clooverr

[clooverr]

Fancy Seing You Here

WillNE x Fem Reader

Overview: Y/n goes to visit her friend in Brighton and meets a gorgeous stranger on the train. Their meeting was breif and kind and she forgets about it, until she bumps into a certain someone at a bar.

Warnings: Eventual Smut, MDNI !!!!

Notes: Hey!! Im new to writing and im hoping to succesfully write a mini series (God knows how long thats going to take me) This first part is really short but its just an introduction, i have so much planned for this, i hope you enjoy!!!

Y/N POV

Fuck. Rush hour.

I didn’t mean to leave work this late. I actually told my boss that I needed to leave early, but as per usual, I’m needed for something that my thick co-workers can’t figure out. Simple tasks that they should know by now. So, I'm rushing. Trying to make my way to the train station in the middle of London at 5pm.

I'm going to Brighton for the weekend to see my best mate, Matt. He just recently moved there with his boyfriend and it's been so hard to see him because of work but he invited me down. At first I dismissed it. 

"Ive got work"

"I need the money to pay my rent"

But Matt convinced me to have the weekend off to relax. Everytime we catch up he tells me that I should leave my job, that I'm destined for more than a bar job that pays horribly and I tell him every time that it's just a place holder but I'm starting to doubt that myself. I have a degree in stage management for fuck sake, i should be using that to make some good money and ive spoken to so many people who say they can get me a job but so far its just been empty promises. There's no time to worry about that, right now I'm trying to navigate my way through Farringdon station to get on the right train. Which is seeming to be harder than I thought (why is it literally a maze?).

After a mini heart attack from realizing I was on the northbound platform and not the southbound platform, I found peace in the sign hanging from the ceiling that read ‘Brighton’ in big letters. I had to squeeze myself past suitcases and obnoxious people who didn't understand the words “excuse me” to get to the edge of the platform, waiting for the train to pull up. I didn't know if I was going to get a seat. I quietly hoped that I would, I couldn't imagine the 2 hour train journey standing with a massive backpack. The anxiety fizzled out with the thought of my headphones, my saving grace!

I was right about the seat thing. Not a single spare seat in the whole carriage. It was awkward enough trying not to hit anyone with my bag, let alone wander aimlessly up and down the carriage looking for a seat. I settled next to the door, leaning against the pole and zoning out to my music.

We got to London Bridge station and an influx of people got off the train, I snapped back into reality and felt like I was in the hunger games. Tactless humans, all eyes darting to find a chair without a bum in it. I see a head, just one, next to the window of a two seater. I make my way over and quietly praise whatever higher power. They sat me next to a gorgeous man. I wasn't going to say anything to him, I was just grateful for the eye candy. So I lift my backpack onto the shelf above the aisle and sink into my seat, getting comfy for the long journey ahead. 

About 20 minutes go by, I'm listening to my music, enjoying the countryside we are driving through. Such a change from the busy bustle of London. I like it. A song comes on that im not a fan of and skip it, another one im not feeling, oh and another one. I give up and open my phone to find a song that I fancy. Finally settling on some Fleetwood Mac, perfect for the scenic journey. I close my eyes and drift off to the music until im awoken by a soft tap on my shoulder.

Its the gorgeous man. 

I quickly realise that my headphones are no longer connected and the music is playing really loudly out of my phone.

“I thought you’d want to know” I quickly pause the music, feeling embarassed but the Geordie accent he speaks in instantly makes me forget about any prior embaraasment, is there anything else that coud make this man more attractive.

“Not that im complaining, i love a bit of Fleetwood Mac” 

There it is.