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sunlightmurdock · 4 months ago

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The Odyssey | 1.7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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you bare your heart finally. amongst other things.

warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, nudity, mentions of erections, smut (pinv), oral (f receiving). arguing.

…

Bradley had assumed it was clear that part of the deal was that you would take that thing off before you joined him. He doesn’t look up as you cross the hotel room.

He thinks about Luke, knowing that kid spends most nights in Robin’s room since you moved out, shooting a quick glance to his open suitcase still in the corner of the room. He could come back anytime, really.

It’s dark, beside the bedside lamp and a floor lamp near his makeshift desk. Luke’s things are strewn messily beside one of the double beds— Bradley’s is tidied with a military precision. It’s about the only thing about him that would ever give away that he had served.

Straightening your shoulders, lifting your chin, you walk barefoot towards him with some kind of pseudo-confidence you’re hoping he’ll fall for — and bump right into the file hanging off of his make-shift desk.

The papers slip and start to fall, shuffling the order he had taken time to organize them into.

“What are you doing?” He chastises, wrinkling his face disapprovingly as he moves to save the cascades of papers. You stand, stuck in place, as he snatches his glasses from his face with his other hand and looks you over. “And what are you wearing?”

The satin bristles against your skin with the breeze from his open window, your skin prickling to attention as you hug the pages you had managed to save to your chest. “I’m trying to help.”

His gaze flicks downward with a beat. It lingers for a moment on your bare ring finger. You must have gone back for you clothes. Meaning, you chose not to put it back on.

The last thing he wants is your help. Morning is creeping closer and he isn’t anywhere close to being finished. He begrudges you, pushing his chair back from the table, motioning for you to sit.

The wood of the chair is cold against your half-bare ass. Feeling exposed, and scolded, and humiliated all at once, you settle into your seat.

He regrets his comment for a moment, seeing you tug shamefully at the edge of the lace as if it’ll cover you more. A muscle in his jaw ticks. He opts for silence; he should really finish this.

You know what you should be doing by now, Zoe and Abi helped with that. You swallow the thick lump in your throat as you pull the papers towards you and start scanning for anything that could help with Bradley’s research topic. You figure you’re still probably on the same chapter he was on at the Gabris house.

Work begins in silence, the two of you sitting opposite one another with so many things to say that it’s easier to just not say anything at all.

There’s an invisible barrier between the two of you, yesterday hangs in the air like a fog. The small, dimly lit study feels even smaller, like the walls are closing in on the two of you.

The waiting game is agonizing. You had started off working faster than he’s ever seen you work before, so desperate for him to tell you that you’re doing well. It dwindles and dwindles, until it’s one yawn too much.

As the afternoon heat fades, the chill creeps in through the open windows. Bradley pretends not to notice you shivering as much as he pretends not to notice the way your pert nipples are perked against that pink fabric. Well, he pretends for as long as he can.

“You should get some sleep.” He interrupts finally, making you spring up from where you had been drooping against your own arm.

You blink tiredly at him from across the table, frowning like that’s some kind of baseless accusation rather than an affectionate suggestion.

“I’m not tired, and we aren’t finished.” You answer him. His gaze flickers downward, his brows drawing together a little as you sit up straight, seeming to forget exactly how much of you is on display.

“You’re falling asleep on my annotations.” He corrects you.

Maybe if you stay here and let yourself fall, he’ll carry you to bed. He would, too. Begrudging you even more as he sets you down gently, cradling your head onto the pillow and guiding the sheets up around you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering if he’ll ever even touch you again. A frown tugs at the corner of his mouth as you fiddle absently with the babydoll you’re wearing; he finally understands why you’re so fidgety. You don’t want to be in it.

“So, you bought that for my sake?” He asks incredulously, trying to keep the smile off of his face. He hasn’t ever needed lingerie to appreciate what’s right in front of him. His lips tug at the corners, thinking of how giddy and embarrassed you had been for him to find your Wednesday embroidered panties.

“Yes.”

He presses his tongue into the inside of his cheek, watching you thoughtfully, shamelessly. After all, it’s all for him. Sitting here in this aged hotel room, you’re all his to look at. Even with another man’s ring on your finger.

If you had asked him, Bradley would have told you that he hasn’t ever cared more for lingerie. He has always preferred what comes after.

“Well, are you going to let me see it?”

Your brows knit together. He has already seen it, he’s looking at it — at you — right now. Bradley sits back in his chair and parts his knees, jerking his head for you to come closer.

Cautiously, you push up from your seat. Instinct tells you to cover your face with your hands and hide from him like a child, your nerves tell you to cover up and pretend this never happened, the humiliation of this whole exchange prompts you to argue back and tell him that this is all his fault.

You swallow back all three and trust that he isn’t going to make you regret it. He watches you cross the short distance around the table and come to stand between his legs.

It’s sheer, and pink. His gaze falls unashamedly to your nipples, bristling against the almost transparent fabric. The satin bow that sits just between them against the curved neckline. Frilly, lacy straps sit against your shoulders. His gaze trails, falling to the matching pink panties.

He has seen items like it before, but he hadn’t stopped to consider for one minute what you might look like in something like this. Staring at him like he’s about to knock you down a peg, it’s a feeling that makes something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

His gaze flickers back up to yours with a beat, his gaze analytical and calm. Your throat constricts around a dry swallow, as your hands come to fiddle with the hem.

Bradley reaches for bare skin, skimming his palm over the back of your thigh. Still studying your face like he’s waiting for you to break.

“What made you pick this one?”

You close your eyes for a moment as his fingers toy with the hem of the garment. “I’ve been told that pink is my colour.”

He hums, considering. “What was the plan? — That I’d fuck you and we would go back to pretending you don’t have a fiancé waiting for you at home?”

Shame courses through you, hot and pulsing. Dizzying, like a wave of nausea. You look toward the ground and just find your feet settled between his, and his feet still tucked into those stupid, sporty Nikes.

Still, you’ve been made to feel small before. It’s not time to shrink back and hide. You close your eyes for a moment, gathering yourself. Then, exhale.

“Let me explain myself,” The words all rush out in one breath as you lean into him, brows pinched together and a serious look in your eyes. “Please.”

Bradley hesitates. He doesn’t want to hear it. He knows that when he’s looking you in the eye, his opinion will be far too easy to sway. Even if you weren’t wearing that sheer number.

He looks to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Fine.”

“I panicked,” It’s no explanation, but it’s where you start. “Yesterday, we were in bed together — and… I don’t know, it didn’t feel like we were on the same page.”

Malcolm would speak now. He would defend himself, often skewering through the middle of your next sentence. Even though Bradley would like to defend himself here, he waits.

“When I told you that I wanted us to… you know… it felt like that wasn’t much of a big deal to you, and it probably wasn’t, I get that, you must have done this all the time, and then everyone was talking about how you were screwing Miss Penny and—“

Now he interrupts.

“Miss Penn— April?” Your mouth wrinkles as he coughs out her first name, you hate to imagine how many times he must have called her that. How many times she might have sat across his lap like this. “Would you stop worrying about what I did before I met you? — Yesterday was a big deal to me. I know what it means to you, I know what you mean to me.”

It surprises you that he doesn’t deny sleeping with her, and then it doesn’t. You start to think back and, beside denying his relationship with Natasha when you were accusing him — he hasn’t lied to you. Not that you know of. Something tells you that he just has nothing to lie about.

His head had, admittedly, been a little scattered yesterday morning. He should have noticed that you weren’t okay.

“I’m sorry that you felt like it didn’t,” Bradley whispers, skimming his hands along your middle. “The call from your father kind of threw me off, you didn’t even want me to speak with him.”

“Because he’s a jackass!” You rush back. Bradley blinks at you, trying to stop his lips from tugging at the corners. He just can’t help it. “I was trying to protect you.”

At once, he softens. Amusement coats the honeyed brown in his eyes, he lifts his palm from his leg and tugs you down against his knee. Dragging you in, he presses one soft kiss to the swell of your lips.

“I don’t need protecting, honey,” He murmurs against your mouth. “I’m sorry. You look incredible, and I… I care about you, but I meant what I said — this isn’t a good idea anymore.”

You push forwards the second that the last syllable is out of his mouth, kissing him again, hard. Your chest presses firmly against his, that sheer fabric doing nothing to keep your peaked nipples from grazing up against his shirt.

“It wasn’t a good idea to begin with.” You agree against his mouth, grabbing firmly at the fabric of his shirt. Your lips trail away from his, working down to the curve of his jaw and nipping softly at his skin. The action almost makes him jump.

You, sitting on your knees in a sheer lace babydoll and a thong, biting at his neck. He feels like he’s dreaming.

“Right, we lost our heads for a bit,” Bradley hums, skimming his palm down your back, eyes closed as he lets you kiss across his throat. “But it’s alright, you’re going to be fine. A couple more weeks and you’ll— you’ll be home.”

Your mouth stops. You glance downward, eyes widening slightly. Between you, Bradley’s cock has already stirred to life, struggling against the seam of his shorts, and his free hand is white knuckling the edge of the table. The other sits politely on the small of your back.

You nod at him, wide-eyed, as your palm skims down his graphic tee,

“Exactly, it’s just a couple more weeks,” And suddenly you have flipped the conversation, you’re not agreeing with him anymore. Your soft hand is wrapped around his cock over his shorts and Bradley, for once, is speechless. “It wouldn’t make a difference, given what we’ve already done.”

“Is that right?” Bradley realizes the thought you have put into this little plan — and how it extends far beyond pretty pink lingerie, half-amused and half-shocked. His hand skims from the small of your back to the swell of your ass swiftly. His other comes to grip at your hip as he drags you into his lap.

Your eyes meet as you land haphazardly. The swell of his stiffened cock sits against your ass. You stare back at him, suddenly bashful.

“I just want us to be like we were.” You whisper, bracing yourself for the rejection. Your heart thuds at a sickening pace in your chest, fingers suddenly stiff and uncertain against his shoulders.

Bradley squeezes your hips firmly, “No, not if you’re going to marry him.”

Your eyelids fall into a heavy blink, closing all together as you sit forwards for one more kiss. “I told him no.”

It’s not the entire truth. Bradley’s eyes widen a little, confused as he blinks. His mouth falls open and you watch his mind race to decide which pressing question must be answered first.

“We spoke on the phone and— I told him that I didn’t think I ever wanted to see him again,” That’s a little more of the truth. Bradley’s fingertips press softly against your thighs as you squeeze your eyes shut. It feels ridiculous to say, “I don’t trust him the way that I trust you.”

The light beside the bed flickers as you lean in for one more kiss, his mouth soft and pliant against yours as he skims his hand back to your ass.

“That’s why I want you to be my first.”

He swallows softly. Bradley is used to telling his students no — he’s sure that most of them think that he’s an asshole for how frequently he does. No, I won’t curb your grade. No, I won’t tell you which chapter the exam will be on. No, no, no. But when you’re sitting in his lap and looking at him with that wide-eyed, trusting, pleading look— he’s putty.

“Baby…” He whispers. His head starts to shake weakly, but he knows deep down that he wouldn’t really tell you no. He should.

You kiss the bridge of his nose, and then the high-point of his cheek. “Whatever happens, I’ll always know that my first time was with someone who really cared about me.” Putty, he’s pure putty in your hands. “Right?”

“Of course.” He whispers against your neck, closing his lips around the soft skin. He sucks a delicate path, slow and growingly tender with each spot his mouth settles, until he reaches the fabric covering your breast.

His thumb strokes back the flimsy strap, letting it fall off of your shoulder. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure… if you still want me.”

He scoffs against your chest, letting his forehead rest there for a second. Your fingers are in his hair again, so gentle with him that it almost makes his chest ache. He kisses at the space between your breasts, letting his nose brush against the lace covering them.

How ridiculous of a suggestion, that he would be losing so much sleep over a woman he didn’t want.

“I want you.” He mumbles, pushing the other flimsy strap off of your shoulder. He bunches at the lingerie around your thighs and stops, then watches with fervor as the cups slip off of your breasts and the fabric falls to hang around where your legs are bent. So bad, and you don’t even know.

Bradley’s eyes are on you as his warm hands come up to cup at them. He watches you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, his touch achingly slow as he kneads them both in his hands, swiping his thumbs along the swell of them.

He finds something on your face, some kind of tell that you must have that you have never noticed. He squeezes at your tits, eyes flashing with excitement as his lips tug at the corners.

Those warm brown eyes drop from your face to your chest with a beat. There’s no shame in the way he watches himself touch you. Something that resembles intrigue, maybe, as he trails the pads of his thumbs across your pebbled nipples. He lowers his mouth to them, warm and gentle as he sucks at the tops of your breasts the way that he had with your neck.

Then, his tongue leaves his mouth. He remembers how you had damn near smacked him the first time he had slipped his tongue into your mouth — how far you have come.

Your fingers press into the flexing muscles of his upper back as his tongue works over the sensitive bud, so expertly. One of his large hands falls to grab at the supple flesh of your ass while the other caresses the side of your chest that his mouth isn’t touching.

The bristle of the facial hair you used to begrudge him for makes you fidget and shift, an almost electric kind of ticklish feeling. One fidget too much and Bradley’s palm grips your ass a little tighter, his torso twisting as he turns and pushes his hips up into yours — grinding the tip of his cock against you through his shorts.

Then, he stands swiftly. Your feet barely have time to hit the floor, eyes blinking wildly. He walks you backwards and tangles a hand into your hair, taking you down onto the bed with him.

Like this, he finally has the freedom to tear that scrap of pink down your body, discarding it onto the floor. From the second that his mouth is on your chest again, you’re whining in complaint, reaching for his t-shirt. Bradley pulls back solely to give you what you want, tossing the shirt to the ground.

He’s on you again at once, this time holding your jaw steady as he kisses you. Everything feels like such a blur, even as his kisses grow slow and steady, deeper, like he’s melting into you with each one. You don’t remember when he parted your thighs and settled between them — you don’t notice until he’s pushing his hips against you.

The growing excitement between your legs seeps through the pink thong, soaking a spot into the middle of it.

Bradley nips softly at your shoulder, kneading at your thighs, spreading them wide. His mouth is divine, spreading like wildfire along your exposed skin. Your fingers skim through his curls, brushing them swiftly back off of his forehead.

If Malcolm could see you now — keening into another man’s touch in a way you never had with him.

Bradley is enthralled, tracing the intricacies of your skin with his mouth. He goes down to your navel and back up, winding up by your exposed collarbones, rocking you against the growing tension in the front of his shorts.

Glancing up at you, the deepened look in his eyes has you squirming again. Lust-filled, deep, oak-coloured eyes stare up at you. He lets them fall shut as he works open-mouthed kisses along your sternum.

Your eyelids are heavy, that dazed feeling that comes with his mouth on your skin trying to lull them shut. The intrigue of watching him drink you in tries to pry them open.

Bradley lingers as his mouth reaches the waistband of this silly pink thong. He leans slowly forward and presses a soft kiss to your clothed pussy, right where that soaked spot permeates the pink gusset.

A soft sound slips his mouth, something deep and wanting.

He could take them off here and now, but as much as he hasn’t ever been a lingerie kind of man — he can’t help but admire that soaked shade of pink on you. He hooks them to the side, kissing the apex of your thigh softly.

Bradley starts off slow, pushing his fingers through that growing excitement until his fingers are glistening, kissing at your stomach and your hips with a feverish magnetism.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as he sinks two fingers into you. He kisses tenderly at your hip, then across those pretty pink panties.

“That’s it, take ‘em just like that, honey.” He whispers, nipping gently at the soft skin of your navel. His fingers pump slowly a few times, easing you into the steady rhythm of being filled.

Your short breaths increase with his speed as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot deep in you that has you grabbing at his shoulders. You shudder under his touch, grinding against his fingers.

His hand tucks your thigh over his shoulder in the same swift movement that his head drops down between your legs. Nosing the edge of your panties to the side once more, he drags his fingers to an agonizingly slow pace.

Those honey-oak coloured eyes flicker up as he purses his lips and kisses the lowest part of your pelvic bone, letting his lips gaze your soft skin the rest of the way down. His fingers curl sharply as his lips wrap around your sensitive clit, making you gasp in sharply.

You whimper at the fervor of his mouth, eyes squeezed shut like they always are when he touches you. The sounds of excitement as his fingers curl deeper into you. You wish he was closer, and that you could hold onto him as you grow closer to your climax.

He groans with you, fidgeting almost uncomfortably at the strain in his pants as he shifts against the bed. Even with his growing discomfort, he’s not done, pulling you closer to his face.

Curling your fingers into the sheets just doesn’t cut it with how he makes you feel. Bradley’s tongue patterns across the sensitive nub like he’s French kissing, his fingers keeping steady pace. Despite your best efforts, those panting breaths spill into quiet moans all too quickly.

Maybe there’s a little competition in all this. Bradley doesn’t know what you got up to with that little fiancé of yours, but he knows you’ve never felt like this with him, and you never will. He’ll never have you trembling and choking back sheepish, graphic sounds like this.

“Let me hear you, honey,” He murmurs, lips wet and glistening as his fingers make your body jolt. “Yeah, that’s right, little louder.”

Slow and steady wins the race, sure, if this was a competition. Bradley could be slower, he could drag this out, bring you to and from the edge, but he feels the way you’re trying to grind against his mouth and his fingers. You’re chasing him, and you’re too sweet to beg him.

His lips quirk at the corners as your heel presses into the muscle of his back, writhing against him as the shudder of your orgasm rolls through you like crashing thunder.

He kisses his way away from you, down your thighs and across your stomach, reveling in the sounds of your pleased sighs.

Then, he sits back on his knees and hooks his fingertips into the sides of your underwear. You take in the sight of him.

Broad, golden shoulders. His gold chain dangling between his collarbones. His stomach taut and strong. His cheeks freckled and warm, his lips terracotta.

You’re starting to understand all of those lewd artworks now, someone feeling the need to immortalize their lover looking like this.

“Still with me, pretty girl?” Bradley murmurs, his voice tinged with an affection neither of you had been expecting to develop. Eyelids heavy, you nod your head at him and lift your hips. His smile turns to something cocky, a lopsided grin as he cocks his head at you while he waits for his answer.

That shining look in his eye and that confident smirk on his mouth has him looking devilishly handsome. You press your thighs together, giving him a polite nod.

Underwear discarded, Bradley moves to undress himself. You push up onto your knees and kiss his mouth and his jaw, as he fumbles open the buttons on his shorts and shoves them down his legs.

He tugs down his boxers, your mouth is otherwise occupied. It hangs open just slightly, your lips flushed and swollen, studying his newly naked form. He tosses his underwear and wraps his hand around the base of his cock, pumping it a few times as his free hand captures the nape of your neck and pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

“Tell me that you’re sure.” He mumbles against your lips, brows drawn together as you keen against the tip of his cock, smearing pre-cum across your navel. “And not for my benefit, I want you to mean it.”

“I do mean it,” You answer him giddily, fingers in his hair and your chest pressed flush against his. “I trust you, and that’s why I want you to— us, to do this.”

Bradley ducks forward, his next kiss firm and soft at once, his hand skimming along the naked length of your spine until he’s got a firm grasp of your round ass. He squeezes at the flesh, pulling you into him and planting you on your back.

“Sit tight, honey,” Bradley breathes out, stepping one foot off of the bed to grab his work bag. You aren’t going to like this. He plucks a condom from the inside pocket, sitting back on his knees. You watch, one brow quirked, as he tears the packaging and lines up the latex. He takes one glance at the look on your face and quirks a smile. “Don’t give me that look.”

He’s right, you’d rather not think about why Bradley might have packed protection for this trip. And, as his mouth hits yours and his chest plants your body firmly to the bed, there’s not one chance that you’re thinking of anything but him.

It’s a tangle in the soft-lamp light, his body covering yours like a blanket as the street bustles below. The smell of your perfume fills his senses, drawing him in like magic. His nose brushes your hair, his hands skimming across your naked waist.

Just like he had when he was between your legs, Bradley kisses you lewdly, his tongue doing most of the work in a way that makes you shudder against him. He nips softly at your bottom lip as he pulls away, turning his attention to your jaw and the shell of your ear.

His hand squeezes firmly at your ass, a smile tugging at his lips. He feels the way you’re rocking softly against him, soaking the tip of the latex that’s covering him.

“You just tell me if you want me to stop, alright?” Bradley hums, kissing pliantly across your jaw and down your neck. A half-way incoherent sound of acknowledgement comes from your lips.

He shifts his hips, dragging the tip of his dick through your folds. One last cautious look toward your face, he swallows softly before he presses the tip into you. You grab onto his shoulders tighter, squeezing your fingertips into his muscle.

He hisses softly, his stomach muscles tightening at the way you’re squeezing him.

“How’s that, honey? — Talk to me, I wanna hear it.” Bradley breathes out, his voice all deep and desperate, coming out hot against your neck. His adam’s apple bobs just slightly as he swallows back the dry feeling in his mouth.

Your fingers press into the muscle of his back, brows knitted in concentration. You’re cute when you’re focusing.

“It — yeah, it’s great.” You’re lying to him, you just don’t expect him to know that so quickly. His lips quirk up with abject amusement as he gives his head a soft shake.

“I’m just checking that I’m not hurting you,” He clues you in on what’s making him smile like that, pressing his lips softly to yours. “Am I, baby?”

A little. It’s not necessarily a pain. A slightly uncomfortable stretch, maybe. A foreign feeling. A slight discomfort. Nothing to write home about.

“No, keep going.” You urge him, draping your arms around his shoulders. His palms find your hips, already weighted to the mattress by him on top of you. He glances down between the two of you.

He drags back his hips until just the tip of him remains buried, then pushes slowly forwards once more, feeling your thighs squeeze around his hips. It’s been a long time since he was so cautious in bed.

His focus is torn. There are few things that he lets himself get in his head about, he’s usually a pretty laidback guy. But this, this is important. You’re important. “You’re beautiful. Looking at me like that — you’re gonna have to be careful or I’ll never let you go.” He whispers, barely joking.

His lips press softly to the column of your throat, more of that French-kissing kind of assault across your skin. His lips on your throat have your head falling back into the sheets, eyes rolling as you tip your jaw to give him better access.

Bradley wraps his arms under you, hugging you close, cradling you against his body. As you keen into the feeling of his tender mouth on your collarbones, a soft gasp slips your lips. He begins to thrust in and out, slow and shallow, holding you to him.

“That’s it, honey, just relax,” He murmurs against your skin. Your head falls backward as he hits you deep. You smell the soft sweat on his skin and the intoxicating perfume of his cologne, you’re wrapped in his weight and his warmth— how could you not be relaxed? “I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. And he does. In his arms and beyond that too. Your ring sits, discarded, in your room down the hall.

As his hips push forwards once more, you’re struck by the realisation that it doesn’t hurt anymore. It — It feels good. More than good, he drags through you like velvet as his warm breath fans out across your skin.

He feels when it happens; there’s no way to miss the sudden way your rigid thighs melt their way around his hips and your fingers squeeze into the flexing muscles by his shoulders. You gasp, moaning into the curve of his neck and he grunts like he has been punched.

His hand smooths over your bed-mussed hair, his lips on your temple and your cheek and your mouth.

“Atta girl, there you go,” He murmurs affectionately, the pattern of his thrusts almost musically rhythmic and fluid. He’s so deep that your head is spinning, hitting that one part of you that makes you want to scream. “That’s it, baby. You’re so good.”

The sudden praise has you clinging to him tighter, panting hard against his skin, pressing your heel into the apex of his thigh.

His hands skim along your naked back until he’s got two handfuls of your ass, squeezing at the soft flesh. You’re so full that you’re practically mindless.

There’s an urgency to your movements that makes his lips tug. He grins breathlessly against your hair. Your breaths shallow out, rushed and spilling over with soft moans.

“I’m— I’m— Ugh.” You sigh, giving up on communicating as you cling to his shoulders. He nods his head against yours, knowing anyway.

“Tell me, baby.” One of his arms withdraws from around you, slipping down between your bodies to stroke tentatively at your clit. And then, he turns his face towards your cheek and kisses softly. “Wanna hear how good you feel.”

Your legs stretch and the static comes for you next. You try to muffle the shriek by burying your face against his neck, but you know that he hears it all the same because of the way his hips twitch. He slams into you hard, stroking your hair back off of your forehead and kissing your temple.

He should have guessed that with an attitude like yours, you’d be loud. Whimpering into the curve of his neck as his hands explore your writhing body.

Your comedown hits him hard. His stomach tightening and his muscles going rigid as a fraction of his weight presses into you, just that much heavier. His voice grows deeper, growly and desperate as he curls his fingers into your roots and tugs your head back.

Lips hanging open, breath sucked out of you, your eyes wide and pleading as your legs tremble around him.

The warm light from the bedside lamp casts an amber glow over him, his brows knitted seriously. He pants softly, squeezing at his hold on your roots, drawing you in for another kiss. He punctuates each draw of his tongue with a slow, deep thrust of his hips.

His free hand squeezes at the soft flesh of your thigh, his already rigid body going totally firm as he drops his head down against your shoulder, spilling into the condom.

Eyes still closed, he peppers your salted skin with soft kisses, stroking his thumb along the nape of your neck, his palm along your waist. You inhale softly as he pulls out of you, blinking through hazy eyes as he kisses across your collarbones.

Hugging your breast in his palm, he flicks his thumb across your nipple once more before drawing it into his mouth. You watch him curiously, as he kneads at and kisses your body.

Finally, his chin resting against your navel, he looks up at you with his hands hooked around your hips. His brown eyes glint with affection. “Hey, honey.”

“Hi.” You whisper back, your face growing hot under his sudden gaze. His smirk tips, lopsided as he presses another chaste kiss to your hipbone.

“How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy all over,” You blurt out, before you can consider how embarrassing of an admission that might be. Bradley grins at you as he moves to lay beside you and drags you onto his bare chest. He strokes your hair back from your face. “Does it always feel that good?”

His smile just grows. He chuckles softly as he leans in and kisses your mouth again, slow and romantic. “I dunno. Maybe we’ll have to find out.”

He’s just kidding around, but your eyes go wide with intrigue and excitement.

“Like… do it again?”

Bradley strokes across the ends of your hair, breathing out a chuckle that has you rattling against his chest.

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” He has already sparked the idea of having sex again and just the idea has you feeling restless.

His brows knitting firmly as you push up from his chest and spin around to face him.

His gaze flickers down to the hand that you’ve got planted on the centre of his stomach, then back to your face.

“Could I take a picture of you?”

His brows dip toward each other. His lips tug at the corners. His head tips slightly to the right. Perplexed, really, is the only word for it.

“Now?” Bradley gives you some room as you push yourself onto your elbows, hair mussed and bedsheets tangled around your hips. He takes note of the way the sun catches on the already faded ghosts of rough kiss marks that he left on your chest and considers propositioning you for a photo opportunity yourself.

“Only if you don’t mind,” You tell him, already twisting around and stepping off of the bed, letting the sheets fall in your place. His eyes trail the length of your spine all the way down to the round swell of your ass. He swallows softly, losing all of the humour he had just found in you wanting to do it again, as you bend over and search the little bag you had left by the table. “I just… want to remember how you look right now.”

And then you turn to face him, the Siena summer sun setting behind you. It occurs to Bradley that this is the first time he has seen you so bare. No fidgeting, covering or hiding. Your bare skin bathed in a pure gold shadow.

Powerless, he gives you a certain nod.

One foot in front of the other, you toe your way back into bed and settle down on your knees. Bradley doesn’t even register that he’s reaching for you until his palm has balled over your smooth knee.

“How do you want me?” Bradley asks, lips quirked as he remembers the time he had been talked into posing nude for an art class. A story that would have scandalised you weeks ago.

“Just relax.” That’s rich, he thinks with a soft smile tugging at his lips. You, who had damn near hit him for having the nerve to dip his tongue between your lips, naked and telling him to relax.

Still, he tucks his free arm behind his head and gives your knee a soft squeeze. His bicep swells, the veins in his forearm still pressing against his skin, his auburn curls spilling onto his forehead. His expression settles, calm as ever, terracotta lips quirked at the corners, just hinting at a smile. Affection in his eyes.

You smile back at him, lift the camera to your eye and squint. Peering through the viewfinder, you study its version of him. His big, broad shoulders and matching biceps, the look in his eyes isn’t deafened at all by the lens. The shutter clicks.

You pull back and set it down against your thighs as the picture starts to put itself together and peel out from the top of the camera. He smiles softly, giving your knee a gentle squeeze, winking one of those pretty brown eyes at you.

Flapping the picture back and forth, you lift it to take a look and he watches your mouth twist upward. He’s laying back against the pillows with one arm tucked behind his head, his curls messy and his smile all-knowing. He’s beautiful. His eyes are on you.

…

tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover @diorrfairy

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #professor bradley #the odyssey #professor bradley x honey #bradley bradshaw au #bradley bradshaw x reader

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vscabarca · 4 months ago

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polish love - pablo gavi

summary: gavi and you have been seeing each other for a while, but only now does he realize your not Spanish but Polish!

genre: fluff

a/n: for a dear Polish friend of mine!💗 Hope you like it🌟😘

———

„Mamo, nie teraz! Jestem teraz zajęty…“ („Mom not now! I‘m busy…”) You said quite a bit embarrassed, sitting alone in a coffee shop waiting for Gavi.

The footballer and you had been seeing each other for the past few weeks, going on cute little dates every now and then.

At first, you met Gavi through mutual friends, hanging out in groups at each other’s homes. Over time you felt closer to the number six, sharing glances and little inside jokes while your other friends did not seem to notice how you two grew closer.

Now, on a gloomy Wednesday afternoon, you sat in a quiet corner of a local cafe, waiting for the footballer to arrive.

„Ah! Jesteś na randce z uroczym Hiszpanem! Jak on ma na imię? Paul? -“ („Ah! You’re on a date with that cute Spanish guy! What’s his name again? Paul? -“) Your cheeks grew bright red, your eyes widened when you heard your Mom‘s words. You loved her endlessly but she could be shameless when it came to a boy.

„Ma na imię Pablo. Ale o co właściwie chciałeś mnie zapytać?“ („His name is Pablo. But what did you want to ask me again?“)

You tried to switch the topic, feeling a bit too embarrassed to talk about boys with your mom.

„Potrzebuję dowodu tożsamości, aby zarejestrować się w firmie ubezpieczeniowej.“ („I need your identity card to register you with the insurance company.“)

You furrowed your eyebrows, laughing slightly at the random question. After fumbling around in your bag you found the card, ready to send it to her.

What you didn’t realize, Gavi just walked inside, immediately smiling once he saw you sit there.

Though his smile quickly changed into confusion as he heard you talk (for him) gibberish.

„Wyślę ci zdjęcie.“ („I‘ll send you a picture.“) You felt someone walk up beside you, and when you realized it was the footballer you had a crush on, you gave him a soft smile.

„Porozmawiamy później.“ („I‘ll talk to you later.“) Rushed, you hung up, greeting Gavi with a wide smile. He gave you a warm hug, pecking your checks twice. You felt your face heat up and tried to play it off by putting your phone away.

„What was that?“ He grinned, curious about what you were saying just moments ago.

„Oh I was on a call with my mom.“

Baffled he looked at you, making you feel a bit confused.

„Wait so you’re not Spanish?!“ Gavi asked astonished as you shook your head with a grin.

„No actually. My parents are from Poland but we moved here when I was little.“ You explained. You never actually told him, it just never came to that topic so you understood why he was surprised.

„I didn’t know that! That‘s cool though.“

That’s how you immersed in stories of your childhood from Poland, telling him how beautiful and versatile the country was which you moved away from at the age of eight.

„And at home you still only speak Polish?“ It was cute how much Gavi was interested in your origins, it made your stomach flutter when you just thought about it.

„I try to encourage my parents to speak Spanish with me because they always complain theirs isn’t as good as my Spanish, but they answer me in Polish. It‘s bit of a mix.“ You giggled, remembering the cocktail of different languages spoken at home.

„Teach me something.“ He spoke softly, the afternoon sun shining perfectly onto his face, making it hard for you to stay concentrated and not get lost in his eyes.

„Hmm, what do you want me to say?“ You asked, leaning your chin onto the palm of your hand, tilting your head a bit, giving him a small smile.

„How about… I like spending time with you?“ You laughed at his attempt to flirt, his and your laughter resonated through the small cafe, making curious heads turn around.

The vibe between you two became a bit more flirtatious over the last couple of meetings, but both of you were so awkward sometimes that a laugh slipped through once or twice. But, this just made the situation a lot more wholesome, right?

„Lubię spędzać z tobą czas.“ („I like spending time with you.“)

More laughter resonated through the cafe when Gavi looked at you with wide eyes, but tried nevertheless. It took him quite some time to get the pronounciation right, but with laughter and giggles he made it work.

„It sounds so cool, are you kidding me.“ He patted his shoulder proudly as if it didn’t take him at least ten minutes to learn.

„Okay hear me out. I‘m serious, lubię spędzać z tobą czas.“ (I like spending time with you.“) Gavi said more serious, his eyes glistening with affection.

Your cheeks heat up for the nth time this afternoon, but you didn’t hide it this time.

„ja też.“ („Me too.“) You smiled, tucking your hair behind your ears.

Gavi and you decided to slowly head back home as both of you had a tight schedule the next day.

„I go to the bathroom real quick.“ He announced once you two stood up and gave your temple a quick kiss before disappearing in the bathroom. You bit your lip, not believing any of this was real. You hoped in the end everything would work out as you really started to like the midfielder.

The sun was already setting outside once Gavi came back. You two started walking in comfortable silence, enjoying the mild breeze coming from the sea.

It already happened once or twice, your finger brushing against Gavi‘s, your eyes shyly meeting when it happened. The third time it happened, Gavi finally decided to interlock his fingers with yours, giving you a quick glance to see if you were okay with it.

With fingers intertwined, he walked you back home while exchanged quick little anecdotes and already planning the next date.

„That was a really nice cafe you chose for today. I loved it.“ You said once you stood opposite him in front of your porch.

„You choose the next place, okay?“

It felt like time slowed down, Gavi standing there with his hand in yours looking into your eyes while you felt your heart beating in your chest .

Gavi came closer, his hand moving some hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear and cupped your cheek.

„Czy mogę cię pocałować?“ („Can I kiss you?“) He spoke not above a whisper, eyes moving from your yours to your lips.

Without answering you grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in for a tender kiss.

Everything in that moment was perfect, the sunset, the kiss and Gavi.

You two broke apart with a smile, him still holding your waist.

„How did you learn Polish so fast?“ You laughed, hiding your face in his shoulder.

„I may or may not have gone to the bathroom to learn this sentence by heart?“ He said with a smile, making you laugh even more.

„How do you say I really like you and want to kiss you again?“ Gavi asked, still having both of his arms around your body, his thumb gently stroking your skin.

„Kiss me first, then I‘ll tell you.“ You grinned slyly, already feeling his lips on yours again.

#fc barcelona #pablo gavi #barça #football one shot #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #gavi #football x reader #gavi one shot #vscabarca requests!

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the-delusion-corner · 7 months ago

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Someone needs to stop me listening to sexy time playlists as everytime i end up on the type.

Definitely not writing a sensual little blowjob fic for our boy Megumi rn

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro #abi's corner #thedelusioncorner #someone take my laptop away from me rn #i'll serve for you guys

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twilightnesss · 3 months ago

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˚ ༘ ◝ are we still friends? pt.2

pairing: kate martin x oc

summary: read pt.1 ;)

warnings: smut; scissoring, fingering!oc receiving

abigail stood outside kate's dorm room, her heart pounding in her chest. she had regretted the night they hooked up, fearing it would ruin their friendship. but weeks of avoiding kate had left her with a sense of loss. she missed her best friend, and the connection they had shared.

unsure of herself, she gently knocked on the door, holding her breath. a few moments later, it swung open, revealing kate, a timid smile on her face. the sight of her made abigail's pulse quicken, and she found herself unable to look away.

"hi," kate said softly, her eyes searching abigail's face. "i thought you needed space."

"i did," abigail admitted, taking a deep breath. "but i miss you, kate. so much."

kate's smile widened, and she stepped aside, gesturing for abigail to enter. as abigail crossed the threshold, kate closed the door behind them, and the intimacy of the moment washed over them.

"i've been thinking about you constantly," abi confessed, her voice low and intimate. "the way you look at me, the way you touch me. it's like no one else exists when we're together."

kate’s cheeks flushed at the memory of their night together. "i can't deny these feelings any longer," she whispered, taking kate's hand. "i love you, kate. i'm so in love with you."

kate's eyes sparkled as she spoke. "i love you too, abi. i've been afraid to say it, afraid of ruining what we have. but i can't imagine life without you now."

they stood there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around them seeming to fade away. then, slowly, kate stepped forward, closing the small gap between them, and pressed her lips gently against abigail's.

the kiss was tender and sweet, yet it ignited a fire within both of them. abigail's hands reached for kate's hips, pulling her close, while kate's arms snaked around her neck, deepening the kiss. their tongues danced together, exploring every corner of each other's mouths.

as they broke apart, breathless, abigail felt the intensity of the moment overwhelm her. "i want you so badly," she murmured, her voice rough with desire.

"then take me," kate replied, her eyes smoldering.

abigail's heart pounded in her chest as kate backed towards the bed, pulling abigail along. kate's lips trailed down abigail's jawline, pausing at the pulse point on her neck, where she bit and sucked gently.

abigail's hands ran through kate's hair, moaning softly as her tongue left a wet trail down her throat. then, with a gentle nudge, kate urged abi to lie down, following her gracefully onto the bed. she took her time, exploring every inch of abigail's body as she took of her clothing. soon, with lips and teeth, she teased abigail’s body, leaving no part untouched.

abigail's breath grew ragged, her hands tightening in kate's hair as she arched her back, emitting soft moans. kate's mouth found abigail's breasts, and she took one into her mouth, gently nibbling the sensitive tip, causing abigail to gasp. her hands massaged the other breast, rolling and pinching the swollen nipple, while her tongue worked wonders below.

kate's hands moved down to abigail's hips, urging her closer. the heat of abigail's skin and the scent of her desire, fueled kate’s own passion. she teased abigail's core, breathing slowly against the moistened entrance, savoring the sweet taste of her. abigail's hips bucked in response, urging for more.

kate slowly slipped a finger inside, then another, feeling abi's walls clench around them. abigail's breath came in gasps now, her eyes glazed with lust, as kate’s fingers danced within her. with each stroke, she imagined the ecstasy abigail felt, the sheer pleasure that coursed through her body.

unable to wait any longer, kate craved for more intimacy. she positioned herself on abigail’s entrance and slowly grinded her hips, their eyes locking as abigail squirmed beneath her. abigail clawed at kate’s back, matching her rhythm and moaning loudly as the pleasure intensified.

the sight of abi, the feel of her, was heavenly. kate's passion rose as she watched her lover's face, seen the raw desire and love reflection in her eyes. she increased her pace, driven by the need to give abigail the utmost pleasure, feeling the familiar tightening in her own stomach.

together, they soared towards climax, abigail's screams of ecstasy muffled against kate's shoulder. kate's own release followed shortly after, her body quaking as wave after wave of pleasure consumed her.

collapsing onto abigail's chest, kate felt the steady beat of her heart. she sighed, knowing that this was where she belonged—in abigail's arms, surrounded by her love.

"i'll never let you go," kate murmured, lifting her head to capture abi's lips in a tender kiss.

abigail smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears of joy. "i'm yours forever, kafe," she whispered, stroking kate’s golden locks.

the sun had set, casting a soft glow over the room, illuminating the two lovers. content and sated, they lay together, entwined in a embrace of love and passion, lost in the comfort of each other's arms.

as the night deepened, they shared whispers of their hopes and dreams, laughing and occasionally stealing tender kisses. this moment, this connection, was what they both needed.

abigail knew that taking this step with kate was the best decision she had ever made. the thought of almost losing this love kept her awake, a humble yet powerful reminder of the strength of their bond.

and in that cozy dorm room, under the starry sky, two lovers drifted off to sleep, their hearts full, knowing that their love was a beacon—a radiant force that would guide them through life's twists and turns.

a/n: i suck at smut but that’s besides the point. plsss tune into my other story’s. the first two did amazing and i am beyond grateful but pls blow up my latest posts.

thank you

love, lana

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #wnba #womens basketball #kate martin smut #kate martin x oc #wlw #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #kate martin fic #wbb x reader #iowa wbb #las vegas aces

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rambrandt-the-painter · 2 years ago

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ID stylized drawing of a grey bunny woman with large curly brown hair, brown eyes, light grey muzzle, and brown splotches all over her body. she wears large square glasses, a green tank crop top with spaghetti straps, orange and pink leggings, a pink artist gloves and her ears are tied up with orange wrapping. While reclining she looks to the right with a blank expression while holding a pen. The background features soft warm colors. there's white blinders blocking a window to the right partially blocking a view of a red sunset behind a tree and the corner of a building. behind the bunny there's a dark grey bookshelf with game cases, dices, an art mannequin, a lamp, some books, a portable game console, and trans and bisexual pride stickers. to the side of the bookshelf there's a painting of the bunny and another cream colored bunny hanging on the wall. below the painting there's a table with an empty plastic cup and a pink laptop. the table has a shelf built in with books and a snail book end. The bunny is sitting on a tan futon with a body pillow and a pink blanket. next to her is a tablet with a drawing of a pony on it. ID end

another finished personal piece

i decided to darken abis fur a little and i like it like this. she's smokey

#art #abi

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shitsndgiggs · 4 months ago

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arda x turkish!reader? maybe comofrting him after the loss or something

NIGHT OF COMFORT - ARDA GÜLER

After the heartbreaking defeat for Turkey in the quarter finals, Arda finds comfort in his partner.

Arda Güler x turkish! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The atmosphere in the stadium in Berlin was electric as Turkey faced off against the Netherlands in the quarter-finals of Euro 2024.

From my seat among Arda's family, surrounded by a sea of Turkish flags and jerseys, I watched intently as the game unfolded.

In the 22nd minute, Arda made a breathtaking dash towards the goal, weaving past Dutch defenders with skillful precision. With a thunderous strike, he aimed for the top corner, but Verbruggen, the Dutch goalkeeper, defied gravity with a spectacular save.

The collective gasp from the stands mirrored my own disappointment.

"He was so close!" Arda’s sister exclaimed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"He'll get another chance," I reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Arda's influence on the game was evident, and in the 35th minute, we erupted in jubilation as Samet Akaydin capitalized on Arda's brilliant assist to give Turkey the lead.

Arda's sister clutched my hand tightly, her eyes shining with pride for her brother's contribution to the team's success.

"That was amazing!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with admiration. " His assist was perfect!"

As the game progressed into the second half, tensions rose once more. In the 56th minute, when Arda was fouled by Nathan Aké,

I gasped in concern, my hand flying to my mouth. "Is he okay?" I asked, my eyes glued to Arda as he got back on his feet.

"He looks fine," Arda's sister replied, watching as Arda lined up for the free kick. When his shot hit the post, I groaned softly, my disappointment evident. "So close," I murmured, shaking my head.

The game took a turn in the 70th minute when the Netherlands equalized, and in the 76th minute, Turkey conceded an own goal, leaving the turkish fans in stunned silence, and giving the dutch a 2-1 lead.

The Turkish team was visibly shaken by the own goal, and I could feel the disappointment radiating from the players.

Arda's sister sat back in her seat, her hands covering her face in disbelief. I put a comforting arm around her shoulders, feeling the weight of the moment.

With time running out, Turkey pushed forward relentlessly, desperate to level the score. Arda, determined to redeem himself, tried again to hit the goal.

His shot sailed towards the top corner, but the Dutch goalkeeper managed a miraculous save, denying Turkey a goal once again.

"I can't believe it," I murmured, my voice trembling with emotion.

As the match entered extra time, the atmosphere was charged with tension and anticipation. Turkey continued to press forward, but the dutch defense held firm. Despite their relentless efforts, they couldn't find the breakthrough they desperately needed.

The final whistle blew, signalling the end of the match, and therefore also the end for the turkish team in the Euros 2024.

"They fought so hard," I said quietly, my voice filled with pride despite the outcome.

"They did," Arda's sister agreed, standing beside me. "Arda played his heart out."

Together, we joined Arda's family as they waited outside the stadium. When Arda emerged, she embraced him tightly, her emotions raw. "You did your best, Abi," she whispered.

Arda hugged her back, his own emotions evident. "Thanks" he replied hoarsely, his voice filled with gratitude.

When he approached me, I could see the apprehension in his eyes, fearing my reaction to the loss.

"Arda," I called softly, stepping forward and enveloping him in a comforting embrace. "Seni çok gurur duyuyorum."

He hesitated for a moment, then buried his face in my shoulder, his body trembling slightly with emotion.

"I'm sorry" he murmured, his voice choked with tears. “I really wanted us to win“

"You played with heart and determination," I reassured him, gently stroking his back. "You gave everything out there. That's all anyone can ask for"

Arda pulled back slightly, searching my eyes for reassurance. "I thought you would be upset" he admitted, his voice wavering.

I shook my head, cupping his face in my hands. "I could never be upset with you, Arda. Bizi gururlandırdın," I said earnestly, my own voice thick with emotion.

He managed a small smile through his tears, his gratitude evident. "Teşekkür ederim," he whispered, leaning in to kiss my forehead tenderly.

"Come with me," I suggested softly, taking his hand in mine. "Let's go somewhere quieter."

Arda and I walked silently to the parking lot, his hand tightly holding mine as if afraid to let go. The stadium lights cast long shadows across the pavement as we made our way to the car, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

In the quiet of the car ride, Arda's grip on my hand remained firm, his eyes occasionally glancing over with a mixture of sadness and gratitude.

"Seni seviyorum askim, " he murmured softly, breaking the silence, his voice laced with emotion.

I smiled reassuringly, feeling the weight of his gratitude. "Seni seviyorum," I replied tenderly, emphasizing my unwavering support.

Arriving at my hotel, we ascended to the room in solemn silence. Inside, I turned on the TV, seeking the comfort of a movie to distract us both.

As we settled into the couch, Arda lay his head on my chest, his body draped over mine, seeking comfort in our closeness. I ran my fingers through his hair, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

"You did amazing, askim. I'm so proud of you," I whispered, my voice soft and soothing. "You're my hero, and you'll always be. No matter the outcome, you'll always have my support and love."

Arda sighed contentedly, nuzzling closer to me. "I needed to hear that," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

"I'll always be here for you," I continued, my fingers tracing gentle patterns on his back. "You can always count on me, Arda. I believe in you more than anything."

As the night progressed, the tension from the match slowly dissipated.

Wrapped in each other's embrace, we eventually drifted into a peaceful sleep, the weight of the day's events easing with every steady heartbeat.

#arda güler x reader #arda güler #football x reader #football imagine #turkiye

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boundinparchment · 7 months ago

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Patience

A moment between Dottore and his young daughter. Established Dottore/Original Female Character. Part of the Heretic and Forsaken series. On AO3 here.

“Ya ruhi” > “my soul”

“Abi” > “Father”

A faint tugging barely tore Zandik’s attention away from the report in front of him. Without breaking his focus, he spoke softly, only enough edge in his voice to warn, never scare.

“Remember: be gentle.”

“Blue,” came the reply, proud and excited.

“Yes, that’s blue. What else is blue, ya ruhi?” he prompted.

“Hair!”

Out of the corner of his eye, the Harbinger caught a tiny hand reaching for his hair. She was dexterous for her age, eager and excited; however, she didn’t know her strength and Zandik was well aware of the consequences of it. Deftly, he reached up and redirected her hand so she gripped his fingers instead.

“Yes, my hair is blue. So is yours.”

He skimmed the rest of the report and then cast the paper aside. There was still plenty to do, especially in the aftermath of it all. He needed to oversee soil and water samples for traces of elemental energy, evaluate Leyline flare-ups from residual memories that didn’t burn properly, allocating resources and smoothing over conflicts. The latter was hardly his problem directly but Pierro would ask and it was better to have an answer ready.

Without Archons, humanity could take back the reins, finally. They would know this world and all its secrets and wonders.

It would be better. Born through revitalizing fires, sprouting from the ashes anew.

“Abi?”

It was refreshing to hear his language from someone else and caught him every time. He'd been away for so long, shunned from it, but he could never truly erase the traces. Karina emphasized that she wanted their child to know who they were, where they came from, and language was vital. He agreed (after all, he'd studied dozens of them himself) and was filled with an odd sense of pride every time he watched eyes glow when something clicked in her growing mind.

His daughter shifted in his lap and tapped her hand to his cheek softly before she experimented and brushed over the scruff he hadn’t bothered with as of late. She giggled, running her hand one way and then another. He never grew out an entire beard (too much maintenance) but some mornings, there was no time for more than scrubbing away the day’s dirt. Especially when Karina was away.

Zandik carefully pried her hand from his face and blew kisses into her palm. She squealed and his heart lurched at the sound.

This world needed more of that.

“Having fun, ya ruhi?” he teased.

Her smile was an echo of her mother’s; congenial and sweet in a way his never could be. Eyes like emeralds, so verdant that he’d been bizarrely relieved. But then he was left with the question of how recessive red eyes were after all; he would find out eventually, he supposed, if Karina was willing. Such gems contrasted with a head full of thick blue curls, her one defining and unmistakable trait of her parentage.

“Yes! Love abi!”

“I love you, too. It’s late. Do you want to—“

“‘Spection!”

The little girl threw her arms wide, narrowly missing her father’s nose. Her diction would come with time, he reminded himself as he collected her in his arms.

“Exactly. We’ll inspect the lab and make sure everything is safe. And then it’s bedtime.”

He felt the pout more than he saw it, an idle hand playing with his earring as they walked.

“Sleep is important, ya ruhi,” he chastised carefully.

She couldn’t fall into his habits. As wide as her eyes were about the world, she had time for it all. And he wouldn’t sacrifice her wellbeing for his selfishness of wanting these moments to last longer.

The quiet was better than outright protest, but only just. Her acceptance of authority made these moments easier, certainly. Soon enough, she’d be telling everyone no and seeing how far she could get.

Soon enough, she’d be too big to be carried.

Zandik shifted her slightly to rearrange his hold as he pushed open the door to the laboratory. Nothing as grand as what he had at the Palace but large enough that he could do as he needed. He went about, pointing to things and speaking clearly, letting her touch what wasn’t dangerous, asking her simple yes or no questions. Now was not the time to engage in larger topics but if she asked, he answered in ways that felt complete enough for now.

She could learn about crystalflies properly another time.

He watched her face light up as he tidied up his desk and locked away important papers. Really, the most imperative things were in his mind, but written records were crucial.

“Mama!”

An excited hand pointed to the metal arm resting on a stand atop his desk. The plating was removed, wires dangling in organized heaps, the sharp fingers angled like a claw.

“That’s right,” Zandik said before he kissed the girl’s temple. “Mama’s arm.”

Karina came back with a strained expression and the arm in her good hand. The device was made of the strongest metal and the finest circuitry; he’d crafted it with care he didn’t know he was capable of. She’d handed over the arm with an apologetic kiss and then hugged their daughter tight with her good arm, holding back an expression he hadn’t seen since…

“Abi fix mama?” She said it with an upwards inflection, the way she did when a toy broke or something went wrong. Worried for nothing except her mother being able to hug her.

Zandik held the child in his arms a little tighter.

“Yes. Yes, abi will fix mama’s arm.”

#oc: karina alexandre #dottore #il dottore #dottore x original female character #fluff #will eventually post to AO3

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year ago

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It's Who We Have | Part Two

Summary: Billy's world comes crashing around him when the girl he once called a friend returns to London | Word Count: 4k~ | Warnings below the cut!

General Taglist | Billy Washington Taglist | Series Masterlist

Warnings: angst, mentions of sexual intercourse, mentions of terrorism, toxic relationship with a parent, insinuations of neglect

Billy couldn’t relax the entire evening.

He felt his leg shaking incessantly beneath the table of the booth they were sitting at. Feeling, for the first time in a while, small and insignificant as he sat cramped in the corner next to the wall, having nursed the pint Paddy had bought several rounds ago.

But he felt like he couldn’t move.

She sat right next to him, her face alight with happiness like nothing had ever happened as she spoke animatedly with their old friends, with Libby at her side as well giving the heart eyes to Abi across the sticky table.

Billy fiddled with the soggy coaster, his fingers idly picking at the frayed edges, reminding him of that moment he’d seen her across the assembly hall all those years ago, her own friends then turning their backs to her, heedless of the empty and unimportant feeling they instilled in her.

Why did that memory stick?

Perhaps it was a kind of irony.

For he sat, completely disenfranchised, their elated conversation now sounding very much like that squelch when you twist the dagger inside someone, pushing between their ribs in such a fatally searing way.

Her voice, her laugh, her smile.

Why was she pretending as if nothing happened?

He only raised his gaze when he saw her move, leaving her denim jacket on the seat as she slid out the booth with her bag over her shoulder. Nothing lingered but her perfume, which Billy recognised as not the same as the Charlie RED she always used to spray whenever she came bounding out the changing rooms after PE.

But for some reason it still felt nostalgic.

He watched her walk away, his chest twisting painfully.

Until Libby jabbed him in the ribs, giving him a pointed look, “what you all mardy for?”

“If one more person calls me fucking mardy I really will be”, Billy rolled his eyes, emptying his pint, that by now was flat and bitter. Slamming it down to the table in a way that surprised both Harry and Paddy on the booth opposite.

“Out”, he gestured with his head, shuffling along the bench, “I need a fag”.

Shuffling a cigarette out the packet he kept squashed in his back pocket, he felt his mates’ confused gaze on the back of his head. And he didn’t even make it past the table before Libby hissed ‘tetchy’, furrowing her brows at Abi.

He knew it was late, as by now the once raging beams of sunlight were now touching the spaces between the houses in the distance in a sort of sombre, mellow orange colour, taking the bright blue sky with it. Shrouding the starless night above the pub into darkness.

Still, the crispness of the evening was a welcome one to the heat on the back of his neck. One that he’d not felt in a long time.

The irritation that had begun with the lack of Becky’s text, had now been replaced with one that ached in a different place, deep between his ribs, jabbing sharply like when you’re out of breath, panting with your hands on your knees, and unable to swallow air down your throat.

“Fuck’s sake”, he muttered shallowly, the cigarette pressed between his lips, several frustrated clicks of his cheap lighter later.

“Graduated from the bike sheds then?”

He lifted his gaze somewhat, down the creaky, steel stairs of the fire escape, spotting her leaning against the wall, blowing smoke from between her soft lips and letting the soft breeze take it away from her. Like nothing toxic could ever just sit around her.

Her eyes glimmered against the low and dim light, and she had one hand on her own arm, covering her goosebumps.

There was a subtle look of urge in her gaze, one he didn’t miss. He was too perceptive for his own good, especially when it came to her.

He felt his breath get caught in his chest, swallowing painfully, hearing her speak to him again.

She pulled her lighter from her other hand, tapping her fingernails against it, “Come on. I don’t bite”.

Taking the careful and quiet steps towards her felt like walking into a field, not knowing if you were going to step on a mine or not. Like one wrong move, and that kind, understanding and warm expression would shift viciously into disdain, hatred and disgust.

He wasn’t sure he could handle it if she hated him. Truly hated him.

When he was right beside her, she felt so small, as she had then too. A part of him inside began to unfurl as she had to move her head to look up at him, still holding the lighter out to him.

“Ta”, he replied in a sort of whisper, his blue eyes tearing away from her, unable to say or do much else than just light his own cigarette.

She watched the features of his face illuminated behind his hand as he does, his eyelashes lit very much like his blonde, floppy hair when he’s looking towards the sun. The end of it breathes red as he takes a long inhale from it, before sighing the smoke from his full, pink lips.

“How’s your mum?” she asked, idly trying to make conversation. Knowing Billy, his social battery had already run dangerously low by now, sapped even more so by her presence.

He shrugged, “Fine. Same as always”, he answered dispassionately, “Lana’s been in the Met for a bit now”.

“Yeah, I heard”, she smiled, but it fell when she realised he wasn’t even looking at her. As if unable to face this ghost of his past that had remained a ghost for so long.

“Mum tell you?”

She shook her head, “No, Libby came up to see me sometimes”.

There it was. The guilt. The heavy feeling deep in his heart.

He felt that she'd grown into the woman he saw in front of him, without him knowing. Without caring enough to implore.

It's not that he hadn't cared.

But then, what was it?

"How about you?" he asked, barely turning to her, "your mum".

He watched the way her face fell, her eyes losing all shine, and lips turned down into a grimace almost.

Just like the way she always had.

At the mention of her mum.

"Dunno. Haven't seen her yet", she replied dispassionately, tapping the ash from her cigarette and watching the embers drift around their legs.

She felt a faint flutter of panic as their eyes met. Seeing his expression, in what she perceived was judgement at the relationship she had with her only remaining parent.

“Don’t look at me like that, Billy”, she muttered, turning away to bring her own cigarette to her lips again, not half as enthusiastic about the habit as Billy was.

The truth was, and she would hate it if he said it out loud, he somewhat pitied her.

Billy cleared his throat awkwardly, "Enjoy your course?"

"Yeah, it was good".

"Psychology?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

She smiled sadly, and shook her head, knowing that he'd mixed up what she and Becky had studied.

"History".

He tipped his head, an embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks, "oh, right".

He heard her laugh through her nose, dropping her cigarette to the floor and lightly stubbing it out with her shoe.

He caught a waft of her delicate perfume as she moved to brush past him, the heat blossoming again to his neck at the idea of not seeing her face.

"When are you going back up?"

She was covering her arms from the chill, now with both hands, as she looked back at him. For a moment she saw the panicked, hopeful expression he wore, before he shifted again into someone she didn't know.

"What?"

He swallowed hard before asking again, reaching up to rub his neck, "When are you back going up…to Manchester?"

He swore he saw her shiver.

"I'm not going back up", she replied simply.

And now he felt himself shiver. His body flooded with a chill.

"You're…back here?"

She nodded, swallowing thickly as if to hold back tears, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Why did she feel the urge to say she was sorry, as if she was encroaching on Billy's territory when he'd least expected it?

She felt like an outsider.

And even though she was several steps up that creaky, metal staircase, compared to him, she felt so small.

But then again, he'd always felt big to her.

When she stepped back inside the stifling aura of the pub, she forced a smile to her face, grabbing her denim jacket, "I should get home".

Paddy raised his eyebrows, his head heavy with the several pints he'd had catching up with him, leaning closely to Harry.

"You driving?"

"Walking", she replied, pulling her hair from beneath her jacket.

"What? No! Billy's dropping us all home anyway, he's got his pussy wagon parked outside", Libby giggled drunkenly, "if you ask him I'm sure he wouldn't mind. Don't want you walking anyway".

"Oh, no, really it's fin-"

"Hey Billy!", Libby clocked him as he came back in, the scent of tobacco radiating off him, his cheeks flushing with heat as his skin acclimatised, "room for another one?"

Billy looked between the girls with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing like he couldn't find words.

"Um-uh, I mean, yeah?"

"You're a star. Come on, don't be mardy", Libby grinned at her horrified expression.

All of their friends, in their drunken states, were unable to detect the trepidation and discomfort in either of them.

Or rather if they did, they didn't care.

"Get home safe!" Libby shouted to Harry and Paddy as they stumbled up the kerb, Harry's arm slung over his shoulder, giggling like schoolboys.

"Oh! Oh! Abi, fuck me har-" Paddy mocked at Libby before Harry's inevitable palm slapped over his mouth.

It was no secret that whenever there was alcohol involved, Libby and Abi were literally joined at the hip, often both hips once the doors closed. But even now, Harry himself couldn't hide the bright laughter at Libby's horrified expression.

She'd tried to move quickly to the back of Billy's Vauxhall, intent on giving him his space after what had happened earlier. But Abi slipped in the other side first and eyed her in faux-suspicion, drunkenly pointing the finger at her.

"You're not Libby…", he slurred.

"Jesus, Abi, if your mum could see you now", she laughed quietly.

"Yeah his mum still thinks he's a virgin and doesn't drink so", Libby retorted, slipping past her into the spot next to Abi, who curled up to her, sighing at her fingers through his raven, black hair.

She didn't miss the mischievous expression Libby gave her, wiggling her eyebrows at the front seat.

Passenger seat it is, then.

She sighed as she slid in, Billy already in the driver's seat, one knee bouncing nervously.

"Billy, your car…fucking filthy…", Abi slurred.

It was clear how quickly he shut up when Billy gave him a pointed look in the rearview mirror, "you wanna walk home, or what?"

"Your car is lovely, Billy", Libby added, pressing her lips together to stop herself from laughing.

"Hm"

The car didn't sound it's best, to be fair. He even had to push on the horn harder than anticipated when they passed Harry and Paddy walking home to say goodbye. It was so battered it even seemed to dip as the drunken couple shifted around in the back seat.

And the atmosphere in the front couldn't have been any colder.

She smoothed her hands over her legs, to try and lessen the goosebumps. And everytime Billy reached to change gears, she felt her heart leap into her chest.

One would be mistaken they were strangers.

But strangers wouldn't be so tetchy around one another.

It was more awkward, even as Billy pulled up to a red light, the warmth of it illuminating his sharp features and pooling little red orbs into his baby blue eyes. She'd sometimes look over, seeing him stroke his mouth and chin nervously, and could hear the faint sound of stubble against his skin.

She pretended she was looking somewhere else when he caught her gaze once.

She thought she knew how to read him so well. But now, she wasn't so sure.

The sound of his creaky handbrake tore her from her thoughts. That and the shrill sound of Libby's overexcited voice, her bright bleached hair shimmering in the moonlight.

"Abi, for fucks sake, arms around me, c'mon!"

How she managed to drag her boyfriend out was beyond them both, and she smiled warmly.

"Ta, Billy! See you both soon!"

Libby took the warmth and airiness with her, plunging them both into what felt like ice water. The car dropped a few degrees with their seconds of silence, only broken by Billy clearing his throat and putting the car in gear.

"Your mum's?" he asked.

She only nodded before finding it in herself to reply, quietly.

"Yeah, please".

The rest of the drive realistically was not more than a few minutes, but fuck, it felt like a lifetime.

Her eyes faintly followed the surroundings as they passed them in darkness. They even drove past Cranstead Fields, and she recognised the tree they used to sit under, shrouded in a childhood long gone.

He kept the car running as he pulled up to her house, and he could tell she was thinking deeply as she appeared to have not even realised.

Billy watched her shrink into herself once she looked up and saw the front door of her childhood home, the PVC scratched and the letterbox wrapped shut with gaffer tape.

He knew that look.

He opened his mouth, to offer if she wanted to stay at his, to crash on his sofa or something. But thought better of it.

She sighed and moved to open the passenger side.

"You moving out soon?"

She looked at him, as if surprised he'd bothered to say anything.

"I've got a place, but…collecting the keys in a few days", she replied.

He thought she sounded more and more like a child the more syllables she uttered in front of him. Scared once again to go home to her mother, seeing the lights on in the living room, with the lace curtains twitching.

"Thanks anyway, Billy", she said solemnly.

And so Billy watched her walk away from him yet again, admiring all the things about her he couldn't find the humility in himself to admit he'd missed.

She was looking down into her bag, searching for keys, when the flood of light illuminated the weeded concrete path and the silhouette of her mother swallowed her whole yet again.

He gave a quick wave to her mum. But it was nowhere near as forcibly polite as their interactions as teenagers. As if, her mum saw Billy as a man, and men were tainted in her view.

He wondered if she hated her daughter purely because of her resemblance to her dad.

Billy only drove away when he completed the routine.

Wait 30 seconds.

Listen out for the slamming of doors.

And watch with bated breath, and a sigh of relief as her bedroom light switched on.

“What time do you call this!”

She sighed, walking through the living room, that same musty, damp smell surrounding her senses and giving her perfume a run for its money.

“You can’t just waltz in whenever you bloody like! I suppose you want me to do your washing, ironing and wipe your arse for you as well?!”

She always did this. Pretending like a conversation never happened.

For someone who supposedly hated confrontation and just ‘wanted some bloody peace and quiet’, she’d conveniently forget discussions ever happened, so that it would become a disruption to her otherwise perfect life without her daughter around.

She didn’t even hang up her jacket.

She knew the quickest route to her bedroom. That feeling of dread on the way there.

“Mum, please, can we not do this”.

“Oh right, it’s never your fault, is it”, she barked back, pushing herself off the sofa, tugging her magenta dressing gown around herself, “you should be grateful I’ve let you come back!”

She tried not to look her in the eye as she made for the stairs, “It’s not like I’m staying”.

“Oh, right, so you’re just gonna leave me? Who fed you and put a roof over your head?”

She climbed the stairs, her mum’s voice fading with every step, and with the distance put between them, the voice eventually died down.

“Just like your bloody father. None of me in you at all”, her mum practically spat the words out.

“Well thank god for that”, she muttered, disappearing behind her familiar bedroom door, shutting out the sound of her mum’s huffs of annoyance and subsequent dramatic exit to the living room.

She could’ve wept when she crossed the threshold into her childhood bedroom, the nostalgic smell of her old Charlie RED hitting her instantly. The bed sheets were still lilac with little white flowers, the bed made exactly how it had been when she’d left for uni all those years ago.

Her lightshade, once illuminated, was caked in dust.

Clearly her mum hadn’t been in here either.

She pulled the window to, the PVC squeaking, watching in a state of surprise as Billy’s Vauxhall drove away from the front of her house.

A slight smile tugged at her face, briefly void of that lingering sadness and longing she’d felt all evening.

Even though he was only 14 years old, the prickly beginnings of a beard around his jawline and his bean-pole-esque physique made him look older. He stood there, school tie loosened around the several buttons open at the collar, smiling up at her with tilted lips, one hand shoved into his pocket.

Her mum would know if she opened a window, so she just blinked at him and smiled through the double glazing.

‘You okay?’ he mouthed from the street below, his face becoming slightly serious.

No.

‘I’m okay’ she mouthed back, nodding as if to emphasise her lie.

But she saw it on his face. He didn’t believe her. Never had whenever they did this little ritual.

And yet he still did it, on the off chance that one day, she’d crack and let her stubbornness slip.

They waved sweetly at each other and she watched his tall form walk idly down the lit street, past the street sign, she finally found it in her heart to sigh, tears feeling hot behind her eyes as she pressed them shut.

She looked down at her phone. 18:25. Only thirteen hours until she would see him again.

The hours never passed quickly enough.

Her phone buzzed then with a text as if by some silly coincidence.

She laughed breathily, a wistful sense of loss crashing over her. Sarky bitch.

As if on auto-pilot, Billy drove the short route back to his flat, but at the last second, did an illegal U-turn in the direction of his parent’s house.

He couldn’t face being there again. Where all her stuff was. Facing his mum and dad was easier than the possibility of facing Becky. Whether she was even there or not, it didn’t really matter.

Billy’s mum turned her head, wearing her marigolds and her greying hair up in a ponytail, “Billy duck, you alright? Wasn’t expecting you here”.

He sighed, toeing off his shoes by the porch, “Yeah, sorry to pop in like this so late”.

His mum saw the tired look on his face, his shoulders slouched like the weight of the world was on them. And she needn’t ask him how he was, she could see as clear as anything what was on his mind.

“Cuppa?”

Billy nodded, leaning against the worktop, “Go on then”.

His childhood home hadn’t changed, and he often (especially recently) popped by not only to drop in on his parents, but to in some way escape the tight clutches of adulthood and just…pretend for a while.

That he was a kid again.

When everything seemed so much easier.

"Dad in?" he asked carefully over the hiss of the kettle.

But his mum just gave him a look, "Still out".

It was nearly midnight, and yet, most nights his dad didn't get back home from the social club until gone 2.

Nobody wanted to tell him he had a problem. He had no doubts his mum and Lana had already tried.

The tea tasted of metal and lime scale, and it was PG Tips but he supposed it was better than nothing.

"You staying here tonight?"

Billy nodded once, "If that's alright".

"Course. I've just washed the sheets", his mum smiled at him, her eyes running up and down him as if she couldn't believe her tiny little boy was this tall figure in front of her.

"Should I ask?"

Billy was quiet, for a long moment, "don't think you need to".

She tutted, "I won't keep going on, Billy. It's like talking to a brick wall sometimes, but you know as well as I do she's never been very nice to you".

He could've rolled his eyes.

As if he didn't know that already.

"I'm aware".

"Did you at least have fun tonight?" she asked, earning a confused glance, "can smell you've had a pint".

It flashed through his mind so quickly, he barely recognised it.

Or rather she did.

"Graduated from the bike sheds then?"

Her fucking smile. Jesus.

For some reason, the sadness he saw in her eyes, had his heart rate skyrocket.

"Yeah, um…was good, ta", he said awkwardly.

"Oh! I heard from Abi's mum your mates back! We should have her over for tea, wouldn't that be nice?"

His mum sounded so excited to see her, he didn't have the heart to explain what happened. He didn't know if he'd ever have the courage.

"Which reminds me, I've still got Mrs Ahmed's tupperware, be a duck and take it next time you see Abi won't ya?"

He nodded, not really listening.

Now wasn't the time to say anything, he thought.

He just wanted to curl up in the bed sheets that smelled of fake jasmine, look up at the ceiling and forget about the world.

And that hopefully Becky's stuff would be gone from the flat by morning.

Maybe this time, he'd be able to stick to it.

Maybe this time he wouldn't beg her to come back. Unable to stand the loneliness.

Billy was barely down the stairs of his family home before his phone was blowing up with notifications. Still all dizzy and bleary from sleep, despite being almost midday, he blinked a few times before looking down at it, thumbing through the wall of names and exclamations with burning eyes.

Billy, is your sister okay??? Text me, please!! Hope you're okay bud. Jesus fucking Christ, please PLEASE tell me your sister is alright!!

A BBC news header flashed at the top of his screen.

Six dead and three injured in suspected terror attack at…

In the hallway, he saw his mum pulling her coat on in a hurry, fannying about (as his dad would say) looking for her keys, looking completely frazzled.

"Mum?"

Her eyes were panicked and wide, "Christ, Billy, sorry, I'm just going to pick u-"

"Eh?"

His dad suddenly brushed past him from behind, keys in hand, his cheeks pink like he was still a bit drunk from the night before but had been forced into action.

"It's Lana, Bill”.

God he fucking hated when his dad called him that. No matter how many times he told him not to call him Bill, or William or Will-

“Nut’s dead”.

He gripped his phone tightly, as if putting a feeling to something.

Nut was dead.

But his sister.

Lana.

Was she okay? Was she hurt?

Had the day come where he'd have to carry her coffin on his shoulder?

He remembered shouting that at her when she said she'd be forming a bomb squad with the Met.

His phone buzzed in his hand again, the one lone notification illuminating the screen. He didn't even have time to react to what his dad just told him.

There was no expectation for him to reply, unlike the other texts. No expletives. No urgency.

Calm.

He could tell by the way she used entirely lowercase letters, that it was her. It was just a phone number. One he'd deleted a long time ago.

It was clear she hadn't done the same.

i'm here if you need me.

Billy Washington Taglist: @fan-goddess @assortedseaglass

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