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puckinghischier · 5 months ago

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Fakers

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader needs jack to be her fake boyfriend, and it leads to something very not fake

notes: hello!! it’s literally 2am and i just finished this, so needless to say it’s unedited, but i love this fic so much. i combined two different requests for it and i had so much fun with it. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

also i’m starting a tag list in the comments, so let me know if you’d like to be added!! 🫡

request: from my 400 follower celly - You owe me.” “I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to be your partner to get your parents off your back” & “A realizing that they have feelings for B when they see them with someone else”

[5.4k]

“Jack! Please tell me you’re home. It’s an emergency!” you frantically slam his apartment door shut.

Searching the large space for any signs of life, you beg for him to be home.

“Jack! C’mon! It’s urgent!” you yell out, walking down the hallway towards his bedroom.

You twist the knob of the closed door, finding it locked. Huffing, you start beating your fist against the wood.

“Open up! I know you’re in there!”

You continue your assault on the door, stopping only when the door opens and your fist meets air. You step back in surprise, nearly hitting Jack square in his bare chest.

A soaking wet, shirtless Jack stands in front of you with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“God, what took you so long? I texted you SOS on my way over here,” you barreled past him, walking into his bedroom.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not like I just had a grueling three-hour practice or anything. God forbid I take a hot shower afterwards,” Jack throws his hands up in the air, watching you walk straight for his closet.

You and jack had been friends since the second you moved to Jersey, the sassy brunette being just what you needed to make you feel at home in the unfamiliar state.

As you were moving in down the hall, Jack had half of the team over at his apartment watching game film in preparation for a week of road games.

Him and few teammates walked out into the hallway to investigate the loud bangs they kept hearing, watching you try to squeeze a bookshelf into your apartment that was three times the size of the doorway.

An hour later you had a disassembled bookshelf and four very attractive men in your living room.

Jack had recruited some of his teammates, as you later learned, to help you put the bookshelf back together.

You apologized for interrupting their plans, the rest of Jack’s teammates still in his apartment, and insisted they go back to their friends. You told them you could handle putting back together a bookshelf, even though you had absolutely no idea what you were doing.

They waved off your concerns, telling you they needed to help you finish what they started.

After the bookshelf was put together and in place, Jack invited you over to his apartment, deciding they had watched enough film for that night, using the incentive of pizza to lure you. You would’ve objected, seeing as he invited you into an apartment full of strange men, but the pang of hunger in your stomach threw all caution to the wind, leading your feet three doors down and into the strange apartment.

You gained a whole group of friends that night, not knowing until a week later your new friends were Jersey’s own professional hockey team.

Jack and Luke helped you finish the rest of your move in, spending more and more time with your new neighbors as the days went on. You added weekly take out dinners into your schedules and alternating hockey watch parties in each other’s apartments, the brothers insisting you need to learn to love the game.

You can’t deny the fact that you started developing feelings for the middle Hughes pretty quickly, his fun energy and magnetic personality roping you in. The nature of your friendship was extremely laid back, the two of you bickering nearly as much as you made the other laugh. Luke often said the two of you either act like an old married couple or newlyweds that already resent each other.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out, however, that Jack was too focused on living the hockey lifestyle to settle down anytime soon. You noticed the flow of girls in and out of his apartment, having met a few on their way out in the mornings on your way to work.

Attempting to push your feelings to the back of your mind, you continued spending time with the rowdy athletes. A small part of you still held out hope, especially after Jack gave you a key to their apartment, telling you he was tired of having to get the door every time you decided you wanted to come over.

Which is exactly how you were able to enter his apartment now, in your desperate time of need.

You knew your parents were going to visit you once you had settled in. The piece of information they left out, though, was that they scheduled a dinner with the lawyer son of one of your dad’s coworkers that also happens to live in the city.

Now, sifting through his closet in search of an outfit appropriate for the high-end restaurant your parents reserved for tonight, you worry about Jack’s reaction to your – and now his – predicament.

“Jack, don’t you own anything that isn’t designer? I don’t want my parents to think you’re a douche throwing his money in everyone’s face,” you slide each Tom Ford, Armani, and his one Gucci suit to the side.

Jack, still standing with his hand on his open door, starts walking over to you, crossing his arms.

“So, you not only barge into my apartment unexpectedly and interrupt my shower, but you’re now criticizing my formal wear?” he asks before realization shows on his face. “Wait, what do you mean your parents? And why are you so dressed up?” he suddenly notices your floor-length, black formal dress and full face of make-up.

You turn to face him slowly, an overexaggerated, nervous smile on your face.

“Well…you’re…meetingmyparentstonight,” you mumble out, running your words together.

“Run that back one more time?” Jack asks you, eyes widening.

“You’re meeting my parents tonight,” you say at a normal pace this time, doing small jazz hands.

Groaning, Jack turns away from you, placing his hands on the top of his head as he paces.

“What did you do?” he asks, still pacing, knowing how you are and that you’re only ever this anxious about stuff when there’s a reason.

“Okay, so don’t get mad,” you start, placing your hands out in front of you as if you’re calming down a wild animal.

“Oh, great, that’s always followed by good news,” Jack rolls his eyes, stopping to stand in front of you.

“I might have, maybe, just a little bit…told my parents that you were my boyfriend,” you rush out again, closing your eyes and wincing.

Jack doesn’t respond, not making a single sound. You slowly open one eye, waiting for him to start scolding you. You see him standing there, wide eyes and frozen.

“You told…parents…your boyfriend?” his broken sentence amuses you, but you have to hold in the laugh, figuring laughing at him wouldn’t do you any favors right now.

“Yes,” you confirm, causing Jack to close his eyes and inhale, his hand flying up to press against his forehead. “But! They’re trying to set me up on a blind date with one of my dad’s stuck-up coworker’s sons. You know I told them I’d never date a lawyer,” you explain, stepping closer to Jack, testing the waters. “Plus, I hate being set up, Jack. One of my dating requirements is friends first, date later.”

“Why?” Jack now pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why in the hell would you tell your parents I’m your boyfriend? I haven’t dated in someone in…I don’t know, three years? This should’ve been a Luke job.”

“Because you’re my best friend. It wouldn’t have been believable with Luke because I don’t know him as well as I know you,” you tell him, watching him open his mouth to argue. “Plus, you owe me.”

Jack scoffs. “Oh, I owe you, huh? Do tell, what for?”

“When I bought your sushi last week because you forgot your wallet at the rink when I met you out for lunch.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Are you serious? I owe you $20, not a day of pretending to be your boyfriend to get your parents off your back!”

“But…a day of pretending to be my boyfriend can pay your $20 debt,” you smile and tilt your head, batting your eyelashes.

Jack mulls the idea over in his head for a few moments, deciding on if he’s going to help you or not. You continue batting your eyelashes and giving Jack your trademark puppy dog eyes.

“Fine…give me twenty minutes and I’ll be ready,” he grumbles, shoulders deflating a little.

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you squeal, doing a happy jump and running over to hug him.

You realize a second too late he’s still damp and very naked, jumping back and apologizing mere seconds after you made contact with his bare skin.

“I’ll go wait in your living room,” you say, turning and heading towards his door.

“I’m wearing the Gucci, by the way,” he calls out as you reach the doorway.

“Please, at least wear the Armani so they think you’re poor rich, not rich rich,” you hear him laugh as you shut his door.

Just as Jack told you, twenty minutes later you’re in his car on the way to some rooftop restaurant your parents reserved for your ‘family’ dinner.

“So, what’s our story?” Jack asks, breaking the silence.

“Our story?” you repeat, confused.

“Yeah, our story. Like, what was the magical moment we realized we were actually more than friends and were head over heels with one another?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You look over at him, a small smirk on his lips.

“Do you seriously think I went into that much detail when I stuttered out ‘oh…I uhh…forgot to tell you, Jack and I are dating now!’ when my mother mentioned Ben was joining us for dinner?”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

You scoff at him, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms.

“We don’t have a story. Mom didn’t ask questions so I didn’t offer any,” you respond, looking over at him.

“Wait, she didn’t ask any questions? What was her response?” he asked you, glancing over at you every few seconds.

“No? She just said it was great and to invite you to dinner too, maybe you and Ben would get along,” Jack’s furrowed brow confusing you.

“Shit, Y/N, she doesn’t believe you,” he sits up straight.

“She doesn’t?”

“No, she doesn’t. If she believed you then she would have told Ben not to come. If she believed you, she would have grilled you with questions and squealed with excitement. She wouldn’t have just accepted the answer and told you to bring me along like some pet,” you note the worry in his tone.

Thinking about your mother’s reaction, you remember the uninterested tone she used when telling you how great it was you were with Jack. The lack of enthusiasm definitely uncharacteristic from your mom. You had just assumed she was shocked, not that she didn’t believe you.

“Holy shit you’re right! She didn’t believe me. What are we gonna do?” you reach down the hand resting in your lap and start picking your thumb nail on again, extremely worried they’ll see through your bullshit the second you sit down at the table.

Jack notices the anxious habit of yours, reaching over and placing his hand over your own, effectively stopping your movements.

“We give them the best damn performance of our lives.”

———————————————————————————

As soon as you walk onto the open rooftop, you think you should’ve let Jack wear his Gucci suit.

The dimly lit space is full of people in expensive looking dresses and crisp, clean suits.

You suddenly feel very underdressed.

The hostess leads you over to a table in the corner, you and Jack being the last to arrive.

Jack’s hand is held tightly in yours, the small pep talk he gave you in the elevator already forgotten.

“Oh, Y/N! You’re here!” you hear your mother’s voice as you approach the table, breaking you out of your wardrobe anxieties.

You give a tight-lipped smile, keeping yourself pressed against Jack’s side.

“Well, don’t just stand there, give me a hug!” she exclaims, standing from her seat, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

You reciprocate her actions, placing your hands on her back.

“Honey, you look so good. I hope this place has been kind to you,” she places her hands on your face, a smile beaming back at you.

You nod at her. “Yeah, I love it here so far.”

She lets you go, her smile never fading.

“Alright, where’s the hug for your old man?” you hear your dad speak from somewhere behind you, turning to see him walking towards you with open arms.

Sinking into his hug, you let yourself enjoy the feeling. Getting to spend time with your dad is a rarity, considering he’s part of a big law-firm back home. He was always working late and missing holidays when you were a kid, your experience with him why you always swore you’d never marry a lawyer like your mother did.

“I missed you, Dad,” you tell him honestly, pulling back from his embrace.

“I missed you more, kiddo,” he pats your cheek, stepping away to take his seat at the table once again.

You hear Jack clear his throat behind you, reminding him that you need to introduce him.

“Oh! Mom, Dad,” you turn back and reach your hand out towards Jack, “this is Jack, the neighbor I’ve been telling you about.” Jack squeezes you hand, reminding you he’s your boyfriend tonight, not your neighbor. “Well…I guess I need to introduce him as my boyfriend now, cause we’re dating!” you say a little too enthusiastically, lifting your intertwined hands for everyone to see.

Jack chuckles, bringing his free hand over to push your joined hands down.

“Hi, I’m Jack, Y/N’s neighbor boyfriend,” he reaches over to shake your dad’s hand.

You notice your mom’s skeptical smile, standing to give Jack a short, half hug.

As you scan the area, trying to find anything else to focus on other than your lack of being able to play it cool, you notice the third body at the table.

You look at the man, his jet black, scruffy hair not at all what you were expecting. He was extremely handsome, you had to give him that. His blue eyes stood out against the dark setting, his black dress shirt under his black suit jacket causing them to stand out even more.

“Well, since introductions are being made, this is Ben, Jim’s boy. He works at a firm just a few miles away, actually,” your dad beams as Ben stands, walking around the table to give Jack’s hand a firm shake.

They exchange a short greeting before Ben makes his way over to you, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles, taking you by surprise.

“Pleasure to meet you…” he trails off, keeping eye contact as he raises back up into a standing position. “Both of you,” he adds as an afterthought, letting go of your hand and glancing at Jack.

“Yeah…you too,” Jack’s tone is laced with an emotion you can’t quite pick up on, but the glare he’s sending Ben is extremely noticeable.

As everyone takes their seats again, Jack scoots your chair out for you before sitting in the chair beside of you, taking your hand in his and resting them on the table.

Small talk is exchanged about Jack’s job, a disapproving nod from your father, your mother asking questions about what he plans to do after his career is over, making sure to throw in digs about how young hockey players are required to retire and the fact that contract money runs out fast with the lifestyle athletes live.

Jack handles them in stride, talking about how he wants to get into coaching once his career comes to an end, but he wants to play hockey for as long as he’s physically able. He also informed your parents that his mother instilled in him how to budget, making sure his necessities are always paid before anything else gets purchased, including a retirement fund.

The conversation then shifts to you and your new job, your mother filling Ben in with side comments the whole time about how you graduated with honors and was offered a big city job right out of college. Ben looked at you the entire time you were talking, seeming genuinely interested in what you were sharing.

Once the conversation shifts to Ben, that’s when the dinner starts going south.

“Ben is in line to become a partner at his firm very soon. It’s all his father talks about at work anymore,” your dad informs the table, laughing and slapping a hand to Ben’s shoulder.

“Well, there’s a few other guys in the running, I’m not a shoo-in yet,” Ben responds, trying to knock down his praise a bit.

“Oh, don’t be so modest, Ben, our Y/N here loves an overachiever, isn’t that right, darling?” your mom looks over to you.

You don’t know what to say to her, stunned that she would be so blatantly obvious about her intentions in front of Ben like this.

“I…well…Yeah, I guess,” you stutter out, not sure how to respond to your mother’s words.

“Do you excel in your field, Jack?” your mom questions your fake boyfriend of the night.

He looks up from his food, not entirely sure how to handle the question. Does he tell them the truth and risk sounding like a gloating asshole, or does he play the modest card and confirm your parent’s suspicions that he’s less than?

“Jack was team captain of team USA! And he’s an alternate captain for the Devils now! He’s also one of the team’s top point scorers,” you ramble out facts about Jack’s hockey career, sensing his hesitation.

Your father’s brows shoot up in surprise.

“Way to go man, sounds awesome,” Ben sounds genuinely impressed.

“That’s something to be proud of,” is all your mother responds.

You look over at Jack in apology, the flush of his cheeks hidden by the dark surroundings.

“Jack was also drafted number one overall in the NHL draft when he was only eighteen. Isn’t that crazy?” you continue, not knowing how to stop the information rolling from your mouth.

“Good for you, son,” your dad says through chewing his food, earning a glare from your mother.

Jack chuckles out a thanks, kicking your foot under the table.

“Always my biggest fan, huh babe?” Jack looks over at you, the look in his eyes telling you to stop, you’re being obvious again.

“Well…it’s not just your good looks that won me over,” you attempt a joke, but it didn’t land very well.

Jack winces at how that sounded.

Realizing what you just said, with the current scrutiny surrounding Jack’s choice of career, you mentally palm your forehead.

“I need to use the restroom, excuse me,” you all but run away from the table.

You make your way to the small bathroom, collecting yourself and telling yourself you don’t have that long left of this torturous dinner.

When you exit the bathroom, you see Ben standing there, waiting for you to come out.

“So…is now a good time to tell you that I know you and Jack aren’t dating?” he asks you, an amused smile on his face.

Your body turns cold, every muscle frozen in place. How does he know? Has your act really been that bad?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him, laughing nervously.

“Listen, you don’t have to hide it from me. I’m not here because I want to be set up with you. I’m here because I need my dad to still think I’m single,” he surprises you.

“Wait, you have a girlfriend?” you ask him, shock evident in your voice.

“Boyfriend, actually. But haven’t really broke that part to my parents yet.”

Your jaw drops, not believing that your parents are unknowingly trying to set you up with a gay man.

“Holy shit,” you start laughing, unable to hide stop your hand from shooting out to grip Ben’s arm. “I promise I’m not laughing because you’re gay. I’m laughing because my parents would die if they figured out the man they’re trying to set me up doesn’t even like girls.” You want to go over there and scream this piece of information into their faces, but know it’s not your place to out Ben.

“I hate when they try to set me up with people, and I thought it would stop since I moved away, but when they told me you were coming to dinner tonight I panicked and told them I was dating Jack because I didn’t want to have to dodge phone calls and ignore texts, again,” you bring your hand up to wipe the tears out of your eyes. “Who would’ve thought I didn’t even have to worry about it because there’s more of a chance you’d be attracted to my fake boyfriend than me.”

Ben laughs with you, allowing you to lean against him.

From the dinner table, Jack can hear your laughter, turning his head to see you leaning on Ben, the two of you being entirely too close for his liking.

“Well, looks like they’re getting along,” your mother tells your father, nodding her head in the direction of you and Ben.

Jack fully turns in his seat, watching how you talk animatedly with Ben, a large grin on your face as he returns it, looking down at you.

Something wicked swirls in Jack’s stomach, not enjoying watching you laugh with someone like you laugh with him.

He thinks back to all the times you’ve been around his apartment, complaining about the latest guy you were trying to meet up with canceling on you and how angry it makes him to see you upset. He thinks about how you always complain to him about dating apps, wishing you could just meet someone naturally, going on and on about having a ‘meet cute’ like your favorite rom coms and wondering why it always makes him think about how cute you looked trying to shove that big ass bookshelf into your apartment. He thinks about the time you brought a date to one of his games, the satisfaction of seeing you in his jersey almost enough to outweigh the sudden burst of anger he felt in the middle of the game, looking up to see his arm around your shoulders, hand resting a little too close to your chest for his comfort.

He thinks about how he’s always fending off his teammates and random men at bars, not trusting their intentions with you. And the looks that he catches Luke giving the two of you when you’re arguing, his favorite activity being getting you worked up, loving how red your ears get when he keeps firing sarcasm back at your anger.

He always assumed these feelings were a general protectiveness of you and enjoyment of being around you, almost like you were his sister, never once entertaining the idea that they could be more than that.

Until now, that is. Until you’re standing there in that dress, possibly the most beautiful he’s ever seen you, leaning all over another man when you asked him to come here with you. You asked him to be your fake boyfriend, not Mr. Big Time Lawyer.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go make sure my girlfriend is okay,” he tells your parents, dropping his cloth napkin on the table and scooting his chair back.

You’re still laughing with Ben, exchanging stories about the different set-ups your parents have tried on the two of you.

“You know, even though it’s very obvious you’re not dating, I do have to admit, I can see the feelings you two have for each other,” Ben tells you, changing the subject.

“Oh, no, we’re just friends,” you tell him, your cheeks flushing a bit.

Ben gives you a look, rolling his eyes. “Honey, anyone within a three-mile radius can see that that boy is smitten with you, even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

You look over at Jack who’s looking over at you and Ben.

“I don’t think so,” you shake your head, deciding you can trust Ben. “I mean, I definitely have feelings for him, have for a while, but he’s not the dating type,” you laugh. “Hell, he was worried about having to be my fake boyfriend, considering he hasn’t dated anyone in years. Anyways, the girls I see leaving his apartment most mornings says otherwise.”

“Haven’t you learned men are stupid? Someone usually has to tell them what they’re feeling. Show them what they’re missing out on,” he steps closer to you, the two of you only inches apart now. “Just like right now.”

You cock your head, confused at Ben’s words until you hear footsteps stomping towards you.

“Y/N, babe,” Jack spits out, anger radiating off of him, “can we go somewhere…private to talk?” he puts on a tight smile, watching Ben step back away from you.

“Uh, sure,” you tell him as he grabs your arm, gently leading you over to a secluded corner of the rooftop.

He stands in front of you, running his hands up his face before sweeping them through his hair.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks, jutting his hand out in the direction you just came from.

“We were just-“

“You were ‘just’ flirting with the man your parents are trying to set you up with in front of their eyes when you brought me here to show them you’re not interested,” he interrupts you, frustration clear in his tone.

“Jack, you don’t understand, Ben is-“

“Perfect for you? Handsome? Your parent’s dream man for you? Better than me?” he cuts you off, his last statement taking you by surprise.

“Jack, where’s this coming from? Ben’s not better than you? What would ever make you think that?” your confusion turns to concern.

“Oh, don’t act all sad and worried now. Not when you were over here getting all close to Ben,” he waves his hands around, disgust lacing his voice as he said Ben’s name, “just mere seconds ago while I was sitting at the table with your parents, watching the whole thing and thinking about how much I love you!” he raises his voice, but not loud enough to disturb the people dining around you.

You’re so shocked at Jack’s words that you step back from him, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Jack, I-“ you start once more, but Jack’s voice cuts you off.

“I know I’m realizing this way too late, but dammit, Y/N, that man,” he points over to Ben, “is not the guy for you. I know I’ve just stood by and watched you try to go on date after date after date with men who weren’t right for you, but I think I was too scared to think about what my feelings meant. I’ve ran off so many men at bars its not even funny. Hell, I’ve told my own teammates you’re off limits, thinking I was just protecting you from getting hurt. But really, all I was doing was being selfish. I was keeping you all to myself while bringing random girls home every couple of nights after having drinks, only to kick them out first thing in the morning when I woke up and had a nasty feeling in my chest,” he pauses, his tone turning from stern to soft as he takes a step towards you.

“I’m realizing that feeling was disgust. Disgust at myself for filling my time with girls that don’t matter, girls that I would never be satisfied with because they weren’t you. I think part of me knew from the second I saw this crazy woman at the end of the hall, trying to push a bookshelf that had to outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds, through the tiny ass door of her apartment. It was confirmed when you agreed to come to my apartment and ate pizza while goofing off with my teammates, instantly clicking with every single one of them. It settled a little deeper when you showed up at my door after I had gotten home from being on the road, demanding we watch Quinn’s hockey game because it was time for you to study hockey. It was made permanent when you showed up to your first Devils game, my name and number on your back, eyes lit up in awe like it was Christmas morning,” he continues, causing tears to sting your eyes as he reaches over to cup your face in his hands.

“I ignored it for all of this time, because I think, deep down, I was scared of losing you. I was scared that you were going to see me as this dumb, jock hockey player that lived down the hall from you and let me down easy. I was scared you’d see how absolutely out of my league you are. I was scared to be vulnerable and admit that I was in love with you, because I couldn’t bear to think that you didn’t love me back,” his face is mere inches from yours. “But I’m tired of ignoring it. Seeing you, laughing with Ben, all pressed up against him like that, thinking that I might have already lost you before I even had the chance to have you, made me realize that I had to try. I had to at least…try,” he finishes, resting his forehead against yours.

The tears are fully streaming down your face at this point, not caring that you’re likely ruining the mascara you spent over fifteen minutes perfecting earlier.

“Jack, you stupid man, just kiss me already,” you whisper out, your breath fanning across his lips.

He smiles, lifting your chin up to press your lips together, sighing happily into the kiss.

You match his smile, making the kiss silly and sloppy, but you don’t care. His lips feel like they were made to fit in-between yours, the softness of them far better than you had imagined.

Pulling back from the kiss, you bring your hands up to rest on his wrists, his hands still holding your face.

“You know, if you had let me speak, I would have saved you the speech and informed you that Ben wasn’t trying to make a move on me, because Ben is gay and has a boyfriend,” Jack pulls back from you, allowing you to see the shocked expression on his face. “We were bonding over the amount of times our parents have tried to set us up with people just like this before, and then he was telling me how in love with each other we were. I was telling him how I definitely was in love with you, but I didn’t believe you were in love with me,” you laugh at Jack, the situation comical now.

“I- he’s gay?” is all Jack responds with.

You throw your head back, laughing at him. “That’s what you took away from what I just said?”

“Sorry, I just, wasn’t expecting it, is all,” he says, moving his hands to your neck, pushing your head back up to look at him.

“Oh, so you were expecting my love confession, then?” you tease him.

“Well, duh, you did ask me to be your fake boyfriend tonight,” Jack moves his hand to pinch your cheek.

“So…are you still? Fake, that is?” you ask him, placing your arms on his shoulders, clasping your hands around the back of his neck.

Jack looks down at you, the expression on his face something entirely new to you, but it’s one you can surely get used to.

“Ehh, I don’t know…ask me again the next time you need a buffer,” he shrugs, smirking at you.

You tug on a piece of his hair, causing him to hiss out.

“Geez, I’m kidding. Of course I’m your real boyfriend now. I gave you a monologue, we’re basically engaged at this point,” he jerks his head a bit, making your hands fall from his hair.

You know it’s a joke, but your cheeks heat at the implication anyways, Jack noticing your lack of response.

“Relax, I was just kidding. That’s at least three more surprise blind date dinners with your parents before we to that. I’ll even pull out a ‘fake’ ring and everything,” he winks, putting air quotes around the word fake.

As Jack enjoys the sound of your laugh, he steals a glance over at the table where your parents sit, surprised at the pleased look on your mom’s face and earning a slight nod from your dad.

He looks back down at you, face scrunched in laughter, thinking about how this night was worth way more than $20.

1K notes · View notes

landitolover · 1 year ago

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𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒎 in which pierre is dating everyone’s favorite singer! ౨ৎ pierre x female!singer!reader

Liked by ynswife, pierregasly, xoxoyn, and 43,789 others

ynupdates Y/n, her first night and her first time playing in paris!! She preformed amazing and gave us a sneak peak of her new song, “dance with me” 🥹 who could this song be about ? 🧐🧐

view all 678 comments..

user why did paris do to deserve this..😐😐 Like wdym they got a sneak peak of her new song????? 😭😭

→ user RIGHT like stop it oui oui bitches.

user she made dance with me for me wdym

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user what’s happening to me?? 🧍‍♀️-🧎‍♀️-🎸

user PARIS GO SUCK A DICK

user i lost a song i didnt even know i could Lose.

→ user LITERALLY.

user PIERRE SIR WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

user her outfit is so cute 😭❤️

→ user rightt, shes always eating

Liked by yourbestie, charles_leclerc, and 998,788 others

yourusername thank u france 🥖🥖🇫🇷🇫🇷 love u ❤️❤️🙈🙈

view all 3,479 comments..

yourbestie who is this french man mrs ……. ?!?!?!!!!

→ yourusername Idk i was just kissing a random baguette man i found on the street :///

→ yourbestie ur gonna get a disease from kissing a random french man………

→ yourusername ouch. -french man

user we lost her to a french man ☹️

→ yourusername dw he will never compete with u guys

user IS THIS THE MAN SHES WRITING A SONG FOR?????

→ yourusername thank u to my maaan 🫡

user i can tell pierres hair, and thats his hair in the 3rd pic.

→ user yeah cause that bitch is balding

→ user LMFAO THATS FOUL 😭😭

user the last picture is literally PIERRE.. ARE THEY TRYING TO BE OBVIOUS

→ user right they’re not even hiding it

Liked by yourbestie, yukitsunoda0511, and 345,971 others

pierregasly Over the break 💕

View all 484 comments

yukitsunoda0511 I really like your photographer 😂

→ pierregasly Thanks yuki, I love her too 😂

charles_leclerc Seems like you’ve been having some fun over the break 🫣

→ pierregasly 🤔🤔

user AAAHSOXOSAOS YN YN YN

→ user who is yn and why do people think she’s with pierre??

→ user she’s an artist! you should search her up/ listen to her!!

user pierres soft launch era!! get rid of it. I NEED TO KNOW WHO SHE IS

user i love how yuki is still in these photo dumps ❤️

Liked by pierregasly, yourbestie, and 134,889 others

yourusername hellloooo everybody!!!!!!!! new single out in a few days (yay) it’s called “dance with you” 💌

View all 589 comments

user WE’RE FINALLY GETTING FEED

user EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TO HER MAN, HE GAVE OUR GIRL INSPO

→ user thank you kind sir we don’t know of

→ user thank you for making our mother write love songs x

→ user THANK 😭 U 😭 YN’S 😭 MAN 😭😭😭😭😭😭

user my prayers have been answered 😭🙏🏼

user CANT WAIT OH MU GOD

user I’m so ready to stream this song everyday and cry.

→ yourusername don’t cry babes 😞❤️ ILY

user LETS GO LESTS GOO WE WON

user cancelling all my plans just in case she calls !!

→ yourusername BACK WHEN I WAS LIVIN FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

user GIRL I CANT WAIT U NEED TO RELEASE IT RIGHT THIS SECOND

user this is so AUAAGDUWOQDFC

pierregasly added to their story

seen by ynupdates charles_leclerc 252,676 others

YN 💕

PIERRE OH MY GOD

WHY WOULD U …

BAEB 🙊🤍

I MEANT TO PUT IT ON MY CLOSE FRIENDS I SWEAR

i mean ITS NOT LIKE PEOPLE DIDNT ALREADY KNOW..??

YN 💕

well YEAH.. but I wanted to tell my fans myself 😒

BAEB 🙊🤍

i’m sorry 😞

at least your single comes out in a few days .. ??

YN 💕

😒😒

ok wait

i forgive u 🤍🤍🥖🥖

BAEB 🙊🤍

❤️❤️❤️

Liked by yukitsunoda0511, pierregasly, and 88,992 others

yourusername a very wise man once told me it wouldn’t b a photo dump if yuki weren’t in it … so i kidnapped him so he could be in my photo dump, thanks yuki ❤️🙊🐈‍⬛🥖

tagged yukitsunoda0511 pierregasly

View all 989 comments

user YUKI WHAT ARE U DOIN HERE

→ user more like what is PIERRE doing here …

user i hope yk how to fight pierre fucking gasly

user plot twist what if shes dating yuki

→ user its time to take ur meds babe! all these soft launch pictures we’ve gotten have BROWN HAIR !! does yuki have brown hair ? no!!

→ user jesus girl i was joking .. maybe YOU should take ur meds, insane ass…

user the last photo 😭😭

→ user shes so real fo that though cause what is up with these sassy men

→ yourusername sassy men apocalypse 🧟

user this is by far my favorite post ever cause YUKI LOOKS SO ADORABLE 😞❤️

user i am so SICK. HUST POST YOU AND PIERRE KISSING OR SOMETHING 😭😭😭 PLEASE I CANNOT KEEP WAITING FOR YOU GUYS TO CONFIRM IT YOURSELF. PLEASE YOU GUYS ARE SO SICK AND FUCKIGN TWISTED 😭😭😭😭

→ user preach 🗣️🗣️🗣️💯💯💯

user poor yuki he had to third wheel

→ user wdym yn was third wheeling

yukitsunoda0511 I have a family please let me go

→ yourusername never 😹🙊

pierregasly my little photographer

→ yourusername i should start charging u..

→ pierregasly no … you can’t, I’m broke

→ yourusername you make more money than I do ????

Liked by pierregasly, yourbestie, and 99,192 others

yourusername heeyyoo! “dance with me” out noow…!!! and by the way, I DO really like you pierregasly 🤍🤍🥖🥖⭐️⭐️

View 1,230 comments

user SHUT UP OH MY GOD

user no…. NO….. I LOST MY WIFE……

user yn does this mean we’ll get more love songs 🎀

→ yourusername oui ☺️☺️🫰🏼🫰🏼⭐️⭐️

user i just fell to my knees in a walmart parking lot

user what if i just 🪦

user you’re so silly bae 😂😂 you and ur a.i boyfriend 😂😂

→ yourusername sorry x

→ user excuse me where can i get a french a.i boyfriend like u

→ yourusername uhm ask yukitsunoda0511 he got it for me!!!!

user DANCE WITH ME STAYS ON REPEAT

user im throwing up

charles_leclerc Does this mean I can’t take him on dates anymore ?

→ yourusername can i take your girlfriend out? cause then the answer is yes charlie 🦎🦎

→ charles_leclerc 🧐🧐 Maybe….

pierregasly dance with me is the best song in existence ❤️❤️

→ yourusername thank u babe 🤍🤍😊😊🫰🏼🫰🏼

pierregasly I’m glad that I can finally post you

→ yourusername I love you 🥹🤍🤍

user AUATAAHH FINALLY

→ user I WON I WON I WON

→ user MY PARENTS

→ user SCREAMING AND SOBBING SO HARD RIGHT NOW

user they’re so ☺️☺️

user I ALWAYS KNEW U WERE MEANT FOR THAT WAG LIFE QUEEN

→ user wait PLS tell me you’ll be at the races 😭🙏🏼

→ yourusername of course! definitely not all of them but i’ll try my hardest to come 💕😊

Liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511, and 87,778 others

pierregasly Je t'aime my red panda 🤍

tagged yourusername

View all 767 comments

user HE CAN’T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS 😭😭

user seeing this makes me feel . DISGUSTED

user if you look closely you can see me violently sobbing in the corner.

user you guys are so cute!!!!!!!!! 😂 (i literally just kms)

user always these damn white men

user my parents 4eva

user yourusername when does the love album for pierre come out babes x

→ yourusername feb 7th 🦎

user the 😭 caption 😭. my 😭 red 😭 panda 😭

user pierre how do u feel after pulling the baddest girl ever

pierregasly amazing cause i ❤️ my gf

user yn bae how long has this been going on !!

→ yourusername 50 years

landonorris LET ME GO TO YOUR CONCERTS YN

→ yourusername of course landobum x

charles_leclerc so cute (yuck)

yukitsnoda0511 you’re welcome for setting you up with her 🙄

→ yourusername THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR THE MOST WONDERFUL BF EVER YUKI ⭐️⭐️🫰🏼🫰🏼

→ pierregasly THANK YOU YUKI!! I’LL BUY YOU ALL THE FOOD YOU WANT🫡❤️

౨ৎ helloooo ! i hope u like this 😁😁 idk what to say tbh cause this is just a re upload …. I WILL TRY TO POST FOR DULCE HOTLINE SOON 🤓 i’ve been kinda busy tho, sorry ☹️😞

#𓇼 landitolover #꩜ my writings #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula one #f1 x reader #female reader #smau #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #alpine #beabadoobee #motorsports #f1 x female reader

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yinyangyandere · 5 months ago

Text

ll Yandere Anxiety HCs 🧡

[SPOILERS FOR INSIDE OUT 2]

Synopsis; A long list of headcanons on how I think Anxiety would be like as a yandere, as well as somewhat of a fanfic

ll Caution: General Yandere Mindset, Mental Manipulation, Betrayal, Obsessive/Possessive Behaviors, Bad Ending, Possible OOC Writing

A.N.; Not me literally writing a 9-page Google HC Doc yandere scenario for an emotion jfnjrndjnredj3j3er But seriously, I love Anxiety so much. I felt like she had a good deal of nuance to her character, in-between her wanting to help Riley for the future with good intentions in mind, but executing it poorly. Should go without saying she’s probably my fave in the franchise, and one of my fave Disney characters now.

At the same time, I noticed a lot of her behavior could potentially be ripe for a depiction where she wanted to protect Riley SO much that she’d do anything for her. Eventually, that led to me making this; it should be noted that you are not Riley in this though. It’s intended to be a what-if situation, if OG Anxiety displayed yandere-typical behavior and was inside your head instead. Hope that makes sense.

Anyways, make sure to acknowledge the warnings before reading further! If any of the above topics make you feel even a bit uncomfortable, don’t be afraid to look out for yourself and click off. Your mental health is important!

If anyone needs anything additional tagged, I’ll do so and edit the post with the added warning. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

----

First things first, I’m so sorry for you; imagine having a yandere that exists solely in your head, and no matter how hard you try to get rid of them, they’ll always be there. They exist as essentially a part of you, and removal of such things is far from easy. Especially so if that yandere in question is a personification of an emotion, which leads me to your lovesick “headmate” today: Anxiety.

🧡 ll Start:

She first showed up when you first began your puberty, similarly to Riley’s Anxiety from the movie. Like the others, she adores you and only wishes for the best when it comes to you. But all the while, the love Anxiety felt for you was growing more and more with each passing day, much more exponentially than what the other emotions in HQ felt.

Unconsciously, she slips her way into becoming the lead emotion, making you become an overall cautious individual as a whole. The others mostly disapproved of this, but they still went along with what Anxiety had in store for you since she could be pretty good at persuading everyone else into what she wanted.

Anxiety would, of course, step back so the rest can help you when needed, but as time went on, the other emotions needed to be more insistent on getting Anxiety to back down from the Control Panel. It had gotten to the point where Anxiety was basically piloting you for nearly the entire day without any of their input!

However, an awful pit in her stomach grew as well. Anxiety couldn’t help but squeeze her criss-crossed arms together as she observed your Joy manipulate the panel. ‘You were doing just fine with me in control!’ Anxiety couldn’t help but think to herself. ‘There’s no reason why I needed to step down!’

This feeling, this thought, persisted through multiple days and weeks. All the while, scenarios of you having a bad future because one of them made a mistake replayed on loop inside the girl’s head. She could’ve stepped in and stopped them, making sure you were safe, but she didn’t! She wouldn’t ever be able to forgive herself if she couldn’t protect you!

Anxiety, while she disliked these feelings, grew into someone who didn’t talk much to the others. She became antisocial, only focusing on tending to you and ensuring both your safety and happiness.

Sleepless nights and jealousy-filled days passed, and her obsession towards you never waned in the slightest. It grew, larger and more present, until it encompassed her entire life in her eyes. Anxiety lay awake one night, eyes wide open and staring up at the ceiling. Her mind just wouldn’t stop racing, thinking of you and how she could help you so much more if she was more in-control of things around here.

…Wait. Maybe…if she was more in-control…the sole emotion to take care of the Control Panel…

That idea persisted inside her head for days on end. She didn’t talk to the others during this time, refusing to answer their questions on why she was acting so weird and off recently. They wouldn’t understand. They’re your emotions, yeah, but Anxiety was your main one! She was the one who made sure you’d be protected in any situation!

Finally, it all came to a head when your Joy pointed out how obsessive Anxiety has been over you. The others agreed with Joy, and seeing everyone else loom over her with those questioning looks of theirs made Anxiety feel trapped. In an uncharacteristic act of rage from her, Anxiety shouted back at them, yelling that they would never be able to understand how she’d feel and that she was the only person there who truly cares for you. She stormed off before anyone else could retort back.

When she came back, in the middle of the night, she wasn’t alone. Alongside her was the Mind Police; she was able to convince them that the emotions there were actually rogue secrets and that the real ones are missing. Anxiety watched silently, fidgeting, unable to stop the slight guilt in her heart as she watched her former friends be pulled away and be stuck inside the Vault. ‘It’s for you,’ Anxiety reassured herself, talking about…well, about you. ‘Everything I’m doing is for you.’

It was weird at first, adjusting to being the only emotion left inside H Q, but she got the hang of it pretty quickly. Since, as the days ticked onwards, Anxiety swooned over you, sometimes talking to you as if you’d be able to respond back to her. Finally, she had you all to herself, and she’ll guarantee that she’d be able to keep you from harm’s reach while being able to bask in all of you.

🧡 ll Further Descent:

Boy, if you thought Anxiety had gone off the deep-end before, she certainly has now. Her days and nights are completely consumed by you. HQ is absolutely covered in drawings and little origami depictions of both you and her (and, while she’d often blush while doing it, she also enjoyed treating them like dolls and making them give little kisses to one another). Interspruced with all of that is her written ramblings, and it felt like that the further you went down in her notes, the more fanatical it became.

Sometimes, she’d have small sparks of self-awareness. Anxiety will clean up HQ and tidy it, all while reminiscing on her love for you. These small moments of clarity will give her twinges of regret and doubt, but she’d push them all in the back of her mind in the end. After all, it’s for the greater good. She’d assure herself that she really was the only person who could truly be able to acknowledge everything about you until that assurance soon became a truth in her eyes. A stone-cold, unrelenting truth.

Meanwhile, you’d become much more nervous, “unstable” in some cases. Nowadays, you feel too apprehensive about going outside, quitting your in-person job in favor of an online or at-home one. Groceries are delivered to your door-step, and appointments you need to go to, like for a check-up or surgery, are done with great reluctance. After, you immediately rush back to the safety of your abode.

When it comes to social interactions, Anxiety also makes sure that, while you’d have friends, they wouldn’t get too close to you. She can’t have them hurting you, physically or emotionally! Though, deep down inside of her, Anxiety does feel a hint of possessiveness towards you, but it mostly comes out as her afraid for your well-being.

Crushes definitely are a no-go. Any attempts on trying to get closer to a love interest you may have is completely out of the question in the eyes of Anxiety. She’ll break the button that makes you feel socially-awkward if she has to.

Anxiety notices soon enough that your feelings of loneliness are increasing rapidly, and attempting to brainstorm an idea where both of you could be happy, a lightbulb goes off in her head.

She goes down to the studio where they produce your dreams, and through some sly convincing and surprising ability to help sway others to what she wants, Anxiety is able to control your dreams with full access. Now, she hopes that her plan will work.

🧡 ll Meeting You in Person:

Well, in-person is in very large quotation marks, but it’s the closest thing she can get to doing such a thing.

After making sure everything was in working order and looked good, Anxiety waited for night to come and for when it was finally time to reveal herself to you. The studio, while it mostly worked with actors, also had the option of summoning your consciousness in a tangible form; how else did you think those falling dreams would cause you to wake up violently right as you hit the ground? Though, Anxiety was using it for a much, much different purpose now.

She sweated bullets while she waited, stimming in both excitement and worry on how you’d react to her. Anxiety suddenly stood still when your eyes finally shut, signifying that it was time to enact her plan.

Pressing various buttons and switches, she grinned as the thing shuttered and spat out smoke before shooting a project of light from the machine’s camera. It morphed, taking form, until you were finally there right in front of Anxiety. You blinked, confused, before turning to the delighted squeak you heard.

You nearly barrelled over as you felt a sudden force of weight being flung right around your torso, and as you looked down through the wild forest of orange hair that somewhat covered your vision, you saw Anxiety tightly wrapped around you in a hug. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and her smile beamed wider as she snuggled into you just a bit more.

“I…I finally get to see you,” you heard her mumble. “I never thought I would, but…here you are! With me!”

You gave her a confused expression, unsure of how to react. “I’m sorry, but, uh, do I know you?”

Anxiety’s eyes snapped open, tears wiped away in a flash, as she glanced up at you and immediately backed off. “O-oh, oh my gosh! I’m so, so sorry; that was so dumb of me, ugh!” She muttered the last part under her breath.

What follows is what you’d expect: she explains to you that she’s your personification of Anxiety, but makes sure to add that she only steps in to prevent you from making possible bad decisions. At least, that’s partially true. Then, she gives you a small tour of the place, deciding to give you a tour of HQ another day (when she doesn’t have your face plastered all over the walls…). After, she insists to you that she’d do anything for you. Figuring that this was all a dream, you simply ask her for some levity from your struggles in reality. In short, you two have fun.

Anxiety is extremely reluctant to allow you to go, but she figures that it would be too suspicious and off-putting if she begged you to stay. When you awake, you just figure that it was some sort of strange lucid dream before going about your day.

So, it surprises you when you see Anxiety again the next night…and the next…and the next…and the next. Around the third time, you realize this is abnormal and start feeling uncomfortable around Anxiety. She notices, and asks you about it. You just wave it off, saying you’re a bit nervous for work tomorrow. Anxiety’s very doubtful, but she goes with it.

However, when she shows up again on the fourth night, you’ve had enough. You’re creeped out with her, and explain to a now very concerned Anxiety that she can’t be real. “I am!” She retorts back. “But-but that isn’t a bad thing! That just means you can talk to me if you have anything troubling you! Please, don’t run! I’m not going to hurt you!”

Even though you did, in fact, run away from her that night, she just showed right back up again the next. What then happened was a repetitive cycle of you running away from Anxiety as she tries to explain her side of the story, waking up, and then going right back to Stage 1. You ask your doctors for a higher dosage of anxiety medication in hopes it would quell what you perceived as delusions. But no matter what you tried, no matter what medicine you took, Anxiety will always be the first thing you “wake” up to.

It had maybe been almost two weeks when you finally relented. Anxiety, however, seemed a bit snarky. “So, have you finally run all out-of-steam? Can I finally get to tell you what’s going on?!”

It took you a few seconds to reply. “...Yeah. Go ahead.”

She let out a sigh of relief, before she explained more on why she’s being so persistent with you. She figured that, since your life wasn’t the best at the moment, Anxiety would help give you some escapism during the night as a relief. While you still felt a bit off-put by one of your emotions continuously showing up in your dreams, and of all of them it’s the Anxiety one, her reasoning did give you some respite. She made sure she didn’t slip that she just really wanted to spend time with you too, though.

It took you a little while to warm up to both the idea and her again, but after some time, you started to enjoy your little adventures with Anxiety. She was funny, sweet, kind, and had all the same interests as you did. She became your best friend, but in Anxiety’s eyes, you two were already in a relationship.

Every time you awoke, she did a little happy dance at the progress being made. Heck, she even had a checklist full of things to make certain you’d fall for her in return. Anxiety was not going to allow herself to destroy your bond together with her. At this point, her whole life really is about you. She loves you so, so much and every day she gets more exhilarated at getting closer to the stage where she’d ask you the question.

Months pass on, and it’s now around the end of the year. She decided to give you a little celebration, convincing the workers below to set off fireworks outside. HQ was decked out in festive decorations, illuminated by the glow of the bright flashes of light outside. When Anxiety sees your gorgeous face lit up by the colors set off from the other side of the window, her heart thumps louder in her chest, almost to an audible level. Her breath is caught in her mouth, but shaking off the stunned reaction she has towards you, Anxiety figures now would be a good time as ever to ask you: do you love her as much as she loves you?

✨🧡 ll Yes:

“Well…ah, it’s a bit weird to be dating one of my emotions…”

Anxiety’s wide-eyed face immediately turns down on itself, pupils shrinking and a frown making itself very well-known on her face. No, no! You can’t-!

“...Ah, why not? Sure!”

I hope you’re stanced up because if not, you will be thrown to the ground in another one of Anxiety’s tight hugs. She keeps on letting out happy squeals, unable to contain her absolute joy at your response. You laugh at how cute she was, returning her hug. She smiles even wider at that.

“I love you, I love you, I love youIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouILOVEYOU!” Anxiety repeated, her tongue twisting near the end making her almost unable to be understood until her final declaration of love. You giggle, and at this her green eyes open up and twinkle at you, a smile spread wider across her face than ever before.

“I love you too.”

While Anxiety never truly does let go of her obsessive tendencies towards you, they do somewhat lax now that she knows you love her back. Her mind sometimes wanders to the other emotions locked up in the Vault, and now on her off-days, she actually goes and visits them, talking to them through the cell. Of course, they’re pissed off at her, but she just can’t stop gushing about you and how much you love her back. Anxiety is too lovestruck to notice the gagging coming from Ennui, Anger, and Disgust inside whenever she goes on another long spiel about how your kisses feel or the flower you gave to her the other day.

Speaking of gifts, while she loves to talk to you about your interests and hyperfixations, Anxiety’s personal go-to love language will always be presents. Whatever you want, she’ll make it happen in the dream.

If you had a bad day too, Anxiety will do double-duty to make sure you wake up feeling ten times better than what you felt like going to bed!

As you grow older, Anxiety reflects back on how when you pass away, so will all of them. But while she still frets over it, there’s also the reassuring thought that she may be a human in the next life alongside you. So, instead of being inside your head, Anxiety will get to live out in the real-world right beside you. But as long as she’s with you, any future is great to her.

Overall, Anxiety feels like a weight that’s been on her since her very inception has finally been lifted. She’s much more relaxed and allows you to go out more as long as you don’t cheat on her. Thankfully, you never do, and she couldn’t be more than grateful.

Life was finally good for her, and she couldn’t be any happier.

💔 ll No:

You smiled awkwardly down at her, the tension in the room suddenly becoming more palpable to you. “I-uh, what?”

Anxiety’s grin falters. “Do you love me?” She repeats.

Your smile becomes a frown, and so does her’s. “I’m…I’m going to be honest with you, Anxiety. I love being your friend. But if you’re asking if we should date, I just can’t accept.”

Immediately, Anxiety shouts out. “WHY NOT?!” Panic is written all over her face, chest heaving in a faulty attempt to calm herself down.

You flinch back from her, suddenly unsure of what to do. “It’s just-I-I don’t know!” You replied back. “You’re literally an emotion! Something my mind made up! You’re not real!”

Those last words hurt her worse than any knife ever could. “You-you don’t mean that! I know you don’t! We’re supposed to be happy together! I did everything for you! So please just love me! LOVE ME!”

You took a few steps back, unknowingly bumping into an ajar closet. When you turn around, you gape in abject horror.

Thousands of drawings and art crafts of you, reciprocating Anxiety’s adoration, filled your sight. You turned down to a sheet of paper that innocently slid to your feet.

‘I got rid of the others. I hated to, but they’d never be able to understand how I felt towards them. They were in the way. But now, we can be together forever! I can’t wait!’

Oh toaster strudels.

You whip back around to face Anxiety, fear evident on your face. She looked just as stunned as you, her green eyes prickling with tears as she shook her head. “I-I promise,” she tried to explain. “I didn’t think it would ever go this far. But I need you to love me back. I NEED YOU!”

Fast on your feet, you’re barely able to dodge Anxiety’s attempt at grabbing you, and without thinking, you go towards the window. You need to get out of this dream, A.S.A.P.

“NO! DON’T-” Too late.

As you fell, wind sweeping through your hair, you turned to gaze up at the window. The last you saw before you jolted awake was the speck of orange looking out the broken window, crying her eyes out and sobbing to herself.

Afterwards, you refused to fall asleep. You chugged energy drinks, made sure to take your anxiety medication every day, watched horror movies so you felt too scared, turned up your home’s lights, anything to make sure you wouldn’t go to sleep and see Anxiety again.

But in turn, you felt your own anxiety levels rising. You felt an irrational, unstoppable fear of attending to your job, jumped at every little creak in the house, the unexplainable drowsiness present in your fits of worry, you all knew it was the work of Anxiety to get you to go back to sleep and see her again.

Of course, you couldn’t stay awake forever. It happened one day when you did your best to explain to your boss why you haven’t been going to work. Your voice was slurred, giving away your sleepiness, and your boss on the other end worryingly called out to you as both your phone and your body landed on the cold floor.

🧡💔 ll Nice to See You Again:

You woke up on top of a comfortable bed, and while you were coming to, you noticed the rope wrapped tightly around you. A bandana had been wrapped around your mouth as well to make sure you didn’t make a peep.

At the foot of the bed, was Anxiety. She looked much more worn-out, eyebags present and hair an absolute mess. She was fiddling around with a clipboard at first, but as her eyes glanced at you for a moment, she realized you finally came to.

“Oh! Hey, didn’t notice you were awake there!” She ignored the cries of protests coming from you. She laughed, her loss of sanity being noted in her giggles. “I guess you always were a heavy sleeper!” You didn’t laugh back.

She got closer to you, any talk you had with her about personal space thrown out the (now repaired) window. Her eyes were bloodshot, like she hadn’t slept either. “I mean, it makes sense. You were awake for a really long time out there. In fact, you didn’t sleep for four whole days! Can I ask why that is?”

You glared at her. She huffed. “Ooooh, I think I know what it is,” she muttered. “I bet you didn’t want to get nightmares. Well, it’s okay now! Your girlfriend here, Anxiety, will make sure you have only good dreams from now on!” She puffed out her chest. You didn’t know if she was mocking you or genuinely deluded into thinking that was the truth.

You uncomfortably shifted as she crawled to the other side of you, wrapping her arms around your bound form despite your discomfort. “I’ve been so, so alone these past few days. I missed you, I missed you so bad. But now, you’re back! With me! I can’t wait for what adventures you have planned for the both of us.” That final note in her voice, that seemed to almost hiss out, gave you a sense of fear. You were too scared to fight back or even move, just allowing Anxiety to make up four day’s worth of no hugs.

“I promise that I’ll be the best girlfriend you could ever ask for. No other person knows you like I do. Nobody.”

Should I even have to explain to you that your two’s relationship is toxic now? Because it is. Like, hazardous waste-type of toxic.

In her deluded mind, Anxiety fully believes that you just ran through that window because you were scared of the commitment, and that you just responded no to her love request because of the same reason. In time, she thinks she’ll be able to win you over, and considering how you can’t really get rid of her, you’re unfortunately stuck with her.

When you eventually did wake up, you found yourself in a hospital room, alone. At least, physically. You couldn’t help the onslaught of hopeless tears that trickled down your face.

In the background, Anxiety was fiddling with your feelings, not thinking about your own desires on the matter. She smiled, chuckling, when she found what she was looking for, hidden deep within the recesses of your hypothalamus: the control center that managed who you found romantically appealing.

She was smart about it, though. Despite wanting to just crank it all the way up, she gradually made it so you found her more alluring without you even noticing the changes.

You were immensely terrified of her at first, discouraging her, but as she set your romantic feelings towards her higher slowly, Anxiety noticed the change you had in your demeanor.

Eventually, she was comfortable in allowing you to finally be untied (she had undone the makeshift gag a little bit ago), and while she was a bit disappointed at still seeing you be uncomfortable around her and shying away, that just made Anxiety more determined to get you to fall in love with her.

Was doing all of this morally wrong and cementing her fully into the deep-end? Yes.

But did she truly care about that currently? No.

She can think about the moral dilemma years down the line when you two are fully reciprocating love towards one another.

Anxiety accidentally let out an excited snort at you finally hugging her once again. She clasped her hands over her mouth, blushing right after. You found it to be…weirdly cute.

Eventually, your romantic feelings were almost at 100%. As time passed on, your life became better as you started to reflect that same strange comforting feeling Anxiety felt towards you.

You felt inclined to question why you were getting these emotions for your mental stalker, but any attempt to further examine this is usually quashed thanks to Anxiety’s interference. Soon, you don’t even get these questions anymore. They just feel like they come naturally to you.

Those same reactions Anxiety had towards you were now being felt by you, except obviously with her. Shy gazes at her cute orange hair before looking away when she goes to return your look, fully enraptured in her kind voice and nodding along to whatever she said, blushing whenever you were complimented by her, the list goes on.

The fact that she did awful things almost seems to become a distant memory to you, until much later on, it becomes completely forgotten in your eyes.

Eventually, it came to a head. One night, when the two of you were alone, you tapped her on the shoulder. You smiled at her, blush clearly evident on your face as you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck.

“H-hey, uh, Anxiety? Can I ask you something kinda’...important? Promise not to freak out or anything, okay?”

Anxiety nodded violently. “Yeah!! Yeah, tell me anything!” She leaned in closer, eyes trained fully on you. Her hands were rolled up into fists, vibrating slightly in barely-disguised eagerness. After a bit of stammering, you finally were able to lock eyes with each other.

“Do you, um…want to go out with me-?”

“YES!! YES!!!” Anxiety jumped to respond, flapping her hands happily as she raced around the room. You laughed, before abruptly getting stopped by the kiss that Anxiety had placed on your lips. Both of you looked stunned for only a brief moment, before you happily returned it.

If emotions had brains, Anxiety was sure it short-circuited at that moment.

Finally relinquishing, you stepped back, only to lunge forward when you caught her about to fall right on her back.

“Woah, Anxiety, are you okay?” You chuckled. Anxiety looked up at you with a tired, but completely and utterly smitten look on her face.

“Never been better.”

Things were definitely better now. Much like if you said yes to her original proposal, she gives you more freedom in exchange for always being beside her when you’re dreaming. You happily accept, none the wiser of the manipulation Anxiety pulled to get to this moment.

She sometimes reflects on her actions, knowing full-well what she did was completely, morally-reprehensible. But at a certain point, Anxiety just sighs and puts it into the very back of her brain.

Yes, what she did was absolutely wrong. But, when she looks at you, finally head-over-heels for her as much as she is with you, Anxiety really can’t help but smile.

“I really am sorry, guys, but it was all worth it in the end.”

#ask to tag #long post #yandere tw #yandere disney #yandere pixar #yandere #yandere headcanons #anxiety inside out #anxiety io2 #inside out #inside out 2 #inside out headcanons #dark tw #manipulation tw

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somehow-a-human · 7 months ago

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The angels don't have to ask to enter the bookshop.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

We've been operating under the assumption that BOTH the angels and demons have to ask to enter the bookshop, but I don't think that's true. I'm pretty sure it's one of our red herrings for season 2.

Continued under the cut.

When Gabriel shows up to the bookshop nude and oblivious, the doors are closed and (I believe) locked. Gabriel doesn't even know who or where he is, so he does what the default is... he knocks, and asks "Can I come in?" Aziraphale is frightened at first and tells him he can't come in but eventually our angels empathy wins and he says "Alright! Just... just get in!"

>> It's never clear that Gabriel would have physically been unable to come in otherwise.

When the Archangels show up Aziraphale literally cuts them off before they reach the door of the bookshop. Saraqael suggests, "Shall we discuss this inside?", and Aziraphale continues, "By all means. Would you like to come in?"

>> If Aziraphale hadn't rushed out to meet the angels, why wouldn't they have just walked into the bookshop like they did numerous times in season 1? Additionally I am fairly certain Aziraphale's "By all means. Would you like to come in?" was added in post via ADR. That doesn't necessarily add credence to anything, just an observation.

When Muriel arrives to surveil Aziraphale they ask, "Great! Well, could I come in and do it inside please? Only cause it's really noisy out here and I can't hear anything." Aziraphale replies, "By all means."

>> Muriel is an endearing angel who doesn't know much about life on earth, but had the shop been open and unlocked at the time of their arrival, they might've just wandered in as well.

We're never told the angels *can't* enter the bookshop explicitly like we are for the demons. We've always just assumed the same rules apply to all of the ethereal and occult beings.

But then, might I ask, why does Aziraphale tell us "Technically, this bookshop still counts as an Embassy"?

If the bookshop is still an embassy, the angels wouldn't need permission to enter, they would still have jurisdiction, and would still be able to monitor what's going on there... yes?

Let's compare this to the demons attempts to enter the bookshop, because Shax states clearly that she can't enter without permission. We see this again when she tries to get into the Bentley after it's canonically 'our car', and therefore at least partially owned by an angel.

I'm pretty sure John and Neil make a point of having the angels all ask in some way to enter, and Aziraphale seem to grant them permission as a red herring. They don't need to, but they want us to assume a false sense of security, to think that the bookshop is a safe space for our duo, outside of the reaches of both Heaven and Hell.

Technicalities are big in season 2 and I definitely think they're a huge underlying string running through all of Good Omens. In season 1, Crowley and Aziraphale stop Heaven and Hell from trying to restart Armageddon on a technicality. Gabriel and Beelzebub don't technically know if the great plan *is* the ineffable plan! It's definitely a favorite trope of Terry and Neil's to mock unfair, broken, bureaucratic systems, and Heaven and Hell are a PERFECT example of this.

**Somebody has written a meta on technicalities, I know I've seen it but I cannot for the life of me find it so if anyone could tag me so I could link it that would be brills! (Yeah that's right I'm adopting that from Charles from Dead Boy Detectives, 80's british slang ftw, I'm obsessed; please watch it, please, I need a second season.)

Neil has mentioned that the plot for season 3 might've had to be changed from he and Terry's original vision a bit, based on the political climate of the current day, and I'm sure that means we'll see some technicalities being the downfall of Heaven and Hells systems in Season 3 as well. I don't think the metatron is a villain, nor any of the other angels or demons. They're just fulfilling their function, following a set of rules, very much to a fault. This is all just God's big experiment after all, freewill, choice, eating the apple, and the angels and demons aren't exempt.

I wouldn't be surprised if there's some sort of technicality about the angels and demons themselves in season 3. We've seen that they're of the same stock, and we know Crowley at least is technically still the same person he was when he was an angel... more or less. Could the book of life end up revealing something like that the demons still exist perpetually as their angelsonas? A technicality, if you will?

Given the bookshop is still technically an embassy, is everything that happens inside observable by Heaven? Can they access the bookshop in their Earth Observation Files? There is some questionable blocking surrounding the bust in Aziraphale's bookshop, coupled with a curious record cover from Maggie's bookshop pointed out by @noneorother

Anyway... Let me know your thoughts. I haven't been posting as much, I have been mega busy and I'm trying to be thankful for it. Love you all, hope you have something nice happen for you today! <3

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #michael sheen #david tennant #crowley x aziraphale #good omens theories #good omens clues #good omens theory #good omens fandom #good omens clue #good omens 3 #good omens season 3 #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #go2

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inmyheaddd · 3 months ago

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missed calls - grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: these girl dad grayson fics have be wishing for a little freya more than grayson himself 😞 need a baby daughter so bad wc: 927 tag list: @wish-i-were-heather @x-liv25-jamieswife @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus

@anintellectualintellectual @heartwithsimplenotes @littlemissmentallyunstable (love u guys!! if u want to be added lmk 🩷) masterlist

it was the morning of your 5 year old daughter freya’s ballet play, the one she had been rehearsing and practicing for months. sometimes, you and grayson would go wake her up for school, and you’d find her already awake, practicing her pirouettes in her little mirror.

you dropped off your daughter at around 8 in the morning, and the show as at 1. grayson had his schedule cleared for months, he had literally scheduled everything around it, he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

the world may bend to the will of grayson hawthorne, but he bent to the will of his daughter.

it was nearing 12:15 when grayson’s personal phone went off. he was fetching his car keys so you decided to see what it was. your face fell when you saw it was a 911 text from his brother, jameson.

you turned around, not even registering that grayson had now come up behind you. “whats wrong?” he said upon seeing the look on your face.

“nothing, it’s just,” you paused before sighing, “jameson just sent a 911.”

graysons eyebrows furrowed, and he reached for his phone and saw the message. he muttered a swear under his breath before meeting your eyes again silently.

grayson’s bond with his brothers was uncomparable to anything else, even if they bickered a lot, they would still practically die for one another.

“what are you going to do?” you asked, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. you had to drop everything for a 911, that was the rule.

the last time grayson ignored one, a very unfortunate video of him in very tight leather pants haunted him for months. you had jameson to thank for that.

you could see grayson thinking through all the possible outcomes, a tiny crinkle in between his brows.

“i’m sure they’ll be fine without me for one day.” he stated, and you could tell he was sure in his decision.

that didn’t stop you from asking anyways.

“grayson, are you sure? i mean, i’ll be there to watch freya anyway.” your fingers were drumming against your leg, grayson noticed and held your hand in his. “plus, i think she’ll be fine. she doesn’t like you that much.”

you joked in an attempt to resolve the visible tension in his face, and it worked — his lips stretching into a smile that made your heart flutter.

he then pulled you into his side and planted a kiss on the top of your head, appreciating your attempts to make him feel better.

“even if she doesn’t like me that much, i care for her more than anything. i’m going, no matter what.”

you smiled at grayson and his thoughtfulness. the love he had for your daughter was extraordinary, he was the best parent there could possibly be.

any worries about what the future - more so his brothers - held in the next week that lingered disappeared the second he locked eyes with freya. she was looking all over the audience for you two, the way her face visibly lit up and her little wave was worth anything his brothers would put him through.

grayson, ever the dad, pulled out his professional camera and was snapping photos and videos throughout the whole show.

people were giving him looks, even moms that you knew were eyeing you.

“grayson,” you whispered as you nudged him.

“yes, my love?” his gaze kept flickering between the stage, his camera, and you.

“people keep staring.” you muttered, as if it was something new to you two.

he quirked an eyebrow up as he watched freya on stage, “i’m afraid i don’t care.” he paused, smiling as freya did the one routine she had shown him a million times and locked eyes with you two right after she did.

“if they had this angel for a daughter, then they’d understand.” he continued.

the way you could visibly see the excitement and happiness bouncing off of her little face made you endlessly proud.

you chuckled, “how’d we ever get so lucky with her?” you muttered practically in awe, you wholeheartedly believed you had the best kid in the world.

grayson’s gaze was now entirely focused on you, “she’s a little you, you know that? you’re the best mother to her, it amazes me everyday; how perfect you are with her.”

“grayson,” you said with a slightly flustered chuckle as you squeezed his hand, “don’t cut yourself out. that determination, that focus?” you say as you nod towards freya, “did not come from me.”

“that’s not from me, either. that’s all her, my love.”

freya ran to you the second she was done, then grayson lifted her up and spun her around. their shared laughter was a sound you could listen to forever, and one you couldn’t help but join in on.

the next day, grayson left for the 911.

he was late though, and the rules were the rules. even though his brothers wouldn’t outwardly say it, they were beyond happy that grayson had found his people, the ones he loved with his whole entire being.

nevertheless, 2 days later grayson was back home with pink and green streaks in his blonde hair, and glitter in all the places glitter shouldn’t be. honestly, you weren’t too sure you even wanted to know what happened.

along with that, you were sent a video of grayson singing britney spears karaoke in a very questionable outfit by xander.

grayson would do it all again though, to be able to see that proud smile on his little girl’s face, and to be able to share that moment with you.

#grayson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne headcanons #the inheritance games #the grandest game #jameson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #nash hawthorne #the brothers hawthorne #tgg #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #tig #❦ jude writes

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k2ntoss · 10 months ago

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okay, so, adding onto your, as of this moment, most recent post, just picture it: you catch onto the fact that jason gets all smug seeing his handiwork on your nails when you jerk him off, and decide to surprise him by going out and testing literally every possible red nail polish available until you find the exact perfect shade that matches his helmet, and giving it to him as part of his gift for some occasion or another (personally I'm thinking either his birthday or Christmas, anniversary could work also)

but like, just imagine how thrilled he would be and how eager he would be to get that colour on your nails, and how impatient he would be for them to dry so he could see them in action, yknow? 👀👀

-🦊 (also omg i have my own tag now?🥹)

allow me to tell you that since you're the first "formal" anon with an emoji you are indeed my favorite, plus i'm always happy to see you around here bc you feed my delusions so thanks 🦊 ily, so yes you have your own tag

jason had to get used to his birthday being a little different since he started dating you, he had a reason to celebrate now and it was lovely, since he woke up you would shower him in details and little gifts and he loved to feel like a spoiled child because he felt all the love you had for him.

this year it wasn't different and his day was filled with things he liked a lot until he had to leave on patrol for a while so it was the perfect opportunity for you to prepare his last gift. it had been a while since he found out he liked painting your nails just to see artwork when you wrapped your hands around his dick, it simply made him grin proudly because it was his girl pleasing him and showing off her pretty nails, done by him so you decided to feed that little monster in jason's head. a whole week going into every store you saw to get the perfect shade of red that could match his helmet, carrying a pic on your phone just of the color to compare it until you found the one.

as soon as he slid into your apartment through the window he noticed the lights of the living room on which meant that you were there waiting for him so he made his way there. as soon as he saw you he took off the helmet, holding it under his arm and giving you a wide grin "isn't it past your bed time, princess?" jason asks teasingly as he walks towards the couch to sit next to you.

"no, it isn't because i have two last things for the birthday boy" you reply with a mischievous smile, handing him a small white box tied with a pretty red bow that he didn't wait to undo just to open the little box.

the smile that crept to his face was enough to know he was thinking about the reason behind the red nail polish bottle he was holding between his fingers, his eyes fixed on yours before he leaned in to kiss you but he stopped as soon as you tilted your head "are you gonna give me your pretty hands or do i have to ask?" jason's voice drops low and it makes a shiver run down your spine and even lower between your legs because you know what he wants.

"isn't it past my bed time? maybe we should wait until tomorrow morning so we can sleep" you reply, pushing jason a little just to build a little more of that pretty glint of need and desperation on his eyes and you let out a chuckle when he shakes his head, hair going messy and his white strand mixing a little with his jet black hair.

"you don't expect me to wait, right? give me your hands and let me see how they look when you use them on my cock, baby" jason's words make you swallow hard before you lay your hands on his thigh so he can start painting your nails and he's quick without messing it not even a little bit and you can't help but smiling when he's blowing on them to dry the nail polish.

"someone is getting a little impatient" you tease him which only earns you a low growl from his lips, he's impatient and needy because you can already see the outline of his half hard dick under his tactical pants and how his chest heaves under the chest plate so you blow a little too on your nails. jason stares at you, he even counts into his head how many minutes he has to wait until his trained eye sees the paint is dry.

"down on your knees. now" he almost barks the order as he spreads his legs to let you sit between them on the floor just to be met by his helmet placed between his thighs "put your pretty hands on the helmet, baby" jason says and you do so, his blood is boiling at the sight because the shade is exactly the same and his hands go a little clumsy when he decides to undo his belt and the buttons of his pants, taking away the helmet just so your hands can start to stroke him over his boxers.

there's soft grunts escaping his lips even if you're not touching him completely yet but he's so turned on by the color on your nails he can't really help it. leaning in he grabs your hips to move your body until you're sitting over his heavy boot, the rough material making you tremble ever so slightly "be a good girl and sit pretty there for me, yeah, love?" his voice is low and he smirks when you are the one sliding your hand under his boxers to wrap your fingers around his hard dick, nodding at his words.

for jason there's nothing hotter than his girl but seeing you like this, getting him you know he likes to use with you makes him feel so good, the way you always seem to guess what he would enjoy a lot is like touching heaven and having you know, kneeling in front of him while you jerk him off sitting on his boot feels like the perfect birthday gift. your hand going up and down his length with the right amount of pressure before your thumb slides up to play with his tip drives him crazy, he thrust his hips a little just to urge you to keep going at the same time his hand holds your chin slowly guiding two digits into your mouth "don't you have anything to say to me, baby?" he asks with a smirk as his thumb presses your tongue to mess up with your words.

"happy birthday, jay..."

#⭒ 📬 ⭒#🦊 anon #I NEED TO I NEED TO UHHHHHH #jason todd i need you so BAD #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd blurb #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #red hood imagine #red hood smut #red hood #jason todd #reader insert

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jasminerva · 3 months ago

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heya, jas~

i have been rereading sakadays, and nagumo's hair looks longer in the early art style compared to the recent one. ever since then, i can't stop thinking about how nagumo would come to us for help in cutting his hair. the bonus comic where rion cut his hair didn't help either haha. he would use it as an excuse to spend time together with us too, and make up lies like 'i don't feel like going to the salon. too noisy there!' when asked why he didn't go to a salon instead.

for him, it could be one of the rare times where he feels more ease. he would chat (and teasing) with you, but i like to imagine him staying silent most of the time to enjoy the rare times he gets to feel peace and safe in your hands. it's just you, him, and the sound of scissors snipping his hair in the background. even if you mess up his hair a little, he wouldn't mind haha.

(constantly adding these longer-haired Nagumo arts: 2dyongamja, ssaw, kuroiisana, nano099, BByo_chick)

Yo, Memi~!

It certainly does!!! That's why in ch4 Tenju's comment about how he should get a haircut was a bit of an easter egg XD Maybe he cleaned it up after that huehuehue~

I love rereading SakaDays haha I have a bookmarks folder of all the chapters where Nagumo appears 🙈 FOR RESEARCH! I SWEAR!!!

Omg that bonus / extra was so cute. And showcases how petty Nagumo can be. I can picture it now during their early JCC days.

Thank you for sharing that idea! I loved it so much I wrote something on the fly~

(P.S. I don't know anything about cutting hair. The most I've ever done was cut my own bangs -- badly -- so now I've grown them out lmao.)

Want more? Check out my SakaDays Masterlist!

Comments, reblogs, tags appeachiated~! ��

You: A haircut? Didn't Akao give you one a while back? Nagumo: Come on, [f/n]-chan! I need someone more delicate. You: Oh? I see now. You'd rather risk getting your ear cut off than talked off. Nagumo: Ha! You got me there. You: If you want delicate, Tenju's really good. She does all my hair-- Nagumo: No, thanks. With me, I guarantee she'll 'miss' and cut off my head instead. You: Fair enough. (sighs) Fine, what's in it for me though? Nagumo: Brownie points! You: Pass. Nagumo: (pouts) All right, then... a favour! I'll owe you anything! Within reason. You: (narrows eyes) Deal. "Finally, a peaceful haircut," Nagumo muttered under his breath, his body visibly relaxing as your fingers threaded through his hair, the contrasting warmth sending pleasant shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, leaning back slightly into the chair, allowing you full access. A small sigh escaped Nagumo's lips as he felt your hands working through his hair, the soft snipping of scissors adding to the tranquil atmosphere. He opened his eyes halfway, watching your reflection in the mirror. The sight of your focused expression and the seriousness in your eyes as you concentrated on the task at literal hand stirred something deep within him. As you continued snipping away at his hair, he couldn't resist the urge to tease you. He reached out, his fingers trailing along your wrist. Nagumo retracted his touch as swiftly as he had initiated it, feigning innocence when you shot him a glare through the mirror. Nagumo: (smirks) Careful there, don't wanna end up with bald spots now. You: Don't tempt me. Inwardly, he appreciated that you weren't tempted, instead enjoying the delicate touch of your fingers against his scalp as you worked meticulously.

End note: Can't guarantee how the hair looked afterwards, nor what the favour you end up cashing in is about. It's all up to your...

/ P.S. thanks to @dearsecretlover - I imagine / personally like to think that you / the Reader just left Nagumo's hair out in the wilderness of the JCC campus so birds could make a nest out of it.

Sustainability FTW!

#nagumo x reader #nagumo yoichi x reader #sakamoto days x reader #x reader #sakamoto days #nagumo yoichi #reader insert #fanfix #ty #tenjujube #sakamoto days imagine #nagumo imagine #nagumo yoichi imagine #nagumotivated #dearsecretlover #re:cloud8 #primetime memi #imaginashun

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writefightandflightclub · 9 months ago

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Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Five (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors / ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: This is SO VERY ANGST. More angst than any other chapter so far. STRAP IN GIRLIES (GN). I'd love it if you feel like sharing what you think - your feedback means the world to me. ILY :-* Reblogs, comments, and asks are literal power-ups in my day and I appreciate every single one!

Word count: 8.3k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You’re spiralling.

You’re pissed off and you’re hurt and you’re somehow still horny as hell (somehow, perhaps even more horny since Santiago helped you out in that very particular way of his). You feel all in a tizz, like you don’t know which way is up; but even so, you’re pretty sure you’ve simply been going around in circles, and it’s dizzying. Santiago makes it easy to do that when you follow his lead, after all – all the more reason that you’d had to get out finally, all those months ago.

Safe to say, you’re a little bit worked up. Too many thoughts are racing through your head. Resentment that he could get you all riled up like that, have you come undone, and then straight up deny you. Like it was some power play all along and that all he wanted was the satisfaction. On the other hand, a dreadful longing spikes at the thought that maybe he really did just want to protect himself, because he wouldn’t know how to find his way out this time if he got lost in you all over again.

The main thing you’re feeling though – a bitter shard of pain stabbing through any sense of pleasure you may be left with - is a singular fear.

What if he really doesn’t want you anymore?

He wants you, yes, on some level. His admissions in the kitchen about wanting to kiss you confirmed that much. But his desire for you had always felt like an unstoppable force. Like something he couldn’t help or hope to control. Like a raging fire. He had told you that he loved you, wanted you, needed you, all those months ago. And while you are sure that remains true at least in part, you are terrified that all you leaving had achieved was to teach him how to live without you. And, contrary to that, his touch had simply confirmed how hopelessly consumed by him you still are, all your progress - moving on and rebuilding and forgetting - unravelled in mere moments by his fingers.

You resent that too. His power over you, when you always prided yourself on being strong – needing no-one. You have never liked to feel like the one who is compromised, in any situation. You always prefer to be the hunter as, that way, you’re not the one who gets hurt. But Santiago? Santiago is lethal, and he has always known your weak spots.

Maybe that’s why you had stormed angrily to your room, subduing your heavy footsteps reluctantly, only for the sake of your dear buddies sleeping soundly in their beds. Maybe that’s why you had hastily cleaned up, throwing on some fresh clothes from your case – a low cut top and some obscenely tight jeans. A splash of perfume. Some lipstick. All in the hopes of heading out to the local bar and searching for the kind of late-night attention which feels in your control. Seeking a desire which feels manageable. Trivial almost, instead of the kind which burns.

Part of you – a small part of you, at least - recognises you’re being ridiculous, irrational, reactive, even as you zip on your boots. But there is another part of you that simply can’t stay here in this house with him a moment longer, feeling like he doesn’t want you the way you want him.

You feel like, while you’ve been breaking apart for all these months, he was healing. It’s cruel maybe, that you would wish for his desire to burn him as much as it has a hold over you – but perhaps you’re not perfect. Perhaps you’re only human.

Whatever. It doesn’t all need to make sense right now. Your head’s all over the place. You’re not really thinking straight at all. You don’t know whether you want to cry or scream or get your brains fucked out (or maybe all of the above - not in that order). And so, you’re definitely not thinking when you throw open the door to the bathroom, recalling that you’d left your necklace on the counter. If you were -thinking- perhaps you would have heard the rushing of the water. Perhaps you would have heard the muffled, bitten back groans emanating from the shower cubicle.

Fuck.

If you weren’t thinking straight before, every thought falls right out of your head altogether when you swing open that door. Namely, when you see Santiago, his body slanted into the wall as he palms his thick, straining length in something of a frenzy.

You should retreat, probably. In fact, yeah. That's exactly what you should do. But, the sight of him there arrests you, and you can’t help but devour every detail of him. Your eyes skim over him only fleetingly, and yet your memory of his body fills in the gaps, meaning you’re able to see far more of him than you could otherwise in the split second your eyes rove over him.

He is stripped down, his body curled into the tiled wall, his forehead and one shoulder bracing himself as the stream of water thunders down on the back of his neck and his broad, lightly muscled shoulders.

His thighs are slightly spread and his full glutes are clenching as he fucks his hard, veined cock into the circle of his left hand, squeezing tight and showing no mercy, his pace relentless.

From the way his nipples are pebbled and the way you observe the tightness of the muscles coiling in his back, you can guess that the water is cold. Perhaps, that he had attempted to cool off after what had happened downstairs, seemingly to no avail. His need is heavy and urgent and burdening his hand, the veins popping in his slick forearm as water sluices over every contour of him and still, his want is evidently raging.

The most important detail of all, however, is that his eyes are closed, droplets of water beading in his long lashes, and a wracked moan sounding from around his own fingers as he shoves them over his tongue.

Fuck.

He’s licking them clean. He’s tasting you. Tasting your juices from his fingers and pumping himself raw from the thought of it.

Holy shit.

He wants you.

You see it now, clear as day. He wants you to the point of desperation. Helplessness. To the point of coming undone with his need for you. His want rages even beneath the stream of a cold shower, taken in hopes of subduing himself. He works himself urgently in his fist, in hopes of finding his release. You find him here, like this.

Unfinished.

You can see it much more clearly now. You see how he wants you. You see what you do to him. What you still do to him.

You see now that saying no to you likely took every scrap of control he had, and now that is gone, there is nothing left for him but you.

As you enter, Santiago hears the door creak open – you weren’t exactly sneaking- and he immediately tilts his body to the wall. It’s automatic - showing his ass rather than his dick in his hand, likely in case one of the boys had just walked in on him. But, when he sees it’s you stood there, all slack-jawed and honey-eyed, he foregoes the need to hide. He turns towards you instead, his length twitching as it grows even more rigid and more ruddy at the sight of you. Santiago’s eyes hooded and desolate with want as he looks you up and down in your ridiculous, come-fuck-me clothes.

Santiago knows fine well that you only wear red when you want to be shown a good time. You feel like a flare, on display, and maybe you’d feel stupid -like scrubbing this red paint from your mouth – if his need was not blatantly on display too. If his predicament did not seem even more dire than yours.

Finally, though, as you look and he lets you, you register the intrusion, and with a series of stunted vowel noises which barely make it past your teeth, you are dragging your eyes away from his. Your legs like jelly and skin flushed beneath your tight clothes, you are clasping the door handle and turning on your heel. Your only objective is to make it out of there, even if you turn to vapour in the hallway after the fact.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Santiago asks gruffly, and you are not sure what he means. Not sure whether he means to ask where you’re headed out to so late, or to inquire why in the hell you’re leaving the room now that you’re here, but God, you’re not sure anymore that you could answer either question in any way that would make the slightest bit of sense.

You’re just not thinking straight. Can you be blamed? Look at him. Look at this, all for you.

So, you freeze, breath held in your lungs as you grip the handle – your back to him, and about to swing the door open to hasten your exit. Instead, though, against every shred of good sense you have, you push the door closed, ever so gently, with you still on the inside. You turn, preposterously slowly back towards him, and when the sight of him stood there, wet and dripping, face all stern and languidly palming himself in the circle of his hand hits you, you flatten your back to the panelled door. Truth is, your legs feel so weak that you could barely stand without it.

And, as if that wasn’t quite answer enough, Santiago continues to look at you insistently.

Well? The quirk of his thick brow seems to enquire. Where the fuck are you going?

Your voice comes out all breath. “Nowhere.”

You’re going fucking nowhere, apparently. Only ever around and around in circles with Santiago “Pope” Garcia – but suddenly, you could care less.

Your eyes lock then, and it takes less than moments for him to be on you, his wet hands fisting everywhere - in your hair and your clothes - and dragging your mouth onto his in a sudden, consuming crush. Your hands snake into his hair, squeezing cool shocks down your forearms as you wring rivulets of water from his grizzled curls, grabbing handfuls of the length at his crown to pull him deeper into you, his tongue hot and supple and buried in your mouth. Your top sticks to you, wet and sodden in all the places he has grabbed up handfuls of your flesh, or pressed his hot body flush against you.

He drives you back, into the door and the awkward mess of towels hanging there on hooks.

“Fuck,” he bites off into your mouth, and you surge forward with this barrelling want, walking him backward and slamming him against the cool tiles with a thwap and enough force that he grunts. Still, it barely slows him down at all, his hands all over you and his kisses still devouring, ripping the air from your mouth.

There is no romance in this, you think. Only need, raw and animal, and you are surprised that you show enough restraint not to tear each other down to the floor and go at it right on the tiles. Still, you barely show any more restraint than that.

“Shit. Fuck. Turn around. Turn around,” Santiago rasps, entirely wrecked already, barely able to get the words past his mouth. His cock looks almost painfully hard, and entirely insistent against your ass as he spins you and roughly bends you over the counter, pots of toothbrushes knocked into the sink and soap rolling who knows who cares where.

“You want this?” he asks as he presses you into position, little precision or ceremony in it – just a rough, raw urgency, entirely untamed.

You can see yourself reflected in the mirror above the sink, blurry and steamy and bent over, and that’s exactly how it feels. Everything; blurry and steamy and close and tight. He’s as hard as the cool marble surface digging painfully into your hips, and you’re as hot as steam and as wet and slick as this mirror and you’re melding into one another – not single bodies anymore but shapes and a mood and a feeling, and there is nothing else.

“Princesa?” Santiago pleads, even as he tugs your jeans down over your ass, removing the bare minimum of clothing to give him access where he needs, the garment still tight and unforgiving around your thighs, not allowing you to move - barely at all. “You need me?”

“Yes. Fuck me. Need you,” you beg, and you hear him spit unceremoniously into his hand -not that he’d need it- and slather it all over his length, groaning as he makes contact with his sensitive, needy dick as though he might spill over his knuckles with the anticipation of stuffing you full alone.

Still, he holds on -by a thread – and your eyes roll back into your head as you finally feel the blunt tip of him notch clumsily at your need-swollen entrance.

Then – ohhhhhh- then, there is the dull ache shortly after as the girth of him pushes through your wanting folds. You grunt at the initial stretch as he works himself inside of you, but pinned between the counter and his surging hips there is nowhere for you to go, and his need sinks into you inch by inch until he fills you all the way.

You succumb to your ragged breaths and mewl for him, you arms practically giving way beneath you as you press them into the cool surface to keep you standing. He fills you, and God, you’ve missed this. Have missed how full you feel with him inside of you - in every sense of the word. The way his hands grip your hips in that specific spot he likes.

You have missed his girth. Could swear you can feel every inch of him pressing outward against the tight grip of your heat as he fucks his cock into your hole, bottoming out with a delicious, wracked, stuttering moan, the sound alone causing pleasure to bloom around the drag of him deep inside you.

Still, despite this fullness - you also feel the give of your walls to him, your slick and eager heat actively suckering him in. He stutters his hips as you clamp tightly around him and then, so help you, he finally begins to move.

Jesus, this feels even better than his fingers, even better than you remember, and you relish every moment as he fucks into you, bareback and desperate, your pleasure coiling up impossibly quick as the straining mass of him works you open, hitting all of your sweet spots. Your legs tremble beneath you with adrenaline and want, and you feel Santiago’s thighs flush against the back of your legs, his hips snapping against the cushion of your ass as the counter edge bites painfully into your hinged hips.

He's not taking his time with you. Not teasing or planning or thinking. You can tell by the undone grunts and groans he’s submitting to you already, that -for once- he is far too consumed by his own need to contemplate yours. Can tell by the sloppy pace of his thrusts and the lack of attention to your clit or your breasts or anything else but filling you - his hands fisting in the meat of your hips as he takes what he needs, gives what you crave – that he’s not even trying to make you come… but goddamn it if he isn’t going to get you there all the same.

Soon too.

God, the head of him is rubbing exactly where you need, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this good with a dick inside you. Your cunt is primed for him, still sensitive from where his fingers fucked you open and it isn’t going to take you long at all to reach your peak.

Even without seeing him properly, in the misted-up mirror, you can tell that Santiago is going feral behind you. Filling you deeply and haphazardly, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin.

You hear a snarl, and see a pearly flash of teeth as his lip curls up from how good you’re making him feel.

“Fuucckk,” he groans, his head tipped back now, that pretty chin pointing up to the sky and his mouth dropping open – you can vaguely see in the mirror

His broad hand smooths firmly down the middle of your back and over your ass - grabbing handfuls of you- before he retraces his path, sliding his hand up between your shoulder blades and winding his hand in your hair, grabbing and pulling until your spine is curled back for him like a bow, your ass arced up and allowing him a deeper angle of penetration which sends tingles all the way to the tips of your toes when he hits just right.

You practically yowl for him, your whole body trembling and shaking, sweat trickling down the centre of your cleavage as the layers you did not have time to dispense of overheat your skin. As your clit is nudged into the lip of the counter in a way that shouldn’t work for you, probably, but totally does, the intermittent slap of Santiago’s hips against you providing a pleasing rhythm.

It’s uncomfortable, and hot, and cramped, and in some ways painful to be rammed up against the surface like this, but you wouldn’t tell him to stop for the world. You wouldn’t tell him to stop because the way he’s taking you feels divine, Santiago burying his want for you as deep as it will go, releasing his punctuated, abortive gusts of breath in time with his thrusts.

You feel drips land on the small of your back, and whether its water cascading from his dampened curls or beads of sweat from the exertion rolling down his temples you do not know or care.

You only know that you want more.

Determined as ever, you plant your hands firmly on the counter as he fucks you near boneless, driving through your hips until you meet his thrusts, working him up higher, finding the angle which hits just right and-

“Unnnngggg.” A whimper falls from his pretty mouth and his thrusts are suddenly far more shallow, slow, nudging against your nervy, sensitive entrance. His breaths are coming in deeper, heavy gusts now and you might be afraid that he was about to stop - if you weren’t so sure that he was, in fact, gearing up.

“Santiago,” you complain as he blunts the sharp edge of your precipice with the break in rhythm. You urge him to give you more, and he uncurls his fingers from your hair and adjusts position.

Obligingly, he wraps his stronger arm around your chest to guide you closer to standing, pressing his chest to your back, his head hooking over your shoulder. And, with his other arm, he reaches forward towards the steamed mirror, using his palm to clear a window from the condensation.

“I wanna see you,” he rasps, a hoarse, gritty whisper in the shell of your ear. “Wanna watch you.”

God, it’s too much. The way his arm is wrapped around your front, strong and yet tender as his forearm braces across your chest and his fingers dance tenderly over your jaw. The wracked, undone voice of him, whisper soft. The contrast between this and the certainty of his thrusts as he finds a new rhythm. As you find a new rhythm together, entirely in sync.

Slowly, so slowly, he draws out of you, ensuring you can feel every single inch of him, the tantalising drag of him through your folds making your quiver. Then, he snaps back into you all at once, so suddenly shoving himself up into you, balls slapping against your ass, each repetition of this pattern building you up. God, you want him to spill himself inside you, and you think vaguely that it is the only thing which could quench you.

It is your undoing when his eyes find yours in the mirror, and this all becomes real. No longer fantasy like your unreliable recollections of him all these months. No longer shapeless, tangled, blurry bodies, but now so very suddenly, you are looking at you and him, with all that means.

The look in his eyes gives form to this act, as though the love settled in them is the very thing giving form to the way he fills you. He is at once stern - his brow burdened, heavy-lidded with need, his eyes sunk into a pit of desire - yet soft. His strong nose is crushed up against you as his lips caress your neck. His eyes dance over your face, taking you in as you languish up against him.

His eyes are molten when they find you again, dancing with a soft, subtle heat not unlike firelight, long lashes fluttering in disbelief at the sight of you. At the feel of you wrapped around him. No longer just a body or some carnal need, shapeless and intangible.

Instead, Santiago and you, and your bodies moving as one.

His soft lips and rasp of stubble break from the column of your neck as his thrusts become sloppy, and you feel his hot breaths come thick and fast against your skin now.

He missed you.

He missed you, and this is what he’d meant. Had meant he needed to feel you wrapped around his dick. Moaning his name. Needed to see you being his. Missed you being his. God, you missed that too, in so many ways.

A moan rips through you as you approach your peak, and you plead profusely with him.

“Don’t stop. Santi. Please.”

You don’t ever want him to stop.

As you clamp down on him, your fluttering core wrings his own orgasm from him too, and then he’s pulsing his load into you, thick and warm and abundant, his thighs quaking against yours and his arms gripping on to you more tightly – this time for purchase – as though this might be the time his knees finally buckle if he doesn’t hold on to you.

You can feel his racing heartbeat hammer from his chest to yours as he holds you flush to him. Can feel his mouth suck at the column of your neck, his tongue sliding along your pulse point and tasting your perfume.

You come down from your high, thrumming with it. Wet and messy between your legs as Santi drags his softening dick out of you, letting your juices and his seed slip down your inner thighs.

You feel good. Blissed out. But, as ever, with you and Santiago, there’s always a catch. The joy is immense, but, guaranteed that one of you - if not both - will find a way to ensure it is short-lived.

Indeed. All too soon, you begin to feel that creeping sense of regret hollow-out your stomach.

You can see it on his face too. The uncertainty. The lack of understanding of what this all means. About what to do next. It is evident from the way he so quickly moves away from you, picking up his shorts and t-shirt and covering up his body. Similarly, you hike up your jeans without even cleaning up, and as much as you might have hoped for a joyful, intimate moment, you know that it’s already too late for that. The moment that the insecurity, doubt and uncertainty had crept in on each of your faces it had become self-reinforcing. A spiral. Running in circles.

“Shit,” you sound out, in a clear peal of regret, planting a hand over your face in distress - despite everything.

“Sounds about right,” Santiago agrees in a monotone, brows drawn down and his gaze fixing on a spot of tile, unable to look you in the eye, despite having been buried inside you only moments ago.

“No,” you stress, bringing a second hand to your face. There’s something else. Something that makes you feel stupid and sick. “I…. I mean, shit. I changed my birth control up and I… I mean we…” Santiago snaps his eyes back up to you now, alright. You curse when you note the writhing of his taut jaw, set and a little annoyed. Your softly puffed expletive which follows is contrite, but it doesn’t help.

It’s not like you -or him- to make a mistake like that. And yet, you had all the same.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You bristle at his harsh, accusatory tone. How quickly things sour. “It’s not like you checked!” It is his turn to bristle now, and so you opt to be harsher still. “Besides, I didn’t exactly think you were going to be quite so quick on the trigger, Santi.”

He narrows his eyes at you, his riposte about his stamina not even required. He got you off, didn’t he? So, your attempted distraction is futile, as he manages to stay alarmingly on topic. You fold your arms across your chest as he steps towards you, feeling on the back-foot as his flattened palm nags through the air to punctuate his words. “It didn’t occur to you to mention that before we fucked?”

“I forgot. I switched up my method and I’m not technically covered yet. It’s marginal, you know. Most likely fine. I mean, what’s another 24 hours? Besides, I didn’t exactly plan on this, did I?”

He scoffs, then he purses his mouth until much of the colour drains from his lips. “Oh yeah. Sure you didn’t.”

You raise your eyebrows, and jut a hip out to the side for good measure. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Santiago shakes his head softly. Plants his hands on his wide hips, making himself larger. You don’t shrink back from him, but you note it. “For real?” He flashes his line of teeth now, a lopsided, disbelieving lilt of his lips – no happiness in it. Not at all. “I know you love to pretend like I’m the bad guy, right? That serves your narrative or whatever? Bullshit, honey. You knew exactly what you were doing tonight.” You snort out a huff of air through your nose, your look all steel as you prepare to deny his claims. You falter though, with his next words. “I can’t get off without you, Santiago?” he mimics, and your comeback dies on your lips. “You wanna put this all on me now? Believe me, I gave it everything I had to stay out of-“

“-My vagina? Yeah, great job, Pope.” You throw your hands up in the air and they slump right back down again. “You’ve had everything up in there except your damn tongue.”

“Let’s go then, sweetie,” he challenges, nodding to the rear of you, his voice taut rather than inviting. “Hop up on the counter and spread your legs, I’ll make it 3 for 3.”

It’s unfamiliar to you, this tone of his. It makes your heartbeat rage. You swear you can even feel the pulse of it in your tongue. “Fuck. Whatever. I’m not having this conversation with you.” Your adrenaline spikes at the prospect of another argument and you turn on your heel, looking for an exit.

However, before you can retreat, Santiago’s broad palm contacts your arm to stop you – open hand, no force applied – and you turn your head over your shoulder. “At least tell me you’re going to take care of this,” he bites off, with a clear attempt to restrain his aggravation, expression sullen.

“Of course I am.”

“How?”

You think. “I’ll go to the pharmacy in the morning. I’ll deal with it.” You pump your brows emphatically. “Okay?”

You shrug his hand off of you then with apparent disdain for his touch, and in spite of his (relative) tolerance of your acerbic tone, that is apparently the move which fractures his composure. “You know what actually blows my mind? The way you can be nice to me just long enough to get yours. Pretty fucking convenient.”

You feel your face twist with the weight of a sour expression, mirroring his. “Why are you always like this?” You don’t wait to hear his answer, the adrenalin propelling you away, down the hall and closer to your room, but his footfalls follow closely behind you, hot on your heels. Your voice is a whispered hiss, as, somewhere in the back of your mind, you are vaguely aware of the need to keep it down – the other boys are lights out by now. “Why can you never just fuck me and be happy about it, huh?” You spin to face him, chest to chest and facing off.

“I knew this was a fucking mistake.”

Your pulse is in your throat. “Right. Maybe it was. That’s all I ever was to you, I guess.”

Your voices raise, slowly creeping up in volume as you each get lost in this intimate bubble of angst. Of resentment. On some level, you know you could stop now - before it gets worse and you say things you will only regret (or worse, hear things you’ll wish you hadn’t). You know that you should stop, but it feels… oddly necessary.

Like it’s inevitable. Like you’ve been waiting all this time to fuck and fight because it’s all you know how to do with him anymore. At least, it’s all you know how to do when loving him heart and soul seems off the table.

The space your bodies create is tight, leaning into each other’s circle of personal space.

Santiago’s fingers bridge like a claw and he taps them against his own chest, his eyes needling you like he could sew this up once and for all. Tie off all those loose threads of blame which sit frayed between you. He’s angry. Angry and riled and pissed and even so, there is still this eerie sense of calm about him.

You’ve seen him really let loose. You’ve seen him kill, for Christ’s sake, and yet he’s still measured and restrained in the face of you. That should make it easier to bear the brunt of his sharp edges, but that’s not quite so. There’s something about the precision of his anger when it’s focussed on you. The fact it feels so considered, so targeted only makes it cut deeper. “You know what? I’m tired as shit of always being the fucking bad guy here. You wanna get into it, huh?” His voice breaks now, splitting like shrapnel, lodging in your chest. “I told you I love you and you fucking left me.”

“That’s fucking bullshit!”

He’s not happy that you said that. He rocks from foot to foot like he’s priming for something. Scoops a hand over his jaw, around his taut mouth. You’re close enough to hear it rasp, the fleck of his stubble bristling against his palm. “Oh, it’s bullshit?”

Your voice comes out hot now, your words bitten off between your teeth, flecks of spit cast from your mouth. “Yes! Because if I hadn’t left you never would have told me! You told me because I left you! You told me to fucking punish me. To try and drag me back in.”

“Wow. Jesus fucking...” He laughs, but it is a cold, brief sound. “That’s fucking rich, cariño.” His eyes glint like knife licks, and he plants his hand indignantly against his chest, jutting up his chin. Puffing up his chest and making his body all angles. Protecting himself. “That’s really what you think of me, huh?” You try to look away from him, but his eyes chase you for an answer.

Is it? Is that what you genuinely think of your best friend? Is that what you think he’s done to you? Tried to do?

If so, no wonder you’re so fucking angry. No wonder your body is trembling with it.

But the truth is, when pushed on it, you have no intelligible retort you can form. No evidence you can offer. So, instead, in your panic over losing ground, you opt to minimise. You throw your hand up dismissively and you turn on your heel, stomping towards your door at the end of the hall. “Fuck this.”

This time, his footsteps do not follow, even if you can still feel his eyes boring into your back. You think that might even be the end of things, until…

“No,” he sounds. A forceful, robust note which fills the whole hallway. A command to wait. This isn’t over.

With you and him, it’s never going to be over, is it?

You turn towards him and he is fixed in position, stance set wide and chin dipped down, eyes blackened half moons as he looks at you. “Just let me get this straight. If I’m the one who drags you back in? What the shit do you call what you just did?”

You scoff. “You were a very willing participant, Pope. Or, I dunno. Why don’t you just consider it payback for all the times you fucked me around?”

He’s biting words back as he listens to you now. You can see them, in the tilt of his head and the flare of his nostrils. In the flip and curl of his tongue settled around his upper lip, dragging back and forth just below his filtrum. “Revenge, then? Really? Is that what this weekend has been about for you? You really that vindictive?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous.” You dismiss him again, as though not one of his complaints about you can possibly be valid. Or, rather, revealing you are currently unwilling to admit it even if they are. After all, you’re as stubborn as he is. Each of you trying so desperately to palm off the blame for how fucked up this became.

Santiago paces towards you then, footfalls rhythmic and steady as he swallows the space between you in the hall. “Jesus. You don’t even give a shit, do you? Think I deserve to have my heart crushed into fucking dust?”

Hot, angry tears spike at the corner of your eyes as you spit your words, jabbing his shoulder with your pointer finger. “Like you give a shit that I left?”

His dense brows draw down, his whole face a grimace, his voice practically booming throughout the hallway, close enough that the sound of it rumbles in your chest. “I don’t know how else I can say it. I never wanted to lose you.”

“Yeah? Well you never fucking had to!”

Santiago is the one who turns from you now, pacing back in a loop, both hands lifting and dragging backward through his grizzled curls, flattening them to his head in disbelief. He rounds back to you, spittle glistening on his lower lip from his tirade. He’s waving his arms now, everything being thrown upward just like the hideous lurch in your stomach. “You’re the one who ran from this!”

Well, that’s the biggest pile of shit you ever heard. You fold your arms to your chest, becoming guarded and taut where he becomes more frenzied. “Oh ho ho,” you scoff. “Now that’s a grade A delusion, right there.” He mumbles something under his breath, shaking his head from side to side in a long, disbelieving drag. In denial. Still. “You’ve been running, Santiago. You’ve done nothing but run from this. Even the whole time I was right next to you. Especially then.”

He steps towards you, driving your body back into the door without making a scrap of contact with you. From the force of him alone. He leans his face in real close, his movements disconcertingly slow - cautious and deliberate. It’s not threatening – you don’t feel physically unsafe at all - but you can tell from the flare of his nostrils and that gunpowder glint in his eye that while his movements may be constrained, he’s still arming himself with a coming barrage.

You flatten yourself – your back to the shut paneled door- and Santiago lifts his hand, reaching up to you. Pincering your chin deceptively tenderly between his thumb and forefinger, making sure you look at him. “Right. And you’ve been so perfect, huh?” His eyes needle you, making it impossible for you to wheedle out of this one. To dismiss him. He’s making sure you take at least some accountability for your part in this. “Fucking other guys to get back at me? Insisting we keep it a secret? Pissing off to another fucking continent, two days early, by the way, before we’d even put things right?” You break eye contact, your vision of him blurred by wilful tears. He releases your chin from his grip then, but the space between you remains tight. Close, even as you feel a million miles from him. “Christ - it’s like you never fucking wanted this to work. Never believed I was worth it. How am I supposed to work with that?”

Hot, spiking tears spill over onto your cheeks. You scrub them away with a flattened palm but it still doesn’t slow them down.

“Please,” you beg limply, shaking your head from side to side. You want him to stop this. You just want this to be over.

“I was never the guy someone would bring home to their mama, was I? Too fucked up and too broken for that? Hands too bloody, right, to be good enough for you?” You balk audibly in protest at his words, but even so, it sends a hot flash of heat to your cheeks.

Is there some truth in it?

Had you been afraid of what he’d done, even though the blood on his hands matches yours? Or… maybe because of it?

Your lower lip begins to tremble as the ire in Santiago’s eyes burns you, hot like coals. But he has more to say. “I get it. It’s easier to blame me for everything that got fucked up, right?” He beats his palm emphatically against his chest and flattens it there. “I’m hardly a fucking Saint, I’ll admit that much. But do you honestly think that I ever wanted to hurt you? That this doesn’t fucking hurt me?”

No. You want to say “no”. No. That’s not what you believe at all, but instead the words that find their way out are cruel and petty. “Well you did. You hurt me!”

You wish you could get rid of it, this anger in your chest. You only want to love him… but you tried that, and since it didn’t work, it somehow feels like the anger is all you have left to fill this hole in your middle.

His eyes tighten, and Santiago jabs his finger back and forth, his voice hoarse as he pushes the words out from the pit of his chest. “It never mattered, what I did or didn’t do. It was never going to be good enough for you.”

“That’s not true. At all!” You spit back. “It’s you who thought that. Not me. Not me. You wouldn’t even fucking try.”

Santiago scrubs a tear away from his own cheek now. His voice creaks and cracks apart. “I tried. I did. But you only want me under certain conditions right. If I quit. If I get out. Maybe if I’m someone fucking else.”

“That’s not fair, that’s not how it is. For fuck’s sake, Santi.”

You are both entirely undone now with this ugly rage, tears wetting your cheeks, and this resentment and blame twisting your words and your faces into something unrecognisable.

That makes it all the worse when Frankie’s torso pokes out of his door in the hallway. You know that the two of you are not yourselves. Frankie’s face twists with disappointment and concern in equal measure, and you fold your arms across your chest defensively, feeling embarrassed that he is seeing you this way. At your worst. Why do you and Santiago always seem to bring out the worst in each other? You’d swear blind to anyone that he’s the best person you know.

“Guys. What the fuck?” Frankie ventures. His voice is grogged by sleep, and you get the feeling he would step out into the hall if he wasn’t entirely nude behind the door frame.

Feeling suddenly ashamed, with the contrasting softness of Frankie’s eyes on yours, you feel the urge to run from yourself and what you’ve become, all twisted up like this. You push past Santiago in the hallway, storming down the stairs as tears now cascade freely down your cheeks. You don’t even make an attempt to mop them up now, letting them course down and drip from the point of your chin.

Then, with an aggravated sigh, Santiago follows you too, in pursuit, despite Frankie’s barked pleas that he “leave it alone, cabrón”.

You push out of the threshold and into the night, the cooler air a welcome relief. You pace away from the house, wanting to leave it, to leave him entirely, but your body will not let you. Will not carry you far enough away, and your steps quickly run out of steam.

When Santiago finds you, you are stood with your back to him, looking out towards the white crash of waves. He comes and stands next to you, hands gently clenched by his sides.

“Look,” he begins, staring out at the expanse of water. You feel your anger cresting and with it comes a wave of sadness. “I love you. But maybe you’re right. Maybe… we’re not good for each other. Maybe we just… can’t make each other happy.”

You shake your head softly. Tip your eyes to the sky to stave off yet more tears. “I just wish we’d never changed things.” You wish more than anything that you could simply swallow it. Go back to how things were before.

“Don’t,” Santi implores, turning to you with his hands cupped as though in offering, soft and haphazard and trying to catch on your elbow, your shoulder, your hand. “Don’t say that. Please. No matter how fucked this got… You’re the best thing I ever-”

But, your anger is not done. Your palms raise in the air, forming a barrier between your bodies - a defence against his brutal love - and you snatch yourself away from him. Your voice is once again harsh as it rings in accusation, words tearing from your lips like bullets. “-Let go?”

There is a beat.

“Seriously. You’re gonna stand there and tell me I could I have fucking stopped you?”

You raise your palms and plant them to your face, splayed fingers tugging in disbelief from your temples, sliding down to your mouth - drawing your cheeks into a grimace. You look at him and his face is once again taut with blame. His mouth a thin, downturned line. But even now….. Somehow, even now, you want to kiss him. Want to kiss him until he is soft again, like you know he can be.

Why would he never turn soft for you - not all the way? Soft in your arms? Why would he never?

He shifts his weight from foot-to-foot under your scrutiny. He sees the anger melt away from your face, but his is not done. “I mean, fuck. What do you want from me, huh? You want me to come with you? Just drop everything?”

“Just stop, Santi,” you plead, weakly, but there’s no way he heard you over his own tirade.

“My whole career. This shit I’ve got going on with Lorea. Pick-up and move here? Huh? Tell me? What do you want from me?”

You fold your arms across your chest, closing yourself off to him. “Please, just drop it.”

“You want me to have dinners with you and your family on Sundays? Take the nephews to the playpark, huh?”

He won’t stop. He won’t stop talking, stop pushing you, and you can’t take it. You’re going to snap.

“Go fucking grocery shopping? And get married and have babies and-?”

“Yes!” you finally yell, your whole body craning forward as you fire your answer out through your throat, the word coming out scuffed and sudden; but nothing if not truthful. Your eyes go wide, quivering with tears as well as the shock of your revelation. The shock of revealing something you can barely even admit to yourself.

That is what you want. With him.

Santiago is evidently as shocked as you are too. Stunned into silence, in fact. He takes a perceptible step back from you, punching out a breath like he’s just been struck with a body shot. All the tension drops from his limbs, and his arms flop uselessly to his sides.

But, instead of backtracking, from somewhere, somehow, you finally find the courage to stand in your truth. “Yes,” you say shakily. “I want that, you asshole.” And, at those words, you interpret the most repulsive thing you’ve seen in his eyes all night. Pity. “And you, meanwhile? You’d rather get shot in the guts than do that with me, wouldn’t you? Something so mundane as being happy? Something so fucking worthless as loving me?” You tear your head away from him, whip your gaze away as you cannot bear to look at him. Cannot bear to see your true wants rejected. With a final question, you stab your pointer finger against your sternum with enough force that it hurts. “I’m not a mission, so I’m not worth it right? Not important?”

He shoves his hands in his back pockets, his gaze dropping to the floor, to a neutral spot between you. His voice all but cracks apart, small and broken. “I told you that I love you.”

“That wasn’t enough!” You bite your words off before you can even think, and his eyes snap back up to yours then. Wounded. Glassy. You regret the words as soon as you have spoken them, but it is far too late to recall them now. You can see that they cut him - and you can even understand why they would hurt. What an awful thing to have said, you think; that his love wasn’t enough.

It was everything.

Everything.

Wasn’t it?

Even so, here you stand, still waiting and hoping that he can offer you something more than that alone. A solution, perhaps. A way to fix this.

Instead though, Santiago simply nods slowly. Contemplatively. In resignation. He stands eerily still. Eerily quiet. Entirely stoic. “Right. Well.” His hand rasps back and forth over his stubble, and his voice is entirely sunken. Defeated. He’s a soldier. Your friend. Your lover. But most of all, now he’s someone who appears to have stopped fighting for you. He looks you in the eye, all of his anger dissipated. Voice scrubbed clean and entirely dispassionate. “That’s too bad then. Because I don’t have anything else I can give you.”

He turns from you now, and you grab onto his arm. “Believe me. The only thing I ever wanted from you… With you, was a future, Santiago.”

It breaks your heart when he quietly, slowly extricates his arm from your grasp, slipping through your fingers like fine sands. Did you really think that you could do that? That you could keep on pushing him, without eventually pushing him away?

A divot notches in his brow. “Mmm-hmm. Well I guess we fucked any shot at that now, didn’t we?”

You search his ashen eyes - almost in desperation - for some of that all too familiar fire. For any sort of spark for you.

Godammit, as soon as the anger has gone, you want it back. You want something; only because it seems a damn sight better than nothing at all.

You can’t handle it - the thought that any future with him is being taken off of the table once and for all. You know - if you step back from this - that you’ve been far from perfect. That you’ve been bitter, volatile, reactive. Maybe even cruel, at times. You know, in truth, that you shouldn’t be so hung up on the past -on what happened all those months ago and beyond- but it’s the only thing Santiago has ever given you to dwell on. How were you supposed to move on, when he’s never been able to look ahead with you?

Still, all of a sudden, being faced with any and all possibilities of a future with him being ripped away from you, it is all you want to talk about. The past and your grievances and the blame now seem wholly irrelevant. You feel bile rise into your mouth. “Listen. It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Just… How do we get past this, Santiago? That’s what matters.”

He stops, halting his retreat back to the house. He turns, slowly. And, Santiago takes your hands into each of his. Looks at you solemnly, as your eyes flit over his face in doubt and fear and regret. He bundles your hands up together, sandwiching them together between his warm, steady palms and he gives them a squeeze - full of finality. “Maybe… Maybe we don’t,” he sounds, flatly, voice scrubbed clean of emotion. And, the only thing worse than hearing his words out loud, is that he looks like he believes them.

For once, Santiago “Pope” Garcia seems cold, and it hurts more than any of his fire has ever burnt you. Maybe the anger, horrible as it feels, is better. Because it is better than nothing. Better than losing him altogether.

After all, what is it that happens when the fire goes out?

Well, you suddenly feel like you’re about to find out.

You suddenly feel like it’s truly about to be over.

And so, you clasp your hands over your mouth and you sob, fleeing towards the interior of the house, because you have no place else left to run but away from him.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #oscar isaac #ride or die series

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qoqurt · 6 months ago

Text

𝜗𝜚 ⋆ BIRTHDAY .ᐟ (ethan’s version)

just a small blurb for mr ethan edwards bc roro ( @wintfleur ) let me know that today was his bday .. so a little commotion for him actually … takes place BEFORE luke moves to jersey and a little after he daisy and ethan get together ok <3

read about daisy, ethan and luke | au masterlist

daisydoodledoo

liked by dreagraves, jackhughes, and others

tagged : lhughes_06 , rutgermcgroarty , entersteller

daisydoodledoo i literally blocked ethan for this bc i wanted to post my gift for him without him knowing ++ it’s literally 11pm im a HUSTLER 😮‍💨 (ft. luke watching — he signed the card dw!!) shoutout to stella and luke and rutger for reassuring me that the gift is good 😭 there’s more but i’ve decided not to add it here :3

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trevorzegras and tell me why rutger is tied up in slide 2 🤨

daisydoodledoo icl i couldn’t tell you .. i was writing the card one minute and the next my ribbon went missing

entersteller i’m just a girl ok ☹️ he needed some nice ribbon !!

lhughes_06 are you planning to give him to ethan or …

rutgermcgroarty and if she was 😽

dreagraves the build a bear frogs 🥹

daisydoodledoo luke thought it’d be silly if we dressed them up like him and i for ethan actually LOL so i made them clothes

dreagraves you make me sick (that’s so cute shits)

jackhughes shoutout luke for just sitting there

lhughes_06 i just breathed 🙄

davidungh blocking 1/2 boyfriends is actually crazy

daisydoodledoo if you don’t shut the fuck up ur next 🥰

lhughes_06 added to their close friends story .ᐟ

edwards.73 replied to your story ‘where are you guys going without me 💔’

ahndaesee replied to your story ‘BACKSHOTS 😮‍💨’

lhughes_06 who want backshots 😼

ahndaesee replied to your story ‘no but srsly wtf how did i forget the damn cake 😭 can’t believe we had to walk back’

mark.estapa replied to your story with ‘where is she scrambling off to now’

rutgermcgroarty added to their story .ᐟ

ahndaesee replied to your story ‘he hasn’t a single clue does he?’

rutgermcgroarty ‘i almost blabbed but luckily stella changed topics before i could’

ahndaesee ‘good. ur off the hook for now ig 🙄’

ahndaesee

🎵: glue song — beabadoobee

liked by lhughes_06, stellahughes, and others

tagged : edwards.73

ahndaesee ethan on film for ethan day 📸 .. but in all seriousness, happy birthday to one of my favourite guys in the whole world. 🩷 i’ll never stop being thankful for the way you make me smile till my cheeks hurt. love you to the moon and back, ed.

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📍edwards.73 thank you pretty girl ❤️ i love you

ahndaesee 1/2 of my boys 🩷

edwards.73 speaking of which where is he

ahndaesee 🤫

edwards.73 what does this mean

davidungh cakes and candles ethan 🎂

ahndaesee cakes and candles…

davidungh am i not allowed to wish my brother in law a happy birthday

ahndaesee DONT GIVE THEM IDEAS .

lhughes_06 too late :)

edwards.73 brother in law thank you 🥰

lhughes_06 happy birthday pretty princess ❤️

ahndaesee edwards.73 found him

edwards.73 thanks lucky 🫶🏻 i love you

pshoon2002 happy ethan day !!! 🥳

stellahughes you know the relationship is good when sunghoon approves 😭

ahndaesee EL OH EL ur so right 😭

edwards.73 lhughes_06 we made it 🥹❤️

lhughes_06 feeling real grateful rn 🥲

stellahughes u did him justice daisy 🥰

edwards.73 are you calling me ugly

stellahughes and if i am

ahndaesee you and your bf are really the same

rutgermcgroarty and if we are 🥰

lhughes_06 im gonna be honest im a bit afraid

dylanduke25 is your boyfriend single

_alexturcotte asking for a friend

ahndaesee no.

lhughes_06 double no.

ynaniu happy birthday ethan!! 🫶🏻

dreagraves RAAAHH ETHAN DAY

_quinnhughes 🥳🎂

luca.fantilli daisy can you be my photographer too

ahndaesee $30 per hour flat rate with $30 service fee:)

edwards.73 added to their story .ᐟ

lhughes_06 replied to your story ‘happy birthday e ❤️ i love you :)’

luca.fantilli replied to your story ‘that cake n pasta look so good.. hope u saved leftovers’

ahndaesee replied to your story ‘love you birthday boy ❤️’

stellahughes replied to your story ‘my gf looks so good here 🥰 tell luke to hop off pls!’

jackhughes replied to your story ‘i hate couples 🙄 happy birthday though 🥳’

note from mei ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ happy ethan day everyone !! i hope everyone likes this .. it’s so long (i’m very sorry)

pookie tags : @lovings4turn @iceflwers @wintfleur ( owner of stella hughes oc )

#ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ arts + crafts #‹𝟹 : stats haters #nhl au #nhl oc #nhl x reader #ethan edwards x oc #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes x reader #ethan edwards x reader #umich hockey x reader #luke hughes #ethan edwards #ethan edwards imagine

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bubuslutty · 2 years ago

Text

Angel on Duty: the first meeting

All Parts

pairing: demon/angel fem!reader x 141

word count: 2.1k

tags: semi-canon compliant, reader is described as having a tail and horns but calls herself 'Angel', do what you will with her real nature but she's simply sent down to fulfil a wish, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Angel', 3rd person pov, minimal description of appearance, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warning: none

summary: the 141 boys have a fantasy to get captain price the fuck of his life, but also share it amongst themselves, a shared cumdump if you will. which basically translates into "we need a woman to break our miserable old man, and break us in the process and rebuild us again just to do it all over again." they're just miserable and pent up and horny and want to be taken care of, that's all :)

a/n: there's no smut in here cuz this is just the intro. bon appétit either way 💞 also let me know if u wanna be added to my cod taglist 😖

What do you know about prayer? About wishing? Blowing birthday candles and wishing upon a star?

Ever since the beginning of time, it is man's nature to wish, hope and pray. To whom? That has always changed and shifted throughout the centuries, with prayers sent to different deities, angels, ancestors and so on.

But what humans don’t know is that all of their prayers, all of their wishing, if it was strong enough, if they really want it, really bad, their wishes just might become reality. And that was all done through a meticulously built system in another realm, where what humans considered angels worked day and night to realise them.

“Hold on, you’re not about to give me this much work when I’m literally getting paid minimum wage.” A woman said, waving a folder around in the air with wide eyes.

“If you have an issue, you can take it up to HR.” A man said unimpressed, not even looking up from his computer.

“Haha, funny. Seriously, why the hell did I get one wish and what? 8 humans??” The woman said, slapping the folder on the desk, making the man hiss in annoyance.

“Why must you be so difficult? It’s one wish and 8 humans who have the same wish? What’s so hard to understand? Get down there and do your thing.” The man said, visibly irritated, trying to shoo her away with one hand.

“You sent this down to my office and did not expect me to have questions?? If all little boys' wishes about becoming the next Ronaldo could be realised, Sandra down the sixth fraction would have 82 thousand humans, alone, to go through!” The woman said, hands on her hips and standing with her knees to the desk’s edge, casting her shadow on the man sitting in front of her.

“Who’s Sandra?” The man asked.

“I don’t know.”

The man finally stopped staring at his computer screen and stood up, rounding up his desk and grabbing the folder in his hand, “Did you even read the reports?”

“No, just the first page.” The woman said, twirling a hair strand in her finger while the man stared at her with an unimpressed look.

“For fuck sake…Okay, see here?” He said, pointing at the wish, which was a paragraph long. The woman nodded and he kept going, “This group of humans share the same wish, or fantasy to be more realistic, and it’s all linked together through one man.” He explained, flipping to another page and tapping a finger on a man’s profile and picture.

“Oh, he’s beautiful.” She said with a gasp, eyes flashing with a red light that made the man gulp and quickly look away from her face.

“They all work together and have this complex dynamic of friends, but also family, but also this relationship,” He said, flipping through the other profiles, and letting her look at every picture.

“What does that mean?” The woman tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“Their whole thing is a tangled mess of different dynamics with each other, but it all comes down to the first man I showed you, he’s like the glue of their team, but he’s what keeps them whole and sane, individually.” He said and glanced back at her and noticed her confusion but also the amazement on her face.

“They are fascinating…”

The man placed the folder back in her hands and turned to get his desk phone, “They are, now I’m going to call Beck to confirm some last details and you should be down in the mortal realm by tomorrow.

“Tomorrow?!”

“They’re moving in tomorrow, and so are you.” He said and watched her leave his office with a shocked but excited expression nonetheless. He walk out of the door without having to touch it for it to wing open, the long black tail swinging back and forth, poking from under her short skirt and the horns that almost grazed the top of the doorframe.

The woman stood in front of a beautiful house in the middle of London, hugging a white cat with black ears and a black tail to her chest as a lorry parked in the street, next to her taxi. “I guess this is where I’ll be living for the next weeks… Not bad.” She said, petting the furball in her arms while the taxi driver removed her bags from the trunk.

“Thank you.” She thanked the man with a smile, and he smiled back, a blush high on his cheekbones and reluctantly left, glancing at her over his shoulder every two steps.

Then another man approached her, dressed in a blue shirt and hat, “The keys ma’am?”

“Oh yes, sorry.” She gasped, placing the cat on the ground and running to her bag, retrieving a set of keys and handing them out to the man with a small smile.

“Thank you.” He nodded and started walking to the house while other men dressed in the same uniform spilt out of a van, surrounded the lorry and started helping each other in carrying furniture inside the house while she stood to the side, watching.

Suddenly another car parked in the driveway of the house right next to hers, and she watched with curiosity as four men exited the car, looking tired but excited at the same time. They looked huge, carrying dark green and black bags on their shoulders and heading straight to the door, but without glancing at the woman.

She fought against a grin and held eye contact, her cat, Kuromi, purring against her leg. Then she moved before she could think.

The four men froze at their doorstep, still staring at her as she walked up to them. That day she was wearing a back suit with black heels and a black bralette instead of a button-up, the trousers hugging her hips so well along with her legs.

“Hey, I just wanted to introduce myself as your new neighbour. I’m Angela Ali, but you can call me Angel.” She introduced her fake name and gave herself a better nickname, internally snickering at the irony.

“Well, hello, we’re also new here.” Soap spoke when nobody said anything, he even smiled back at the beautiful woman.

Her eyes widened in surprise, both at his thick Glaswegian accent and the information he just gave her (which she already knew but she had to act the part), “Really? I had no idea! Maybe we can be friends and look out for each other in this neighbourhood.”

“Yeah, that sounds great. I’m Johnny MacTavish, by the way.” He finally introduced himself and stuck out his hand, and when she shook his hand, he felt tingles at the bottom of his spine, making him let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m John, John Price.” The second man said, sticking out his hand and keeping his eyes respectfully on her face and nowhere else. It was so stupid, he was tired, yes, but not that tired to be easily dumbfounded by a random beautiful woman. And John prided himself in his manners, so when his eyes landed on her body as she walked up to them, he couldn’t help but drink in every dip and swell like he was deprived.

That’s so embarrassing.

Angel smiled and shook his hand, shivering when his warm big rough hands engulfed her smaller one. He was the same man she called beautiful that day she received her wish file. And he was, not in the way humans usually described something as beautiful. But to her, despite his huge body, thick thighs and arms, deep voice and beard, his eyes held something in them that pulled her in. She could sense the man’s thoughts, emotions, wants and needs.

“Nice to meet you, John.” She smiled at the man and turned to greet the other two, who both introduced themselves as Simon Riley and Kyle Garrick.

Simon was wearing a simple black surgical mask, covering the lower half of his face. But she already knew what he looked like, she has his profile. She knows he has a scar that runs through his upper lip on the left side of his face.

His pale blue eyes were intense, looking at her, calculating, careful, as if she was a threat, someone to look out for.

Angel let him be, staring as much as he wanted.

Kyle on the other hand was all smiley, radiating warmth and friendliness. He was handsome and charming, and made Angel want to talk to him for two hours straight. Did I mention his smile? That man's smile is absolutely beautiful. You would never guess he's a soldier, a killer, a beast in the field.

“I’ll let you get settled, now. See you around!” She said and turned around, walking back to her house, noticing that her bags were moved and Kuromi was meowing by the door while men in uniforms were still working as fast as they could, unpacking everything and placing the furniture where it belonged. She reached the door and picked up the cat, gave her a kiss on her little head and looked over her shoulder and saw how the four men were still staring at her, and they all immediately stumbled inside their house, slamming the door shut behind them.

Angel giggled and finally stepped inside her new home, shaking her head.

Angel lay on her stomach, on her new queen-sized bed with a pizza box on her side and a laptop casting its bright light on her face. She took another bite of her pizza and read through the document on the screen, which was a digital version of her wish file, with extra documents going more into detail about each man she was to work on for the next weeks.

“Alright, what do we have here? Childhood trauma…Oh, oh, poor lad…” She frowned at the screen and read along the lines explaining some of the things Simon went through, she had read almost everyone’s files in detail, and it was already dark out, probably around 11PM. Angel checked the time and gasped when she realised it was actually 2AM.

She even had files about their careers, she just quickly skimmed through them just to see if there was anything serious to watch out for, but ignored everything else, just because she wanted to give a chance for the men to surprise her, it wasn’t very fun when she knew everything. Plus she was going to spend a couple of weeks on this job, so she might as well make it fun for herself.

Her horns and her tail were nowhere to be seen because it was a rule to hide one's true identity when in the mortal realm, or at least the form they like to wear in the wish realm. And hers was a pair of horns and a tail because she thinks it's funny to take on the form of a demon when humans think their prayers and wishes go to angels.

She was not an angel, nor a demon for that matter really, her whole existence revolves around realising human's wishes, and her form? She can take on anything she feels comfortable in. But when she's interacting with humans, she must take on a human form to hide her true nature.

Her phone suddenly rang and she flinched, looking down at the vibrating device. On the screen, a clock and a reminder to 'EAT FOOD' could be seen. She turned off the reminder and hummed, "Yeah, yeah, I'm eating.."

You see, Angel, still struggles to get into the habit of eating regularly when in human form. No matter how many jobs she's completed, she somehow still forgets to eat because you don't have to eat in her realm, you don't even need to sleep or go to the toilet. So setting herself a reminder on her phone is necessary if she doesn't want to suddenly drop.

"Oh, I forgot to read my own files." She gasped, sitting up straight and placing her laptop on her lap. After a few clicks, she opened her own files, highlighting her new identity and timetable.

"Okay, I'm an only child… Single, of course, duh, and my job is a sex therapist!" She said, brows raised and quickly reading next lines. "I only have to go to the office two days a week?... Nice. And I'm a PhD student… in psychology?.."

Angel groaned and fell on her back, her laptop still in her hands, it seems like she needs to start doing some research on human education.

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): currently empty

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