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xxanaduwrites · 2 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

honey, are you comin’?

previous part: sweet talkin’ | from the hive: session 1

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny finds honey again. this time near a honeycomb, hopin’ for a taste on the road ;) (p.s.: if you were wonderin’, yes — the title of this was so inspired by måneskin)

warnings: not much of anything besides some minor talks of cruelty towards children, peeps being judgmental as hell, & smoking. they’re subtly flirting here basically. it’s cute! that’s really it. x

author’s note: oh my goodness! you have no idea how STUNNED i’ve been by all the love miss.honey!benny have been getting so far. fully was not expecting this. deadass wrote sweet talkin’ for fun. no thoughts, head empty type beat. just wanted to thank you honeys so so much. i can’t thank ya enough i fear! i literally still can’t wrap my head around this, but i love you all sm & can’t wait to share more with you! 🍯🐝🫶

word count: 2.7k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

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Another unbearable wave of heat managed to remain the very next day. Your students squirming against their metal chairs, antsy as ever for a reprieve. And so were you too. Thankfully, it just so happened to be your turn as fellow recess monitor with one or your fellow co-workers, Miss. Margie. Marge just so happened to be a newly breaded fresh faced teacher just like yourself. You enjoyed her company, more so than the older teachers who were rather cruel to the students. Especially when they did something wrong. Marge wasn’t cruel so to speak but she was a tough cookie, putting her foot down when needed. You two as a duo were rather perfect for the school grounds. You as the comfort go to when a knee was scraped, and Marge as the tough love go to when a particular student needed a stern talking to.

You worked well together, and it showed. Your relief was rather prominent when you stepped out the back door near the playground. An immediate swarm of giggles and chatter from small voices buzzed about, and you couldn’t help but smile as you adjusted your eyes to the sun, protected under your heart shaped sunnies. It didn’t take you long to find Marge who was already planted near the monkey bars with her arms crossed over her chest like a drill sergeant. Considering her father’s status as a war vet, by no means was it shocking to you or anyone else for that matter to see her in such a state.

“Hi Margie,” you greeted her once materialized next to her. “How’s it goin’?”

Margie's clear concentration dropped at the sound of your voice. “Oh no wonder,” she commented without looking at you. Her brows shot up in genuine intrigue.

Your honey coated lips parted in confusion instantly. “Huh?”

“Your three o’clock, Hun.” Margie tilted her head to the right subtly, directing you to her line of sight. A sight that made your heart curl into itself in a warm beat. Right behind those chain-linked fences that kept the kids contained was Uncle Benny. Yet, today his status as Uncle appeared to be rather amiss. Instead of Johnny’s car flanked near the curb, he was leaning against a neat Harley Davidson. The same one you saw him on that mornin’. You figured he was dropping off the girls or somethin’, but your curiosity got the better of you when you saw Mrs. Davis with them instead.

Now in the no parking zone, he stood out like the sorrest of thumbs. Practically a puzzle piece thrown into the wrong box. With no thoughts behind those pretty blue eyes of his besides you.

“That biker of yours stood up like a torpedo as soon as you walked out,” your co-worker added.

You took a moment to adjust your glasses, moving them to the tip of your nose to get a better look. Sure as shit, you weren’t having a heat stroke. It was really him. He was still here. Had he been out here since the mornin’ or left to come back? And if he was here for you like Margie said — why? You were certain he wasn’t much of a fan of you the day prior.

“He’s — He’s not my biker,” you mangled out, words twisting off your tongue as butterflies danced around your tummy.

Margie snorted. “I hate to break it to you, Hun. Lookin’ like he is now.” She paused a moment, shifting her footing as she spotted a youngin’ running roughly across the pavement, almost banging into another student. “Hey — watch where you’re goin’. Don’t push it Mikey!” She reprimanded before fixing herself upright and asking you, “What was all that about yesterday anyways?”

“What y’mean?” You questioned, not quite sure what she was going on about.

“You know — lettin’ the Davis girls go with ‘em. Caused a bit of an upheaval with the parents apparently. Heard all about it in the break room this mornin’. Doesn’t sound like Principal Rubs is real happy about it either.”

Your ears couldn’t believe what you were hearing. What business did the parents have putting their two cents in about somebody else’s family members? As for Principal Rubin, well, she was Principal Rubin after all. There wasn’t much to it there. The damn woman was a stickler with the sprinklers yesterday after all. Never a ball of fun as far as you were concerned.

“Why wouldn't I?” You challenged, becoming rather defensive.

“The guy pulled up like a maniac all greasy and shit. Almost gave everyone a heart attack,” Margie reasoned, her features churning in disgust.

You knew if he was some clean cut military guy in full uniform, she wouldn’t have made a comment at all, which kind-of pissed you off. Sure his clothes were lookin’ as if they hadn’t seen a washing machine in a cycle of days, but hey — what did that have to do with character? There were plenty of people who gave this outward canvas of perfectionism, far off from who they truly were deep down inside. You knew that, and you saw it every single day within the cruel clusters of your modern society. You saw it in the faces of your Ma and Pa when you didn’t fit the supposed mold they were trying to conform you to.

“So? He’s their Uncle, Marge,” you countered, defenses climbing high. “Did you ever think that maybe the man was runnin’ late? Worryin’ about the girls. That’s why he was speedin’.”

Margie sighed. “Not with that Vandals shit on his vest, but whatever you wanna believe, Hun.”

It went quiet between you two then. A clear indication that this conversation wasn’t gonna get the two of you anywhere.

“I should go talk to him,” you announced, snapping the awkward silence in half. There was no denying that you were now suddenly eager to find out what all this was about.

“Yuh should. If you don’t I will, and I doubt that will end well,” she joked, her eyes sparkling in amusement. Oh and she was right about that. Knowing Margie, you knew the idea of her approaching Benny would formulate a recipe for disaster.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the mental image of such a scene. But also — you were utterly glad for this newfound banter popped open from a bottle of tension. “Alright Colonel, I’ll be back,” you quipped, before heading across the playground.

You could feel his eyes burning across your form on your journey to the edge of the property, your tummy flipping again in a bit of nerves and excitement. A part of you felt somewhat disappointed when you found yourself coming to a halt — stuck behind the monstrous fence that separated you from him, while another was glad for some security. You weren’t quite sure what his motive was, but knew it couldn’t be anything bad. He was just sitting here, smoking and minding his own business. Well — minding you.

“The girls don’t get out of school for another few hours, y’know,” you said matter-of-factly, eyeing him through the grates of the fence that reminded you far too much of a honeycomb.

He didn’t say much of anything, just raised a brow as you as he took one last drag of his cigarette. You watched as he put it out against the pavement, amongst a garden of other buds with his boot. Your suspicions were coming into fusion then, the realization that he’d been planted here for as long as your delusions imagined.

What could he possibly want from an innocent elementary school teacher like you?

He reached for that packet of Marlboros in his vest pocket all over again, clearly on a chain smoking spree. “Y’want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. Those lean fingers of his calloused to the bone holding out a fresh cigarette in your direction. A cigarette that he’d been saving for you just in case.

You looked around for a moment, not quite sure what to do. The coast seemed to be clear though. Margie looked busy with some of the kids. Had a cluster of ‘em around her with her finger wagging about in every which direction. With her eyes no longer trained on Benny and you, and your form more than halfway across the school yard, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you were having a day and could really use a cigarette. “Sure.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Benny re-adjusted his stance, shoulders straight as he sauntered the sidewalk to meet you against the fence. His rough knuckles brushed across your polished ballet slipper fingers as he passed you the cigarette though the honeycomb, a sweetness shooting up your arm in an instance. You left it sticking out for a moment so he could light it up for you, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your face. The casual interaction felt rather intimate in the moment, and you were more than happy when you got to take a step back on your first drag.

“Thanks,” you voiced your appreciation as he popped a fresh cig against his lips, now lighting up his own. You couldn’t help but notice that he had a sweet little freckle etched into his bottom lip. No wonder he had beautiful lips, you thought.

Surely, they’d be sweet to the kiss.

Jutting your hip out, you tapped your foot against the dry grass in impatience. “You stalkin’ me or somethin’?” You ripped off the bandage then, getting right into the real stuff. It was too hot out to sugarcoat anything any longer. Plus, the more you stood here the more Marg would get curious, and you’d be caught slacking on the job.

His lip curled up to the side naturally, just like it had yesterday when you introduced yourself to him. “Ain’t a stalker,” he confirmed, re-pocketing his lighter.

You found his candid response refreshing’. Naturally a honey rumblin’ laugh tumbled out of you “Good to ‘ear. My co-worker y’see ‘round over there?” Flicking the residue on the end of your cigarette out of the way, you pointed at her simultaneously. “She thinks ya are. Doesn’t appreciate the loitering.”

He shook his head then, long pretty eyelashes fanning his lower lids as he puckered his lips against the cig. His eyes squinted across the campus for only a second until his gaze landed right back on you. You in another denim overall number with a whole new canvas of embroidered fun. This time, knowing that you were gonna be out in the yard come afternoon, you opted on a classic jean overall. There was always the possibility of having to kneel on the grassy ground or near the sand pit, having to scoop up a youngin’ that refused to leave the playground. You learned your lesson rather quickly within your first few months of teaching. Tripping over yourself in such a situation left a tear in your favorite skirt. A skirt you still frowned about every time you found a certain piece in your closet that would make the perfect pair.

Funnily enough, if Benny knew of such a thing he would’ve made sure the same exact piece of clothing was at your doorstep and back in your closet before the thought crossed your sweet little mind.

But you didn’t know that. Not yet, that is.

And Benny — well Benny wasn’t payin’ as much attention as he would’ve liked to what you were sayin’, and he wasn’t quite interested in Margie anyways. His interests lied with you, and in his defense, the sight of you in your heart shaped sunnies wasn't helping the cause one bit. It was hard to take you seriously when you looked that stinkin’ cute. Made him wanna put you in his jacket pocket for safe keeping. And hell was he itching to just drive his bike right through the fuckin’ fence to break the barrier between you two. He was still beatin’ himself up for not taking your hand when you offered it to him yesterday. Hence why he was here, stakin’ you out. Hoping to fix his mistake.

Because the last thing he ever wanted to do was fuck this up with you.

Instead of enertainin’ your comment or makin’ a move to leave upon your far from subtle hints, far from linear to your own wishes, he changed the topic completely. “What time y’get outta ‘ere?”

You took a long drag of your cigarette, to calm your anxieties. The smoke circled ‘round your face for a moment before it traveled across the fence, reachin’ for Benny. Ironically, it was as if the smoke mirrored your desires of clinging onto the man in front of you. “‘round the same time as the girls, a little after,” you replied, curiosity adding, “what’s it to ya?”

“Wanna go for a ride?” He inquired casually. As if he was just stoppin’ by and hadn’t been sitting here for a good three quarters of the school day waitin’ for you.

The simple question spilling from those pretty lips of his made you melt in an instant. If it wasn’t for the obvious heat as a buffer to such a state, your mind would’ve found him as the culprit. “Where?”

“‘round.” He shrugged, not offering much of a plan. His casual demeanor remained concrete to his form.

An innocent smirk stretched across your face, blooming the apples of your cheeks and creasing the plane of your forehead. Now you were the one to flex amusement against a cylinder wedged between honey glossed lips. Now Benny was the one to be somewhat grateful for the honeycomb — if you will. Cause if the fence wasn’t there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. He’d have your honey gloss all over his lips, tasting your sweetness without a second thought. Without caring about Margie or the students on the playground. Without caring about anyone really, but you.

Always you.

Perhaps anyone else would be rather suspicious of a plan with really no plan at all. Sure Margie would need a bulleted itinerary on fresh stationary, color coated and attached to a clipboard respectfully. But you — no, you appreciated his carefree mentality. It was peaceful in comparison to the stressing atmosphere that surround you on a daily basis, dotting on the kiddos in your classes, worryin’ constantly about ‘em.

Two could play this game, you thought.

Just at the end of your cigarette, your pretty fingers reached between a ring in the honeycomb, motioning it back to him. “Would ya put this out f’me?” You asked sweetly, mascara coated lashes batting about behind those obvious heart eyes of yours. “Don’t want the kids to find it in the grass.”

“Mhm,” Benny hummed, finding your concern for this children too fuckin’ cute. How could he ever say no to a sweet thang like you? He just couldn’t.

Your fingers grazed his as he took it from you, a touch that you found yourself thanking your faith for allowing you to bask in again.

This time he not only put out his cigarette, but yours too in the garden of buds that would blossom into a metaphor. A metaphor that had you joining his crew. Becoming a part of the club, joining his family, and fulfilling your wifely duties of planting a seed or two more along the way. Growin’ Benny some baby honeys of your very own.

Your lack of a reply to his offer didn’t sway him by any means, only fueled his fire tenfold. Turning on his heel then, you couldn’t help but frown, thinkin’ your hesitance turned him impatient and over the prospect completely. Especially when you watched him mount his bike and rev the engine, ready to ride away without another word. But Benny — no he still had somethin’ to say, and he was gonna say it alright. “I’ll see ya out front after school, Honey.” He decided, “I’ll be waitin’.”

The sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue — as smooth as honey sliding down your throat in a soothing tea — was all you needed to make your decision.

With your fun little backpack — straps resting against your shoulders — absolutely decked out in pins and keychains alike, you’d spot him at dismissal, and he’d be waitin’. Waitin’ for you to come. Wonderin’ if you were comin’.

Askin’ himself ‘Honey, are you comin’?’

Of course you would. You always would with Benny, no matter what.

And when you mounted his bike, your body molding into his like you were made for him, and your hands wrapping around his waist, Benny’s mistake proved to be no more. Suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

Right because you were one step closer to being his honey.

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hi-ya, i hope you enjoyed part 2! there’s so much more to come. expect a from the hive 🎙️🐝 installment real soon :)

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

@nervousnerdwitch

@sunnbib

@rose-deathman

@austinbsblog

@thegabbyh

@jihyowrrld

@bellesdreamyprofile

@superemobitch

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@imusicaddict

@astrogrande

@alana4610

@cynic-spirit

@mariaenchanted

@themorriganisamonster

@real-lana-del-rey

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@harryandhishairclip

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@alexa4040

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@imladrisofabookdragon

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@zablife

@superstarcherrycolagirl

@nerdy-novelist017

@anqeliclust-recs

@imladrisofabookdragon

@thatoneweirdgirl17

#miss honey x benny cross #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders fanfiction #benny cross #johnny davis #the bikeriders #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #tom hardy #residue da series #johnny the bikeriders #benny the bikeriders #da bee hive 🐝#from the hive 🎙️🐝

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cherriesformatt · 4 months

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sand || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: matt surprised you with your dream date because he saw some tiktoks you reposted about it

warnings: pure fluff

word count: 1,3k

a/n: I saw this on TikTok and it was just so cute I had to write about it. Thank you guys for all the love under few last stories. I am really happy ily all! Remember English is not my first language so be patient with me! Now enjoy its so cheesy...

🍒

Matt told me this morning to get ready for a day because he is taking me out off town for a day. I was exited because the weather was beautiful today and it was so sunny and warm. May grey was making me wanna scream because it was so literally grey and foggy all the time so I was happy that sun was out (and if I'm lucky someones son is going to be inside me 😎 my fav joke to annoy matt). I wore a nice sundress and curled my hair. I did light makeup and I was waiting for Matt to pick me up. When he texted me that he was here I took my purse and sunglasses and went out. I locked my apartment and walked to the elevator that took me to the garage. I did not have a car so Matt always parked on my parking spot which came with my apartment. I smiled when I saw him leaning on his car.

"Hi..."I smiled at him and waved walking in his direction.

"Hi... you look beautiful baby" He pushed himself up and opened arms for me.

"So do you..." I smiled and threw my arms around his neck and kissed him lightly.

He was wearing denim shorts, white nikes and sleeveless black tee. His tattoos were showing. I loved them so much. His hair was fluffy and he had sunglasses on them taking some of his hair back. He looked so good.

"Get in loser were going to the beach" He said again after I moved away and patted my bum.

"Aw great I am so happy... the weather is so beautiful today and did you just quote mean girls? Who are you?" I said and got into the car after he opened the door for me. We were standing on the passenger side anyways.

"I know how you love the beach in spring time so I decided we could have some time on a nice beach...Malibu? And thats your fault you watch it all the time"He smiled.

I loved going up to Malibu. And yes I did love mean girls.

"I love you Matthew" I said happily and he laughed and closed my doors and went to his side. I loved him the most tho.

While we were driving I connected my phone to the aux and put some music on from our shared playlist so I did not have to listen to Matt's whine about my songs.

"So I am thinking brunch, ice cream and then beach or do you wanna take food to the beach? I have some snacks and drinks for us too" He said.

"We can take food to the beach" I said and he nodded agreeing with me.

"Cos he was sunshine I was midnigh...."I looked at Matt so he could finish singing.

"Rain...."He sang and I smiled.

"Oh how world would love you for singing Taylor" I laughed.

"It is you special only, I am not singing to anyone else" He said.

"You're in a good mood today.... Chris and Nick didn't have a chance to piss you off today?" I put my hand on his knee and stroked it gently.

"They were still sleeping when I left but I told them yesterday that were going away for a day and yes I am in a good mood because I missed you and you are so cute in your dress and I am exited about our date" He said and also put his hand on my thigh and left it there.

"Aww do its a date?" I smiled.

"Yes, it's a date...." He smiled as well.

Whole drive we were talking and singing and talking shit about other drivers and people because thats us.

When we finally arrived at Malibu we stopped to get some food and then we drove to the beach.

"What's that?" I asked when Matt took a bag from the trunk after he handed me food and drinks along with a blanket.

"You will see" He said.

"Okay..."I said looking at him suspiciously.

We settled down far from other people so we could have some privacy just in case someone would recognized Matt.

"So... I bought this" He took out glue and canvas from the bag.

"Oh my god....Matt how did you know I wanted to do this?" I gasped happily knowing already what is it all for.

"I follow you on TikTok you know" He laughed what made my laughed as well. I forgot I must have reposted some TikTok about this.

"Can I make a TikTok from this?" I asked him.

"Of course you can but let's eat first because knowing us we will get glue everywhere" He smiled.

"Probably.... Matt thats so cute I can't believe... you're the best boyfriend ever and like I never had to beg you for a good date.... you always just do this out of nowhere and it's been almost two years" I said.

Time with Matt was my favorite time of my life. He was my everything and I don't even remember who I was before I met him.

"Well.. I am trying out here, so are you, you're the best" He put some of my hair behind my ear.

I got up on my knees and kissed him. I loved him so much and it was all so cute that I couldn't resist.

"Our food will be cold" He laughed in my lips and I peck his lips one more time and moved to sit down on my spot.

We ate and opened some drinks. Then Matt went to throw away empty food containers while I prepared the canvas and glue.

"Ready?"I smiled and he gave me his hand.

I put some glue on in and distributed it all over his hand with my own.

Then we sticked our hands to the canvas.

"I hope it's going to work" I said while putting sand on one when he was putting sand on other.

Then we cleaned the access of the sand and only our sandy hand prints were left on the white canvas.

"Oh it's so cute Matt! It worked" I said.

"It did... here, you write our initials on mine and I will on yours" He handed me pastel pink marker. Pastel pink was my favorite color.

I did what he said and on the back I left a little note and the date.

"Let's go cleaned our hands?" He asked and I nodded.

We went to clean our hands in the ocean and came back. After we packed everything we took a walk by the shore and came back to the car.

"Would you like to stay at my place tonight?" He asked while we were driving.

"Yes... you have to show me how much you missed me" I winked at him and he laughed.

"You're impossible" He shook his head.

I edited the TikTok and posted it. It was very cute and I sent a picture to the group chat we had with his brothers.

"Your brother just called you a lover boy" I said and laughed.

"He can fuck himself" He rolled his eyes.

"Oh Matty but you are my loverboy...."I looked at him with a big smile.

"I will drop you off in your apartment actually" He said and it made me laugh even more.

"Okay okay I am done" I put my hands up in defense.

"Thought so..."He said and put his hand on my upper thigh under my dress. It made my body cover with goosebumps.

I smiled.

"Thank you for today... I loved every second of it" I told him.

"Don't thank me just yet...the night is still young sweetheart" He winked at me.

"Oh my god, he winked everybody" I said and put my hand on my lips acting surprised.

"Okay that's it, you're walking home, I am stopping right here" He laughed.

"You love me too much" I said.

" You right, I do..."He said back and took my hand to his lips and kissed it gently and then left both of our hands on his tight.

I was the luckiest girl in the whole world.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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thus-spoke-lo · 2 months

Text

cw: gn!reader. yandere-ish sanji (isn't that sort of just always sanji?). obsessive behavior. physically blocking reader from moving. using prompt from here. // Yandere Minific Masterlist

Sanji’s arms cage you in on either side, hands pressed firmly against your upper arms, keeping you locked in place against the pantry door. You raise your hands to uselessly grasp at his steely forearms, but your fingers never quite gain purchase. Kicking at him would be futile at best and perilous at worst—you’d seen him in a fight and know full well what he is capable of using just his legs.

“You can’t go, my darling,” he says through uneven breaths, a noise that you could almost mistake for a laugh trailing after. “You—you just can’t.”

“Sanji, please,” you whisper, choking back a scream, “I want to go home.”

Nami had been confident that it would be no time at all before you’d be back on your island, embracing your friends, collapsing into your own bed, eating meals made by your own hands. Not that you minded your accommodations for the time being—getting saved by the Strawhats was more than enough, but they graciously offered to transport you home (it was on their way to their next destination), and you and sleeping in a warm bed and having meals lovingly (perhaps too lovingly) prepared by their chef was a welcome change of pace from the last time you’d gotten mixed up in the middle of a skirmish and the heroic Marines simply dropped you off at the nearest safe island, leaving you to figure out safe passage home.

But the few days you were promised turned into a week, then two. A stop at another island for supplies, a quick pause at yet another, Sanji always by your side when you’d debark. On today’s impromptu stop, he insisted on staying back on the Sunny with you, something about this place being too dangerous for someone so delicate, so ethereal. He made you tea, fed you snacks, sat beside you and swooned over you as you read a book. You’d learned how to politely ignore him by now, but it was becoming more and more difficult by the day the way he smothered you with misplaced affection.

You tried to sneak into the kitchen to get your own refill, but he’d found you almost instantly, as though he were always just steps behind you, following your scent like a bloodhound. You’d made the mistake of blurting out how long it was taking to get you home and suddenly the glass in your hand crashed to the floor and you were pressed against the pantry, Sanji’s face inches from yours, his desperation growing by the second.

“But—but you’ve only just arrived. Is it something I’ve done? Is it something I’m not doing?” The panic in his voice rises, his tone becoming almost shrill the more he rambles. “What can I do to change your mind, my love?”

There is no one else aboard this ship, just you and him. You have to remain calm. You have to remain in control of yourself. You inhale deeply, exhale slowly, trying to slow you racing heart. “Sanji—why aren’t I home just yet?”

“My sweet, your home was out of the way and I—well, everyone understands that when a man falls in love, he can’t let go just so easily.” His gaze drops to the floor, and he shudders, a soft sob leaving his lungs. “I've only begun to know what home means when I met you. Please, don't take it away from me again.”

“Sanji, what did you do?”

An unsettling smile creeps up the corners of Sanji’s lips, one that you will see in your mind’s eye every night when sleep evades you, as tears stream down his cheeks. “Luffy never turns down a new crew member. He didn’t need much convincing, my sweet—not for someone as incredible as you.”

A hundred different scenarios swirl in your mind, a protest creeping up your gullet but sticking there, helplessly. It’s you against them—against him. You’re weak. You have no devil fruit. You never learned to fight beyond simple self-defense. Escape seems far away, somewhere your fingers cannot grasp, and your body stiffens.

“Just give it time, ma petit chou. You’ll learn to love it here.” He strokes your face with the back of his hand, sucking in a breath through his teeth at the sensation of your flesh on his. He leans in and presses his cheek to yours, moaning as his lips ghost your prickled skin as he whispers, “You’ll learn to love me.”

#lo writes #sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece x reader #cw yandere

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its-time-to-write · 10 months

Note

hi sweetheart! i was wondering if you could do a jamie imagine where the reader is a physical therapist and he’s always finding the most ridiculous excuses to go see her, like getting a paper cut and things like that. i would also love if it could be before they got together :)

it’s okay if you don’t want to do it or already did it and i didn’t see it. thank you anyway, you’re one of my favorite writers here on tumblr 🩵

you called me sweetheart, so now I would die for you. pet names are the way to my heart, in case u didn’t know. hope u enjoy🍊

(important disclaimer, I don’t know how physical therapy works so if I’m wrong about things, remember this isn’t a medical journal, I am just a girl)

before you go

Apparently, it’s impossible to purposely give yourself a paper cut, but Jamie Tartt has been doing his damnedest all day to get some kind of ailment, so if that means being careless with some photographs in his locker then so be it.

He really wishes his leg would cramp or something, but Will’s been keeping him far too hydrated for that.

So Jamie has to settle for slipping a picture of his mum at just the right angle to draw blood.

“Shit,” he whispers softly. He puts his finger to his mouth to catch the first beads of blood.

“Paper cut?” Sam asks sympathetically. Jamie nods, finger in between his teeth.

“Ay, sí, you should go see the physio for that one, amigo. Ask for the Rojas special,” Dani says with his ever-present grin.

“It’s just a paper cut, mate,” Jamie says in order to keep up appearances.

Sam knocks his arm. “You have to go. Dani only just let me request the Rojas special last week, and Richard still won’t talk to me about it.”

“Ça c’est merde,” Richard calls from across the locker room. “Put on a bandage and go home.”

Jamie won’t. He sticks his tongue out at Richard and turns to go to the treatment room because he needs treatment right away. Never mind that it’s a cut and not a muscle injury. He can hide under the excuse that Dani sent him.

Jamie taps on the door and pushes it open to find you sitting on the table, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on your knees. You jump down at the sight of Jamie.

“Hi! I was wondering if anybody’d be over today,” you grin. “Where does it hurt?”

Jamie holds up his finger. “Dani sent me.”

“Ah, right,” you nod, grin never leaving your face. Jamie wonders if your sunny disposition is why you and Dani are such good friends. Suddenly, he’s gripped by uncertainty. Maybe you and Dani are morethan good friends. After all, Dani is strangely tight-lipped about his affairs and besides, it’s not good for the physio to be openly screwing a player.

Maybe he should go.

But you’ve already come back to him after rummaging in a cupboard, small box in hand.

“Technically, this isn’t part of my job,” you say as you select a band-aid, “but I’ve been doing this since I started going to my nephew’s footie matches. Kid’s almost ten now, but he still asks for me every time he gets a scrape. First time I was here it was like, force of habit, but Dani said it reminded him of his sister, so…” you trail off. “I dunno, it’s funny that even big strong footballers still want silly bandages, yeah?”

Jamie watches as you open a green bandage with yellow flowers and wrap it carefully around his finger. You press a kiss to it and smile up at him. “There. All better.”

Jamie is… well, he’s flustered. He’s heard about the so-called Rojas special and how it’s available through recommendation only, but he wasn’t prepared for the sweet way you cradled his hand or the fact that your lips touched him. In fact, he wasn’t prepared for anything beyond a bandage and the fact that you slipped sweets to Sam and Dani to numb the sting of injury.

“Thanks,” he chokes out, aware of the fact that you’re still holding his hand. You give it one last squeeze before dropping it.

“See you around,” you say.

Jamie mumbles something unintelligible and finds his way out the door.

“Fuck you,” he says to Sam as soon as he catches him in the car park.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t get a chocolate. Did you not hold still?”

“I- you- it- fuck you,” Jamie says again. “You fucking knew.”

“Knew what?” Dani asks. He’s a horrible liar.

“You knew I thought she was fit. You didn’t tell me she’s, like, emotionally fit as well. So fuck you both for that.”

Sam mouths emotionally fit as he and Dani dissolve into laughter.

“Which band aid did you get?” Dani asks when he finally regains control of himself. “She ran out of Peppa Pig last week, but she promised to get some more soon.”

Jamie holds up his finger, wishing the cut were on the middle one.

Sam and Dani lean into inspect it and nod once.

“Well?” Jamie demands. They just look at him with stupid grins.

“Good night, Jamie Tartt,” Dani says, opening Sam’s passenger seat door.

“Good night, Jamie,” Sam echoes.

The fuckers just leave him standing in the lot, heart racing like a fucking idiot.

—

Jamie’s ankle is barely twisted. Like, barely. But he grew up watching football so he knows how make an injury seem worse than it is. He’s mastered the art of not going overboard.

“You should see the physio,” Beard tells him. Jamie pretends to protest a little bit, ignoring the way Ted shoots Dani and Sam quizzical looks. They’re making some sort of face and Jamie’s not going to figure out what they mean because he doesn’t care.

(Or maybe he already knows what they mean. But he doesn’t give a shit.)

So he hobbles his way to the treatment room where you’re typing something on the computer. Reports, probably.

You look up with a smile when you see him, the quickly school it into a frown. “Where does it hurt?” you ask.

“My ankle,” Jamie grimaces.

You pat the table and he obliges, sitting down on the crinkly paper.

You squat to undo his boot and Jamie realizes that maybe this isn’t the best way to get you to fall for him but it’s too late now because you’re gingerly sliding it off his foot.

“D’you mind if I get the sock as well?” you ask, and it’s all Jamie can do to mutely shake his head. You lightly run a cool hand over his ankle.

“Feels a bit swollen,” you say. “What happened?”

Jamie has to gather his thoughts firmly away from the way he could feel the callouses on your palm. “Tackle,” he says.

“Hm,” you reply. “Does this hurt?”

Jamie gasps as you press your thumb at just the wrong spot.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say. “Lie down. I’m going to massage it for a minute then put it on ice. You’ll be good to go in an hour.”

Jamie obeys, trying to ignore the way his breath hitches when your hand squeezes his calf for a fraction of a second.

You’re able to find all the right spots, gently pushing the muscle back where it needs to go. You pat his foot gently and go to get an ice pack. “Keep this on for fifteen minutes, off for five, then on for another fifteen. If it still hurts I’ll get you another pack, or maybe a heating pad. Depends on what type of pain you have, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“You sending me back?” Jamie asks in a feeble attempt to be his usual confident self.

You hesitate. “I mean… the other option is you stay here. I won’t lie to you, it’s pretty quiet back here but it doesn’t smell. Will got me on these scent diffuser packs, so this is one of the least-gross rooms on the lower level. I usually just type reports, but I’ve finished for now so I was going to read but we can chat if you like. You don’t have to, but I can monitor your ankle for the next hour if you’re here. It’s up to you.”

Stay and flirt with the pretty physio or sit on the bench instead of practicing?

Jamie positions himself better on the table. “What’s your book about?”

—

Jamie wishes that he were just making an excuse to come see you, but if that were the case he’d have made sure to be showered. Instead, he’s fresh off the pitch after a long day of practice and he needs his joints like, replaced or some shit.

He stumbles into the treatment room and practically flops facedown on the table. You’re up in an instant, combing his hair away from his face with your fingers.

“Where does it hurt?” you ask, voice filled with concern.

“Everywhere,” Jamie groans.

“Okay, so full-massage with the extra-large ice pack at the end, then,” you say.

Jamie just grunts in response and tries not to think about the fact that this is the most unromantic way he’s ever tried to date a girl. He tells himself that you’re a physio, that you’ve seen grosser, and that you’re not even interested in him anyway. It still doesn’t stop him from asking about your day and cracking stupid jokes the entire time you’re popping his muscles. His voice squeaks every time you forcibly release tension, but you just laugh and tell him, “You should hear Isaac.” So yeah, the worst training of his life has now turned out to be a goddamned blessing in disguise because you’re joking back and forth for a solid twenty minutes.

“Come back any time,” you tell him with a wink as he heads out the door. “You don’t have to be injured to say hey.”

Jamie smiles at that, and goes to tell Sam and Dani that they’re shitheads but he loves them very much.

—

It’s been a long week and an especially long match, but thank fuck it’s over. There’s a bit of an ache in his legs but he doesn’t give a flying shit. They’ve won, for once, so as a reward to himself he’s going to invite you out with the lads. Proper, like, probably with the words, “Hey I think you’re fit,” except he’s thinking he should probably swap “fit,” for beautiful, or stunning, or the most wonderful, funny, amazing woman he’s ever met and no, it’s not just because of the magical healing powers you seem to possess.

Jamie showers, changes, then heads purposefully down the hall. He knows you’re still here, you never leave after matches until everyone who might possibly need physio is gone.

He bangs open the door, ready to regale you with the shit Ted’s up to post-match when he catches sight of your face. Or rather, the fact that it’s in your hands as your shoulders shake.

He rushes over to the desk and turns your chair so you’re facing him.

His hands are on your knees as he urgently whispers, “Where does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t,” you gasp, wiping your eyes. “I’m fine, I don’t know what came over me, I’m good, I promise. What’s up?”

You move to get up but Jamie presses lightly where his hands were resting. “You don’t look fine, love,” he says, then internally winces. Not a good thing to say to a girl, no matter how true it is.

“I’m good, swear down,” you choke. You move to wipe away another tear but Jamie beats you to it, swiping it with his thumb. You shudder involuntarily, trying not to notice the rough feel of his skin on yours.

“I’m not hurt,” he says tentatively. “Came to see if you wanted to go out with me ‘n the lads.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, still trying your absolute best to pull yourself together and failing miserably. “Right. I um, I’m going to be here a while so you should just go, yeah? Tell Dani I’m proud of him.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Ain’t leaving you here all by yourself.” He realizes your hands have found their way into his, and he has no idea who put them there. He lifts one to his lips and brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “Just tell me where it hurts, yeah?”

Another shiver wracks your body. “You can’t- I can’t- you have to go, okay Jamie? I need you to go.”

Jamie will, he’ll do anything you ask, but first he has to know-

“Why?” he asks, so softly. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Don’t-” you half-choke. “Not- I’m gross right now.”

Jamie can’t stifle his laugh in time, so he does his best to save it. “Love, you’ve seen me at my fuckin’ worst. We’ll call it even.”

You’re breathing a little easier now, but just barely. You don’t seem too eager to get rid of him so Jamie pushes his luck and stays kneeling on the floor.

“Tell me,” he urges again, but you just shake your head.

“You really should go,” you say, breath catching in your throat. “You don’t want to keep Maia waiting. Heard actresses are notoriously particular about being on time.”

That’s confusing. Maia- do you mean Maia Stanwood? You must, that’s the only Maia he knows. But how did you know her, Jamie had run into her at dinner the other day and there’d been a brief article in the papers, but nothing that connects to what’s happening here.

Unless-

No.

Except- it’s the only thing that makes sense.

But you don’t like him like that. At least, he’s pretty sure. And anyway, isn’t it prickish to assume everyone’s in love with him?

But you’re not everyone, you’re the team physio with nice hands and a sweet smile and an affinity to fix people, to mend what’s broken in the best way you know how.

“I love you,” he says instead of everything else he had planned.

You’re silent, and he’s not sure you’ve heard him so he says it again.

“Yeah, alright, I love you too,” you sniff with a half-smile, except it’s the way you’d say to a brother, the way you’d say it to Dani or Sam.

“No,” Jamie says more insistently, “I love you. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to tell you, wanted to take you out proper. Impress you with my dancing and chat you up at the bar. Make the lads jealous that I’ve got a beautiful girl on my arm, then sneak out early to kiss you like I’ve been fucking thinking about since that fucking paper cut. Had a right crush on you like an idiot since you got hired.”

You’re staring at him open-mouthed, unable to believe what he’s saying, and Jamie doesn’t know much all the time but he knows that you’re gripping his hands like it’s a lifeline. He knows your eyes are wide open and that he was on the mark about you thinking he was with someone else. So he does what anyone in his position would do.

He captures your lips in his, letting go of your hands only so he can slip one hand around your waist and another in your hair.

God, you feel like you’re melting.

Jamie Tartt is kissing you like there’s no tomorrow and the floor is tipping out from under you, but apart from that vague feeling all you’re aware of is his hands on you and the fact that he tastes like spearmint.

His lips are soft against yours, mouth warm and inviting.

It’s like taking a breath of air for the first time in months.

“I love you,” you say as soon as you break apart. You’re breathing heavily as if you’re the one who just played a 90-minute match. Jamie’s lips are swollen and your hair is mussed, but you both share the same look.

“All better?” he asks, and you nod.

“Good. You want to get dinner? I know a few places we can go, don’t have to worry about paps.”

“The team-” you begin, but Jamie waves that away.

“They’ll understand,” he says. “Been flirting with you for ages, getting injured all the time. Think Ted’s starting to get fucking worried.”

You run your thumb down his jawline. “I always wondered about that,” you murmur. “Thought it was in my head how much you were down here. Didn’t want to be unprofessional.”

Jamie reaches up to hold your wrist and you just sit there, on the floor of the treatment room, looking at each other in the dim light. You’ll get up, eventually, but for now you’re going to savor this moment you have together.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 months

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𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 ; 𝘤𝘣98 ୨୧

➪ summary: connor's favorite thing about having his girlfriend in chicago is the nights he gets to come home to her

➪ warnings: none

➪ word count: 1.1k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: i completely forgot i wrote this. just a little fic (it's basically a blurb but i wrote like 50 words over a thousand so by my definition it's not) anyway, i hope you guys a short connor little thing today!

cb98 masterlist || nhl masterlist || new taglist || navigation

Dating the first overall pick was an experience, to say the least. Y/n and Connor had been dating since they were sixteen and she was by his side every step of the way through his hockey career.

When they knew where Connor was going to be drafted, the two of them got this sinking feeling in their stomachs. They didn’t want to do long distance, it would be too hard on both of them. However, there was something that y/n never told Connor.

She applied to the University of Illinois-Chicago on a whim. She didn’t think she would get in, so she didn’t see the point in telling her boyfriend about it. Yet, when she got her acceptance letter, she was troubled. She had never seen the campus, knew nothing about Chicago in general, she didn’t know what classes she would have to take.

But, when she thought about the other schools she had looked at, none of them even compared to being just down the street from where Connor would be every day that he wasn’t on a road trip. None of them were worth being so far away from her boyfriend.

A week after she got her letter she sat Connor down to talk. Connor didn’t like the way y/n sounded when she said, ‘I need to talk to you’.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

“Con, I need to talk to you.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed and sat down on y/n’s couch holding her hand as y/n looked around anxiously.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“What, no, of course not. There’s just something I have been keeping from you.”

“I don’t know if I should be relieved or more nervous now.”

Y/n laughed nervously, “No, uh. You know how we were talking about how we didn’t want to do long distance?”

“Yeah?”

“We might not have to.” Y/n handed the envelope to her boyfriend and watched his reaction nervously.

Connor had a confused look on his face as he looked at his girlfriend and then at the envelope. He opened and his face was met with the UIC causing him even more confusion.

“You applied to Chicago?” Y/n just nodded her head and urged him to keep reading.

He only had to scan a few lines before he was standing up and looking at the girl, “You got in?”

“Mhm.” Before he celebrated he contemplated the situation. He didn’t want her to move to Chicago just because he was going to be there. He loved her and he wanted her to be there, but he didn’t want her to give up her life for him.

“But what about-”

“‘But what about’ nothing, Connor. I love you and I want to be with you. And if that means going to Chicago with you, I will. Chicago has something no other school doesn’t.”

“What?”

“You, you big dope.”

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

Connor was forever grateful that she kept that secret from him. If he knew that she applied to UIC and didn’t get in, he would be devastated. However, there were ups and downs to being there in Chicago. Connor rarely saw y/n despite her being just down the street from the UC.

Any time he had an off day, she would have class and anytime she didn’t have class, he would have practice or a game. It was the luck of the draw when they got to be with each other. At points in time, they both thought it would’ve been better if they just stayed in their respective cities.

Overall, those cons were outweighed by the pros. When Connor had a rough day he could literally walk to her apartment to the UC, though he never did. And when y/n had her rough days, she would call Connor and they could be at each other's places within minutes. Though most days when they had a night game, or any game really, Connor ended up staying at her apartment.

That was what happened tonight. Y/n was watching the game from her apartment, she had lucked out with only getting one roommate and she had gone home for the break. It was the Friday after Thanksgiving and y/n didn’t particularly want to go home, spending time with Connor was enough for her.

They had played the Leafs and Kevin scored the overtime goal with an assist from Connor. She had cheered so loudly that she was glad that almost everyone had gone home for the break. She watched post-game live including the interviews and everything that went along with it. When it was done, she turned on the Vancouver game as background noise while she added some food for her and Connor along with some cookies for later.

She truly had no way of knowing when and if Connor was coming back tonight, but she knew him. She sort of blacked out from the end of the game to when Connor came in through the door, causing her to jump when she heard the sound of his bag against the floor.

“Hey, Con.”

“Hi.” He took off his suit jacket and his hat, his cheeks rosy from the of Chicago.

“Thought you guys would be celebrating.” Y/n turned around from where she was stirring at the stove.

“They offered but cuddling with you was much more tempting.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and dropped his head onto her shoulder, “Whatcha making?”

“Soup and I went out and got a bunch of stuffing, because why not.”

“Thank you.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek, “Always.”

Connor went to shower and change as she finished making their food. The two sat and ate dinner while watching the game, talking about whatever came to mind. Connor was going to go shopping with her tomorrow even though Black Friday was today. They were going to buy Christmas decorations so they could decorate her room and part of the main area of the apartment.

When they were done and the game was done, they climbed under the covers of her bed, Connor wrapping his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest.

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

“Your OT goal assist. Con that was amazing.”

Connor shrugged and tightened his hold.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And that’s how almost every game night is spent for Connor and y/n. Those nights were their favorite.

𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗚𝗢 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗛𝗔𝗪𝗞𝗦 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @petite-potato4 @absolutelyhugh3s @dyslecticdutchman

#: ̗̀➛ sunny’s writing 📓 !#: ̗̀➛ ❝ [ fics ] ❞#: ̗̀➛ ❝ [ connor bedard ] ❞#nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine #connor bedard #cb98 #connor bedard imagine #connor bedard fic #connor bedard x reader #chicago blackhawks #nhl blackhawks

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anykindofbean · 8 months

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Hand Sizes

Sundrop x Reader: Hand sizes

Sun’s hands tho..🌞 Results from the poll! Love it!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None. I don’t think so anyway? LMK if you spot something that could be considered offensive.

If you wanna check out more of my works: Masterlist

———————————————————

So far today was a normal day at the daycare. Sundrop was playing with the kiddos, You were observing to make sure everything was running smoothly.

Currently, You were sitting at the main desk, Looking over some Pizzaplex stuff before noticing Sundrop waving you over.

He was squatting next to a crying little girl, So you jogged over as quick as you could. “ Hey Sunny, Is everything okay?”

Sun looked up at you. “ Little McKenzie here lost her Freddy plush, Can you please go grab an extra one from the storage closet?” Sundrop had a tone of concern in his voice.

You nodded. “ Okay! I’ll be right back! It’s gonna be okay McKenzie!” You went off to get the plushie, While Sundrop tried to comfort her.

Once you got there, You noticed that the only Freddy plushie left was one of the bigger ones. You hummed, Hoping she will be fine with it. You grabbed the plush with both hands, Since it was a little bigger than a regular one.

You quickly got back to Sun and the little girl, At this point Sun managed to get her to stop crying. You squatted down in front of them, Holding out the plush a bit. “ McKenzie, Look! Your friend Freddy came back!” You wiggled the plush a bit.

She immediately lit up with joy, grabbing the plush from you, Hugging it tightly. You chuckled at the fact that this plush was basically a third of her body. She didn’t seem to mind the plush size, Which made you feel relieved. Sundrop however noticed it..

She ran off, Screaming ‘thank you!’

You just laughed, While you and Sun stood up straight again. You then looked at eachother, You were smiling at him. “ So, Did you need anything else Sunny?”

“ Your hands!”

“ Excuse me?” You head tilted, Face filled with confusion. Sun drop just laughed. “ Sorry! It’s just, Your hands looked so small! Normally when I hold that size plush, I just need one of mine.”

You then looked at your hands. “ Oh..Yeah?”

Sundrop nodded. “ Yeah! Wait, Let me see your hands!”

You raised an eyebrow, Before holding your hands out for Sun. He put his hands against yours.

“ Oh wow! Your hands are very small compared to mine!” He laughed. You chuckled as well, Your face growing a bit warm. “ Yeah! I’ve noticed that before though.”

“ You have?”

Now your face felt hotter. “ Well..Yeah. I watch you play with the kids almost all the time so..I’ve noticed a couple of details about you.”

If Sun could smile wider, He would. “ Oh! Well…” He then laced his fingers with yours. “ One of these days, I’d love to hear more about these ‘little details’ you’ve notice about me!”

———————————————————

I hope you enjoyed! I’ll definitely write a One-Shot for Moon too one day.

#fanfiction #x reader #fnaf security breach #security breach x reader #sundrop x reader #sundrop #fnaf sundrop #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendent #daycare attendant x reader #fnaf security breach x reader

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orchidyoonkook · 11 months

Text

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 5

Title: Shocking Announcements and Camouflaged Explanations

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: I'm sorry the prince is dating WHO?

Warnings: PG16, swearing, drinking, pining, angsssttttttttt, Jk has a lot of feelings, and so does Reader. Yuri being Yuri. Adaline being Adaline. TOUCH of fluff.

Word Count: 6,006

Release Date: October 20, 2023, 2:00PM

A/N 1: brain mush. finally out. Thank you for understanding. Already working on 6.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before fall reading week.

Saturday’s looking so beautiful. Sunny skies and comfortable temperatures.

It’s 2:30pm on the Wednesday before the Friday you get to see Nel for the first time since August.

And by god you can’t wait. You’re counting the days, minutes and seconds till he’s in front of you again.

But it’s also 2:30pm on the Wednesday after you mysteriously woke up in your bed after movie night. And that thought alone has been in the back of your mind since you opened your eyes Monday morning.

You’d thought about asking Jungkook what happened, but also didn’t think you could face the mortification if his answer was the one you almost 100% knew it was going to be. Hell, you could already feel the nose dive your stomach would make towards pavement the second you got confirmation.

So instead, like any other rational person, you shelved it away in the back corner of your brain. Far, far back, hopefully being covered with dirt and cobwebs and lint as the days pass on.

Though you have a nagging feeling that someone or something keeps dusting—anyways, there are much more important things to be focusing on.

Currently at the greenhouse cafe, you’re sipping on hot chocolate and painting this week's florals on a canvas almost half the size of you. Perched onto an easel, a bunch of sunflowers is beginning to take shape when your phone dings so many times you're worried someone’s dead.

Dropping your brush, you scoop it up from its place on the edge of the table, only to see a series of texts from Yuri, and you loose a worried breath.

Her contact name is the same from when you two went to a party the first night of freshman year. While you were sipping from your first and only drink that night, Yuri was sloshed out her mind and slurring her words. And thus, SlurryYuri was born.

She whines every time she sees you still haven’t changed it. You were never going to, of course.

SlurryYuri [2:32pm]: BITCH

Oh, here we go.

SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: YOU WILL NEVER GUESS WHO WENT SOCIAL MEDIA OFFICIAL TODAY SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: BABE ANSWER SlurryYuri [2:33pm]: ANSWER ANSWER ANSWERRRRR SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: YNNNNNNNN

You [2:34pm]: Take a breath why dont you

SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: FINALLY. SlurryYuri [2:34pm]: By the gods YN… SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: ANYWAY SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: JUNGKOOK SlurryYuri [2:35pm]: as in PRINCE Jungkook SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: is dating ADALINE. SlurryYuri [2:36pm]: as in #1 ENEMY OF THE STATE EVIL BITCH ADALINE.

You spit out what was left of the hot chocolate in your mouth.

Thankfully, you had some of your mind about you and managed not to ruin your painting by turning your head…couldn’t say the same for the cafe wall though. Rustic brick now splattered with a lovely, Pollock-esque spray of brown.

Oops.

But Jungkook and…Adaline? That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.

He hasn’t mentioned anything about this to you. You speak to him every day, see him almost every day, and nothing? Not a peep? A morsel? A hint? Nothing?

Maybe you two aren’t as close as you thought you were.

To be fair, you didn’t tell him about Nel. And now that you think about it, you haven’t seen or heard much from Jungkook since Sunday, which is unusual. He’s normally stuffing your inbox full of messages as the sun rises and sets, yet he’s sent maybe two a day since then.

You thought he was just busy with schoolwork.

Spiraling, you can’t help but wonder how long they’ve been seeing one another. How long he’s kept this little secret—not that it’s any of your business anyway, but he’s always seemed so open with you, with just about everything. So the fact that he kept this from you? What does that say?

Does he think you’d react like any other girl? That you would scream and cry and mourn and tell him he’s making a mistake, that you’re his true love? Like Adaline would if he weren’t dating her?

As if! And he knows that.

He knows that…right?

Doesn’t matter. Yes it does. No it doesn’t.

Ugh! Whatever!

Does he even know who Adaline really is? Or does she put on a mask in front of him too, like she does everyone else. She must because now you wonder how he could even possibly like someone like her, knowing…well her!

Bitchiness and duchess-ness aside, you and Adaline are incredibly similar, and Jungkook has never had any interest in you whatsoever, thank god. You and Adaline are both fine arts majors, both top of your class, talented, driven. You both work tirelessly for what you want, and don’t let others get in your way to success. Though only one of you will cheat if you have too, morals be damned. You both want your lives to yourself, to make your own path, to be trailblazers in your chosen fields.

That kind of woman doesn’t seem like Jungkook's type.

He needs someone who will follow him, and allow him to lead the nation. Someone who is okay submitting to him and his needs for the good of the people and the betterment of the Western Shores. He needs a politically inclined cheerleader, for lack of better phrasing. And that isn’t Adaline at all…or you, if you're still putting yourself in this conversation, which you’re not.

Also, wasn’t it a rule that princes could only marry princesses? Or was it that nice, genuine people shouldn’t end up with assholes who use and abuse those around them for social status and power? And isn’t that a thing for him too—that he hates when people use him for his name?

So how could he go for her? You can’t fathom a goddamn reason as to why—

Ah…Well.

You can, but you hate it.

Adaline is beautiful, and while no, not a princess, she does have a title the prince can be seen with in public without ridicule, friend or more than. Someone who wouldn’t be looked at like a charity case or a flavour of the week. Someone who’s used to the media. Adaline doesn’t have to hide from them. Isn’t scared to be seen by them with him. It wouldn’t ruin her future. It’ll only add to i—Wait.

Holy shit.

Adaline comes from one of the most influential families on the Eastern Shores. One with a lot of political power. Like, best friends with the Queen of the Eastern Shores, political power. Though she was only ever graced with sons. Adaline’s probably the closest thing she has to a daughter.

A marriage between Jungkook and Adaline could potentially unify the two sides again.

Jungkook and Adaline could re-unite the East and West after centuries of war and separation, and current amicable co-existence.

Now that’s a reason he would date her. to become power couple of the century.

The next step in history.

The whole idea of them makes more and more sense the more you think about it. Adaline, darling of the East marrying the future King of the West. And your stomach curls in on itself.

Just because it makes sense doesn’t mean you have to like it.

And you pray to whatever god or gods there are in this universe that he keeps her away from you and out of your conversations. Jungkook’s relationship isn’t any of your business, nor your interest, but you don’t know how well you’d be able to keep your mouth shut about her if he asks anything.

You know he likes that you’re honest. That you don’t hide things from him others would just to please him. But at what point do you put that aside to keep the peace in an otherwise very comfortable and still blossoming friendship? At what point does honesty become an obstacle rather than a building block?

You know that if Jungkook ever meets Nel and happens not to like him he would keep his mouth shut, mostly. Hopefully. He may give you a hard time but that’s just him. Jungkook knows your relationship is important to you, that it and Nel, make you happy. He would respect that.

So again, who are you to speak ill of the person he’s chosen for himself? Maybe he knows something you don’t, sees something in her that you haven’t.

Just…Why did it have to be Adaline?

He could have anyone, anyone—on campus, in the West, the East, for the love of god, he could have anyone in the entire ass realm he wants! It’s easy to forget when he speaks with his mouth full, dresses in baggy, comfy clothes, and whines about movie choices, but Jungkook is still Prince of the Western Shores.

He’s still the most eligible bachelor on the continent.

Yet somehow he chose the one person you can’t stand to be within 1000 feet of. He chose the one person you never thought he would’ve liked for himself because underneath everything, she is everything he claims to hate.

He chose Adaline Dupree.

So yeah, you wonder why he hid it from you. Why he felt like he couldn’t tell you. Sure, you hated her, but he doesn’t know that. Probably.

Maybe his love life is something he keeps private? Everyone has that right, and maybe that’s what he’s used to doing due to his every choice being splashed on every news and media outlet there is.

You roll your eyes. Merciless vultures.

So maybe he’s not used to sharing this side of himself with others. Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you anything.

And with all of this chaos now flitting around your brain, you failed to notice the little slice of pain behind your sternum the more they ricochet around up there. You’re hurt.

You didn’t expect it to hurt.

Out of everything you could feel about this: confusion, anger, exasperation, annoyance, you don’t feel any of them. You just feel upset that he didn’t come to you about it. Didn’t feel like he could discuss it with you.

You are the person your friends—old and new—come to talk to. Always have been. You’re the one who has the rational, well thought out advice. The common sense distributor. The one sought out to help, regardless of the situation.

And you love it. You love that you’re able to help your friends. Love that they trust you with such things. That you’re the person they seek assistance and guidance from. The ear they bounce their thoughts off of. You’ve always been told you have ‘knowledge beyond your years’ as your mother says. You take pride in that. It gives your life that much more meaning.

So even though you don’t want to, and know you shouldn’t, because it has nothing to do with you and you know that…you’re taking this as somewhat of a personal blow.

Maybe you’re losing your touch. You hope not.

But, you need to react like you normally would. Like you still hate the prince for how he humiliated Yuri, just like she hates Adaline for you. Solidarity between best friends, even if it’s fake.

Come on YN you got this, you think to yourself.

You [2:40pm]: I almost feel sorry for him. After how he treated you tho? They deserve each other

No they don’t, no they don’t, no they don’t.

He deserves so much better.

SlurryYuri [2:40pm]: I’m just surprised he went for her tbh SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: isnt she like a total bitch? To you at least? SlurryYuri [2:41pm]: like just knowing what I do from the tiny bit of time I spent with him, she doesn’t really seem to be his type

Vindication!

You [2:42pm]: uh yeah, like 100% yes. Shes a rich party girl who doesnt know the word punishment, always gets what she wants, regardless if she works for it or not. And takes it when she especially doesnt deserve it You [2:43pm]: probably explains how she got him 🙄

Vivian pops outside to check in, and takes the couple steps to reach your table, some napkins and a large cup of water in hand.

“Hey! Are you okay? I saw that spit take and one; wow, that was impressive. But two; is everything alright?” she asks, passing you the napkins. The water gets thrown on the wall to wash off the splatter.

You wipe up your chin and remnants of projected hot chocolate on the table.

“Sorry, thank you. Yes, I’m fine,” you lie easily. A little scared of how easy it’s becoming. “I just learned some really shocking news is all. I shouldn’t have read it with a full mouth.”

“Oh! That makes sense. I hope whatever it is turns out fine.”

“Thanks, me too.”

You know Vivian means well, but she doesn’t know that that is the very last thing you want. You want Adaline’s corruptive, cutthroat, cruel nature away from Jungkook.

But is he just Jungkook anymore?

You’ve spent enough time together to consider him a friend, a close friend even. You’ve grown to care for him, platonically, similar to the way you do Yuri. And the fact that you want Adaline as far away from him as she can get so he doesn't go through whatever shit she’ll inevitably get him wrapped up in, definitely says something.

Adaline loves many things—art, fashion, publicity—but the thing she likes better than anything else?

Attention.

She thrives on it. The more eyes on her the better. She’s a ‘there’s no such thing as bad press’ type, and you worry what that means for him.

Especially now that she’s taken them public—because you know it was her that did it, he would have never—and she’s going to be the hottest topic in all of the newest news cycles.

Say they’ve been seeing one another since the beginning of the school year? Just a guess, but a likely correct one—you shiver at the thought. That’s less than seven weeks to get to know one another before camera crews and reporters start breathing down their necks. They’ll ask and comment on everything you thought you might go through at one point. But unlike you, Adaline will face it head on with a smile and win them over. Gladly welcome them with open arms.

Because exactly like Jungkook fears with everyone new, she desires everything a relationship with him would give her.

Status, fame, power, wealth, brand sponsorships, popularity, jealousy, people wishing they could be her. You couldn’t build a better trap to lure her into if you tried.

Jungkook is potentially unknowingly feeding her already enormous ego simply by publicly dating her. And it dawns on you that your classes with her are going to become even more insufferable.

Great.

You don’t even know if she’s going to care that she has him. As wonderful, kind and talented as Jungkook is, you have a very good sense that she’ll be just like rest; happy to receive what he can give her, and not a damn to be given about him.

So now you worry. You worry for him and for his safety and for his feelings.

Because that’s what friends do.

Right?

“Hey.”

You look up to see Jungkook rounding the back corner to the cafe, backpack slung over a shoulder, mask, hat and hoodie all too familiar. You’d be able to spot him a mile away now, it’s all in his posture and eyes.

Maybe he should invest in some sunglasses.

And slouch.

You’re elbows deep in yellow and brown paint from the sunflowers that now fill the canvas in front of you. You’ve been experimenting with texture, oil paint thicker in some places to give off a more 3D effect. Stripes of green carved into the medium by the edge of a long palette knife mimic stems, and fat leaves placed with precision also riddle the cloth.

As he nears, you try your best not to come off as upset, pissed off or worried when you reply.

“Hey,” you fail miserably, sounding exactly like you’re all kinds of upset, and pissed off, and worried.

Shit.

Like always, he notices immediately.

“Everything okay?” he’s taking his spot at the table beside you, the one that seats four, having abandoned his original one weeks ago.

You two both found yourselves here so frequently that over time, he started sitting next to you without asking. Always in the same spots. Always side by side. Him at the closest chair to you, you at the same one you always have.

Sure, you two shared movie nights and fun messages, you talk everyday and pretty much talk about whatever you want. But when it comes to academics, he knows he has to tread water a little differently around you. He can’t constantly start conversations the way he would at movie night when you’re at the greenhouse cafe. You’re here to work and to study, and if he wants to be there too, he has to respect that about you, and know not to take it personally.

So you work together in comfortable silence most of the time, occasionally breaking it to have a conversation, get snacks, or pose for one another’s homework. It’s become another routine you share, an unspoken agreement that when you were both there at the same time, you worked together.

And you haven’t minded since that first time. The one when you decided to say yes to your friendship.

You welcome it. Welcome him. His presence.

Company’s nice to have when it’s wanted.

When it’s him.

And whether you know it or not, you seem to work better when you are in each other's immediate orbit. You work better when he works alongside you, able to focus better due to body doubling and to have a second opinion at the ready when you need it. Just like he worked better when you worked alongside him, a willing model any time he needed, and an open ear when he wanted to work something out.

You two just work. And because of this, he also picks up when something isn’t quite right with the atmosphere you two have created.

Play it off YN.

“Yeah, just focused. Sorry.”

He doesn’t believe you for a second. When you focus you have a very distinct look on your face, eyes clearer, an eyebrow constantly quirked in self reflection, and that isn’t the one you have on right now.

But he lets it slide. For now. Somethings up with you, and he knows better than to push you before you’re ready.

“That’s okay. I’m running in, need anything?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you go back to painting, barely acknowledging him and shutting out the outside world.

Yeah, something’s definitely up.

You’re ignoring him so hard you don’t notice Jungkook lifting your hot chocolate just enough to feel it’s empty.

Vivian’s behind the counter as he enters and takes off his mask to flash her a wide smile.

“Hey Vivian, how are you today?”

She blushes like she does every time he comes in, hands slowing in their task.

“Hey JK, I’m good. You?” He had to ask her about a hundred times to drop the ‘your highnesses,’ ‘you majesty’s,’ and ‘prince’s.’ Telling her it really was okay, and that no, she wasn’t going to get in trouble for it. It took her some time, but eventually she came around and it’s made his experience here so much better. So much more normal.

She’d settled on JK because ‘it makes me feel like I’m listening to what you want while also not feeling guilty and weird about calling you Jungkook without the prince part.’

He could work with that logic.

“I’m alright, could I get my usual and a hot chocolate for YN? With a little extra secret ingredient if you're so inclined?” You shared the not so secret stash secret with Jungkook about a week after you said yes. “She seems upset. Have you noticed anything off lately? Has she said anything to you?”

Jungkook peruses the pastry display while Vivian starts on his drink.

“Not really, she did a wicked spit take earlier about some news her friend told her, but said she was fine, just surprised. Besides that, focused maybe? Or maybe the opposite of that and a little distracted?” She thinks for a second. “Does she have an exam coming up that you know about? She gets a little weird before those.”

He knows exactly what’s meant by that. Witnessed it himself, bunny slippers and all.

But no, you don’t. Your midterms aren’t until the first week of November, nearly two weeks away. You started studying for them last week.

He spots egg tarts in the back corner of the pastry display, hiding. Perfect.

“I don’t think that’s it, but thanks though. I’ll get it out of her eventually, especially if I have one of those egg tarts to butter her up first,” he says in a questioning tone to ask for one while pointing at them.

Vivian smiles a knowing smile. He wants to know what it means because she’s worn it around him for a while now, and he’s half tempted to ask at this point.

“I think that could be arranged.”

Jungkook pays and heads to your tables again. You’re still locked into your own world of colour and canvas. He subtly sets down the hot chocolate and bagged tart so that you won’t notice until you pop the bubble you’re in.

Halfway through a business assignment he hears your surprise. The weird look on your face finally breaking, a grateful one taking its place as you peek at him.

A soft, genuine, “thank you,” finds his ears as your lips meet lid, and you can’t meet his eye. He knows you often forget to drink or eat when you’re in the zone.

Maybe now with a warm drink and some goodies in your belly, you’re willing to talk about it.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks again.

Your deep sigh and unfocused gaze says enough to him.

You are willing to talk.

Quietly, almost ashamed sounding, you ask, “Why didn't you tell me about her?”

Her?

Oh.

Oh…

You meant Adaline. Why hadn’t he told you about Adaline.

“Why did I find out an hour ago from Yuri screaming at me through text messages and not from you? Is it something you’re private about? Do you not trust me?”

The truth was that he was hoping to keep it under wraps for a bit longer, actually, hoping you never found out so he wouldn’t have to explain the reason why.

He still doesn’t have too, and he won’t. Not the real reason.

He won’t ruin things. He can’t.

But he also should have known better. Should have known that not telling you would hurt you instead. Of course he trusted you.

You talk everyday, sometimes for hours, sometimes just to check in. You hang out during the week, whether it be at the cafe like you are right now, or for Sunday movie night.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it was plenty when he thinks about how much time you two have already spent together, how much you’ve gotten to know one another.

How comfortable you are in each other’s presence.

Six weeks isn’t a long time, but it feels like you’ve always been there with him, listening, cheering, supporting.

Six weeks isn't a long time, and yet it feels like it’s been forever.

Of course you’re hurt he didn’t tell you. So he doesn’t lie to you, but he also doesn’t tell you the full truth.

“Oh…uh, that.” He rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “That just kind of happened recently actually, like Monday recently. My father’s been really pressuring me to find someone to court,” and I couldn’t go with my first choice. “So I did.”

“And you went with Adaline?” You ask carefully.

“Uh, yeah? Is there something wrong with her?”

Adaline isn’t his first, second or tenth choice. She's his father’s choice. Might as well appease him and at least try with this girl. It’s going…fine, so far.

Adaline wanted to make it social media official as soon as possible, wanted what he could give her, like everyone else. Like he expected. And so he willingly suffered through a photo session where she staged everything to make it look perfectly unposed and natural. Even though none of it was.

She’d told him to put his arms around her waist and kiss her forehead, and it worked. The picture wasn’t bad, they both looked great. But he hated it anyway. It wasn't a spur of the moment decision, or sincere. It wasn’t a picture of two fools drunk on love, wanting to capture something beautiful for their future selves to look back on to reminisce over.

It was an uncomfortable hour and a half of touching and kissing a complete stranger, and it is the complete opposite of what he wants in a relationship.

He wants genuine and carefree and candid. He wants honest, true feelings and social media posts saved for anniversaries and birthdays instead of using them as a mini documentary of every part of his life through pictures.

He wants shitty birthday cakes made from scratch, and blurry polaroid pictures of kisses in the rain to put in his wallet when he’s away from them. He wants silly nicknames and inside jokes no one else will understand.

He wants midnight walks hand in hand under moonlight and quirky habits he picks up from them. He wants pictures of precious moments and holidays celebrated between just the two of you and movie nights under blanket forts with popcorn and hot chocolate and egg tarts.

He wants real.

He wants authentic.

He wants love.

Not some staged artificial bullshit for an online presence that means nothing once you’re dead.

But this is new and exciting for Adaline. He understands that a relationship with him is a very big deal, that she’s not used to it yet, and that it hasn’t been nearly long enough for him to see the true her yet.

It’s only been 44 hours. Not that he’s counting.

So he’s going to give her some time, and have some faith that maybe she shows him that side of herself if it exists. He doesn't think she's going to change all that much for several reasons, the first being her enormous reputation, and the second being that she’s a politician's daughter, but he’s going to at least try. The way he hopes she will.

And if nothing does change, and she stays the exact same, at least she’s pretty enough to distract him.

He knows that’s not the most mature or princely thing to do or think. In fact, he knows it’s quite asshole-ish of him, but if Adaline’s going to openly use him for her own personal gain, why shouldn’t he be able to use her just a little bit too?

She isn’t unfamiliar with political relationships, having been born from one, so he doesn’t think she would be against it either. And it’s not like he’ll be mistreating her, quite the opposite in fact.

He’ll shower her with expensive gifts and happily take however many pictures she wants. He’ll smother her in physical affection and get or do whatever she needs in order to make her happy.

Because as much as she clearly wants this relationship with him for whatever reason, he desperately needs it more with every passing day. He needs somewhere to put everything he’s feeling. And if that happens to be in a beautiful woman his father approves of who he could possibly, eventually grow feelings for? It’s a win-win in his book.

But at the same time, sometimes he really hates the shit he has to navigate in his Royal Life.

While Jungkook is caught in his thought spiral, you bite your tongue. Like actually bite your tongue.

Don’t say shit Y/N.

Don't say anything.

It’s not your business. What they have together and what’s between you and Adaline are completely separate, unrelated things. One’s a rivalry and one's a relationship. Those are not the same.

At. All.

So, still untrusting of your mouth, you shake your head and dodge his question by changing the direction of the conversation.

“Why did you go public so quickly?” you ask, feeling like it’s the safest question you can muster. “It’s literally only been two days.”

He shrugs. “She wanted to, and I didn’t say no.”

“Courseshedid,” you mutter under your breath. That should’ve been red flag number one. Two days? Who goes social media official after two days!?

“What?”

“Nothing,” you try your best to give him the closest thing to a smile you can currently muster, forcibly removing any acid from every word. “I hope she makes you happy.”

He doesn’t tell you she was hand picked by the king for him.

That at twenty-four, he still isn’t pulling all of his own strings. It’s pathetic.

“Me too.”

He hopes she’ll help more than anything. Even if it’s just for a little while. “I’ve never been in a public relationship before. But the kingdom and my father seem to like her, so I’m sure I will too, with time.”

It takes all of your focus not to roll your eyes.

Of course they do. Of course the King already likes her, she’s got the attitude and knowledge for politics, so she’s perfect! Strong potential to be the heartless, ruthless Queen to what you already know will be Jungkook's kind and giving King.

Great! Just great. That’s just…great…

Maybe you’re biased. Maybe there’s something in her that you can’t see because of your past with her.

Maybe they really are perfect for one another and you just refuse to see it. Opposites attract, isn’t that what they say? Well Jungkook and Adaline couldn’t be more opposite of one another.

So you decide that you won’t let your personal feelings get in the way. That you’ll keep the peace and support his choice, regardless of your opinion of her, even if you hate his choice.

And you really hate his choice.

“I have no doubt.”

The seat heater in the car you rented to pick Nel up from the airport keeps your tush toasty while you drive.

Friday night has never felt so exciting!

You can barely sit still, the leg not pressing the pedals won’t stop bouncing and you have to sit on your hands at stop lights to try and keep calm.

God you missed him, it's only been two months since you last saw him, and yet it feels like forever.

You have the piece of printer paper with ‘Smoosh’ printed on it in the biggest font you could have horizontally. It’s something you do every year, and every year it never fails to bring the biggest smile to Nel’s face when you wave it wildly the second you see him.

Pulling up to the terminal you keep your eyes peeled for the first parking spot you can find. Never an easy feat at this particular airport but you manage to find one somewhere in the J lot under section 1, whatever that meant. All you care about right now is that you’re decently close to the doors as you grab your phone, bag, sign, and that you’re perfectly on time.

Entering through sliding doors, you find the waiting area mostly empty, so you pick the best place to sit as you wait for his flight to land: dead center and up front.

You can’t wait. Just a few more minutes and you’ll see him.

You can’t wait. You can’t wait. You can't wait!

Your phone dings and you jump at it, looking for the ‘I’ve landed’ text from Nel, but it’s not from Nel.

It’s from Jungkook.

Me [10:42pm]: See you in a week. I hope you enjoy your time with Nel.

That sounds okay, right? It sounds neutral? Safe?

Like he hasn’t been dreading this week since that day you told him about it?

Jungkook hopes so. Because he wants you to enjoy your week off.

Your week off with Nel.

And not him.

That’s normal, he has to remind himself. That he’s not anyone particularly special to you, just a friend. Not someone you would go out of your way for to spend all your free time with over break. Not even for two hours on Sunday nights.

Just a regular, average, nothing important about him…

Friend.

He doesn’t want to feel like this. Doesn’t want to have all of these… whatever these feelings are, about and for you.

He really doesn’t want to. But more than that, he can’t.

He can’t have any sort of non-platonic feelings for the first person who didn’t give a shit about who he was. For the person who makes him feel more like himself than anyone else.

For the person who has a boyfriend.

For the person who isn’t his girlfriend.

For the person who’s you.

But he can’t fucking help it!

So he’s been shoving them down, down, down. So far down that he’s able to function around you.

Because it’s you.

You’re kind, and caring. Talented, beautiful, giving. Driven, smart. You respect what he asks for and what he wants for himself, not because he's the Prince demanding, but because it's him—because it’s Jungkook—that asks you, and you liste–

No! Stop it. He can’t. He can’t!

Stop, stop, stop—

You have Nel! 5 years in, loving, loyal boyfriend, probably soon to be more after graduation, Nel.

It’s expected that you would spend what little time off you have with the boyfriend you barely get to see, wouldn’t it? Makes sense that every second you have, is saved for him?

For being happy with who makes you happy?

Jungkook wants to see you happy. And Nel makes you happier than he’s ever seen you before, so he can’t be too upset with the guy, even though he wants to be. He wants to hate him. But how could he hate someone that gave you the smile that completely shatters his heart.

Picasso [10:43pm]: Thanks! I will. See you soon😊

With a broken smile, he turns his phone off and puts it in his pocket.

He’s up against a wall, red cup in his hand filled with something that he’s barely touched yet, trying not to be too noticeable.

Adaline’s dragged him to some party on campus he really doesn't care about. But she said it would be good to be seen out together now that things are official.

Out in the open, for everyone to see. For everyone to talk about.

So he went, because she asked him to.

And now he’s regretting it. The music is shit, the people smell and everything he touches is damp or sweaty. This isn’t a part of the university experience he ever intended on participating in, but here he is.

Adaline appears from the crowd, walking over to where he stands, a cup of her own in one hand and the other finding its way to his neck.

One thing Jungkook’s glad for is the alcohol. Something to help his racing thoughts, pounding heart, and roiling gut. Something to drown out the world. Even if he’s only had two gulps so far.

More, then.

Taking a hefty swig he revels in the burn that crawls down his throat. It feels good, it makes him feel less. So he takes another one and another, and then pours his turmoiled feelings about you and Nel into Adaline’s lips. Shoving them down, further and further, until it’s like they were never even there in the first place.

The only thing that's there now is the fire in his stomach, Adaline, and her cherry flavoured lip gloss.

Chapter Six: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

A/N 2: I'm so sorry this took for literal ever. I never intend on taking forever but unfortunately real life gets in the way and I'm left with no creative energy to output writing I'm proud of.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 2 months

Text

Word count: 3500+

Warnings: babies and pregnancy

Part XXX

Tamlin was sitting on sofa enjoying beautiful sunny day from private balcony of his bedchamber. Well, your bedchamber. Since the day he married you, he felt nothing but endless happiness and joy. To him everyday was like a dream. His home used to be a cold, dangerous, unwelcoming place where his own family ignored him or threatened him. With you it changed into something he never experienced, something he never dared to even dream about. Every room and hall that held bad memories turned into his favourite place full of warm rays of sun as soon as you walked through. He couldn't believe his luck, spending every minute of every day praying and thanking to the Mother for giving him such a gift.

With one leg up on the sofa, back leaning against the armrest, he held a stack of documents in one hand, the other one rested on your waist. You were settled between his legs, back leaning against his broad chest.

You were reading a book that you found in library some time ago. It was one of his mother's favourite ones, just some romance, but you couldn't put it down. Tamlin liked to watch you while you were reading, waiting for the moment you got so engrossed in the story that you stopped paying attention to your surrounding. He loved to see how your expression changed based on what you read, showing all kinds of emotions. If he didn't have so many responsibilities, he would just sit and watch you for hours without getting bored.

Since he returned to his duties, he was very busy, sometimes even leaving estate for several days to take care of issues on borders or distant corners of the Spring Court. This Court was completely ruined and it was pretty hard to restore it back to its original state. No need to say that Tamlin decided to take advantage of this opportunity and change things he didn't like. Because not all of the traditions and rules that previous High Lords established, were good. On top of that whole Prythian was slowly changing thanks to all new young High Lords with dreams or rather visions of better future. Tamlin wanted the same for his Court. And he did really good job so far.

Villages, cities and roads between them were repaired and rebuilt, new rules gave hope to all, whether poor or rich, for better tomorrow. Hearing about all the changes, not only original inhabitants of this beautiful country had came back, a lot of new Faes decided to move in here, too.

So as could be seen, High Lord of Spring had his hands full. However, whenever he could, he spent as much time as possible with you, even when he was working. Just like now. Your presence made him feel better whenever he felt down and you did your best to support him and help him with his duties.

Tamlin put down documents he was holding, on the table that he moved closer to the sofa for this purpose and took another one. He quickly skimmed it with his eyes.

"Little rose, your brother wants to see you. He's coming today's afternoon," he informed you.

"Really?" You put your book down, looking up at him with smile. You hadn't heard from Rhys much since the wedding. You were so worried. Lately he started to at least write you more often, but his letters were hectic and none of them explained what's going on. Tamlin seemed to know something though. When you were trying to get it out of him, he just declared that he promised to not speak about it. So you could only wait for your brother to tell you the reason.

Tamlin gently kissed your forehead, nuzzling to your hair and rubbed your belly. "He wants you to officially meet someone," he breathed out and handed you the letter to read.

"Do you know who could it be?"

"I have a certain idea, but I might be wrong," he laughed. His other arm wrapped around you, tugging you closer, so he could reach your lips.

You moaned to his mouth, turning over to him. Your hand slipped down to his crotch and to the bulge you felt there.

Pulling away he sighed. "I still have a few documents that I have to go through. Tonight," he promised and pecked your cheek.

"I already can't wait," you muttered, resting your head in the crook of his neck so you could drown yourself in his rich scent.

You smiled. "Will we tell them?" you asked after a while.

Tamlin frowned. "I'm not sure. I think that we should wait a bit longer," he said uncertainly. "Until it's safe."

You pursed your lips.

"But if you want," he added quickly. "Maybe we could wait to see who they'll bring with them and then decide."

"That sounds great," you smiled, satisfied. Your husband was a decisive male as you recently found out, even harsh in some ways, and he definitely knew how to get his way. A soldier indeed. But when it came to you, he had a soft spot for you and never tried to push you into something you didn't like or want, and rather let you make your own choices.

The morning passed quickly and just as was stated in his letter, Rhysand came on time. And he wasn't alone. Feyre was standing right beside him with a small bundle in her arms. The bundle moved and small voice echoed through the hall. You gaped at them in awe. Tamlin watched you with interest with a hardly there smile.

Rhys proudly grinned seeing your expression. He took the bundle from Feyre and together they stepped closer. "Y/N, Tamlin, I'd love to introduce you Nyx, our son."

A small fist flew out of the blanket and little baby made a satisfied sound. Apparently he didn't like to be swaddled much.

"Hello," you cooed at him offering him a finger. He immediately grabbed on it and giggled. It was a lovely baby with tuft of dark fine hair and tan skin of his father, and bright blue eyes inherited from his mum.

"So this is what you were hiding," you said softly holding Nyx's hand and gently rubbing his soft skin with thumb.

"Well," Rhys suddenly got serious. "It was quite a complicated situation." The blanket disappeared and you spotted a small pair of black wings on Nyx's back.

You gasped. It was well known that it was impossible for females who didn't have at least pinch of Illyrian blood, to give birth to baby with such wings. There weren't many cases of Illyrian male choosing female outside of the camps, but when it happened and female got pregnant, it usually ended with her and baby's death.

Your eyes shot up to Feyre, looking at her carefully. She was little bit pale and tired, but otherwise she seemed to be fine.

"How..?" You couldn't finish your sentence.

"Well, it wasn't exactly easy," Feyre smiled sadly and waved her hand. "It's quite a long story, maybe we should rather skip that. It's nothing interesting, really."

"And bloody one. You almost died," Rhys grunted. Now you understood why he looked so bad when you saw him the last time. He was desperately looking for a way to save his mate and unborn child. Even if he asked you, you couldn't help them, but he could at least confide with his worries.

"But thanks to Nesta, it didn't happen," Feyre gave him a look. "She came just in time and used whatever powers she snatched from Cauldron to safe me and Nyx."

Your shoulders slumped and you turned to your brother. "So that was what worried you? Can you imagine how much worried I have been, knowing that there is something going on and you don't want to tell me about it? If I knew we could tried to help you looking for a solution together."

"I told Tamlin and asked him for help. I didn't want you to be involved in this. I didn't want to stain your happiness. After everything that happened to you, you deserve it more than anything."

"Do you think I could be happy if someone from my family died without me even knowing there was something going on?" You hissed.

Angry, you turned to your husband to confirm that he really knew about this.

Tamlin next to you cleared his throat, obviously feeling uncomfortable. "It's true. He told me the day we informed him about our engagement. I tried to help and transform the wings before the birth but it didn't work."

Feyre's brows knitted together. Apparently she didn't know that he visited Velaris and tried to save her. Neither did you.

You narrowed eyes on him. You clearly remembered when he told you that he knew what was going on in Night Court, but that he promised not to tell you. You really shouldn't be angry with him but only with your brother because it was his doing, but still you were a bit angry.

Feyre noticed the change of mood and came with different topic.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry I missed your wedding. I've heard it was beautiful and I'd love to learn more details later if you don't mind. I hope the two of you are truly happy."

"Yes, we are very happy," Tamlin was faster and answered in a reserved voice, pulling you closer to his side. He was trying to be polite and smiled at her, but you felt tips of his claws looming under his skin.

It was the first time he paid her any attention. Since they came, Tamlin didn't as much as looked in her direction. It must have been hard for him to meet her in person again after everything that happened between them. Feyre also seemed to have problems to look directly at him.

She stepped a bit forward and cleared her throat.

"It's okay if you say no, Tamlin, but could we have a word? It will be quick, I promise," Feyre bit on her bottom lip.

He didn't need to ask for permission, yet he did it anyway. Tamlin looked down at you and fingers of his hand on your hip clenched into your loose dress. You squeezed his hand, nodding. He leaned in and kissed you before he left with Feyre. Whatever it was, you hoped they could solve it and find it in them to at least forgive each other. You liked your brother and Feyre, and you'd really like for both of your families to meet up from time to time and enjoy those moments together. You watched them until they turned around the corner and then turned to your brother and small Nyx who seemed to feel so comfortable in arms of his father that he fell asleep.

"You really could have said something," you said in small voice trying not to wake up the baby, watching his lovely face.

"I'm sorry. I- I just.. I was so scared," He admitted, watching his son with love. "I couldn't even imagine loosing them, living without them. I felt that when I tell you, it'd be definite, ultimate, that there would be no hope left."

You huffed. "Why even bother to imagine such things. You wouldn't have to live without them. You would die together with them," you sighed heavily, tears stinging your eyes. The realisation of how close you were to loosing your brother suddenly hit you.

"You remember," he snorted.

"Of course, I do. You gamble with your own life. I understand why you two did what you did, but still. Imagine she would have really died with you following after her soon. What would happen with Night Court?"

At that moment, Tamlin and Feyre came back, saving Rhysand from answering. You breathed a sigh of relief when they seemed to feel somehow more comfortable in each others presence. You were sure Tamlin would tell you what they talked about later. He stepped to you, kissed you with a soft smile and his hand once again found its place on your hip.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing interesting, really. Just some siblings nonsense."

"I see. It seems someone was so bored that he fell asleep," he nodded to little baby, now sleeping in Feyre's arms.

You chuckled. "Do you want to tell them?"

"And you?" He asked carefully, already knowing your response in advance.

You nodded and Tamlin sighed.

"Tell us what?" Rhysand asked, always the curious one.

Tamlin just waved his hand and your scent filled the room.

"You are.." Rhys gasped, utter shock on his face.

"Pregnant?" Feyre finished for him with big smile. If she didn't hold Nyx, she would run to you and squeeze you in tight hug. "Congratulations! How far are you?"

"Well, baby is due in two months or so," you announced, smoothing your dress so they could see the rather small bump you had. Tamlin's other hand immediately lifted to your belly in a protective way. You both were worried at first, expecting that in this stage of pregnancy you would be already so big that it would be impossible to hide it. However healer assured you everything was okay and explained you that the baby was just in a very good position.

Your brother's face changed from pale to red.

"Two..? What?! So soon? Why you haven't said anything? That's your doing," Rhys spew words.

Feyre put her hand on his chest. "It's wonderful news," she told him in calm but a bit scary way. "You should be happy you'll be uncle and congratulate them, honey."

Rhys took a deep breath, thinking it over. Then he stepped closer to you and Tamlin growled. "It's my sister. I won't hurt her," he declared with narrowed eyes.

Tamlin seemingly still didn't like the idea of any male in your proximity, but he released you. Rhysand stepped even closer and carefully watching your husband, he slowly pulled you into a hug.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, for my previous reaction," he whispered to you softly. "I'm just.. surprised. I didn't expect my baby sister to grow up so soon, but I'm really happy for you and hope that everything will go smoothly. I can't wait to meet my little niece or nephew."

"Thank you," you whispered back, feeling easier, now, when even he knew about it.

Two months later

Tamlin ran across the gardens and up the stairs taking three at a time, swearing under his breath. He knew that he shouldn't have left. Nothing would happen if he postponed the visit of the farthest point of borders where they had some minor problem with supplies. He felt it coming, but you convinced him that it would be fine and you wouldn't give birth any time soon. Not even half a day had passed since he bid you farewell and you were fine back then, full of energy. The Mother had to hate him for some reason now.

As soon as he got the message, he ran all the way back. It was a big day and he didn't want to miss it by any chance. He knew that giving birth wasn't an easy task and he wanted to be there for you no matter what.

Heaving heavily and all sweaty he finally abruptly stopped before the double doors of your bedchamber. Something was amiss. He hadn't noticed it before as he hurried through halls, but the whole manor was quiet, too quiet. There should have been some kind of commotion, maids running around, screams or a baby cry. With a bad feeling and shaky hands he pushed the doors open wide. Small healer who took care of you during the whole pregnancy, emerged out as if she was waiting behind the doors for him, startling him and closed the doors behind her.

"Milord," old fae bowed. "You are late."

He swallowed hard around the lump that rose in his throat, his heart painfully squeezed and sank down. "Late? What do you mean by that?" His voice was hoarse, thick with panic. "Where is my wife? How is she? And what about the baby?"

The healer raised her hands as if trying to calm a startled animal. "Everything is okay, Milord. Milady and the baby are both healthy and fine. They are resting now."

Tamlin breathed a sigh of relief, running hand through his hair. It took him a moment to calm down his rapid heartbeat. He was in acute need of something to lean against or at least a gulp of strong alcohol. He had never felt so relieved in his entire life.

"Let me congratulate you to a healthy baby girl, Milord," healer smiled.

"A baby girl? I have a daughter?" Tamlin's eyes filled with tears of joy. His knees buckled and he almost fell down. He had to lean against the doorframe, taking another moment to process the information. "Can I see them?"

"Of course, Milord," healer bowed again, holding the doors open for him.

Nervously he stepped in and the healer closed the doors behind him. It was so quiet inside. On shaky legs he crossed the sitting room and stopped in the alcove leading to the bedroom. The door was wide open.

You were in bed, back rested against pillows. You looked so tired, but it wasn't what stopped him. It was a sight of you holding the little baby, your finger gently caressing chubby pink cheek. You were smiling down so softly at your daughter that his breath caught in his throat and Tamlin fell to his knees, momentarily overwhelmed by the emotions. His girls. The perfect picture of you two had engraved deep into his heart. Maybe some day he could ask Feyre to paint it for him. He already knew where he would hung it: to his office so he could have you two in sight even when he had to spend some time separated from you.

That's when Tamlin felt it.

All this time he was waiting, certain that you were the one, but it never happened, not until this very moment. It didn't snap for him when he proposed and you said yes nor when he saw you in that beautiful wedding dress walking toward him, not even when you spent your very first night together. It didn't really matter whether you were his mate or not, he was already so happy with you. You already were his soulmate whether the Mother blessed you two or not.

However, all it needed, was just to see you with your baby girl in arms. The bond had finally snapped for him and his stone heart came to life, moving. For the very first time in his long life he felt his heart beating, really beating, not only its echo. It was quite painful at first and he clenched the shirt on his chest in the shock, but with every beat it slowly got better and pain soon disappeared.

"I knew it," he sobbed, tears rolling down his cheeks. "You are mine. Mine."

Finally, you noticed him and looked up. You were surprised to see him on his knees, but you smiled nonetheless. "I've always been yours. Just as you are mine."

Tamlin crawled to the bed, impatient to see his daughter. His fingers trembled as he reached out, gently squeezing her tiny hand in his.

"I'm so sorry I missed it. I wanted to be here with you." He couldn't stop the tears. The little baby in your arms whom he loved so dearly even before he laid his eye at her, immediately won his heart anew. There was no way he wouldn't love her. She was perfect, a small version of you except of the hair as he could assume by few hairs that he saw.

"You are here now," you snuggled to his side. "Would you like to hold her?"

Little girl frowned as she left her mothers arms and shifted in discomfort. Tamlin expected her to start crying, but she only looked up at him with bright green eyes, yawned and again fell asleep.

Tamlin smiled as he brought her closer to his face. She smelled like you and the baby soap he had prepared for her. Small hand came to his cheek, tiny fingers trying to find something to grip on. He offered her his finger and she immediately grabbed it. Her pinky lips curled into a smile.

"She's perfect," Tamlin breathed out, unable to take his eyes off of her. "Thank you for this gift, my love. Thanks to you I'm the happiest male that ever walked this world. I love you so much."

He leaned in, giving all his gratitude into a kiss and sending a wave of love down the bond. You wrapped your arms around his neck, surge of need to be close to him overcoming you. However, the small bundle of joy between your bodies, didn't like it a bit. The both of you laughed out and snuggling together watched your little miracle.

That night Tamlin slept a deep peaceful sleep, holding both his beloved girls on his chest close to his beating heart.

Note: This was the last part (until I learn to write some good smut👀)of for now the longest story I've ever written. It was a long journey, but I had a lot of fun and learnt a ton of new things. Thanks to this story I also met a lot of new people here who are very kind and I'm very grateful for that. I'd like to thank all of you who stuck with me until the end. Hopefully you enjoyed it. This story wouldn't be what it is without you, your comments and questions, and your support. Thank you so much😘💕

And I very hope to meet you again in a new Eris' series🤞🥹🤞

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot @acourtofimagines @harahettania @talesofadragon @ceoofyearning @little-nightowl

#tamlin acotar #tamlin #tamlin x reader #tamlin fanfiction #pro tamlin #rhysand acotar #feyre archeron #feysand #nyx #nyx acotar #acotar #acosf #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #dad tamlin #tamlin girls dad

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mapileonxputellas · 1 year

Text

Player (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Request can be found here. I'm loving writing for some new people! 2.8k words x

You weren’t exactly proud of your reputation but you also had nothing to be ashamed of.

You liked having a good time and your teammates were included in that, they always knew what the deal was and you made sure no-one ever got hurt. You had rules and you stuck by them, the biggest of them all to never get feelings and never make it to a second night.

When you got the chance to move to Arsenal from your hometown club of Wolfsburg it definitely wasn’t a decision you took lightly. Everyone knew of your situation there, they were like a family to you and never judged you for all the bad decisions you made. But you lived your life so far taking risks and you never backed away from a challenge, so that’s how you found yourself stood outside the Arsenal training centre on a sunny August morning ready to start the preparation for the new season.

“Y/N, hey!” The unmistakable voice of Katie came out from nowhere startling you from your thoughts. “You just going to stand out here?”

“Very funny.” You muttered bringing her in for a hug. “It’s nice to properly meet you.”

“You too.” Your move was announced just before the Euro’s and your former teammate in Noelle had added you to the club group chat. The players had introduced themselves on there and you had the odd friendly chat with players after a game in the tournament but this was the first time you would be properly meeting everyone.

“Come on, everyone’s excited to meet you.”

Katie informed you on the way that everyone would be in the dining room for breakfast before training. Having played in the final for Germany you would be joining the England girls as the last to arrive back for pre-season, knowing you would just be in the gym today.

You must have been the last to arrive as you walked into the crowded dining room. “Guys.” The Irish woman grabbed the attention of the room, all eyes immediately focusing on you. “This is Y/N.” There was a general greeting back to you as you scanned the room trying to make eye contact with all the friendly faces.

Kim being the captain was the first to come over, breaking your scanning of the room as she went with you to get a morning coffee, talking you through what was going to happen. You got the idea that the team always had breakfast together before moving to whatever that day entailed in training. You had joined slightly late but she assured you that there was enough time for the coffee.

There were very few seats left but you found one free next to your fellow defenders in Jen and Lotte.

“Hey,” You said taking a seat. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Not quite the circumstances we met last time.” Lotte said referring to your place on the losing side in the Euro’s final.

Thankfully even though you wouldn’t consider yourself to be fluent, your English was very good so you could understand everyone. “Not quite.”

3 weeks prior: Euro’s final

The final whistly had blew, it wasn’t enough. Your dream was over.

120 minutes of giving it your all only to fall at the final hurdle.

It was as if the energy had been zapped from your whole body, your legs giving way as you fell to the floor. Every emotional just flooded out of you as you buried your head into the grass hiding the tears streaming down your face.

You felt a hand on your back, slightly lifting your head to find an unknown England player’s boots as they knelt down beside you. “You gave it everything. Let’s win the Champions League together.” Of course it had to be the England captain herself, a player you admired so greatly.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with the captain however you sat up enough to bring her in for a hug. “Congratulations, go and enjoy it.”

“Thank you.”

You shared a short conversation with Beth before she was whisked away for all her duties, Lotte the final player to make her way over.

“Congratulations.” You once again said bringing her in for a hug now you’d stood back up. “This is some atmosphere.” The majority may have been cheering against you but you couldn’t help but soak in all the people here to watch you play.

“It’s incredible. You were too by the way, I’m looking forward to working together.”

“Thank you, enjoy tonight for me.”

“I’m sure we will.”

You watched them lift the trophy and despite your overwhelming sadness you were excited to play with these players and have a new start.

…..

You’ll never forget the first time you properly met Leah. Probably because to this day you were still embarrassed about the whole thing.

Lotte and Beth led you to the gym area where you would be for the rest of the morning which annoyed you to no end, just wanting to get out onto the pitch again after the final disappointment.

Though there were some drawbacks, for the majority of the time you prided yourself on your confidence. It helped you make friends, allowed you to show off your qualities and to put it bluntly it usually helped with the girls.

That’s how you found yourself in the weight section, clad in just a sports bra and shorts rolled all the way up as you wiped the sweat from running down your forehead.

“So….” You leaned against the bar and watched as Beth ran on the treadmill. “Is it true? About you and Viv?”

“Is what true?” The English woman questioned back.

“Has she got in before I got the chance? Who knows maybe I can still persuade you to go to dinner with me?” You could see the other woman trying to process what you said in her head so you put her out of her misery. “I’m joking, don’t look so worried.”

“So the rumours are true then…”

“Depends what rumours you’re talking about.”

“That, no offence, you get around.” Katie again appeared from behind you. “Again, no offence.”

“None taken, I mean if you’re surrounded by beautiful women all day then you appreciate them a little bit more and they were all very beautiful.”

“Who’s beautiful?” Another voice questioned and you turned to face the one woman you’d yet to meet, the one who you’d been waiting to meet. The woman you’d had probably the biggest crush ever on since you’d met her that day in Wembley.

“Oh, uh…” You stuttered. “Well you see Katie was just asking-“

“Y/N was just explaining her love of dogs.” It perhaps wasn’t the most believable lie but you were thankful for Lotte making that up on the spot. “I think you probably meant to say cute.”

“Yeah”

“Well it’s nice to meet you.” God what was happening to you. This was so embarrassing as Leah leant over to give you a hug and something just took over your whole body. It was like you couldn’t move your arms as you almost stayed like a statue. “Have you had a good break?”

“Uh, yeah I just spent a few weeks with my family. Caught the sun.”

“I can see that.” Where was the confidence now as Leah very obviously checked you out her eyes running over your tanned arms and legs. “Fancy coming on the bike with me? I’d like to get to know my new partner.”

“Yeah sure.”

“Is that the only word you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah so you do say other words than yeah, I swear that’s been your answer to like all my questions.” The blonde teased getting on the bike next to you as you both started at a gentle pace.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a bit, I don’t know.” Any normal person would say nervous but you didn’t get nervous.

“It’s ok to be nervous, it must be a lot when you don’t know anyone. Well you know Noelle but you get my point.”

“Mm.” You couldn’t help but get a good look at Leah as she faced forward. Her whole appearance was just so commanding from her serious expression to her classic high ponytail and chiselled jawline.

“How was it back in Germany?”

“Huh?” What had happened?

“After the final.”

“Oh.” Get a grip. “It was incredible, maybe not on the same scale as in England but thing have definitely changed.”

“Why now then? Why not stay in Germany at your hometown club?”

“Why not?” You questioned back. “I’m 25 and it feels like now is the best time to go, my family were very encouraging.”

“Understandable.”

…..

The two of you spent a lot of time together over the next week or so. You’d often make the excuse that you needed to get to know your defensive partner, learn more about each other but the two of you just got to know each other. You learnt about her family, you told her about your own, she gave you the low down on all your new teammates and you told her about your ambitions.

The blank moments though continued, it was like it would only happen in specific moments, when she would make eye contact with you, when she’d sub-consciously touch your leg or graze your arm. Your mind just couldn’t concentrate on anything else. You’d been doing weights together when you suddenly forgot the name of your family dog back at home and what you’d had for dinner the previous evening.

Thankfully no-one else had yet to be witness to these moments. Until now.

You joined the rest of the team out on the pitch, Lotte and Jen had joined you as first out that sunny morning as you started playing with the free balls. This was when you were most confident, flicking the ball up in the air, showing off all your tricks. This was your comfort zone.

Your one touch football was something you prided yourself in and that’s why you flicked the ball up in the air in a series of moves receiving whistles from the two other girls only to be interrupted by a third voice.

“Impressive, maybe you can give me some lessons someday.” Damn the eye contact and one again you almost seemed to zone out, completely forgetting about the ball which you’d just flicked up in the air and therefore came crashing down on top of your head, breaking you out of your daydream.

“Fuck.”

It wasn’t anything serious and your teammates knew that which meant they all just burst out in laughter, your hand coming up to rub the slightly delicate spot on the top of your head.

“Very funny.” You told them.

“Maybe I don’t need the lessons after all.” Leah teased snatching a ball from your feet. “Come on let’s see what you can do with your feet this time.”

…..

It didn’t get better. In fact maybe it got worse.

In the following month you’d managed to spill your drink on her during breakfast, skied a penalty when she jokingly placed herself in the net and made countless errors in drills when up against her.

You’d played your first match together at the weekend and thankfully your game plan wasn’t affected by your growing crush. In game you were the serious defender you were known to be, sweet talking your way out of a few dubious tackles with the ref and denying a massive chance for the opposition in the final minute to close out the win for Arsenal.

“Y/N do you fancy coming round for dinner tonight?” Leah asked when you sat down the next morning with your toast and a coffee.

You could feel your heart start racing when she asked that question, what did she mean? As a date? As a friend? “Yeah, maybe we can order something in, as a treat.”

“Great, I think that’s seven of us now so we could all get a takeaway.” You didn’t let your face drop as you realised for better or worse that it wasn’t just going to be the two of you. “I’ll text you my address.”

“See you tonight.” You whispered as you watched her walk away from the table, instead coming to meet the eyes of Lia and Katie sat opposite you.

“I’m watching you.” Lia smirked. “I see that look in your eye.”

“Someone’s got a little crush.” Katie teased.

“Shut up.”

Leah had stayed true to her word and messaged you her address for that night. You all agreed to a takeaway but of course you couldn’t turn up empty handed and that’s how you turned up at her door with a wine bottle in one hand and a box of chocolates in the other. Thankfully you’d also all agreed to stay casual, your yoga pants and a sweatshirt suitable for the evening.

Lia opened the door for you, once again smirking as she let you into Leah’s apartment, a scowl from you enough to keep her silent.

“Y/N.” Leah said as you walked through into the lounge area where the group were congregated, the England captain the one to stand up and pull you in for a hug. Her arms were barely round your waist for a few seconds but that was enough to get your cheeks as red as a tomato something not missed by your sniggering teammates.

“You alright there?” Katie asked from her position on the sofa. “Something on your cheek.”

“It’s just a bit hot out there.” You muttered. “I need a drink.”

The night was going well, you’d all enjoyed a Chinese and enjoyed a few drinks, though you were only a tiny bit tipsy, before moving back into the living area to play a few board games.

Sadly first up was the worst of them all. Twister.

“Y/N left hand yellow.” That smirk was almost a permanent feature on Katie’s face as she read out the instructions and saw your current predicament. It would have been a simple move had Leah not been in the way. The only way to get your hand down was to basically hover or straddle over her waist as she basically did the crab underneath you.

If it was anyone else in this situation you probably would have laughed, sadly it was you and that red flush was coming up again. You moved across, avoiding eye contact with the woman below you as you tried to avoid eye contact with the woman.

“When I said I wanted to get to know you I didn’t quite mean this.” Leah whispered, her head mere inches away from your own. “Is it getting too hot in here again?”

“Something like that.”

You let everyone else have their turn before it came back around to you. “Y/N left hand green.” You’d done well so far to avoid any actual contact with Leah’s body before this instruction which meant you basically had to reach underneath her body to reach the green dot.

Your balance was good but not this good and before you could save yourself you fell straight onto the woman sending the both of you toppling onto the floor. In trying to save the both of you, you tried to reach down for the floor but instead of coming in contact with the carpet you instead you just grazed Leah’s chest being met with the bare skin from her cropped shirt.

“I’m so sorry.” You immediately jumped up. “Leah, I’m so sorry.”

In a stark contrast to your panicked face Leah couldn’t keep the laughter in, hunching over almost in tears with the rest of the girls. “Don’t worry about it honestly.” She said before moving in to whisper in your ear. “Maybe we could go on a date to make up for it?”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” She confirmed before moving out of the room, leaving you alone with all the curious faces as a little happy smile came up on your face.

“You’re such a loser you know that.” Katie teased as you sat down next to her. “You know you practically couldn’t keep your eyes off her the whole meal.”

“How on earth did you ever get laid by so many women when you can’t even think when you’re around them.” Beth teased.

“You have no game.” Lotte agreed.

“That’s how I managed to get a date with her then.” You teased back your confidence rising. “What can I say Leah is just unique. Very unique.”

#woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #arsenal #arsenal x reader #arsenal imagine #arsenal imagines #engwnt x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

The Odyssey | 0.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

In Verona, you’re an outcast. Bradley’s determined to make up for the day before.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance, professor / student relationship, age gap ( 22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity, them actually getting along for once?, kissing, bradley has a corruption kink and doesn’t know it. wc: 7.35k

…

“I don’t know why you’re bringing this up now.” His voice grew agitated on the other end of the line. Understandably, he expected a delightful update on your sunny summer in Italy and was blindsided by you bringing up a fight from last year. “It’s been months. We’ve moved on.”

The phone pinned between your cheek and your shoulder, you fidgetted nervously with the band around your finger, inspecting the expensive diamond that sits on top of it. Hearing the annoyance in his voice, you should have stopped there, and told him that it didn’t matter. You hadn’t.

“I know, I know we have,” Your voice trembled. Your fiancé sighed hard on the other end of the line. “But the last thing I remember is being at that party with you. If I hurt you, Malcolm—“

“I asked you to marry me.” He blurted out, abrupt and biting. There was no point lying to you. There never had been, you would never let something like this go. He was upset. You could tell. You had continued anyway.

Your brows knitted together. “No… you proposed to me at my parents’ house. O-On Christmas Eve.”

“I did,” Malcolm breathed out through gritted teeth. Thinking of how you had humiliated him that night isn’t a fond memory. “But I asked you to marry me that night, at that party, without a ring. I told you that you’re the love of my life and I asked you to spend the rest of your life with me.”

You had closed your eyes, trying to force yourself to think. You still don’t know how anyone is supposed to reply to that.

“And you cried your eyes out, then left me standing there like an idiot.”

This morning, you’re sitting silently in a library with a notebook in front of you, trying to fathom how you could have done that to him. You wonder if he told anyone but you about that. You had spoken with your mother about marriage not long before he had proposed on Christmas Eve — you had agreed to marry him enthusiastically that day.

How is it that less than a month before, he could have asked you the same question, and your instinct was to run? — Not only to run, but to kiss another man. To spite Malcolm maybe. To act out. Whatever it was, you can’t pretend that it isn’t a relief to know that Bradley wasn’t the reason.

You hadn’t kissed him because he mattered, just because you were drunk and scared.

He’s standing at the end of the table now. Is long and wooden, not dissimilar to the one in the university library. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and faded blue jeans, speaking confidently in Italian to the restoration technician that you’re here to work with today.

This is one of the first pieces of actual research that the students have been allowed to engage in so far on this trip. You’re not thrilled about it. Trying to piece together some old man’s memoirs so that Bradley can write about it.

Bradley’s in a world of his own anyway, deep in conversation about what’s in front of him. Since he got here this morning, all that he has done in terms of being a teacher was to list eight roles and tell you to decide amongst each other who would be doing what.

Deemed the least intelligent by all of your peers simultaneously, you’re just the scribe. Taking notes on observations that they have, that Bradley could one day use when he writes about this. It’s bullshit, and it doesn’t seem fair, but you won’t argue with them on it. They already dislike you enough.

And you’re still reeling from last night. No wonder Malcolm wouldn’t speak to you for three days. No wonder he hadn’t followed you out into the snow. You’d just broken his heart.

The day of no work passes by exceptionally slowly. Your only reprieve is Pasquale, telling you stories about his mother’s farm. It’s not something that you would care much about if you were back home, but here, it’ll do.

“So, what do you think of Verona?” Pasquale asks as he flicks through an anthology. His role is more important than yours and he isn’t even here for a grade.

You shoot a look towards the end of the table and watch Bradley pull a loose pair of glasses from his pocket, setting them on the bridge of his nose and leaning closer to examine a text. He doesn’t even have a case for his glasses.

“I, uh — haven’t seen too much of it yet. I stayed in last night, and I’ve been here all day today.” You explain to him, tapping the end of your pen absently against the page.

Bradley takes the page carefully from the technician and frowns as he brings it closer to his face. When he’s serious, faint creases appear between his brows, his lips point down. His eyes narrow slightly.

“You really should. It’s the city of love, you know. You could find your husband a souvenir, maybe. When we have time off tomorrow.” Pasquale tells you with a big grin. You offer him a weak grin in return. You’re lucky to even have someone that wants to be your husband after what you did. Either way, Pasquale seems to like you.

He’s about the only person here that does.

That’s only confirmed later when Bradley steps out of the bathroom in a towel and finds Luke buttoning a salmon coloured Ralph Lauren button up.

“Going out?” Bradley questions, walking over to the desk for his cigarettes before he thinks about his clothes.

“Uh-huh. We’re all going for dinner in the city.” Luke confirms as Bradley scrunches his nose at the obnoxious cologne smell coming from that side of the room.

“All of you?” Bradley checks as he puts the cigarette between his lips and lights it. Luke scoffs, angling himself towards the awkwardly short mirror on their vanity. He rolls one sleeve up to his elbow and squints.

“I’m not inviting her. They’ll kill me.” He shakes his head, glancing over at Bradley and trying to remember how Bradley wears his button ups. Sleeves rolled, definitely.

“She wouldn’t be as bad if she had friends to keep her occupied.” Bradley notes, stepping into a pair of blue boxers and draping the damp towel over his shoulder, exhaling through the corner of his mouth.

“And I wish her the best of luck in finding some. It’s not gonna be me. Anyway, I have to go. See you later!” Luke pats Bradley’s bare shoulder and steps around him, heading for the door before they can discuss this further. It swings shut behind him.

Bradley sighs, leaning his head back towards the ceiling, the lit cigarette dangling between his index and middle fingers.

As much as he would like to avoid you after you’d thrown him off of you last night, the thought of you eating alone in your room just doesn’t sit right with him. Or, even worse, you venturing out by yourself.

The thought of last night makes him want to drive to the nearest beach, dig a reasonably sized hole, and bury his head in the sand. He’s never felt dirtier. The thought that he went further than you wanted him to.

The fact that you’re his student. He doesn’t do that. He isn’t one of the creeps that drools over the girls on campus. Christ, you’re the first girl he’s ever kissed that’s more than a year younger than him. He just needs to put it behind him.

So, he pulls on a pair of faded, light blue Levi’s 501s and a white button up that’s tolerably ironed, then heads up a flight of stairs and down the hall.

You flinch at the knocking on your door.

Bradley blinks as you tug it open moments later. Then, looks you slowly up and down. You’re wearing a cute button up pyjama set. He furrows his brows at you.

“It’s 6pm.” He points out disapprovingly. He really can’t help it. He could have told you that he actually thinks the little hearts on them are kind of cute.

“So? I don’t have anywhere to be.” You answer back, frowning up at him as always.

“Yeah. About that, uh — me either,” He’s trying not to be patronizing about this. He doesn’t want you to feel like he’s taking pity on you. This isn’t necessarily pity. You also just started trying in his class and it would be a shame if you quit now. “Do you want to get dinner?”

“With you?” You gawk.

He shrugs. This is more awkward than he hoped it would be, but he can’t blame you after the way things went yesterday. “Yeah. Unless you know anyone else who’d like to join us.”

“I’ll get ready.” You decide quietly. He gives you a small nod and starts to step back.

“Alright. I’ll meet you in the lobby in… twenty?”

It’s a good thing that he gets down there early, because so do you. You’re more dressed up than he was expecting, but then, so is he. His shirt doesn’t even have any wrinkles in it today.

Bradley looks you slowly up and down as you walk towards him. He doesn’t know what to call the style of dress you’re wearing. Thin straps that tie at the shoulders, a sweetheart neckline and a lightweight georgette fabric. You’re wearing a pretty necklace that compliments the neckline, elegantly small hoop earrings with pearl drops. Those are probably real pearls.

You’ve dressed the outfit down slightly with summery loafers instead of heels. All that does is make Bradley have to tip his chin down to look you in the eye when you’re up close.

“So. Do you know a place?” You exhale, hugging your purse closer to your body. It matches your shoes.

Bradley shakes his head dumbly.

“No,” He answers quietly. Then, he realizes he’s being ridiculous. He’s been on plenty of dates, there’s no reason to be nervous. Except this isn’t a date. Because you’re getting married. And you’re his student. He clears his throat like that will help clear the momentary fog in his brain. “No. But there are a tonne of places around here. We’ll find somewhere.”

The two of you step out into the still warm evening, the sun still pretty high overhead. It’s quiet out, quieter than when you had first arrived. It makes you feel exceptionally alone next to Bradley.

As the two of you walk in a painstakingly heavy silence, you consider briefly if you should apologize for calling him an animal yesterday. After all, you were the one to kiss him. But his hands are big, and they’re heavy, and you could feel them starting to trail along your skin.

You swallow at the thought, shooting a quick glance at the back of his head. His shoulders look wide, and strong, when he’s not wearing a shirt that’s a size too big. Not only could you feel his hands starting to roam, but his tongue too. That, you remember well.

It hadn’t been forceful, or even really too intrusive. Just like he would push his tongue out to wet his lips, he had pressed close to you and gently trailed his tongue along the seam of your lips. That hadn’t ever happened before. Malcolm doesn’t kiss like that. Really, he’s your only point of reference.

So, when Bradley’s tongue had flicked knowingly against your bottom lip, maybe you had parted them. Just a little bit. But then his tongue was in your mouth, trailing against your own and — nice girls don’t kiss like that. Not any nice girl that you’ve ever known anyway.

“How’s this place look?”

You’ve been following him blindly and daydreaming about his tongue long enough now that he has led you down a side street. Peach coloured stone buildings on either side, lanterns on the walls that aren’t lit yet and a string of mostly empty restaurants.

Bradley’s standing by one covered in plants. The awning is practically entirely green with foliage. The railings outside are the same, flowers tucked into small vases on each table. You’re surprised, honestly, that he picked it. It’s pretty.

You turn your head and he’s looking right at you. The first thing to cross your mind is his hands flexing around your waist, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips.

“This is fine.”

He doesn’t untuck your chair for you, but you wouldn’t have expected him too. This is the same man that would have happily had sex with a married woman on a balcony on a work trip. God, and you let him kiss you.

Bradley catches you grimacing at your menu. “What? — Not a fan of Italian food?”

You look quickly back up at him. There’s a caught look on your face that he can’t quite place. Like you’re waiting for him to tell you that you’re in trouble. “Huh? — No. I like Italian food. What are you getting?”

Bradley looks between you and the menu, wondering if he’ll ever get to a point where he understands you.

“Uh…” He has no idea. He hasn’t even read the menu, he’s just been looking at it so that he doesn’t have to look at you. He exhales. “Do you drink wine?”

Whether the wine helps is debatable. In terms of loosening the two of you up to the point that you can actually have a conversation without burning with embarrassment, it’s a great success. In terms of professionalism and keeping up with boundaries, it is not.

You’ve both eaten, you’ve finished an entire bottle of Malbec and you’re a glass and a have into the second bottle — and Bradley’s a lot funnier tonight than he is normally. There’s a connection between those two things, you’re sure.

Even if it’s just that he’s feeling relaxed enough to actually tell you something interesting about himself for once.

“I was taking a still life art class in Tuscany,” He brings the glass to his mouth and takes a drink of the sweet, red liquid. Relaxed back into the chair, it’s like you’re watching a movie star give an interview when he smiles at you. “Staying with a family outside of Siena. They had a daughter, Maria. She was about a year and a half older than I was, and um…”

He trails, biting his cheek as he sets the glass down on the white table cloth again. The candle flickers in its glass jar between you. With one leg crossed over the other, you’re watching him with your own glass sitting in your hand and a smile on your face. The pale blue of your dress makes your skin glow, your hair is tucked back on one side with a pearl barrette. Verona looks good on you.

Bradley chuckles and pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, she — she taught me a lot.”

There’s a brief moment of sense where he sits back and pushes fingers through his curls, shaking his head. Where you can see it in his face that he’s telling himself that this isn’t right. You’re his student.. He exhales amusedly, “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

He shouldn’t have had his tongue in your mouth yesterday.

“You can’t leave it on that cliffhanger! Come on, I won’t tell.” You grin across the table at him and he bites his lip, visibly grimacing at the memory.

You laugh at him, watching his cheeks turn red on the other side of the table. Breeze catches your hair and brushes it back off of your shoulders. Bradley feels himself grimacing as he thinks back to that time. He can’t believe he’s sharing this with you.

“Y’know, I was in the middle of the Italian countryside but this girl was… she was experienced enough long before I met her. But her father was the town’s butcher, and he had some livestock of his own, and one day Maria and I were… fooling around in the granary…”

“Oh my god, Bradley, no.” Your eyes go wide and you sit upright, breaking into a fit of laughter again. Red faced and reliving every moment of the embarrassment he had felt on that August day eleven years ago, he can’t help but laugh with you as he covers his face with his hands.

“He came after me with a meat cleaver, screaming about how I’d, uh, deflowered his little angioletto.” Bradley admits finally from behind his hands. Even with his face covered, that red blush is already spreading down his neck and onto his chest. You watch it go between the open buttons at the top of his white button up.

The sound of your laughter in front of him is the only thing that makes him pull his hands away from his face. He’s got to see the smile that goes with it. Blinking, he’s quiet for a moment. Candlelight from the lanterns overhead and from the table bathe you in a warm light. The centuries old buildings behind you. The smile on your face. He smiles back at you.

“You know what I find hardest to believe about that story?” You ask him, smiling as you lean forwards and set the wine glass down, propping your chin against your palm.

“What’s that?”

“That you were taking an art class for an entire summer.” It just seems so out of character. He’s all about facts and analysis, using sources to come to a conclusion. Sure, his focus is literature, but so far he hasn’t seemed especially creative.

Bradley chuckles, giving a quick shrug of his broad shoulders. “I can draw. I learned some interesting stuff, got kind of good. Painting… not so much. I failed that class.”

The admission makes your jaw go slack, eyes widening in excitement. He just sits back, lips quirked in amusement as you hit the table and point across at him.

“You hypocrite! Putting love before your studies!” You accuse, grinning at him. He laughs, really laughs, leaning his head back and shaking it at you. Your mind starts to wander in the absence of his eyes on you. Him, at your age. Here in this place, taking an art class.

Maybe the two of you would have liked each other. Maybe in another universe, you would be the kind of girl to be kissing him hard in a granary on a summer day.

“I wouldn’t call what Maria and I had love.” He’s still smiling as he makes the decision. If there was ever much of a decision to make in the first place. Bradley knows what being in love feels like, both in written fact and in personal terms. Head over heels, heart-thudding devotion.

“Sex. Putting sex before your studies.” You correct yourself, still grinning as you take a sip of the wine. Bradley watches your tongue leave your mouth to catch a droplet of the aged red intoxicant from your bottom lip. He studies you from the short distance between you. Sun kissed and with the kind of smile on your face that threatens to have you spilling over into laughter again any minute now.

There’s a small silence between the two of you. The bustle of Verona at night just a few streets away. The two of you, tucked away here. It feels private. Even with the wait staff, the few other guests, Bradley hasn’t looked at anything but you in a while now.

“I just don’t get it,” Bradley says softly, staring across at you like he’s searching for his answer on your face. On a good track to finishing this second bottle of wine, you take another drink from your glass and simply raise your eyebrows at him. “Why you’re waiting until you marry this guy.”

The wine sits on your tongue, still, as you blink at him. Shit. Bradley lifts his palm in defense. This is nice, the last thing he wants is to argue with you.

“It’s none of my business, I know — and it’s your decision. I just don’t get it.”

He watches you swallow the wine in your mouth and look down at your knees, silent for a moment. While you’re thinking, Bradley’s thinking too, of a million ways to apologize and change the topic as quickly as possible.

“There are two reasons.” You tell him quietly, sounding uncertain in yourself already. Bradley’s watching you intently when you look up. “But if you tell anyone then I’ll call you a liar to your face and make this entire trip hell for you. Understood?”

His lips twitch, almost smiling. “Understood.”

“The first reason is that it’s what’s expected of me. I’m a nice girl, from a nice family and nice girls don’t have bad reputations.”

“Having sex with your long-term boyfriend would give you a bad reputation?” Bradley questions, brows drawing together. It’s times like these that you believe he grew up in California. He doesn’t understand the social lives of these North-Eastern socialite mothers.

“Yes.” You deadpan, sitting up a little bit straighter. “And the second reason is that we tried, once. And never again since.”

“Tried.” Bradley repeats to you, squinting his eyes slightly. He mulls over the word, then wets his lips with his tongue. He’s preparing to speak again.

You beat him to it, giving a calm shrug. “We were eighteen. I wasn’t the problem. That’s all I’ll say.”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. Your hot shit boyfriend couldn’t keep it up. Bradley’s smart enough not to say anything else on the matter, and instead asks you how you’re liking the book that Pasquale gave you. The two of you finish the bottle of wine in polite conversation.

Bradley calls the waiter over and asks for the bill. It sounds like he’s polite about it. Once it has been set down between the two of you, you’re both quick to reach for your wallets.

“I’ve got it.” Bradley waves you off, opening up a brown leather wallet. You look at him through your lashes, squinting dubiously.

“Since when are you a gentleman?” You play, lips quirked. A week ago, this would have started an argument. Maybe you’re growing on him. He just smiles and shoots you a quick wink, dropping the notes onto the bill.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He jokes back, starting to close his wallet on the other side of the table.

“What’s that picture in your wallet?” Your eyes linger on the black and white photo booth picture in his phone. Bradley’s gaze shoots between the picture and you. He pulls it from the sleeve and passes it across the table to you.

Briefly, your eyes widen. The man in the picture looks so much like Bradley that you think the woman in the picture must be an ex. And then you look across to the woman, and somehow he looks even more like her than he does the man.

He watches your lips quirk softly into a smile as you inspect the grainy picture. No explanation needed, you know exactly who they are.

“You look like your mom.” You tell him gently. Her blonde hair is settled into short curls in the picture, the man at her side is practically beaming. He looks happy in a way you’ve never seen Bradley match, maybe that’s it.

“Really? — Most people say I look like my dad.” He comments, resting his forearms on the table to lean over and examine the photo for himself. You smile at him, lifting the picture up and holding it next to his face.

There’s a brief quiet between the two of you. Bradley’s still, trying to keep his face neutral as you study the differences. His lips twitch. The serious look on your face just makes him smile. Once he’s smiling, your decision is made.

“You do,” You nod, glancing between him and the picture. “You’ve got your mom’s lips. And her eyes, I think. She’s really pretty.”

You look up, picture still between your index and thumb. He’s pretty. Tanned from days strolling around northern Italy, the golden colour to his skin just makes his freckles more pronounced. It makes his eyes less dark, more of a golden honey colour. Everything, just a little bit warmer.

Bradley’s silent for a moment, watching you watch him. You can see the idea cross his mind. He smiles and reaches out for his picture back, pushing up from the table as he sets it into the wallet.

“You want to see something cool?” He pushes the wallet back into the pocket of his faded blue jeans and the look in his eye tells you that this night is far from over.

Your instinct should probably be to reconcile with your fiancé. To apologize, maybe. But, Malcolm told you to come back with stories to tell, and hiding in your hotel room isn’t much of a story.

The smile on your face is answer enough, Bradley nudges his elbow into yours and rests his hand against the small of your back to guide you in the right direction.

“It’s not that far, I promise. Across the bridge and up some steps.” Bradley tells you, dropping his hand from your back once you’re walking at his side.

He’s right. It’s really not that long of a walk at all. Not with him being your tour guide every step of the way. He walks you across the Ponte Pietra, which is a stone bridge built in 100 BC, making it the oldest bridge in Verona.

From there, it’s a short walk through some more paved streets and up some steps to the Castel San Pietro. Of course, not without first hearing a brief recount of its history. Bradley doesn’t really know much about this spot, much more than he has picked up as a visitor in past visits anyway.

Still, he’s a firm believer in leaving a girl impressed on the first date. He’s able to answer every single one of your questions with ease. As he had hoped, you sit at his side on a stone wall, facing the city, impressed.

It’s after a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you that you ask him a question of your own.

“Do you believe in fate?” Your cheek presses into the muscle of his shoulder, staring out over the lights of the city. Bradley exhales an amused noise from beside you. Like the notion itself is something to laugh at.

“No. Do you?”

“I haven’t made my mind up yet,” You tell him, kicking your feet just slightly. There’s more of a breeze up here, a slight chill now that the sun is down. “Plenty of intelligent people believe in fate.”

He nods at your side. “Of course.”

“Shakespeare did. Romeo and Juliet’s all about fate.”

He makes a sound, but doesn’t shake his head. “It’s about human will and making the wrong choice.”

Bradley has a way of replying when it comes to discussions like this that makes it sound like he’s correcting you when he’s just stating his opinion. You fight the urge to roll your eyes and instead lift your head to look at him.

“Okay, so the prologue of the play tells the audience exactly what’s going to happen. It doesn’t just foreshadow, it explicitly tells us that the two families hate each other and that the lovers will die. Right?”

“Right.” He confirms to you with a brief nod.

“‘Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife’. The feud would never have ended if they weren’t to fall in love and die. The entire structure of the play is this tragic fate that neither one can escape from.”

Bradley’s eyes flicker over your face. He turns his head towards the city and smiles. “I know. I wanted you to explain it and I feel like I can’t get a straight answer from you unless I piss you off sometimes.”

Your mouth gapes. Bradley flinches as you jab a finger into his ribs and laugh at his side, making him turn back towards you grinning. He chuckles along, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe you just quoted Shakespeare at me. I’ve been busting my balls trying to get you a C in my class and you’ve got passages from Shakespeare memorized.” He muses. When he turns his attention back to the city this time, he leans back on his palms to observe it. Your cheek presses softly into his shoulder once more.

He feels you squeeze closer to him for warmth.

“My grades weren’t ever bad. I still got into an Ivy League. I’m not dumb.” It’s playful in the way that you say it, but you’re not joking.

“No, you’re not dumb.” Bradley agrees. You’re just wasting your potential on being nothing but that kid’s wife. He keeps his mouth shut. Even though the two bottles of wine are telling him that you need to hear it, he’s got enough sense not to.

Bradley lifts his palm and drapes his arm around your shoulder. You shift closer, pressing into the warmth of his torso. Silently, the two of you look out over the city.

You set the curve in your English literature classes once upon a time. Back when you were still trying. Your work was showcased at school fundraisers. It’s easy to convince yourself that you have wholeheartedly believed in every decision you have made so far. That at this age, you have no regrets.

If that were true, you would have been happy the first time that Malcolm had proposed. You wouldn’t have kissed Bradley. You wouldn’t have done it again yesterday.

This doesn’t feel like the right decision either. It can’t be, when it would cost you everything back home.

A light turning on in a bedroom across the river catches your eye. From here, you can’t see much other than her silhouette. A woman, changing alone in her room.

Turning your attention instead towards the sky, you think about the fate Shakespeare wrote about. Ill-fated love that ultimately leads to death, but is inevitable.

Malcolm wouldn’t lead you to your death. Life with him would be safe and comfortable. Close to home with a pleasant income — in-laws that get along with your parents just fine. And yet, that fate does nothing but make your heartbeat thud in your ears.

“You know that Shakespeare wasn’t the first to write about the Montagues and the Capulets?” Bradley interrupts the silence and almost makes you jump out of your skin. Your fiddle with your cuticles, staring down at your knees.

“Really?”

“Dante.” Bradley answers quietly. “This poem he wrote in the fourteenth century that he wrote, the Divine Comedy, he wrote about two warring Italian families. The Montagues and the Capulets.”

His thumb strokes softly at your shoulder as he nods his head. “Like two hundred and fifty years before Shakespeare did.”

“So?”

“So?” Bradley scoffs, pulling his arm back from your shoulder and squeezing playfully at the nape of your neck. You turn and find him looking at you. Your lips twitch. “So, I’m sharing a fun fact with you. So. You’ve got an attitude, you know that?”

The sun is down now and the thin tie straps, the soft georgette fabric, neither does much to ward the chill of the evening air from up where you’re sitting. Even pressed into Bradley’s side, the cold grazes you suddenly and makes you shiver.

“Come on. Let’s go.” He squeezes your nape playfully once more and gestures his head back the way you had come. Standing up, he almost drapes his arm around your shoulder again out of instinct. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his faded Levi’s.

Neither one of you really says anything, but the walk is far from quiet. It’s like he can hear you thinking. The soles of your cream coloured loafers are quiet along the paved streets, you trail just slightly behind him. He knows you’re just taking in the scenery, but it’s not in his nature to let someone walk alone in a foreign city after dark. He finds himself slowing to the point that he’s dawdling by your side.

“You know we have three more days here, right?” He tells you.

“I know, it’s just pretty,” You answer back, not bothering to turn your gaze back towards him. He watches you taking everything in. “Why, you have somewhere to be?”

“No, but you’re cold.” Bradley points out.

You just roll your eyes and stop walking to correct him. He bumps his shoulder into yours and grabs either side of your waist with both hands, guiding you abruptly forwards.

“Don’t argue. You’re shivering.” He leans forward to tell you softly. Biting your cheek, you push your elbow back into his stomach. He scoffs and nudges you forwards again. His hands are still on your waist when he’s guiding you through the hotel lobby and up the stairs.

Your floor is one up from his, but neither one of you says a word when he skips his all together and keeps walking. Bradley wouldn’t dare call this a date, but he has never let a woman walk home alone after a first date. He walks you to your door wordlessly.

As he opens his mouth to thank you, and tell you goodnight, he watches you pluck the silver key from your bag and push it into the lock. The latch clicks compliantly and you walk inside, leaving it open behind you. Bradley glances down at the threshold, and back at you.

“Here,” You breathe out, crossing to the small dressing table in the corner and picking up the sheets of lined paper there. Bradley rests his forearm against the doorframe, apparently taking the vampire approach after his overstep yesterday. “I finished the practice exam.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He blinks. The expectation is that you’ll turn and bring the paper over to him any second now. Instead, you turn your head and look at him over your shoulder.

“Are you going to come look?”

Fuck. Bradley nods. He swallows and dips his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans as he walks inside, a silent reminder to keep his hands to himself. You had told him no yesterday, and one mistake is more than enough. He’s old enough to know better.

His shoulder brushes yours as he leans around you to get a look at the paper. Reaching out, he rests his thumb beside the line that the first question begins. Glancing back, you watch his eyes scan the paper for a few moments.

“The first three are right.” Bradley notes. All that he can focus on is your perfume. The sweet notes, the expensive, layered undertones. You turn towards him, sitting down on the edge of the vanity. He swallows.

“When you failed that art class, did you know you were going to fail it?” You ask him. It’s eating you up, the thought that this might all be for nothing. You don’t know what you’ll do if you fail again. This time, it’ll hurt that much more. It’s one thing to fail because you hadn’t even attended. To fail after you have actually tried, that’s another thing entirely.

“Yeah.” Bradley breathes out, offering you a smile. He nods his head just to provide additional confirmation. “I couldn’t even paint a sunflower. I knew.”

For once, he doesn’t take a shot at the effort you’ve put into this class. You’re trying. He sees that.

“But you could draw.” You recite back to him.

“Yeah.” Bradley smiles. The top three buttons on his shirt are undone, you can see that he’s still wearing that gold necklace. His father’s necklace, his dad is wearing it in that photo. His cheeks are terracotta red, warm.

“Could you draw me?” Maybe it’s not the best effort at flirting, but you don’t have much experience with that. Your first kiss was with the man that you intend to marry. You shouldn’t flirt with him. Most days you’d rather hit him than kiss him.

But, your bed is right behind him and yesterday he had you pressed into that mattress by a fraction of his weight, and his hands on your waist, in your hair. You inhale softly, met with the increasingly familiar scent of his cologne.

Bradley doesn’t touch you, but he might as well have. His hand curls around the vanity beside your knee. He leans in just a little closer and gives a small shake of his head, smiling like something’s funny. “Sorry, honey, my specialty was human form. Posing nude.”

He’s just trying to get under your skin, see how old-fashioned you really are. Maybe you’re growing used to that by now, it doesn’t take you a second to come up with a comeback.

“Did Maria teach you that?”

Bradley’s eyes don’t move, staring right at you with that smirk on his face still. He chuckles softly, then taps your knee softly. “Alright. I’m going to call it a night. I’ll see you—“

“Wait,” You close your eyes and ransack your brain looking for what comes next. You know he’s still standing there, you can’t hear him moving. “What, um, what did she teach you?”

Bradley’s not stupid. Nor is he oblivious to the fact that for one reason or another, women seem to like him. He’s used to being flirted with. And he knows exactly what you’re asking of him. He’s smart enough not to tell you that the things he did with Maria would have you clutching your pearls.

Still, he’s not going to tell you no. Not when you’re looking at him like that.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he looks downwards at your knees politely pressed together. Bradley reaches out tentatively, glancing up at your face as he curls his fingers into the hollow of your knee. Your eyes are just on his face, compliant as he tugs your leg just slightly to the side to make room for him to step closer.

Between your knees now, Bradley’s hand abandons your leg. He brings both up to cup your jaw, angling your head so that you’re looking up at him. He exhales softly. You close your eyes in anticipation. He doesn’t keep you waiting long.

He leans in close and kisses you softly, tenderly. Nothing like yesterday. It’s slow, just his lips on yours. Once more, another. Then, he pulls back and gently strokes his thumbs across each of your cheeks.

He swallows softly, opening his eyes. His intention is to search your face for doubt, annoyance — whatever had caused your freak out yesterday. His mouth twitches. Your eyes remain closed, lips pursed ever so slightly, waiting for him to kiss you again.

You lift your hands cautiously from your sides, resting them against his stomach over the cotton of his button up. Bradley kisses you again, just as soft. Building into it with gradually modern generous pecks. His hands keep your face exactly where he wants it as yours ball loosely into the fabric of his shirt.

This time when he pulls back, you chase after him, a small sound slipping your lips. Bradley bites his cheek, tenderly tracing over your jaw, reminding himself to be polite.

“You really want me to show you more?” He murmurs, lips grazing your cheek. Your daren’t open your eyes, fearing that it will give away your entire being. If you look at him, he’ll be able to tell how much your heart is pounding in your chest.

He’s already got a good idea, given the fact that you still haven’t uncurled your hands from his shirt.

“Mhm.” You manage, quiet.

He leans forwards once more and kisses you again, soft, slow. You lean into him, fighting a frown as he pulls away all too soon.

“Open your mouth, just a little, sit still.” With your eyes closed, all you’ve got is his voice. You’re okay with that. It still makes you shiver. You obey, parting your lips just a fraction.

Bradley’s eyes fall down to your lips. He blinks, studying the plush skin. But again, he doesn’t keep you waiting long. He presses closer, as close as he can get to the vanity, and tilts his head just slightly. He kisses your bottom lip, trailing it with his tongue this time.

Your thighs bracket his as you try to press them together. The next kiss he comes in for, it’s the same thing. His tongue doesn’t dare venture into your mouth, or brush yours. He’s just teasing you.

His hands are still cupping your jaw, keeping you exactly where he wants you. Then, finally, he kisses you again, deeper this time. His tongue dips just a bit further, slowly, gradually.

You’re taking the sit still instruction a little bit too literally.

“Copy what I’m doing. Just slowly, like that.” He mumbles against your mouth, his lips on yours again the second that he’s done speaking. Slowly, gradually, and his tongue touches yours once more.

It strokes along the tip of yours and curls just slightly. Nothing to complex to keep up with. One of his hands slides from your jaw to the nape of your neck, sliding his fingers into your roots.

Your tongue lets his do most of the work. He’s surprised when you’re brave enough to actually copy him and curl the tip of your tongue into his. All too soon, he pulls back and goes right back to the pecking. More urgent this time, still he finds time to be tender. Soft, with you.

And yet, you pull away from him with a soft frown.

“What? — What’s the matter?” Bradley’s face creases with concern, his thumb swiping softly over your jaw as he looks for the answer on your face.

“You stopped. Was I doing it wrong?” You ask meekly.

He almost smiles, but decides against it. A sincere shake of his head works instead. He leans in and kisses you once. “No. No, you weren’t doing it wrong. I just… like to go between tongue and no tongue, I guess.”

Bradley sounds uncertain. He hasn’t ever had to explain himself like this before. This is clearly a foreign process to the both of you.

“Okay.” You breathe out. As long as you’ve got the hang of it, you like the sound of that too. You sit upright, stretching up to kiss him again. Bradley leans down. You are rendered silent once more as he kisses your forehead.

“I should go.” Before this goes any further. Before you ask me for more, because I’m really not sure I could say no. Bradley blinks as you look up at him. He almost leans in one last time.

“Yeah,” You breathe out, barely a whisper. He’s more than close enough to hear you perfectly. Your heartbeat thuds in your chest. “Okay.”

He swallows. “I… I had a really nice time with you tonight. Thank you.”

You’re acutely aware that he still has one of those giant paws of his on the back of your neck. That he’s still standing between your knees. That he’s close enough to kiss if you reached for him.

“So did I.” You answer.

Bradley trails his thumb down until he reaches the top of your spine. He finally lets go, dropping his hand back down to his side.

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Right.” You agree, curling your fingers around the edge of the vanity as he takes a step away from you. Bradley offers you a small smile, and takes another big step.

And you leave it at that. He leaves, closing the door to your hotel room behind him, wandering back down to his own room. He should probably feel guilty.

Any guilt that he should feel hasn’t hit him yet. It won’t. If it doesn’t go any further than teaching you what french kissing is — then, what’s there to be guilty about?

…

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