve,” you were just glad it was almost bedtime.

You had managed to avoid another musical performance from him after the whole guitar incident, but the playful energy hadn’t completely faded. As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, you could feel his eyes on you from across the room, watching your every move.

“Don’t even think about it,” you mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

He was lounging on the bed, shirtless now, with that same mischievous grin you’d been seeing all day.

“What?” he asked innocently, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise.

You rolled your eyes and spit out the toothpaste, rinsing your mouth. “You know exactly what.”

He laughed, the sound low and smooth as he got up and sauntered over to you, his bare feet padding quietly against the hardwood floor. Before you could react, he was behind you, his arms sliding around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I was just admiring how cute you look in your pajamas,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck.

You sighed, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to the heat of his skin against yours.

“Steve, it’s been a long day,” you said, your voice weary but laced with affection. “Can we just... go to bed? Without any more surprises?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your neck, lingering for just a second before pulling away with a grin.

“Alright, alright,” he relented, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll behave.”

You gave him a playful glare, narrowing your eyes as you turned to face him. “You said that earlier today, and then I walked into the living room and—”

“Okay, this time I’ll behave,” he interrupted with a laugh, holding his hands up defensively. “Promise.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help but smile. He may have been driving you absolutely crazy today, but this version of Steve—or Johnny, whoever he really was—was still undeniably charming in his own chaotic way.

Once you finished up in the bathroom, you both crawled into bed, the covers cool against your skin. Steve—or, well, Johnny—rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he gazed at you with that playful smirk.

“You sure you don’t want a little bedtime serenade?” he teased, his voice low and suggestive.

You groaned and pulled the blanket up over your head, burying yourself beneath the covers. “No!” you said, your voice muffled. “We’re done with that for today!”

He laughed again, the sound warm and contagious as he settled down beside you. The teasing faded, replaced by a softer, more familiar warmth as his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice gentle now as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

You peeked out from under the covers, smiling despite yourself. “Goodnight, Steve.”

As you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but wonder how long this flirty version of Steve would last—and whether or not you were ready for whatever tomorrow would bring.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stirred awake, the early light filtering through the curtains, and you felt the familiar warmth of strong arms slipping around your waist. Instinctively, you leaned into the embrace at first—until the events of the previous day rushed back to you. Your eyes snapped open, and before you could stop yourself, you jumped slightly, pulling away from the arms that had suddenly felt different, your heart pounding.

“Whoa, hey—what’s wrong?” Steve's voice came out soft, laced with confusion and concern. You turned over to face him, and instantly, you could tell something had changed. His eyes weren’t twinkling mischievously, there was no sly grin or playful wink. Instead, his brow was furrowed in concern, his hands hovering over you like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you again.

“Steve?” you whispered, your voice hesitant, scanning his face. He looked… like himself again. That quiet, gentle warmth was back, the one that had been missing yesterday.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, still looking concerned. “Are you okay? You jumped like I startled you.” He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch soft and careful, nothing like the bold, confident gestures from the day before.

You blinked at him, your mind racing. The contrast between today and yesterday was stark. Yesterday, he had been all cocky smirks and teasing touches, constantly riling you up. But now? Now, Steve seemed completely aware of what had happened, but wasn’t letting on.

“I—uh, I’m fine,” you stammered, still trying to process it all. “You just… caught me off guard.”

Steve frowned, clearly still confused by your reaction. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your arm as he studied you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, but your heart was still racing. "Yeah… you’re just… different from yesterday."

His brow furrowed further, but now there was something else behind his eyes. He looked like he was holding something back. “Different? What do you mean?” he asked, though you could sense he already knew.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Yesterday, you were just… more… flirty,” you said carefully, watching his reaction. “Like, a lot more. You were… singing to me. Naked. With my guitar.”

Steve’s eyes widened in shock, his face turning red almost instantly, but there was something else—recognition. “What? I—I did that?” He didn’t seem shocked by the words, more by the fact that you were telling him.

You nodded, your own face heating up at the memory. “Yeah. And you were… really, really bold. Smacking my butt, picking me up, kissing me all over…"

Steve's gaze drifted down, and before you could even say another word, his fingers gently brushed against your neck, right where Johnny had left that bold mark. His touch was tender at first, but the moment his thumb traced over the small bruise, his entire expression shifted.

"That motherfucker! I'm going to kill him!”

300 notes · View notes

bad-and-drawn-that-way · 7 months

Note

What about the moment Vox realizes he's head over heels in love with the reader? What made him fall for them, too? I'm such a sucker for moments like that. 😫

Short little drabble from bed! This is pre-hotel! (God, we need more visuals of him. I crave more gif options)

Unread Notification [Vox x Reader]

It snuck up on him.

Vox liked to think he was a self-aware guy. He knew his temper was easily triggered, and he spent years crafting charisma and charm to compensate. He knew he overworked, and though he'd never admit it out loud, he knew his weaknesses. So there was no reason his feelings for you should have caught him off guard.

Vox had a type. Or at least, he thought he did. He was attracted to power. To cutting edge personalities full of ambition. He thought he loved the rush of excitement that came with the more cutthroat personalities, even though more often than not, the repercussions of playing with fire was getting burned.

It was after getting burned once again by the careless hands of Valentino that Vox met you. The two of you crossed paths at a club where Valentino had dragged Vox in the name of blowing off some steam. Vox didn't feel up to the loud and busy scene, but he'd been desperate for Valentino's affection and was hoping his needs would finally be satiated. He should have known better. Because of fucking course Angel Dust had to be there.

It would matter if Vox just cut his losses and went home to angrily jerk off, but it didn't matter if he stayed. He'd never hear the end of it from Valentino if he left. The moth would just complain about Vox being needy. It had happened before.

So Vox was stuck sitting at a bar in a club that he didn't even want to be at in the first place while Valentino doted on his favorite collared pet. When Vox noticed you sitting beside him at the bar, watching Valentino and Angel Dust with similar disdain to his own.

At first, he thought you were just some random fangirl, but he quickly learned you had actually shown up because Angel had asked for a night on the town to recover from a porn shoot. You clearly weren't a fan of how things had developed, but the memory of how poorly things went the last time you tried to intervine in his addiction to Valentino's poison was fresh in your mind.

So despite how badly you wanted to leave the crowded place and just go home, you stayed. Just in case. You couldn't abandon him even if it was clear he was too far gone from Valentino's aphrodisiacs to be aware of your presence any longer.

At first, you were hesitant to voice your own frustrations about the reoccurring patterns to Vox. He was the overlord in a fucked up situationship with Valentino, after all. However, after a couple of drinks, Vox had gone off on several of his own rants and by the end of the night you had both let out all of your frustrations in a tipsy moment of relief. And no, not in the way you're thinking.

Eventually, the two of you left the club. It was late, and to both of your disdain, you'd lost track of the company you'd arrived with. It didn't seem to matter to the warm hell night, as you found an empty park bench to sit at and started shooting the shit. It was the start of an unexpected friendship that somehow grew into more without Vox realizing.

He'd come to look forward to the stupid memes you'd text him while he was at work. He liked coming over to your shitty apartment and despite how much he bitched about getting fur on his suits, Vox had passed out on the couch with you and your hellcat several times during movie nights. Unlike with the Vees, if you came to him to vent about your day, he genuinely listened. He wanted to provide the relief you gave him when he'd vent to you.

The realization of his feelings hit him like a freight train. As blaringly obvious the loud horns and bright lights may have been to any outside observer, Vox had blindly tied himself to the track without even knowing where he found the rope.

You had fallen asleep on his shoulder after the two of you spent the night marathoning some old, poorly written romcom series. There was popcorn on the floor from where you had thrown the pieces at the horribly stupid couple on the screen while Vox yelled at them for their emotional constipation. Your hair was messily framing your face as the tiniest little snores escape you on occasion. There was a small train of drool running down your chin, and Vox couldn't help but chuckle at how gracelessly you slept.

Without thinking, he tossed a blanket over you and leaned back, so he held you against him where he now lay on the couch. His arms draped over your back, and he smiled softly as your cat noticed the new position and hopped up to lay between your legs. Vox closed his eyes, content as he slowly rubbed your back and let himself relax.

He loved the smell of your shampoo. He loved how he had to use lint rollers after cuddling with you, as stupid and annoying as it could be to keep up the habit. It was worth it, just to remember your smile when he'd find a strand of fur he missed. He loved your stupid sense of humor, and he loved how at peace he felt when he was with you.

For as much as he loved his power and business, he loved getting to let his walls down with you more. He loved getting to just be the dorky guy with a bow tie and vest you poked fun at. He loved the time you tried to make him wear one of your hoodies, only for his head to get stuck. He loved you.

Vox's eyes snapped open as the peaceful sleep he'd almost slipped into was snatched away by the reality of his feelings. His heart was beating so loud, he was surprised you didn't wake up. If anything, you just wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his chest and it took everything in Vox not to explode there and then.

For the entire night, Vox screamed internally as his body shook, and he repressed the shocks and jolts that threatened to spark and wake you from your peaceful slumber. The overlord looked like exhausted shit by the time you rose with the sun, but he couldn't be damned to care. Not when you sleepily rubbed your eyes and laughed like that. Not when your hair was sticking to your face and you said good morning to him like you were meant to start the mornings in his arms just as naturally as you would breathe.

No. Vox couldn't care less about how worn out he was from the realization if he tried. Just like always, the second he saw your smile, everything else just washed away into background static. He cupped your face and said some sort of sassy quip about your bed head, to which you immediately started freaking out over.

He watched as you started to pat your hair down frantically and smiled softly. Oh yeah, he was fucking whipped.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #SORRY IF ITS MESSY #IM IN BED AND V TIRED #BUT SOMEONE WAS IN NEED OF FLUFF AND I AM PROVIDER IN THIS HOUSEHOLD

1K notes · View notes

fangirl-dot-com · 6 months

Text

🌑Track 3 - Big Reputations

guys, I was so proud of this chapter and then the instagram post. I always try to make them look cohesive and that the pictures were taken all together - and I think I was able to do that really well this time!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Oscar huffed while looking at the notification from the WhatsApp. Apparently two new numbers had been added in the past hour. However, no one has said anything. He opened the app and began to type, before he pressed the delete button.

What was he supposed to say?

Liam and Theo had been added weeks ago. The atmosphere of the group chat was a bit lighter with the two new additions. Despite what he had said in an interview a couple of months ago, the group chat did have a random meme or quirky text thrown around from time to time. The two new drivers had made themselves known immediately. Yet, these two “drivers” had yet to say anything.

Oscar’s eyebrows scrunched at the two unknowns invading the safe space. His apartment was quite empty. Lily wasn’t able to join him for the last few days of break. He was technically supposed to be packing to head to Bahrain in the morning, but he couldn’t find the want or energy to actually start.

He would have called Lando, but the Briton was already busy with Quadrant things. He thought about texting Logan, but immediately shut the idea down. The American had probably gotten a new number, since Oscar’s messages weren’t even delivered. And the sight of Logan’s Instagram being deactivated also meant that he didn’t want to be found in the first place.

Oscar’s heart clenched weirdly at the thought. How had they gone from being best friends to not even talking anymore.

To Oscar, it hurt. The Aussie was trying to justify his own acts against the American. If Logan had been just a bit more extroverted, or had done a better job at driving, or had actually tried to reach out, then maybe Oscar wouldn’t have distanced himself.

But then again, he had multiple unanswered texts and missed calls from Logan that he ignored.

Another notification had him glancing back down at his phone.

This time, George had taken the initiative to welcome to two, still unknown, rookies. The “hi, welcome to the grid” text was a standard for everyone who joined. His fingers itched to also welcome them, but he stopped himself and looked closer at the two contacts.

Racer #2 and Racer #95.

Oscar sighed at the sight of the familiar number. He guessed that someone had been wanting to take that number since Logan was no longer racing.

However, he just wondered who they were and why they didn’t use their real names. The answer came from the #95.

“What?” Oscar whispered to himself as he read over the text. Lamborghini didn’t want them using their names until they showed up at testing. How ridiculous it was in Oscar’s mind. He watched as Liam tried to make conversation with #95, asking if their number was a nod to the famous Cars movie.

Liam didn’t get a reply.

The Aussie had a bad gut feeling. Maybe this was all a joke. They could try to be civil, and maybe freaking answer? Oscar did not like the vibes he was getting from the two.

He didn’t even know if they were both males.

He had heard rumors that Lamborghini was looking at a possible female candidate. But that what they were supposed to be: just rumors. He cleared the app and opened the messages icon on his iPhone. George’s contact is what he pressed and immediately opened a call.

His phone rang for a moment before the Briton picked up.

“Hello mate,” George’s voice sounded from the phone.

“Hi George. I just wanted to ask about the two new numbers.”

“Ah the new drivers for Lamborghini?”

Oscar nodded before he realized that George was not on Facetime. “Yes.”

George sighed. “From what I got, they’re legit drivers. However, I got an email directly from Michael saying that Tonino wanted his drivers’ identities to not be compromised before testing.”

“Ah, well, I just didn’t want to say anything to them before I knew they were legitimate. It’s kind of weird.”

“I understand. It’s weird to see that someone else is going to use Logan’s old number.”

Oscar could hear, what was it, a touch of sadness in George’s voice? Why would he be sad?

“I meant that it’s weird that they don’t want their names to be known. I mean, it’s just a number George, I’m not upset about that.”

The Mercedes driver made noise.

“But it’s Logan’s number.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Well, if Logan wanted to keep it, he should have been a better driver.”

The line went silent, and Oscar really thought that George might have hung up. A quick glance to the screen told him otherwise.

“You don’t truly believe that, do you? Logan tried to hard.”

Oscar bit out, “Well, it wasn’t enough. He should have done better, been better. Maybe then I could still stand him. Thanks for your help George.”

With that, the Aussie hung up before George could even answer. He was furious. If Logan truly wanted to stay in F1, he should have done better and that was that. No need to be butthurt over someone who wasn’t going to be in his life anymore.

On the other side of London, George was still looking at his phone screen after Oscar hung up. But, the Briton was staring at the Driver #2’s WhatsApp number. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to memorize the digits.

“What are you staring at?” Lewis sounded as he sat on George’s couch.

Oh, George kind of forgot that he was there.

The tall Briton didn’t answer as he opened his own messaging app and went directly to Logan’s new contact. The last message had been read but went unanswered. And that was almost a month ago.

But, as he stared at the info tab and the number he had down for Logan and then at the number for Driver #2, the digits matched up.

George’s eyes widened before he looked up at Lewis and smirked.

“How do you feel about the two new drivers?”

Lewis shrugged. “A bit stand-off-ish. But I understand, they were only added today.”

The brunet took a seat across from his older teammate and faux sighed.

“I’m just worried that the rookies are going to not be included. Ya know, like what happened with Logan.”

Lewis put a hand on George’s shoulder.

The man looked at him with big brown eyes. “It wasn’t your fault George. Williams had this planned for a long time. There was nothing you could do.”

George stood up immediately and threw his hands.

“But I could have been a better friend. He was struggling Lewis and no one did anything. Oscar was too busy making eye-babies with Lando to notice that his friend was falling. Alex was being an asshole. And no one else took the time to even get to know him, and now he’s gone.”

On the inside, George was congratulating himself on the performance that he was putting on. Of course he knew that driver #2 was Logan. And, he was guessing that driver #95 was possible that best friend that Logan spoke so highly of, the female ex-driver or Arrow.

Lewis stayed seated. “I know you’re upset George, but it won’t change anything in the past. All we can focus on is the future. I know for one that I will do my best to get to know the rookies so we don’t have another issue like last year. I know you’re not focusing on the chat but it looks like Max and Charles have been able to get a few answers out of them.”

George looked back down at his phone to see multiple notifications from WhatsApp. It looks like Lewis was telling the truth.

Multiple messages had been exchanged between the two rivals and the unknown numbers, well, unknown to everyone but him. George smirked.

“Looks like the rivals can get along.”

Lewis snorted. “I guess they also want to try to be a bit more welcoming. We can all learn from our mistakes last season.”

The shorter Briton looked down, slightly getting emotional. Lewis knew first-hand how detrimental Formula 1 was to childhood best friends. His own heart still hurt to see Nico on the weekends that he was there. He felt guilty that he let Brocedes happen once again with Logan and Oscar.

For a short time, George had been irate with Lewis about the switch to Ferrari. But now, seeing what happened with Logan last season, George didn’t want to miss precious moments with his friend.

George never responded to what Lewis said. He only sat down again, across from the couch, and sent a simple text to Logan.

Back in Milan, you and Logan were cackling over messing with the other drivers. You could tell that no one knew what to do with the secrecy of identities. But now that you were in a banter with Charles over ice cream flavors and Logan was having a deep conversation about air pollution with Max, the group chat seemed a little less daunting.

A ping from Logan’s phone had the two of you looking at it. Logan hadn’t expected a text from George after leaving him on read months ago. But now, the new messaged seemed to stare back at them.

All the message said was “Glad to see you back. Let me know when you get to Bahrain for testing.”

Logan winced as he forgot he had the same number for both iMessages and WhatsApp. You could definitely tell that he was spiraling. You placed a hand on his arm.

“Hey, Michael isn’t going to be upset. He knows that you and George are friends.”

A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

“I’m just so scared of messing up again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Logan, you didn’t mess up the first time. It wasn’t your fault.”

Your body leaned back, expecting Logan to retaliate. Except, the American only smiled at you, taking in your words.

“You’re right.”

You pushed his shoulder. “Like always.”

Instagram was pulled up on your phone. You refreshed the page to show that Lamborghini had posted something about the two of you. Your fingers quickly scrolled through the comments while you smirked at all the fan theories.

You pipped up as Logan sipped on a smoothie.

“Looks like everyone is talking about us.”

The man across from you smirked back. “But they don’t even know it’s us. I kind of like it. No one knows and can’t say anything. They just know that something big is happening. Also, George wants to meet up when we get to Bahrain.”

“You texted him back?” You never looked up from your phone, now scrolling through twitter.

“Yeah. George was actually the only one that was nice to me on a regular basis. I miss him.”

“Sounds like fun. I’m glad you had George last season. Are we going to play paddle?”

The typing sounds came from Logan’s phone as he texted George. A ping signaled that he answered.

“Yeah. Looks like Lewis, Max, and Charles might join.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like peculiar bunch?”

Logan shrugged. “I mean, Lewis is going to be Charles’s teammate next year. And then anywhere Charles goes, Max isn’t too behind.”

“Makes sense. Kind of like us?”

Logan sent you a lopsided smile. “Like us, except we aren’t childhood rivals.”

“Of course. Only because we never karted together.”

A sigh left Logan’s lips. He always wished you could have karted with him, but you were off in the Italian divisions while Logan stuck in the British divisions. However, the summers the two of you spent together in Florida would always trump the times apart.

Logan got lost in thought before he spoke again.

“Do you even know how to play paddle?”

A snort left your lips. “Of course. Maybe I’ll bring the one you sent me with your face on it.”

Red flushed Logan’s face. “Please don’t.”

“What would you do about it Mr. Sargeant?”

Logan just picks up one of the decorative pillows from the couch and chucks it at your head. You do not have time to react and it ends up hitting you square in the face. Your mouth lets out a squawk before you pick the pillow back up. You rise from the plush chair and stalk toward Logan, who has put his hands up to deter you.

“Please have mercy! I didn’t mean it.”

You stopped for a bit, giving Logan some false hope and enough time for him to put his hands down before you swing the pillow, hitting the side of his head. Logan splutters before reaching out and pulling you down on top of him.

The two of you tussle for a bit before Marissa walks into the room. She chuckles as she watched the two of you roll on the floor, both tugging on the pillow.

“I don’t even want to ask.”

The sound of her voice makes the two of you freeze. Your heads slowly turn toward her, before the two of you scramble to get up. You mock dust yourself off as Logan awkwardly chuckles.

Marissa cocks an eyebrow. “If the two of you are done, it’s time for the suit and helmet promo pictures along with some circuit testing.”

You and Logan have giant grins on your face as the two of you follow her out. Logan elbows you before walking quickly to Marissa’s side. You gawk at him before shaking your head.

Logan was going to be the death of you. But you’d let him.

At the test track, you were smiling behind your helmet as you watched Logan go lap after lap. The helmet was just a standard black one with multiple different sponsor logos on it, as well as the Lambo one being the biggest. You and Logan had worn them while walking into the circuit, just in case there were any cameras or paparazzi around. The last thing you wanted was to be outed before testing.

You watched as Logan finally pulled in, the car looking fast.

Logan’s hands automatically went to take his helmet off as a force of habit, but he quickly put them down. Like you, he also didn’t want to outed.

Marissa beckoned the two of you over.

“All right, that looks good for Logan. Y/n you’ll run 15 laps and then you’re done for today. I’ve already talked to Michael and he’s fine with the two of you playing paddle. He’s rented out a building for the day, just in case, but he wants the two of you to have fun. The flight you need to catch is early at 5 am. Please be on time.”

As you and Logan were running to the gate the next morning, you should have headed Marissa’s warnings a bit more. The two of you were huffing and puffing by the time you got to the lounge, with only 15 minutes to spare. Many older, fancy-looking people gave you weird looks. You tried to smile at them, but it came out as more as a grimace.

You were able to catch a few hours of sleep while Logan went over some more data. He was always the one to go over things like that, trying to find the sweet spot of the car. Logan had done the same at Williams, but it rarely made a difference. He had just found the perfect balance of the car in Austin last year, and then they made him switch with Alex. And then he didn’t even get his car back. The rebuilt chassis was terrible.

Logan smiled to himself as he felt the familiar weight of your head on his shoulder. He barely turned and kissed the top of your head. A blush ran through his face as you leaned more into him, trying to snuggle closer.

Benny was watching with a small smile as he saw Logan place his head on top of yours. The older man had sworn that he wouldn’t be returning. But the moment Michael had reached out with an offer than he couldn’t refuse, he accepted it without hesitation. He would do anything for Logan. His wife was also very understanding and was thankful for the compensation that Lamborghini was going to provide for her family. Logan was like their eldest son, and they couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him down again.

You were still pretty tired on the way to the hotel, but were now buzzing with energy as Logan drove you to the paddle courts. He was driving one of the company’s Lamborghini Urus since your Aventador and his Huracan hadn’t been able to be shipped in time. They were done and ready to be driven when they shipped them to Jeddah.

Logan had given you the DJ privileges for this ride, but he claimed it on the way back. You were going through his phone, letting George know that the two of you would be the first to arrive. He texted back that him, Lewis, Max, and Charles would all arrive together. You thumbed up the text, after telling him to give him Logan’s last name at the counter so that they could be let in.

George was smirking in the Mercedes that Lewis was currently driving. Charles and Max were banned to the back seat (yet they claimed they wanted to be back there because they couldn’t afford to be caught riding in a Mercedes).

Once they parked, he turned his body to face the group.

“Now, I’m going to give the front a last name so that we can get in, but do not overreact, ok?”

The lanky-Briton didn’t wait for an answer before he got out of the car. He could feel the presence of the three drivers and held the door open. The lady at the front stared at them weirdly. George watched as she opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her.

“We’re a part of the group that’s playing today.”

“Name please?”

The lady typed something on her computer.

George smiled. “Sargeant.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw heads whip toward him, but he decided to ignore the shocked looks as well.

Typing resumed as he tapped the desk, a bit impatient to see his friend after a while. A grin grew on her face as she finally looked up at him.

“Court 3. Extra paddles are in the small boxes if you don’t have any. Enjoy your time.”

George took the initiative and led the group around the corner. Lewis tugged on his sleeve, but he didn’t stop, not when he heard the familiar laugh.

The door squeaked as he opened it, letting the figure in the room notice the arrival of the group of four. George’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Logan.

To him, the American had filled out a lot. He often looked too skinny during race weekends, especially after Benny left. The Briton wanted to ask him about his nutrition but had always been nervous to. He was also more tan that he had been. His hair looked fluffy and there were no more purple eyebags under his eyes. Overall, he just looked so much better than end of the 2023 season Logan. Where had the sick child gone and who was this man in front of George? The brunet thought for a moment that he had been played, until Logan started walking toward him.

“Mate, are you going to ogle or are you going to say something?” Logan asked as he stepped toward George, arm stretched out.

He clasped George’s hand and pulled him into a hug. Once the bro-moment was done, George still kept looking at Logan.

“You look good mate.”

Logan’s head leaned back as he laughed.

“Thanks.”

It was then he noticed that the other three drivers had yet to move from the door. Their eyes were still wide and looking at the duo. Logan smirked as he saw you sneak up behind them.

“Hi guys!” you semi-yelled, making them jump. Your giggle sounded in the big court. That was the icebreaker that they needed as they finally walked into the room. You immediately stood next to Logan as he introduced you.

You rolled your eyes and elbowed Logan. “I know their names. We had good conversations about how chocolate is the best ice cream flavor. Isn’t that right Charles?”

Charles had a pout on his lips. “I said no such thing. I believe we agreed that vanilla was the best non?”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

Max raised his hand. “You are both wrong. The best flavor is clearly mint chocolate chip.”

You all just deadpanned at him.

“It’s true.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Logan, you don’t have an opinion when your favorite is literally the Superman flavor.”

“Shut up Y/n.”

“Are we going to play paddle now?”

“Yes Lewis, we’ll play paddle.”

It was quiet for a moment until you yelled, “I call Charles as a teammate.”

Logan and Max whipped toward you.

“That’s just unfair.”

“I’m leading, he pushed me, I pushed him back, and after, he pushed me off the track. It’s just unfair.”

Logan followed your lead. “Charles, what happened with Max?”

“Nothing just an inchident on the race.”

“That’s it. Lewis is my teammate.”

“Back off Leclerc. You have him for next year, he’s mine.”

“What if I wanted Lewis?”

“Max, you win every race. You can lose at paddle.”

“Ok, but I still get Charles right?”

georgerussell63 has posted

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, venus2, and phoenix95

georgerussell63 going into the season strong 💪 (max lost)

liked by phoenix&venus, y/n.nation, venus2, and 3,204,184 others

russellgeorge oh we are so back (I'm delusional)

mercganggang WRITE IT DOWN WRITE IT DOWN

lambof1 hold on - GEORGE KNOWS WHO THEY ARE??

lamborghini_duo we've been known 🙃

phoenix95 glad to see verstappen on his knees - I'm taking his emotional support rival tho

maxverstappen1 uh, exCUSE me 🤨 get your own emotional support rival

venus2 do I mean nothing to you?

charles_leclerc you don't like vanilla so I refuse

maxverstappen1 Charlie I like vanilla

lewishamilton this is so pitiful to watch 🤦🏾

russell63 George really said "I'm getting the band back together"

sargeantgirlie ok - I think I have everything figured out

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @disneyprincemuke @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

765 notes · View notes