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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer.

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.”

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him.

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.”

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said.

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?”

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.”

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant.

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again.

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.”

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!”

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped.

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.”

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?”

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.”

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?”

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight.

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s. “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated.

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!”

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning.

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while.

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk.

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows.

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.”

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand.

Just what was happening? What had you done?

Eywa, it had to be sky people.

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind.

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline.

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known.

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought.

It was mom.

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix.

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you.

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off.

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father.

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point.

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that.

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches.

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you.

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin.

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired.

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life.

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word.

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain.

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right.

Got an ikran for nothing.

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it.

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone.

A ticking time bomb.

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful.

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction.

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know.

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way.

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety.

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves.

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily.

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to. “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you.

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories.

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony.

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it.

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.”

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!”

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air? “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry.

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute.

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance.

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking.

And you fulfilled his wish.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily @n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #irma: 📝#📖: light

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snoringkitty1 · 1 month

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Sunday Boyfriend Headcanons Tw: Mildly suggestive content, fluff :>

૮︵⭒‿᧔☪︎᧓‿⋆︵౨

Obviously, Sunday is a very busy man, running a whole resort/dreamland is rough especially when dealing with so much at once.

Hes so pretty?? How could you possibly land him?? Pure absolute luck i tell you.

At the start of your relationship, because of how busy he is, he might not make much time for you initially..i feel like sometimes he just forgets.

Since he's so forgetful in the beginning, it'll be up to you to start up stuff, dates, cuddle sessions, naturally both with take thorough planning to fit into his schedule.

During these dates or cuddle sessions though, i bet he's just the sweetest thing, or the slyest thing, the in-between being a flirty shit.

He's sweet though, behind that politicians smile, he's the type of guy who just loves to have his hand held, or his face, not a fan of having his cheeks pinched though, makes him feel childish.

You are his pillow, you have no choice, none at all, and who are you to deny him?

Personally, i have a head canon for all angelic characters that messing with their halo's can help them relax, so doing that after a long day? He has ascended.

You glanced at the clock as you scrolled through things on your phone to keep yourself awake, It was a pleasant surprise whenever you were still awake whenever Sunday got home. You paused your video and sat up a bit when you heard footsteps coming down the hall, smiling to yourself and setting your phone aside and crossing your legs. A cheery yet tired look on your face as Sunday opened the door and met your eyes with tired look of his own. "Ah..stayed up late again?" he chuckled and bit back a yawn as he walked over and kissed your forehead, "Naturally, you look so much happier when i stay up for you." You pointed out and he shrugged, "I thought i could hide it better, but i suppose not." He smiled and turned away to go change and get ready for bed, you plugged your phone in and got cozy in bed and waited for the angelic man to return. His wing appendages fluttered softly as he walked over and flopped onto you, a robe covering most of his body, though the top was was loosened to feel less suffocating. You looked down at him and raised a brow before laughing, "You act like someone's racing you to use me as a pillow." He looked up and hummed, his wings reaching up to tickle your cheeks, "This spot belongs to me." He stated confidently and tilted his head when you rolled your eyes, I thought that was already established?" His darker look faded into a pleased one, smiling as he laid his head on your chest again and promptly closed his eyes, this was your usual queue to toy with his halo or the wings on his head. Doing so put him to sleep like a form of lullaby, the sound of his steady breathing filled your ears, a clear sign he was asleep. "Goodnight.." You whispered softly, before falling asleep yourself.

He can be manipulative at times to get what he wants from you, but its typically nothing bad, things as simple as what place you two will eat at.

His charm is more less what he uses to get to you.

For all that he is or goes through he's just a soft little thing by the end of the day.

Even if he only ever wants affection the way he wants it, he's still sweet about it, or hot :>

If you by chance decide to deny him, he'll just escalate and get his affection through more pleasant means for the two of you.

Top, definitely, loves the control he has when on top.

If you want to top him, just tug the wings on his head, he'll go weak.

Endurance..well, he can last a fair bit.

Aftercare though is really nice, he seems like the type to get you a shirt and a bit to cool off before offering to take a long bath with you.

Sunday took a moment to admire your exhausted state, his gaze fixed on the stands of hair that he was toying with while you gathered your baring's. "You look happy with yourself.." You mumbled, smiling at him before sitting up. "Naturally." He hummed and sat up, gently patting your back before getting out of bed and walking around to pick you up. "Huh? Where are we going?" you inquired and glanced up at him before realizing he was carrying you to the bathroom. "A bath, so we don't wake up feeling gross." He smiled and set you on the sink counter and pecked your lips before he turned away to start filling the bathtub with water, even adding in some bubbles to make it better. "Oooh, awe~" You smiled and tilted your head, "Thank you..". "Well, it is the least i can do dear, if i have the time tomorrow we can go out for a date, hm?" He smiled and picked you up and set you in the toasty water with bubbles nearly overwhelming you before you laughed and relaxed. Sunday hastily joined you, sitting across from you before he pulled you close and held you in his lap, "Feel free to fall asleep..i'll be here to hold you up." he whispered and kissed your neck, "don't gotta tell me twice~" you smiled and leaned back against him and closed your eyes. Sunday smiled and watched you fall asleep, pressing kisses against your head and neck and would continue to do so till you both got out.

૮︵⭒‿᧔☪︎᧓‿⋆︵౨

Thanks for reading.

#fluff #honkai star rail #headcanon #boyfriend #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #honkai star rail sunday #honkai sunday #star rail sunday #boyfriend scenario #scenarios

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kikohao · 2 months

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ᅠᅠᅠᅠ ⠀⠀⠀⋆˙. let me protect you instead

★ ㅤㅤpairing ; bf!jihoon x reader (student!jihoon x student!reader) ★ ㅤㅤsummary ; in which jihoon comes to save you when you're at your lowest ★ ㅤㅤthemes ; established relationship, fluff, comfort fic ★ ㅤㅤwarnings ; mentions of trauma, traumatic relationship with parents, reader cries, cursing ★ ㅤㅤword count ; 1.05k ★ ㅤㅤtaglist ; @nonononranghaee ★ ㅤㅤa/n ; i hate how there's literaly no jihoon fluff fics :( so decided to take matters in my own hands 🗣🗣 likes and reblogs are appreciated! <3

We most certainly didn’t plan a movie night to be going about on such a horrible, pouring day. “Such luck,” you scoffed to yourself, positioning the pillows on the couch, placing the snacks on the small table Jihoon had bought for you when you first started living alone. It was a simple, yet elegant circular table that had such attractive engravings on it.

You didn’t particularly hate rainy days, just the thunder that came with it; that was the dreadful part.

Ding.

“I might be late today, got extra work at the studio. I’ll try to be there by ’15. Love you.”

I loud sigh escaped your mouth. You didn’t really care that he was going to be late; just the fact that he’s working overtime again – fourth time this week. But then again, it’s Jihoon, its not anything new to him. Moments like this take you back to your high school memories – when you first met Jihoon as a transfer student at your school.

You were walking home from school, after yet another long, exhausting day at cram school. Oh how you wanted to head home, grab a big cup of hot chocolate, and just sleep.

Deciding to grab some hot chocolate powder, you set foot in the convenience store by your house. Greeting the part-time worker who seemed to be about a year or two older than you, you make your way towards the appropriate section, getting a hold of a packet of the powder. “Wouldn’t hurt to get some marsh mellows I suppose..” You grinned.

You rush to get a spot at the queue to pay, leaving the store at that. Walking back, you spot a familiar student surrounded by a group of senior at your school. The first thought that came up in your head was just to ignore. Ignore them. Don’t get involved.

“Hey!” You yelled, most likely impulsively – earning confused stares from the the same seniors that were trying to bully the student. Oh, for fuck’s sake, here we go again.

You walk towards the boy, grabbing his wrist; you stand in front of him. In attempt to leave the place, you take a step ahead, just for the way to be blocked my one of the seniors. He wore a cap the wrong way around, trying to look “cool”. What a generation, you sighed.

“What do you think you’re doing? We were talking with him?” He started.

7:58 pm. Nah, I’ve got no time for this.

I ignored their comment and lead the student some place away from them, receiving absurd scoffs from them.

I turn to him, “Are you okay?” I ask him, ignoring my racing heart. Obviously, you didn’t think you’d get away with such a thing. You expected a fight or something like that; you planned on taking a run for it. His stare bore through you. “Don’t worry, they’re gone now.” You whispered to him, which was met with small sigh. “Was it relief?” you thought to yourself.

You walked with him for a while.

Silence.

Not one of us dared to utter a word.

Yeah, I’m not having this, you thought to yourself. “I’m Y/N,” you started in attempt to loosen the mood, hoping to start a conversation. “What’s your name?”

“Jihoon.” A small mumble. His voice was cute. This is when you actually looked up to him. The street lights helped along the way; you looked at him. He was charming. Charming in the cute sort of way. The way his round face appropriately fit with the rest of his features.

Did your heart just skip a beat?

“If those seniors ever bully you again, tell me. I’ll protect you!” You stood in front of him, hand on your chest as a sort of pledge, earning a small smile, later fading.

Guess you didn’t realize that he went from a stranger to someone who you couldn’t stop thinking about.

The rain started to beat down further, accompanied by the rumbling roars of the thunder. You were alarmed. You hated thunder storms. You hated them so fucking much.

It reminded you of terrifying memories. It reminded you of your parents. You thought it would stop re-appearing after you walked out of their lives. Guess it didn’t. Guess you’ll never forget how they made you feel.

You sat down, knees against your chest, your hands placed on your ears in attempt to block out the sounds. Tears welled up in my eyes. You hated how your anger turned into tears.

It felt like hell.

“Congratulations! You survived the war! Now, live with the trauma.” That. That’s it. It lingers, forever.

Another spur of tears raced forward, just to be stopped by someone.

Jihoon.

That was the end. You didn’t like being like this – especially in front of him. You were supposed to be the one protecting him. You didn’t want him to see you feel weak. You didn’t want him to see you at your worst.

It wasn’t sobs now, but tears. “It’s okay, It’s okay,” He soothed, rubbing circles onto my back, engulfing me into a hug. “Everything’s okay,”

But it wasn’t. Everything was ruined.

“Let me protect you instead, Y/N.”

That was when you knew – when you knew he was the one.

I was surrounded by a few students, maybe older than I?

“Hey! Aren’t you the new transfer student?” One spoke. I nodded.

“Do you want to join the new basketball team? We’re looking for more players from Class 11.” Another spoke. “Basketball?” I spoke out, receiving a nod from the seniors.

“Well,” I started, only to be cut off by a girl, rushing towards us.

“Hey!” Everyone from this school is actually insane, I thought. What I nearly didn’t expect at all was her to grab my wrist. She was talking for me. She was standing up for me.

Cute.

Never did I believe in fate. But there it was. A meeting of fate. I suppose I fell for her without even realizing I did.

And suddenly, all the love songs were about you.

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2knightt · 2 months

Text

5 things dallas winston hated about you.

—even when you were on his last goddamn nerve, you were still everything to him. is he still everything to you? after all he’s put you through?

-> in no way is this me changing my style nor should this be taken seriously…i’m just bored. and sad. and bored. and i miss my boyfriend. posted on queue!! i’m probably either studying, working on asks + event, or sleeping. either one.

(I.your snarky remarks.)

“did nobody ever teach you how to properly play uno of all games?”

you asked, a chuckle in your voice as you held your one card in hand. dallas glared at you from across your table, holding 12 cards. this was the 5th game you two played. he was never one to accept defeat easily.

“this game is just fuckin’ stupid. n’ you’re a dirty lil’ cheater.” he grumbled, staring down at his all red cards, eyes shifting back to the green 3 that you had placed down. dallas wanted to say more not-so-nice words, but knowing you fully, you’d say something even worse back. he hated that about you. you always said that it was apart of your charm, he always disagreed.

“why would i ever need to cheat when you can’t seem to count?” you snapped back, brows furrowed. you referenced the fact that dallas tried to pick up only 4 when he had to pick up 6, thinking he was slick.

dallas just huffed, picking up another card from the pile before mumbling a small, ‘go.’ there was a tug at the corners of your mouth, causing you to grin a little too hard as you placed down the winning card. for the 5th time in a row. dallas threw his cards down, clicking his tongue in annoyance. he leaned back into the chair, his head turned away from you as his arms hung off the chair.

“stop bein’ a baby and help me clean this up.”

“no. it’s your house.”

“and you’re the one who’s bumming around in it. clean up with me before i let you walk those streets. again.”

(II.how important your looks were to you.)

you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, fingers running through your hair as you starred at yourself in the window of a convenience store.

“are you serious, y/n?” he asked, pockets in hand. he stopped walking when you did. he said it was so nobody hit on you. in reality, he liked it better when he had his eyes on you 24/7. he likes knowing you were safe. even for a second.

“yes, dallas. i am.” you replied with an eye roll. you grabbed your pink lip gloss, re-applying it for the 4th time today. sure, you were willing to admit it slowed you down—your focus on your looks. but were you gonna change? no! if someone doesn’t like it, who cares?

once you were done, you continued walking, leaving dallas to rush to catch up. he walked beside you after speed walking behind you for a few seconds. your lips shined under the hot tulsa sun, eyes glowing along with them. dally couldn’t help but wrap an arm around your waist.

he grew more and more aware of the men around. he held you closer, even when they paid no mind to neither you or him. he felt almost threatened for a moment.

“are you even listening?”

you chimed in, breaking his train of thought. dallas nodded, head empty. he didn’t hear a single thing you said. was he going to admit it? no. he didn’t want these other guys to know about how terrible of a boyfriend he was.

you just hummed, walking to your house in silence. any insults, compliments, comments, or cries would fall to deaf ears as of now.

(III.how you were blindly loyal.)

“i cannot believe you right now.”

“i jus’ said she was pretty. god forbid.”

he muttered as he entered your car, sitting in the passenger seat. dallas knew it’d be a terrible idea to try and make you jealous. boundaries, you’d shout. boundaries!

“i’ve told you how many times on how uncomfortable that makes me.”

“m’sorry, doll. i…i know. it was the alcohol.”

dallas lied right through his teeth. in all honesty—he’d been hoping it’d make you want to show him off. he was stupid for ever thinking you’d so something like that.

your silence scared him. you usually would’ve spat something back at him without a single thought. a sigh left your lips as you started the car, finally speaking up.

“i know.”

you muttered quietly. goddamn, maybe loyalty was gonna be the death of you. he didn’t mind much, though. at least you knew where home was. with him…right? right, y/n? he wanted to ask over and over again. dallas wanted the reassurance. he needed the support.

for what? he didn’t know. he just wanted to make sure you still felt the same way he does.

(IV.the way you fought.)

“she got you good, y/n.”

“oh, shut up, dal.”

you muttered, washing your bloodied and bruised hands under the faucet. you stood there, spacing out, letting the water run off your hands. dallas tapped you on your shoulder, snapping you out of it.

he handed you a clean shirt, a couple of bandaids in the other. you ushered him out of your bathroom, closing the door to put the clean shirt on. ‘she got you good.’ what does that even mean? was there seriously no, ‘are you okay?’ you wondered to yourself as you opened the door.

dallas sat you down on the toilet, brushing the fresh blood that slowly streamed down your cheeks with his thumb as he placed bandaids all over your face. he kissed every single one after doing so.

he wanted to make sure you still knew he likes you. that dallas winston liked you a whole lot.

“you’ll be alright, doll.” he comforted, patting your head. he thought back to your several other fights. you fought strategically and with honour. something he’d never do. but, recently, you’d been fighting just for the fun of it.

when you fought before—he felt a little angry. he didn’t like seeing you fight, but he didn’t like knowing you were good at it. knowing you were at the same level as he was at something he took pride in hurt him. dallas was frustrated at you and himself.

maybe his bad habits were rubbing off on you. a way to remember him, as dallas thought about it. he said he’d talk to you later about it. he never did.

(V.how quickly you were able to move on. faster than he ever could.)

you realized you needed better. dallas didn’t treat you like he used to. why? you didn’t know. you tried to be the best girlfriend he’d ever have, so why did he have to ruin it? was it your fault?

you kept on asking yourself questions like this when the reality of it all sunk in. that same day, you left dallas winston.

he felt his world crumble before him. this whole, self-sabotaging thing that pony warned him about was catching up to him. dallas felt hatred for you. well, at least he wanted to. he wanted to feel angry. hatred for you.

he couldn’t no matter how hard he tried. even when he watched you move onto another guy. from afar, he’d see you giggle and flirt with him. like how you used to do with him.

even when you’re with someone else, you’re still everything ti dallas. would you ever forgive him if he said sorry? would sorry even fix the way he treated you?

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston x reader #this whole thing is just dallas being toxic #and just like disliking how reader is catching on #bibically accurate dallas winston technically #emotionally mature reader methinks #would modern day dallas listen to alpha male podcasts #this fic is technically me shitposting #i hate this so much #but idgaf #me coded dallas winston #queue posting my love #sleeping rn #was so not proofread #ifnore any mostakes

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hanjisick · 1 year

Text

— ESPRESSO

order #5 of the coffee shop series: an espresso shot.

ingredients. barista!jisung x y/n. strangers to lovers?? night shift worker jisung who’s obsessed with music.

allergies. contains: semi-public making out. almost sex in a café bathroom but interrupted.

size. 2.3k

special add ons. jisung loved his job working the night shifts at yellow wood café. he would jam out to music and yell at college students to wake up and do their work. and occasionally flirting with pretty girls, unless they ask him to sing— then he becomes a mess.

“jisung, the shop is all yours.”

“i won’t let you down, chan.” his boss let out a lighthearted laugh, pushing open the door.

the bell chimed, announcing his departure. his wide eyes followed chan through the glass door, waiting for him to disappear.

jisung’s shoulders slumped once chan was gone for good. now it was him, the customers, and the music.

there were only a few minutes until the night rush started. college students would pack the shop soon with laptops and notebooks out, eager to stay up late enough to get work done if they consumed more caffeine than their bodies could handle.

yellow wood café was always the busiest at night since it was the only coffee shop open for almost twenty-four hours. jisung was always on the move because of it, with the rest of the boys valuing their sleep too much to help out, other than occasionally chan.

he didn’t mind being alone though. jisung almost felt like the owner of the shop at these times. he could make his own rules.

the espresso machine was on, the tables were clean, and the dishes were out, ready to assist the students. the only thing left— the only thing he was ever scolded for— was the music.

he cranked the volume up as high as his ears could handle, carefully selecting a vinyl out of his collection.

he selected enough to queue for the next few hours, carefully stacking them next to the record player.

the bell chimed— right on time.

autopilot kicked in as he began to prepare drinks into the night, one espresso shot at a time, making sure to down a few himself.

his body had gotten used to being practically nocturnal, but a kick of caffeine never hurt anyone.

“welcome in!” he yelled over the music as you walked in, hands deep in the pockets of your jacket, your cheeks red from the cold. the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries immediately hit you.

“hi,” you shouted back, “can i get an espresso shot? i have some homework to catch up on.”

the barista’s infectious laugh caused your lips to curl into a smile, noticing the way his lips took the shape of a heart. “you don’t need to explain, baby, everyone here is in the same boat.”

you would’ve cringed at the endearing nickname if he wasn’t as cute. “do you always call your customers baby?”

“it’s part of my charm.”

“are you also always this stuck up?”

“do i need to repeat myself?”

“whatever. how much?”

he leaned against the counter, resting his face against his hand, a little too close to you. again, you let it slide. “cute girls get coffee for free.“

this time you couldn’t help but cringe at the shameless flirting, crossing your arms and huffing.

“what’s a good name for your order?”

“y/n.”

he watched you take a seat at the bar, pulling the laptop out of your bag to begin your work just as everyone around you had done.

the sounds of your typing were drowned out by the loud music. you caught your head nodding to the upbeat music.

did he play this so that the students didn’t fall asleep? you glanced around the room, half of the students drooling on their keyboards. it didn’t work.

you felt your own eyes begin to droop, your hands getting lazier, and your breathing was heavier….

“more espresso please!” you shouted before it was too late, staring at the essay that was only half complete.

your ears didn’t even register the way that the barista was singing along to the music, loudly at that, until he paused to answer you.

“coming right up, baby!”

you groaned in fake annoyance, waiting for him to slide the small cup your way.

downing the caffeine, your face contoured from the intense bitterness, but it worked. soon, you were back to writing your essays.

the clock soon hit one. then two, then three.

there were barely any people left, and the ones that were still around were dozing off, with jisung occasionally running to wake people up, reminding them of all the work they need to be doing.

“don’t give up now!” you’d hear him yell out, shaking someone awake, “remember that chemistry quiz? it’s tomorrow!”

over the night, you’d grown quite fond of the boy, finding it endearing how enthusiastic he was, willing to learn about all of his customers, keeping the energy alive through music and shuffling his feet around the café.

through one of the conversations you overheard, you found out his name was jisung. jisung, the barista who works the night shifts. you heard a nickname for him that seemed to stick. the music man.

“we can do it, you guys! just a few more hours!”

you shook your head, waving him over to your direction to ask for another shot.

“y/n! you’ve been awake for so long, what’ve you gotten done?”

“actually, i finished an hour ago,” you confessed.

jisung grinned, leaning over your shoulder, “why are you still here then? shouldn’t you be asleep for class tomorrow?”

“i don’t have a class tomorrow,” you nudged him back with your shoulder, “to be honest, i’m just enjoying the music. what’s the song that’s playing right now? i want to add it to my playlist.”

there was a moment of silence before you turned to face his direction, only to find his grin widening even further— you didn’t know that was possible.

“you’re asking about the music?”

“yes, i am,” you confirmed as if he hadn’t heard you, “what’s the song?”

“oh my god. nobody asks me about the music.” for a moment, you were afraid that he was going to explode.

“i run all of the music here. i have a collection of vinyl and there’s this small spot at the back of the store-“

“can i see?” you grinned, and you didn’t have to ask twice before he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the back of the store.

jisung’s most prized possession— a white shelf in the back of the shop that chan, very reluctantly, let him keep. it was slightly hidden by messy vines and plants, behind every table in the store. records filled the shelves, a few spilling out to the floor in a messy pile that jisung couldn’t be bothered to pick up.

you let out an audible gasp at the sight, squatting down beside him as you picked up a couple of the records.

“this is one of my favorite albums ever!”

“really?” you watched him light up, “i love it too. the production is just amazing.”

“i don’t know anything about production, but i love the music.”

“funny story,” he let out a small laugh, “me, chan, and changbin, my coworkers here, used to try and produce songs. it didn’t work out though, we never took off. that’s when chan opened this shop.”

“i’m sure you’re good. what did you guys do?”

“mostly rap,” he took a few of the vinyl covers into his hands, placing them back in between the shelves, “but i can sing. i like to play guitar too, and the piano sometimes. i’m also a dancer.”

“the singing behind the counter didn’t sound all that promising. maybe you should stick to rapping.”

“i wasn’t doing it justice! i was singing tone deaf!” he argued back as if he were annoyed.

“you should let me hear you sing, then.”

“no way!” he stood back up, “there’s too many people here. i’ll get shy.”

“weren’t you supposed to be all flirty and cocky?”

“not in front of everyone. only pretty girls.”

“then serenade me, and maybe i’ll fall for you.”

“after my shift.”

“promise?”

“fine.”

“i’ll wait here until you’re done, then.”

“no fair! aren’t you supposed to sleep soon? it’s almost five in the morning!”

“what time do you get off?”

“what time can you get me off?” he smirked, avoiding the topic.

“that doesn’t even make any sense.”

“you win some you lose some,” he shrugged, beginning to walk back to the counter. the shop was as good as dead by now.

“you aren’t getting out of this. i’m committed now,” you continued as you followed him, taking your seat back at the counter.

“my shift is over at five thirty,” he replies with a sigh, “then we can belt out until seungmin gets here while i clean the place up.”

“seungmin?”

“early morning shift. annoying, mean, loveable,” he smiled to himself, cleaning off a dirty cup.

“so just like you,” you teased.

“more mean, less loveable like me.”

the last two customers had left, “have a good day!”

“now its just us,” you commented, reminding him of the promise that he had made you.

“wait until a really good song comes on,” he groaned, refusing to let you see his burning ears.

“stop making excuses. pretty girls will never want to kiss you if you do that.”

“kissing is on the table?” jisung’s eyes widened, “you should’ve said something earlier!”

“you’re that desperate?” you watched him scramble to his shelf, shuffling through albums.

“are you gonna kiss me if i sing to you?”

“only if you’re good.”

that was enough confirmation for him to switch out the vinyl.

“listen to this, baby. it’ll blow you away.”

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the counter and smirking in amusement. but when he began to sing, your sly smile turned into wonder, intensely paying attention to his voice.

he could feel your gaze burning into him, and he refused to meet it for fear of rejection. instead, he simply continued to wash dishes with shaky hands and a red face.

then his voice cracked.

he closed his eyes, leaning down to yell out in embarrassment, “i can't sing in front of pretty girls!”

the song continued in the background, but jisung fell silent, clutching a wet metal straw in his hand.

you ignored his fuss, “and you’re telling me that people didn’t die for your voice?”

he fell silent. “you sound like an angel, jisung! you’re better than the guy on that track!”

“he’s really good though,” he tried to change the topic from himself.

you sighed, standing up from your stool and going behind the counters— nobody was here, and jisung wouldn’t mind, right?

grabbing his shoulders gently, you turned him around to face you, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from poking fun at his beet-red face.

standing on the tips of your toes, you leaned up to match the height added from his platforms and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

his eyes widened as if he didn’t expect you to follow through with your promise.

“did you just kiss me?”

“no, i just sold your soul to a demon and the only way to do it is to touch my lips to yours.”

“can you do it again?”

“you’re so romantic,” you teased, leaning in once again as his hands met your waist.

“can i kiss you, like, a lot?” jisung stammered.

“sure.” you had to admit, it was adorable watching him act so shy compared to how he flirted with you so effortlessly earlier.

he pulled you out of your thoughts, lifting you onto the counter with muscles that you didn’t even know were behind his loose hoodie.

you let out a yelp, but he quickly shut you up with a longer, more passionate kiss.

his hands tightly held your waist and your own met his dark, messy hair. you tugged on it, making him groan as he deepened the kiss, tasting the espresso in your mouth.

the two of you pulled away for air, taking in a deep breath, but jisung had every intention to continue.

“about getting off?” he joked, in a quiet, raspy tone from the kiss.

the next thing you knew, you were being dragged into the bathroom, the mess of the café disregarded behind you.

he slammed the door, then pushed you against it a little too desperately.

“is this actually happening?” he thought out loud.

“whatever, let’s just do it.”

he nodded, pressing his lips against yours for the third time. you closed your eyes, losing yourself in his lips. you could hear the music faintly from behind the door, noticing the ringing in your ears from how loud it was.

his hands traveled from your hips to your hair then back down to the hem of your shirt. he played with it for a moment, before snaking his fingers up to your bra, right about to unclasp it.

“han jisung!” both of you jumped at the screaming voice, snapping out of the moment as the bell from the store rang.

“tell me this is a fucking joke!”

“shit, seungmin’s here,” he pulled away from your lips, out of breath.

his hair was a mess and his black jeans were noticeably tight around him. he tried to pull himself together before seungmin would come barging into the bathroom.

jisung tumbled out of the door right as the other barista turned the music off.

you stalked behind him, readjusting your shirt with a face just as flustered as his own.

the boy massaged his temples, “look, i don’t care if you turn this place into a bar for your night shifts. that’s for you and chan to worry about, but you left me all of this mess with only thirty minutes until we open again.”

jisung glanced back at you, watching you contain your giggles as he got scolded.

“hell! we’re still open! you never even bothered to flip the sign! or shut off the lights! or turn off your music!”

jisung turned back to meet seungmin’s frustrated face.

“i got carried away, there was this really hot girl and we both,” he stopped his story there, sighing.

“just please don’t tell chan.”

“chan won’t hear about it unless you get to work immediately and clean this place up!”

“on it!”

you watched the boy scramble to work as you finally let your laughter spill from your lips.

“if i were you, i wouldn’t get involved with that guy,” seungmin turned his attention to you, “he’s a mess.”

“but he’s kind of cute,” you defended, “do you, by chance, have his number?”

#skz #stray kids #han jisung #bang chan #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #han jisung smut #stray kids han jisung #stray kids jisung #jisung x reader #skz jisung #jisung #skz imagines #skz scenarios

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 1 year

Text

Colonel's orders!

Summary: Lyle doesn't show up for your date, Quaritch rectifies the situation.

Human!Miles x gn!reader, Human!Lyle x gn!reader

It was an odd situation you had to admit. Lyle and you? No one would have seen it coming, well no one except your roommate.

"He's a dog y/n! You're a fine piece of ass and he's sniffin!" She called to you as you got ready by the mirror. Her head didn't even pop up from her data pad as she chewed on her pen.

"What the hell does that even mean Kim?" You didn't have time for her nonsense warnings. Your own shift had run late and if you didn't leave now he'd be waiting. You just wished your hair knew that.

"Means what it means." She said crossing her arms. "You shouldn't go. AND if you do I'm not clearing out so there'll be no hanky panky" You rolled your eyes. Cheep as RDA was you were lucky in your station to only have one room mate to deal with. She could be a pain in the ass but at least she kept her side tidy.

"I have no idea what your saying half the time." You grumbled mainly to yourself, having a last once over in the mirror before heading out.

"If your not back by 0900 I'm inviting Prager over!" You wished the sliding mechanical doors were capable of slamming as you left.

She was one to talk about your taste seeing as she'd been making her way through the military types. Still in some ways she was right. You'd never seen them as your type before but Lyle had been a special case.

You were a jack of all trades, often flitting from task to task in where ever they felt you were needed. Your primary work load was in mechanics, which was where you met him. Lyle clearly wished to jump the queue and reckoned it was a 50/50 he'd get to the top of the order or blacklisted. His cheesy pickup lines and obvious eyeballing would have normally pissed you off but for some reason you'd found it charming.

Maybe it was his sincerity? He certainly seemed to find you genuinely attractive and was not shy about expressing it. Maybe it was the lack self seriousness he displayed? Or maybe it was simply that no one else had shown this much blatant interest in you in a while.

There were no games with him. He was clear in his intentions from the beginning. Before you'd even finished fixing his gun mount on the craft, he'd set up a date. You appreciated the straight forwardness greatly. You often found people difficult to read and wished more would be as blunt at times.

So here you were, outside the hanger leaning against the wall in your nicest causal clothes. It was a miracle you'd made it on time, better than that you were a couple of minutes early! You used the time to catch your breath, peering at your reflection in the glass.

You looked nice. It was hard to look special with what little you'd brought with you but still the effort was clear. Anyways he'd still be in his camo so he'd be a hypocrite to think you'd not bothered to dress up.

Not that dressing up was necessary, you were only going to an observation deck. It was technically out of bounds for yourself but with him as escort it would be allowed. As he told it, that catwalk had the best views of the night sky. You quite looked forward to seeing it, would be a change from the lower levels you tended to work in.

Minutes ticked by slowly. Muscular men and women in military gear filed past, looking at you with confusion as you waited. You kept your eyes down, hoping not to draw too much attention. Wouldn't want to get kicked out before Lyle even got here.

Your feet started to ache. Looking down at your watch again you noted how late he was. 15 minutes wasn't so bad, maybe he'd needed a shower first and had just forgot to message you. You rocked back and forth on your heels, staring out at the moving crane in the hanger.

30 minutes was understandable. Something must have come up and made him late. If it was work then of course he wouldn't have been able to message you and let you know. The timer lights had gone out leaving the hall dim. You slumped down now, sitting on the floor. Might as well rest a little while you waited right?

45 minutes. The cranes had stopped now, the large hanger bay stilled. Whatever workers left must have gone off to their own beds through other exits. You hadn't seen another soul in the last half an hour. Was he just not coming?

55 minutes was your limit. You could feel the frustration rising in your throat. It constricted as your chest spasmed, threatening to start you sobbing. You held the flood gates, your eyes only glassy, you wouldn't cry here.

You felt stupid for falling for what ever trick he was playing. A prank amongst his friends maybe? All watching on CCTV at the poor sod he'd tricked into thinking he liked them. Fuck them, they wouldn't see you cry. You were gonna walk back to your room like nothing was wrong and let your roommates vicious tongue say it for you.

You stood, stretching out your aching muscles, your back giving a satisfying pop. You moaned a little in the empty space as you reached high in your stretch. Then you heard someone clear their throat.

You glanced over to see the Colonel himself eyeing you. You yanked your arms down fast, adjusting your clothing that had crept up.

"Sir!" You straightened, mind racing. What could you say to excuse your being here? Did he know his own men well enough to mark you as an outsider here?

"Shouldn't you be..." He began.

"Yes! sorry sir! I was waiting for someone and..." You cut him off, trailing off with a half hearted laugh at the end there. You weren't hiding you emotion well, you could hear a manic edge to your tone. Well fuck it, your evening couldn't get worse right?

"I think I've been stood up, sir." You met his eye when you said this tears threatening to spill. This was the first time since the mandatory safety briefing you'd seen him this close. You'd done well the last few years, making yourself indispensable on base, never needing to leave its safe walls. Nor having to be in the presence of the Colonel who you'd found so frightening before.

He didn't seem so scary now. Emotions quickly passing across his admittedly handsome face. Though it was marked heavily by deep scarring he was very agreeable up close. He seemed to soften a moment, an easy smile gracing his lips.

"By one of mine? Now that won't do darlin" You blushed at the pet name, eyeing him nervously as he reached a hand out to you. You took it gingerly, staring down at his rough hand clasping your own. Then your eyes drifted to his biceps, wow he was huge.

"Colonel Miles Quaritch." He drawled out, laughing a little. Your eyes shot back up to his, busted.

"Uh, y/n, sir!" You squeaked out. You tensed as he pulled your arm in, hooking it through his own. You followed his movements, allowing him to walk you through the doors off limits to yourself.

"Gave you my name for a reason there darlin'. Just Miles will be fine." You just nodded to him, the whole situation rapidly getting away from you.

"Now what had my no good dog promised you huh?" he turned his head to you, flashing a brilliant smile. You settled against him, content he wasn't going to yell at you and happy to be closer to his muscles.

"The stars." You spoke, more steadily this time, a dreamy hint touching your voice. You'd never seen them so clear as the first night you arrived on Pandora and had been squirreled away ever since. "We were going to go look at them."

Miles hummed to himself, leading you to an elevator on the far wall. An assistant had made to approach with paper work, he shot him a look you couldn't see. The man almost jumped, fumbling with the papers before scampering off. Maybe a little apprehension on your part was warranted.

He seemed a little lost in thought as you entered the lift together. Maybe mulling over who's place he'd taken tonight. Part of you wanted to keep it a secret, after all he did seem annoyed you'd been left waiting. Maybe Lyle deserved what ever his Colonel would do however. Likely be better than your plan of never helping him again.

The lifts sliding doors brought him back. Charming smile slipping back into place as he stepped out with you.

"You'll be wanting a mask for this spot." He removed himself from your side, stepping ahead to the evopacks hanging on the wall. He took one down turning to you.

"After you." He placed the mask over your head, drawing you in close as he adjusted the straps. He tucked hair off your face, hands tracing down to tilt your chin up with his finger. Your breath caught in your throat, he was close now, his eyes darting to your lips. If it wasn't for the glass between you, you'd have felt his breath. He smirked down at you before pressing the seal, it hissed startling you back to reality. Where it didn't seem like your Colonel wanted to kiss you.

You hadn't realized quite how hot you'd become until the door hissed open and the cool night air hit you. It was refreshing, not so cold as to be uncomfortable.

"Up here." Miles lead the way climbing the ladder first and taking your hand when you reached the top yourself. He pulled you up sharply making you bump against his broad chest. He held you there a moment, hands on your elbows, before stepping back.

"Well, there's your stars." He smiled and you raised your head up.

No earthly sky could compare, not even the old photos of desert skies. Millions of pin prick lights, splashes of blue and purple nebula, another moon and the huge expanse of Polyphemus.

The night here glowed brilliantly. You couldn't help the glee that bubbled through you. You jumped a little, waving your hands trying to disperse the feeling. It was so beautiful, beyond anything you'd expected from your brief glimpse.

You twisted back to Quaritch, suddenly bashful from your display. He was simply smiling back at you from where he'd decided to sit. You joined him, flopping onto your back to better take in the view.

"As promised?" You turned your head to his, stars sparkling in his icy blue eyes. You grinned at him.

"Better!" You shuffled closer pressing your head to his shoulder. You wondered briefly if that'd be okay but he didn't move. You stayed like that for a time, letting him speak. He'd apparently learnt a bit from navigation, important out in the field so he said. He pointed to clusters, constellations changed quickly on a moon planet but certain groups could be spotted and used to navigate.

You told him about your fear of the forest. That you'd known a friend who died their first day out there. That you'd found every excuse to stay inside since. He listened, nodding to himself. You supposed he understood, he'd seen first hand what was out there, though he'd chosen to fight it.

When you began to yawn he suggested you go back. Ever the gentleman it would seem, he took your hand. Helping you up then escorting you back. You protested lightly, that you could return yourself but he wouldn't have it. Taking you right to your room door.

"Well y/n, it's been a pleasure." He raised your knuckles to his lips, leaving a soft kiss. You giggled a little, debating a curtsy when you noticed the time. 1100 and as expected your darling roommate had left the customary warning of her sock on the floor.

Miles caught your sudden change of expression, quirking a brow at the sock you glared at.

"Sorry...uh my roommate... she has company." You fumbled. It wasn't against any rules or anything but it felt like grassing her up to the big boss. He paused a moment before he caught your meaning, barking a laugh at the situation.

"Now wouldn't it be funny if I just..." He trailed off before quickly opening the door. You barely had time to react before you saw a half dressed Prager flail and fall onto the floor. Your roommate was no where in site, likely in the bathroom.

"Private!" Miles half yelled, causing him to scramble to his feet and salute. You couldn't help but laugh at him standing there in his underwear, beet red.

"You have a field mission at 0600, best get some shut eye soldier." Miles voice was light hearted, filled with humor at the situation. Regardless Prager scooped up the rest of his clothes before running off down the hall, babbling out 'yes sirs' and 'sorry sirs'.

You turned to look up at Miles, still giggling. He smiled back down at you before his face relaxed a little. He looked at you more seriously then, before his hand raised to cup your cheek. He was close again, this time you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. He stooped a little, leaning closer to you. You felt his lips brush against yours before...

"Colonel, sir?!" Miles leaned away, hand leaving your cheek, he turned to who ever called. You didn't even need to peak around him to tell, Lyle. What was he doing here now? You were still upset about him leaving you waiting like that, but he'd come to you?

"Ahh, this the date then?" He turned back to you, face tight in a forced smile. You felt your face flush, mind still reeling from the almost kiss.

"uh yeah... Lyle." He jogged into view around Miles now, red faced and out of breath. You looked at the floor, not wanting to meet his eyes incase it got you tearing up again.

"Aww y/n I..." He started, struggling to speak through his panting.

"This is my bad." You turned to Miles as he interrupted. His face and voice giving a casual impression that didn't reach his body language. His muscles were tensed. You could see his fists balled, white knuckled.

"I'm afraid my Corporal here was pretty behind on paper work and I'd insisted it be done by tomorrow. Fair to say I ruined your evening, you have my apologies." He tipped his head before marching off.

You felt you should say something but what? What do you say to your higher up who almost kissed you in front of your date. You turned to Lyle, his breathing more steady now.

"How about a rain check? Happy to show you that spot another night." He smiled sweetly, dimples forming. You remembered why you'd been so taken by him before, he really was a good looking guy.

"Yeah, rain check" You returned his smile, watching as his eyes lit up at the chance for a do over. "but your boss beat you to that date." You added laughing at his shocked expression as you entered your room.

"Wait he what?!" He shouted as you closed the door. Kim had reappeared and was grinning from ear to ear.

"Details. Now." You rolled your eyes playfully as she dragged you to sit on her bed.

..............................................................................................................................

The next morning you worked bellow an engine block. Trudy had complained about something leaking and was unwilling to let anyone but you touch her baby.

Your mind was still racing. You wanted to see Miles again but at the same time you still had a date promised to Lyle. It wasn't cheating right? You weren't 'dating' dating? He was just gonna take you out, no reason you couldn't think about someone else. Chances were he was playing the field too, no harm right?

"Knock knock" You heard someone tapping the metal and slid out from under it. Lyle stood above you offering a hand to help you up. He pulled you up and into a quick hug, before pulling back to grin at you.

"What?" you asked, the cheeky look still spread across his face.

"Someone cleared both our schedules for the rest of the day." He somehow smiled wider before scooping you up and spinning with you in the air. You shrieked, laughing as you balanced yourself holding his firm shoulders. He placed you gently back down, giddy smiles shared between you both.

"Must have made a very good impression on the boss. Maybe need to have him run into you more often." He winked slinging an arm over your shoulders. You blushed, he'd really gone and given you both a full day off? Lyle tugged you closer, kissing your temple and leading you out the hanger.

"We're gonna have so much fun!" He beamed. You smiled back, enjoying the feeling of being smushed up against his broad chest.

Unbeknownst to you Miles watched seething from the catwalk above.

#human miles quaritch #miles quaritch #quaritch x you #quaritch x reader #colonel quaritch #lyle wainfleet x reader #lyle wainfleet #avatar #avatar imagine #my fics #colonels orders

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

Note

please, could you write something were the reader is part of kipps crew and lockwood is like obsessed with her. anytime they encounter he goes out of his way to be nice to her and kipps finds it so weird because she is like is best friend or sister even. that would be so cool! also love the new things you’ve posted earlier!!!

a/n: of course! I love this idea, and thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed them :) this is a mix between the books and the show (not overly obvious though)

warnings: language female reader (few pronouns used)

part two

"Seems like we've saved you again, Tony," Kipps says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe if you did your research properly, we wouldn't need to come and clean up your mess."

George Karim scowls. "Not all of us can press a button and have everything we need right under our fingers."

"Besides, you didn't save us," Anthony Lockwood, the face of Lockwood and Co, says. "We had it all under control."

You break off from Kat's side, inspecting the damage around the park, and make your way over to Kipps. "If by under control, you mean you were surrounded by fourteen Wraiths with very few salt bombs or magnesium flares left to defend yourself with, then yeah, you had it under control."

"(name) -" Lockwood blinks, then plasters on that smile of his. "How nice to see you."

Against your better judgement, you smile. "You seem to be making a habit of us saving your asses. I hope it's not some excuse to see Kipps' pretty face."

Kipps, your team's supervisor, frowns at the pair in front of you. Off to the side, Bobby Vernon is instructing a few other Fittes agents, disposing of the source of the horde of Wraiths. Kat, as blank-faced as always, stands on the other side of Kipps, and Ned Shaw... Well, he's somewhere. Probably glowering at some poor child.

"No, I can assure you, Kipps' face is the last thing I want to see on a case," Lockwood says, sending a charming grin your way. "It's perhaps even scarier than the Wraiths."

You laugh softly, earning a glare from your supervisor. It's hard suppressing your smile.

"I expect we'll see you more this week, Tony," he says. "It seems that without your little Listener, you're getting even worse than before."

George bristles, fists clenching by his sides. "We were doing perfectly fine on our own. Now, if you don't mind, we'd better be on our way."

Lockwood straightens. "You're right, George. But, first, we need our pay."

"Oh, no," Kipps says. "No, see, we secured the Source, so, by DEPRAC rules, the commission is ours."

"You can't be serious," Lockwood says. "This was our case."

Kat, face void of any emotion, says, "Well, it's ours now."

George moves a step closer, knuckles white with tension, but Lockwood pulls him back, murmuring something in his ear. Angrily, Karim storms past you and out of the park.

"Best be off, Tony. Don't want to stay out too much later. I'm not sure we can be bothered saving you from more ghosts."

Lockwood ignores him, casting his gaze on you. "See you around, (name)."

You smile again. "See you, Lockwood."

And, then he's gone, striding off to catch up with George. You watch him go, curiously, until he's past the hedge line of the park and faded into the darkness of the night.

"Stop it."

You turn to Kipps, frowning. "What?"

"Stop looking at him like he's God's gift to the world," he grumbles. "He's an idiot, and he's the competition unless you've forgotten. Stay away from Lockwood - it won't end well."

Nodding, you cast his words aside immediately. It only makes you want to know him more.

"I'm serious, (name). You're like a sister to me, and I can't afford for you to get sidetracked and then hurt because of him."

Too late, you think. You have most definitely gotten sidetracked.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Scrounging around in your bag, your heart is pounding and your face feels hot with embarrassment. You can't find your purse, and there's a big long queue of people behind you, waiting for their turn to order with expressions of irritation. God, you want to melt into the floor and die. Someone groans behind you, their frustration seeping into your bones.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. Just give me a minute -"

"Here you go," a voice says, and an arm reaches out beside you, passing a twenty-pound note to the cashier.

You take your coffee from her hand and shuffle out of the way quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much. If I can find my purse, I'll pay you back."

"No, no, you're fine." That voice... Something about it is familiar.

Looking up, your jaw goes slack. "Lockwood! Oh, hi. How are you?"

His mouth splits in a grin. "Hey. I'm good. I'd ask how you are, but judging from how red you are, I think I can guess."

"I'm so sorry you had to pay, just let me -" You begin searching in your bag again, but Lockwood's hand closes over yours, halting the movement. Sparks run up and down your arm at the touch.

"(name), it's perfectly fine. My treat."

Your worried expression softens. "I can't thank you enough, Lockwood."

"Don't worry about it." He hesitates for a moment, eyes flickering over your face. "Do you want to come back to Portland Row with me? Chat over some doughnuts, maybe?"

Despite Kipps' warning, you want to accept, but you can't, as much as it pains you.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I've got to get back - we've got a case to get to in a few hours. I was just getting some sort of caffeine to energise me beforehand."

He looks a little disappointed, but he's still smiling. "That's alright. Maybe another time?"

You grin. "Sure. And, thank you, again, Lockwood. Really. You saved me from melting into a puddle of embarrassment back there."

"It hurt to watch," he jests. "Should I prepare my gear at home, just in case Lockwood and Co have to come save you Fittes lot for once?"

Laughing, you say, "No, but thanks. No offence, but I think we're a little more qualified for this job than you are, Lockwood."

There's a pause, one in which he only looks at you, smiling. Then, "Call me Anthony."

Before you lose confidence, you knock on the pale blue door before you.

Portland Row is quiet, despite it being mid-afternoon and summertime, but you don't really mind. With the sun beating down on your back, and a warm breeze that smells faintly like cut grass, you couldn't be more relaxed even if you tried.

The door swings open, revealing the face of George Karim, who doesn't seem overly pleased to see you.

"What do you want?"

You're taken back a little by his forwardness. "Oh, I just thought I'd come nip round and pay you guys a visit. I brought a bunch of doughnuts and biscuits and stuff from Arif's." You hold the box in your hands a little higher.

"George," a voice calls - Lucy Carlyle's, judging from the pitch. "Who is it?"

"(name), you know, Fittes agent? Kipps' crew?"

"I've brought treats from Arif's," you say over George's shoulder. "I come in peace."

"Oh, for god's sake, George, let her in!"

This time, it's Lockwood - Anthony - who speaks. He opens the door wider so that he and George are standing shoulder to shoulder in the frame. His wide smile is dazzling, and, as usual, his clothes are crisp and clean, as if he put them on right away after being ironed and hasn't moved in them lest they crease.

"Hey, (name). Thanks for bringing food."

He nudges George out of the way and gestures for you to come inside, which you do albeit cautiously.

The house isn't what you expected at all. With three teenagers living there, you assumed it'd be rather modern, but the wallpaper is old, and all sorts of decor and memorabilia hang on the walls. Masks, photos, and the likes. Straight ahead, Lucy Carlyle stands on the stairs, dressed in a comfy top and shorts, and despite the tension between your agency and theirs, she smiles at you before hurrying down the stairs and disappearing into what you assume is the kitchen. George follows her, frowning.

Deftly, Lockwood takes the large box of sweet treats from your hands.

"What's the occasion?" he asks, leading you down the hall to the kitchen.

"It's just a thank you for paying for my coffee the other day," you say. "Also, I wanted to see you, and I figured George wouldn't let me within ten feet unless I brought goods."

Lockwood laughs. "Well, you're right about that."

The kitchen isn't the largest you've seen, but it's cosy. Lucy is clearing space on the table which, oddly enough, is covered in a white tablecloth full of scribbles and writing. George is boiling the kettle over to the side, four mugs set out in front of him, though one is considerably smaller than the rest.

You can't blame him for not liking you. Although Kipps is like your brother, you know that he goes too far sometimes, and he's never been particularly nice to Lockwood and his friends. You're a part of his team, so their dislike for Kipps - or George's, at least - has extended to you.

"Please, sit," Lockwood says, gesturing to one of the seats.

Smiling a little awkwardly, you sit down as he separates the contents of the box onto different plates. Lucy takes the seat next to you, plucking one of the doughnuts straight out of the box and smiling.

Lucy has never had the warmest personality, or so you've heard, but the doughnuts have seemingly put you in her good books. That eases your discomfort a little.

George sets cups of tea down on the table before sitting down himself, just as Lockwood does, too. They all take their pick of the treats, grinning and chatting away.

"So, (name)," Lockwood says. "How did your case go the other day?"

Lucy raises her eyebrows. "You're keeping tabs on Fittes now?"

"We ran into each other a couple of days ago," you explain. "We stayed and caught up for a little bit."

George frowns. "Is that why you took so long getting back from your shopping trip?"

Lockwood sips his tea. "Yeah, I suppose. Anyways, how was it?"

"Fine," you say. "Some lady was murdered by her son a few decades ago, wanted revenge on the family - you know, the usual."

"Please tell me Kipps got a little injured," George says.

"George!" Lucy hisses, but something in her eyes tells you she doesn't feel much different than he does.

"Unfortunately for you, no, he didn't. Since he's just our supervisor, he stays within an iron circle and shouts orders at us."

"Surely that must get annoying?" Lockwood says. He's watching you carefully, and you can feel your ears growing hot under his gaze. "Having to take orders from someone who can't even see what's going on."

You shrug. "Yeah, it does, but there's not much we can do about it."

"Maybe, you could work with us."

Everyone seems to freeze when Lockwood says that. You slowly look up at him from the pastry you were just reaching for, your face the definition of pure shock. Lucy, bless her, just sits with another doughnut halfway to her mouth, eyes a little wide. But George, oh, George. It takes all your strength not to laugh at the expression of unadulterated surprise, mixed with a little bit of anger, as a biscuit hangs from his mouth.

"What?" you all say simultaneously.

Lockwood only grins wider. "I think it'd be a good decision. If we have one extra agent, it means if we get overbooked, we don't end up with one agent per case and can double up. And I don't think it'd hurt for Lucy to have some female company in the house."

"You can't be serious," George says.

"I am. So, (name)?"

The words are hard to find. "Uh, I mean, shouldn't you guys all talk about this together? I don't want to just be barging in, you know? Besides, I'd need to talk to Kipps, and that'll go down about as well as a magnesium flare in a forest."

"For once," George says, "I agree with (name)."

"Oh, come on." Lockwood waves his hand nonchalantly. "She's an incredible agent, and she'd fit right in. I don't think there's much to discuss."

In all honesty, you feel flattered that Lockwood is offering you a position within his company, only because you admire him so much. Fittes, and just about all of the big agencies, are too bureaucratic, in your opinion, and extremely controlling over cases. Lockwood and Co have free rein, within the rules set out by DEPRAC, and aren't hindered by supervisors or massive amounts of paperwork, all because he had the confidence to split off and set up his own company.

"Let's not rush into any decisions," you say, standing slowly. You don't want to move too quickly and elicit the rage of Karim. "I think I should probably head off. Enjoy the food, and, uh, have a good day."

Smiling awkwardly, you make your way out of the kitchen and hurry to the front door.

Footsteps sound behind you and, as you open the door, Lockwood says, "Wait."

You turn, sighing. "Before you say anything, Lockwood -"

"Anthony."

"Anthony, thank you for the offer, but I really think you should talk to Lucy and George first. I can't just accept without them wanting me to, and that's if I can accept."

Lockwood leans against the doorframe, looking down at you with those dark eyes of his. God, they've got you hooked.

"I will. I just - You're wasted at Fittes, stuck following the orders of someone whose Talent faded years ago."

You give him a look, but it's half-hearted. "Kipps basically raised me, alright? But I get it. Again, I appreciate it, but speak to the two of them first and then I'll consider it."

That seems to be a good enough answer. His smile is blinding. His hand briefly brushes yours, and your breath hitches.

"Give me a call in a few days," you say, "and we'll see where we're at, yeah?"

"Will do."

"I'll see you soon, Anthony."

If possible, his smile only grows brighter. "Likewise, (name)."

As you leave, you can still feel the brushing of his hand on yours, a sensation you hope will never fade.

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #quill kipps #givemea-dam-break

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Note

i can’t get this eren brainrot out of my head so i’m putting it here 🫶🏾 like just imagine rapper eren noticing y/n being upset about something, maybe it was a mess up at her shoot or a couple hate comments about her under an insta post and eren is just not having it. he’s gonna buy that girl enough roses to fill up the living room, probably make a couple secret fan accounts for her and spam her comments with some love and then fuck her nice and slow at the end of the day <333

godddddd I love this! tsym!!! Like when I tell you, y’all are gonna have to pry this pairing from my hands..😭

cw: !black fem reader, hate comments, hand holding, missionary, pussy eating, crying (not dacryphilia though), (heavy) praise kink, affirmation, tub/shower sex

there were so many things that came with being a public figure..having to maintain your image at all times, looking nothing less than extraordinary. Making sure to say the right things to avoid falling under public scrutiny and always presenting the best version of yourself. Even so, with all that criteria being met…sometimes it still wasn’t enough! (Y/N) (L/N) understood that shit all too well. As someone who made their living off of social media, it was all but inevitable to be immersed in the virtual world but some days, you just wanted to deactivate everyone of those accounts and disappear..today was one of those damn days!

Starting off like any other, you decided to take a quick scroll through your feed, queue a couple posts and check your mentions. It was then that you’d be bombarded by hate comments…nasty trolls calling you all types of hurtful names. Saying everything from your body being fake, to you being a slut because of your provocative pictures to even saying your husband should leave you. Which really set you over the edge. Normally, you’d be able to block that ignorance out, both literally and figuratively but they were laying it on thick and your patience wore thin in return. So much so, you had a very short temper today. It wasn’t intentional but you really didn’t want to deal with anyone today..including your loving husband, Eren. Who had merely asked what was wrong, even cracking a couple jokes before you inevitably snapped at him, which he knew was completely out of character. “I’m fine, Eren..please, just go away and let me sleep..” Anyone else would’ve been met with equal energy and an attitude but he had never seen you so down and depressed. Which he just couldn’t bare the sight of. Naturally, he wanted to know what or who rather had caused his baby to be upset but it wasn’t until he decided to log in to Instagram and as clear as day, there they were..the hateful things being said about his beloved wife. He wasn’t much for going back and forth on the internet because he wanted to beat the hell out of them but that wasn’t plausible so he’d go for the next best option….and that was spoiling you rotten!..

six hours later and the entire living room was filled from doorway to foyer in dozens of red roses. Petals scattered across the floor and a teal gift bag with ‘Tiffany and Co.’ inscribed on the front. The first thing to greet you once you came back home. While driving around in hopes to clear your head, your husband was hard at work..not in the studio but ensuring that even though you had a bad day, the night didn’t follow suit. Being met with a text that read simply: ‘meet me upstairs’..it was then that you found him in the granite garden tub, setting in the center of the spacious master bathroom. Bubbles surrounding his nude body and an opened bottle of aged Merlot sitting on the side of it with two glasses..you couldn’t help but to smile for the first time in twenty four hours. “You’re not gonna keep me waiting, are you?” that sweet charm turned on tenfold tonight. You couldn’t believe he had gone all out and done this for you! But not one expense was spared when it came to his princess..he’d pull out all the stops to see that pretty smile again. Stripping from your clothes, (y/n) eventually steeped into the foamy pile of bubbles and immediately falling into his grasp. “You did all this for me, baby?” to which he’d merely chuckle, knowing damn well he’d hand you the world on a platter it were possible. “You know I couldn’t stand to see my angel upset. I had to fix that real quick..” Arms flung around the back of his neck and your tongue slipping into his mouth shortly thereafter. The two of you engaging in a heated makeout session, becoming immersed in one another; saying to hell with the comments and anyone else who thought that you shouldn’t be together. You were the only woman he wanted..would ever need and he’d spend every waking second until the early morning proving it! Tomorrow morning, you’d probably wake up to a plethora of positive messages, doting on you via a couple burner accounts he had his assistant make, where they spammed you with heartfelt praise. But for now, he had a display of love that were only possible for him..

like when he brought you to the bedroom, lying you across the mattress as he marked your smooth mocha complexion up with sensual kisses..warm breath making contact with your cold, dampened skin. They were divine but you hadn’t felt anything yet!..it was only when those gentle pecks trailed south to your mound, that he’d peel your thighs apart and place his palms into the flesh to keep you still. The last thing he needed was you trying to run when he began slurping on that cute clit. The swollen pearl glaring back at him with a thin line of slick between your plump lips. Dragging the tip of his tongue through it just to watch you shudder..knowing that he would have your legs full on shaking in a minute. Doing as he done best and eating your pussy until you trembled underneath him; bringing that to fruition in less that ten minutes. Locking your fingers together so that you held hands whilst he licked all between those pretty thighs and slit. “You taste so good, baby…so sweet.” Devouring you in every essence of the word..spitting, lapping, sucking and flicking to make you come in his mouth. Even when you grabbed his head and pushed him away, there was no stopping. He wanted to melt that stress away..fuck you so good that your mind was completely void of any negativity or hate. Which is exactly what happened when he leaned up and proceeded to tap his tip against that sensitive sex.. “..stay just like that..I got you.” Reassuring with a smile on his face before swiping a thumb across yours. He’d keep that hand cupped around your cheek and your heads pressed close as he slid in..you were so tight; a sign of how tensed up you had been but he had all the time in the world. He’d go as slow and gentle as you needed him to. This was all about (y/n)..starting out with soft, fluid strokes.. “..you’re so beautiful, (y/n)..I love you so much.” “..doing so good, taking this dick for me. Does it feel good, baby?”

both statement and question making you unclench those tight bundle of nerves and open up for him. Shaking your head and crying in response..not because it was painful but because you realized how mean you had been to him this morning. Getting angry over people who didn’t matter but he understood and your feelings were valid. He loved you all the same and would never get mad. To take your pain away, not cause it was his only goal. Watching you sniffle with tears coming down your cheek; mixing with those sweet moans and apologies, Eren pulled you into a melting kiss, sloppy and slow just as you liked them. His chain and strands of hair dangling in your face as he burrowed over you body and whispered: “Shhh…it’s alright. It’s okay..you just let it all go.” instructing with his dick throbbing inside of you. Telling you how beautiful you looked with him inside of you..how pretty you were when you came and all the other sweet nothings you nerfed to hear. He wouldn’t stop until you climaxed as many times as you pleased; releasing all that stress and tension until you fell apart in his arms and each time, he’d always be there to catch you..

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shellbilee · 5 months

Text

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 2

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Glen

Glen walks out of the bathroom and makes his way over to the bar, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair and scanning the dancing crowd as he walks. It takes him all of thirty seconds to find her - the girl he realises he’s been unconsciously keeping tabs on all night, unable to help his smile as he watches her laugh and dance away to the music. She looks free and happy, and unbelievably sexy, and Glen almost groans as she tosses her hair and swings her hips.

God.

He’d spoken to her for a whole three minutes, he didn’t even know her name. And yet, he couldn’t seem to stop looking at her, thinking about her. Was he really this starved of female attention? It had been more than a year since he’d broken up with his long term girlfriend of three years and sure he’d had some flings since, but Glen knew deep down he was a relationship guy.

He’d always been a homebody, and he loved having someone at home at the end of the day, someone to wake up to in the morning. He loved spending time with his family in Austin, or just at home with his dog Brisket, and having someone to share that with was everything to him. All of that was virtually impossible to have all the time in his line of work though, but still it didn’t stop him from trying. For Glen it was one of the hardest things that unfortunately came hand in hand with his fame, especially as he was starting to take on new and bigger projects.

That, and the fact that finding someone that was otherwise immune to fame seemed to be a near impossible feat. The way he figured it, he had two options. Either find someone that was already in the spotlight - which made some things easier of course, but then the whole different schedules and never seeing each other thing was basically inevitable. Or, find someone who was not famous but still had their own life and routines and schedules, but was somehow indifferent to the fact that privacy would virtually be no longer. The longer he thought about it, the more he was convinced that option two didn’t actually exist.

He’s standing in the bar queue when he notices a petite girl in a fitted, mango coloured dress making a bee-line towards him, her long black hair falling like a dark curtain around her high cheek-boned face. He’s suddenly certain she’ll ask him for a selfie - he’s been stopped for a photo only twice tonight which was less than usual, though given the exclusivity of the event was what he expected, but after a moment he instead recognises her as one of the friends of the bar girl.

She pauses when she reaches him, flashing a confident smile before leaning into him to speak over the heavy bass of the music.

“Hello”

“Hey there” he replies back, immediately noting her proper British accent.

“My name’s Sloane. I believe you've met my friend Billie” she says, gesturing with her head back to the crowd behind them, pushing her black sunglasses up onto her head and revealing a pair of pale, ice blue eyes.

“Billie?” He says, his word more of a question than an answer, his eyebrows raised.

Sloane looks taken aback for a moment, shaking her head a second later.

“She didn't introduce herself? Oh Billie” she replies, clicking her tongue in disappointment, “I figured she'd have at least told you her name”.

Glen shakes his head no, watching as Slone glances over to the stage and rolls her eyes before turning back to him.

Glen smiles. Billie.

“Well, seeing as Billie clearly hasn’t, I'll do this for her” Sloane adds, offering him a charming smile, “My friend Billie, thinks you are very attractive”.

Glen chuckles, raising his eyebrows again, unable to help his smile. “That's funny, I think your friend Billie, is very attractive”.

Sloane laughs, a soft, musical laugh. “She's gorgeous actually. And, she's single”.

Glen tilts his head, regarding Sloane. “Does Billie know you're here talking to me?”.

Sloane grins. “No, and before you ask, yes, she is going to give me the third degree when I get back and tell her I just spoke to you about her”.

Glen laughs out loud this time, dropping his head back.

“So I don't know how people in positions such as yourself pass on details, but I figure you don't give out your number easily for obvious reasons” Sloane goes on in a very no-nonsense tone, Glen realising suddenly that she knows who he is.

He wonders idly if Billie knows who he is, looking over Sloane’s shoulder and spying her in the distance still dancing, seemingly oblivious that her friend is over at the bar talking to a complete stranger about her.

“So” Sloane says, pausing and getting her phone out of her bag, Glen watching as she briefly taps away at the screen before holding up her phone to face him, “This is Billie's Instagram”.

Glen is taken aback for a moment, undoubtedly very impressed by Sloane’s wing-woman efforts, looking back at her confident smile and wondering why on earth he’s hesitating when he’s been watching and thinking about Billie since the moment he met her in line.

He lets out a silent breath and pulls his phone from his pocket, opening the Instagram app and copying the words from Sloane’s screen onto his. He taps on the first name and is taken to her profile, immediately noting the picture of Billie’s smiling face next to a happily panting, golden retriever. He smiles when he sees that she already follows him, wetting his lips with his tongue as he taps on the blue follow button.

Glen puts his phone back in his pocket, unable to help his smile as he looks back at Sloane.

“You're one hell of a wingman Sloane”.

She grins then, tilting her head and shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. “That I am”.

Glen is pleasantly surprised. This is a first for him. He hasn’t had a girl try and chat him up for a friend before, though he can’t say he’s met many girls that are as straight-forward as Sloane.

The bar line suddenly moves forward and it’s his turn to order, Glen turning to Sloane.

“Are you getting another drink?”.

Sloane nods, “Another round of mojitos”.

Glen steps forward and orders his round and the three cocktails for her, Sloane saying her thanks as she leans on the bar beside him. He feels himself sway slightly, trying to do mental maths of how many drinks he’s had today, though gives up seconds later when it becomes all too difficult.

“So what brought you to this gig?” he asks as they wait for their drinks, shifting slightly so he’s out of the direct glare of the sun.

The sun is starting to set now, a deep, orange glow illuminating the rooftop in the way that only happens on those warm summer evenings, the gentle breeze in the air slightly cooler and finally offering relief from the earlier relentless LA heat.

Sloane shrugs, pulling her sunglasses back down onto her face.

“Honestly, Billie and Bec dragged me here. I don't mind Rufus, but really I was just happy for a night out with the girls. Those two are the real fans”.

“What about you, who are you here with?” she asks, reaching up to brush an errant hair from her cheek.

Glen explains that he’s here with a close friend from back home in Austin, and a couple of his actor friends.

“They invited me and then I invited Drew, and it just ended up being this big group of us” he says, turning back to the bar when the three mojitos are up and pushing them in front of Sloane, “I’m probably gonna pay for it tomorrow but I’ve gotta admit I’ve had a really good day”.

His own drinks are up moments later, Sloane picking up her three as he does the same, the two stepping away from the bar together.

“That’s tomorrow’s problem” Sloane says with a laugh, lifting the three drinks to her face and taking a drink from the closest one, “I mean, how often do you really just get to relax and have a good time with friends, especially out in public?”.

Glen only laughs, considering Sloane’s words. He can’t actually remember the last time he’d had a day like this, maybe a year or so ago when he was in Greece with his girlfriend and friends? Maybe last New Year's Eve with his family? Has it really been that long?

Sloane shakes her head. “If you have to think about it like that, it doesn’t happen enough”.

Glen just smiles. “You’re alright, Sloane”.

Sloane grins now, flashing her white teeth in a confident smile. “I’m better than alright actually”.

They both laugh and Sloane says goodbye, wiggling her eyebrows and telling him that she hopes she’ll see him around later, gesturing with her cup filled hands over to the dancefloor.

He only laughs, his alcohol tinged brain already having decided that there was no way tonight was ending without him speaking to Billie again, the thought of seeing her gorgeous smile making his breath catch in his throat.

He nods to Sloane and watches as she turns away to make her way to her friends on the dance floor, Glen balancing his own drinks and walking back to his friends across the way.

---

Billie

“Thank God for that breeze” Billie says to seemingly no one, flustered and breathy from dancing in the busy crowd.

She takes off her hat and leans her forearms on the bar table, closing her eyes for a moment and taking a second to breathe in the open space. She’s a little tipsy, perhaps one mojito too many, and hot and slightly sweaty from dancing among the sea of bodies near the stage.

The sunset had brought with it a soft breeze, the gentlest whisper of a cooler air. It's a welcome reprieve to her heated skin, Billie letting out a breath as she pushes her sunglasses onto her head.

She looks over at the crowd - the warm orange glow of the setting sun casting long shadows over everyone, to find Bec still dancing away, lost in her own little world among the deep bass and dancing guests. Sloane had retreated to the bathroom as Billie had announced she needed a minute out of the crowd, leaving Bec dancing on her own - not that she apparently cared or noticed.

She looks over her shoulder to where the guy - Glen, had been earlier with his friends. She does a quick scan, unable to find him in the crowd, still not quite believing that the guy she’d been flirting with in the bar queue was the Glen Powell. She wonders why she hadn’t been able to tell at the time - sure he’d been wearing sunglasses, but sunglasses were hardly a disguise, reasoning that she’d been too caught up in his charming smile and golden skin to properly put it together.

Still, Glen Powell. Of all people. Handsome was not nearly enough of an adjective to properly describe him. He was gorgeous, in that Texan, all-American, almost bad-boy kind of way, Billie again thinking back to the time she’d seen the new Top Gun movie with the girls but this time thinking about a different leading man other than Miles Teller.

God.

She lets out another deep breath, idly wondering if she would see him again tonight, pulling out her phone to check her reflection in the screen and looking up when Sloane suddenly appears beside her.

“Have you checked your phone?”.

Billie smooths down some flyaway hairs from her face before looking back at her friend in question.

“Hmm?”

Sloane shakes her head. “Your phone, have you checked it?”.

“What are you talking about?” Billie asks, looking back at her phone and double tapping on the screen so that it lights up in her hand.

There’s a text from Lisa - one of her work colleagues, asking how Rufus was, and a number of instagram notifications that appeared to be reactions to her story uploads of her and the girls.

“What am I looking for?” Billie asks, still confused, looking up at Sloane briefly as she taps on the text message and replies to Lisa telling her that it’s been incredible.

“Open your instagram”.

Billie obliges, still wondering what on earth Sloane is going on about, opening the instagram app and tapping the little heart icon to bring up her notifications. She frowns as she scrolls, all of a sudden letting out an involuntary gasp and feeling her breath catch when she realises what Sloane is talking about.

@glenpowell has started following you

“You did not” Billie nearly stammers, looking back up at her friend with wide eyes.

Sloane only smiles, shrugging her shoulders innocently.

“I did”

“Sloane!”

“What?” she asks, her tone almost one of offence, “It was the least I could do. I can’t believe you didn’t even tell him your name!”.

Billie shakes her head in exasperation, a myriad of emotions suddenly running through her head.

Morbid embarrassment? She could easily imagine Sloane finding him and confidently explaining that her friend Billie was single and found him attractive. It was such a Sloane thing to do - the woman was the most poised, self assured person Billie knew. Nothing ever phased her, it was the reason she was such a good paramedic. It certainly wasn’t the first time Sloane had done this either - there’d been multiple occasions where she’d flexed her wing woman responsibilities and tried to set Billie up with gorgeous strangers.

For a moment Billie doesn’t know how to feel. It’s shock and excitement and nerves all tangled into one. Glen fucking Powell was following her on Instagram! But what did that mean? He was attracted to her, just like she was to him? Their flirty interactions had certainly been real, Billie unable to deny that a part of her has been thinking about him and his damn gorgeous smile since she’d left him at the bar earlier. Did this mean that he’d been thinking about her the same?

“Billie, you’re a fucking babe. Own it” Sloane says, the straw she’s drinking from making a slurping sound when she reaches the bottom of her drink, “You should have seen the way he smiled when I told him you’re single. He’s into you”.

“I can’t believe you just went up to a celebrity, and told him to follow your friend on Instagram”.

Sloane shrugs, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “He did it without hesitation too. So what does that tell you?”.

Billie lets out a heavy breath through her nose, shaking her head at Sloane in disbelief. “You could have given me a heads up that you were going to do that”.

Sloane snorts. “And you’d have said nothing if I did tell you first?”.

Billie shoots a deadpan look at her friend. “You’d have just done it anyway, regardless of what I would have said”.

Sloane shrugs, lips parting in a smile. “Yeah. Probably”.

Billie rolls her eyes and laughs.

“So what now?” Billie asks, deciding she needs to tell Bec what’s happened as she looks over at the crowd, before looking back at Sloane across from her.

She frowns when she sees Sloane’s smile has widened into a grin, her head tilted as she looks at something over Billie’s shoulder.

“I think you’re about to find out”.

---

Glen

Glen can’t help the way his eyes travel up Billie’s legs as he walks towards her, balancing four full plastic cups in his hands. She’s tanned and toned, serious muscles telling him that she must go to the gym or at least run regularly, her ass round and perky underneath her white shorts. Suddenly, his alcohol-soaked mind can’t help but think about what she’d look like naked.

Fuck.

Sloane catches his eye over Billie’s shoulder, her smile telling him she’d seen him looking at Billie, and suddenly he can’t control the goofy, drunken smile that spreads across his lips.

“I figured you ladies could use a refill” he announces as he reaches the table, Sloane grinning at him and Billie visibly startling when he appears beside her.

“Well aren’t you just the gentleman” Sloane remarks, tilting her head and flashing a charming smile as he puts the drinks down on the bar table and slides one over towards her.

Glen only grins, nodding at Sloane, before turning to look at Billie beside him.

Just for a second, he swears he forgets his own name.

It’s golden hour in the evening - that late, final time of the sunset when the sun is just about to disappear and everything is bathed in that brilliant, vivid warmth, making everything the light touches infinitely more beautiful.

Billie, is no exception to that.

Glen is instantly enamoured, completely, utterly mesmerised. It’s the first time he’s looked at Billie properly, this time without her sunglasses. For the first time ever, he understands what it means when people write about getting lost in someone’s eyes.

They’re big and beautiful - the colour unlike anything he’s ever seen, a mix of deep, sage green and warm, honey brown swirled together like ripples in a lake. She’s got long, dark, feathery lashes that he reasons have to be fake, making her eyes look even bigger as she blinks and looks back at him incredulously. The orange bathe of the setting sun makes them almost glow, her cheeks golden and smooth, her lips full and soft.

Suddenly, Glen isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s making him feel warm or if it’s from looking at Billie.

“Glen” he says, extending his hand towards Billie, his throat feeling thick when she offers a gorgeous smile and takes his hand in a gentle shake, “I figured I should come over and introduce myself”.

Billie laughs softly. “Even though Sloane here has already apparently introduced me?”

Sloane lets out a laugh, lifting her hands in an innocent gesture when Billie shoots her a look.

“Billie” she replies before letting go of his hand.

“I’m just going to give this to Bec” Sloane says suddenly, Billie and Glen both turning to look at her, “Thanks for the drinks Glen”.

Sloane grins as she grabs two cups, giving Billie a very obvious wink which makes Glen chuckle, both of them watching as she makes her way off into the still dancing crowd.

Glen turns back to Billie, once again momentarily taken aback by her smile, leaning his elbow on the table.

“So” he says, chewing once again on a toothpick as he looks back at the gorgeous girl in front of him.

Billie turns to face him, mirroring his position as she too leans on the table, tilting her head as she looks back at Glen.

She grins. “So”.

---

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

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#glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell fic #glen powell series #glen powell smut #glen powell x ofc #glen powell fluff

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