#but yeah it's something that's been going on in my mind today

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise ch. 2

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 1.9k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole, again

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

prev

when nathan got out of the car, you realized that this was actually the second time today that you had forgotten about him, too busy talking with john to remember your literal boyfriend a couple of feet away.

“this is the place?” nathan asked incredulously, “looks kind of busted up.”

you stiffened at his rudeness and were about to apologize when you heard john laugh, “yeah, this is the place, i keep telling them it could do with a paint job.”

you all walked over to the open garage doors and john yelled out, “soap, ghost, get your asses out here. you have customers.”

you heard a dull thunk, a grunt of pain and then looked down to the ground to see a man with a mohawk roll out from underneath a car. he rubbed his head to soothe the angry red spot now forming on his forehead but there was still a lopsided grin on his face and mischief sparkling in his bright blue eyes.

“cap’n, bringin’ us guests? you shouldnae ‘ave” he looked over at you and nathan, his grin growing a bit wider when he spotted you. “och, and who’s the lass?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at john, who looked sternly at him, “soap, behave.”

soap just shrugged making john sigh, but he continued, “found her and her boyfriend on the side of the road, her car’s dead, told them you could fix it. oh, and that you’d give them a friends and family discount.”

he shook his head and you worried that he wouldn’t be willing to do the job, or that this apparent kinship to john didn’t extend to people he found on the side of the road. then he said, “wouldnae be right, makin’ a bonnie lass pay a cent.”

“johnny, you can’t give free repairs to every pretty girl that comes in, we’d go out of business,” said a man as he walked into the garage, wiping his hands with an oily cloth.

“simon, finally joining us, then?” john said. “had to order some parts,” simon shrugged. simon was huge, big muscles, even taller than john, he had close-cropped blonde hair and he wore a black surgical mask but it didn’t stop him from leaning over to kiss johnny on the head through the material. out of the corner of your eye, you saw nathan cringe slightly at this action, but maybe he just didn’t like pda, he had mentioned something a while ago about it grossing him out.

simon’s words broke you out of your thoughts and you turned back to him, he had asked something about if this had been a reoccurring issue.

“oh, no, this is the first time it’s done anything like this. sure, it’s not the best car, but it’s never up and gave up before.”

simon scratched his chin and nodded as you spoke, “you mind if i take a look then?” you shook your head, “go ahead,” and you handed him your keys.

“actually, i know some stuff about cars, think i could take a look with you?” nathan spoke up, making you raise an eyebrow.

“since when?” you said, making both johns laugh, and it even got a small chuckle out of simon.

nathan’s face went red, “i- i know plenty about cars, you don’t know everything i do.”

“come on then, maybe you can do my job for me” simon said, walking over and practically scruffing nathan, leading him towards your car.

“so you two were in the force with john?” i asked. the three of you had settled in the air-conditioned office of the repair shop and johnny had made you tea, despite your insistence on it being unnecessary.

“aye. me, lt, and cap’n were all on the same task force. until i almost got murked, that is.” soap emphasized this by pointing to the giant star-shaped scar that marked the side of his shaved head.

“lt retired then too, had to take care of my sorry ass for a long while. then cap’n retired too, moved here-“ “yeah, and you two followed me here, so you could keep being pains in my ass” john grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“he really does love us, ye ken?” johnny stage whispered to you. john just shook his head, his smile growing.

“so, that just leaves one o’ us still in the force, our boy gaz. he’s a lieutenant now, ugh, they grow up so fast” johnny wiped away a fake tear.

“he still visits us old folk from time to time,” john said to you which made soap practically squawk in protest.

“awa' an bile yer heid, i’m a spring chicken compared to you two old heads” he pointed at john and then outside the window where simon stood with nathan at the car, the latter looking very emasculated.

“john calls you soap, was that your nickname?” you asked, suddenly curious.

johnny grinned in response, his annoyance fading away, “aye, it’s an inside joke between us. sorry lass, i couldn’t tell you even under threat of torture.”

“hm, alright, well, do you all have nicknames? unless you’re not allowed to tell me that either” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“och, ye found yourself a feisty bird, price,” soap laughed as he looked over at john.

“she’s not mine, remember?” he looked pointedly at johnny.

“aye, i do now. she’s with that weird looking fellow?” johnny said with such seriousness that it made you burst out into laughter, even if it was making fun of your boyfriend.

“oh god, i shouldn’t be laughing, that is so mean” you said between giggles which made soap smirk,

“he could do with being knocked down a peg or two. the bell above the door rung as nathan stepped inside, quickly followed by simon, “speaking of” soap murmured, his face shifting into a scowl.

“bad news, babe, he said it would take at least three days to fix the problem since we’d have to order a part from somewhere else,” nathan grumbled.

your face fell, “oh no, but what about the dinner with your parents?”

he shrugged, “i don’t know, i’m gonna have to call them or something.” you bit your lip, “right, okay. ugh, i’m sorry, i know you were looking forward to it.” “i knew we should’ve taken my car” he practically spat out, and you just barely stopped yourself from reminding him he insisted on taking your car.

“you could take my truck?” john offered and your gaze softened as you looked over at him, “that’s really nice of you-“ “we are not taking that thing to my parents’, it’s probably worse off than her car and we’ll be back to square one. let’s find a hotel or something and stay there until we figure something out.”

nathan apparently didn’t notice the cutting glares that both simon and johnny were giving him, not liking that someone was disrespecting their captain.

“you’re shit out of luck then, not gonna find a hotel anywhere around here” simon said, his voice had gotten lower, if that was possible, almost a growl. john looked between the two men, something in his eyes somehow conveying for them to back down because they settled slightly.

“you two can stay at my place until the car is fixed,” john turned to face nathan, “if that isn’t going to be a problem?” nathan glanced between the three men, who all stared patiently at him, almost like they were stalking their prey and waiting for the moment to strike.

“that would be fine” he said after a moment’s consideration, making john smile, his angry countenance fading away like clouds passing in front of the sun.

simon and johnny decided to close up shop early and drive with us to john’s house, figuring they could stay for dinner as well. plus, someone needed to drive nathan, otherwise he’d be stuck in the bed of the truck with all the other things simon had unloaded from your car. however, nathan did insist that you rode with him this time, him sitting in the front of simon’s car, you in the backseat and simon driving.

“so, what was your nickname on the force?” you broke the silence.

he eyed you through the rear view mirror, raising an eyebrow, “who said i had one?”

you fidgeted with your hands, worried you’d upset him, “well, i guess i shouldn’t have assumed but since johnny had one, i thought you all would.”

he just laughed, “sorry, love, just messing with you. i did have one, callsign was ghost.”

“ghost? hell kind of name is that?” nathan asked from the passenger seat.

“means you’d never see me coming” simon growled out, making nathan flinch slightly.

he laughed nervously, “that’s.. that’s a joke right?” simon just glanced at him, eyeing him up and down, and then turning back to the road. nathan didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride.

when simon turned onto john’s property, your mouth practically hung open. it was beautiful, like out of a story book. a two story english farm house with aged bricks, half engulfed by vines and surrounded by lush gardens. simon chuckled and you realized in an embarrassing moment that he was laughing at you and your dazed, open expression.

quickly, you shut your mouth with your hand and cleared your throat, “it’s, um, it’s a beautiful place, is all.” you stepped out of the car, after simon opened the door for you (who knew he was such a gentleman) and watched as john did the same.

“it’s gorgeous” you remarked to him, fairly certain you still had a starry-eyed look to your face.

he just shrugged, “could do with some work, for sure” but even through the dismissive comment, you could tell he was proud of his home.

turning back, you saw nathan, sour-faced. you let out a small sigh, ‘can’t wait to find out what that’s about,’ you thought, grimly.

“i’ll get yer bags for ye” johnny said, an impish grin on his face, making you wonder if he was going to go snooping in your stuff but you just thanked him and watched as he disappeared into the house.

“i’ll go make sure he behaves” simon said gruffly, following after him. you did notice that johnny had specifically only grabbed your bags, leaving nathan to contend with his own, and in the deepest part of your mind, that made you just a little happy. you shook that thought away, ‘no, that’s your boyfriend, do not laugh at him.’

he pushed past you, grumbling something about these men all being assholes, pausing every so often to shift the bags in his grip.

“think he needs help?” john asked, startling you slightly. you didn’t even notice him walking up even though he was standing right next to you.

“oh! uh, maybe, but he’ll be fine. he can handle it” you said, and then flushed slightly, “i’m sorry, that was mean.”

john just chuckled, “sweetheart, i don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

that made you flush even more, hiding your face by turning your head slightly, “i wouldn’t say that, exactly, but thank you.”

you froze slightly when he put his hand on your waist, “ready to go inside? or you gonna keep staring at the outside for a couple more hours.”

“right, yeah, let’s go in, sorry.” you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest as he used his arm behind your back to guide you towards the house. christ, this was looking to be a long day.

a/n: ok yay!!! pt. 2!! haven’t written this much in a long time ngl 😭 yet again, no beta reader, so this is very much unedited, sorry. really wish i could’ve put gaz in this but it didn’t really make sense that he would retire as well :/ but maybe he’ll make an appearance later!! i’ll think of smth..

tag list: @the-disaster-in-waiting

@night-girl-301

@darkangel4121

[hoshifighting]

Hi. I love your writings. After I discovered Tumblr and your account... I don't know if I've had any day without coming back here... I had a request.

Bathroom sex with Minghao. It has been going on in my mind all day... Either bathtub or shower.

Even though he's not so masculine like others... I feel like he has an incredible core strength. So maybe putting the reader against the wall? Also if you're comfortable, could you add the reader as someone who's overweight and gets insecure from time to time.

It's like Minghao is comforting them through showing how beautiful they are through intimacy? Feels like something he would do.

Love your writing. Take care

bath sex with minghao

WARNINGS: bath sex, insecurities, praising, nipple sucking, penetrative sex, a tear dropping here or there...

a/n: thank you my love for making me part of your routine 😭🙏 I luv seeing you here, you are soooo sweet!! sorry for making u wait for so long 🥺 love you too, take care of yourself, and drink lots of water plsss

you’d been spiraling about it all damn day. the way minghao’s hands just felt—long fingers brushing your skin in passing, his touch so casual but also so intentional. it stuck to you like a tattoo, made your brain fuzzy. you didn’t even realize it, but the itch of your insecurities had been gnawing at you. maybe it was that girl in line earlier with the perfect ass and the confidence to match, or maybe it was just the mirror, the way it always reflected every single thing you couldn’t fix.

but minghao sees you, actually sees you, and it ruins you every time.

“you’ve been quiet all day,” he says from the bathroom doorway, his head tilted like he’s already piecing you apart, trying to read the shit you don’t say. “what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

you don’t answer right away—can’t, really—because he’s standing there in just his sweatpants, waistband hanging low, hair still damp from his post-workout shower. fucking unreal. and you hate it, the way you almost flinch at the word “pretty,” because yeah, he means it, but your brain won’t let you believe it.

“nothing,” you lie, but your voice cracks. his eyes narrow.

“bullshit.”

you huff, looking anywhere but him. “it’s not a big deal. just—ugh, i don’t know, okay? can we not do this tonight?”

but of course, minghao doesn’t take that. doesn’t let you slip into your head and drown in it. instead, he steps in, closing the door softly behind him, like he’s locking the world out. “you know you can’t bullshit me, baby. talk to me.”

and then he’s right in front of you, hands sliding over your arms, thumbs skimming your skin like he’s earthing you.

you mumble, “i just—i don’t feel good today, okay? like… about myself.”

his brows pull together, and you hate that he looks hurt on your behalf. “y/n,” he says, his voice softer now, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“you wouldn’t get it,” you mutter, but the words catch when he lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“try me.”

and fuck, he’s patient, doesn’t rush you, just waits while his thumbs start rubbing little circles on your hips. finally, you crack. “i just… sometimes it’s hard, okay? i see all these girls who look perfect, and then there’s me. i don’t even know why you—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off, firmly. “don’t finsh it, don’t do that. don’t talk about yourself like that. do you know how fucking beautiful you are? like, actually?”

you laugh, but it’s bitter, because it’s not something you believe. “hao—”

he doesn’t let you finish, leaning in to kiss you, like he’s trying to rewrite whatever nonsense’s looping in your head. his lips move with yours, one hand sliding up your back, the other curling around your waist, and it’s so easy to melt into him, to forget everything else.

“i’m serious,” he murmurs against your mouth. “you’re the most gorgeous person i’ve ever seen. i love every. fucking. inch. of you.”

you want to argue, but then his hands are tugging at your shirt, and the air shifts. he pulls back just enough to look at you. “can i?”

your nod is shaky, he peels your shirt off like it’s a ritual, and when he sees the hesitance in your eyes, he leans in to kiss your shoulder, your collarbone, every patch of skin he uncovers.

he’s backing you up against the shower wall, his breath hot against your neck as he trails kisses down your jaw.

“hao,” you whisper, barely able to get the word out before he’s hooking your legs around his waist, his strength catching you like it’s nothing. “wait, i’m—”

“you’re fucking stunning,” he says, cutting you off, his lips crashing into yours again. “and i’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”

the sound of the water hitting the tile was loud, drowning out every thought in your head except him. minghao was everywhere—hands firm on your thighs, lips pressed to your chest, tongue teasing your nipples until you were squirming. the spray soaked through what little clothing you both had left, making the fabric cling before he shoved his pants and boxers down with one hand, the wet heap hitting the floor with an exaggerated plop.

“didn’t know your pants were that heavy,” you giggled. he smirked before leaning in to kiss you again.

“focus,” he murmured. his hips pressed forward, and you gasped when his cock brushed against your pussy—hard and ready, like it always was when it came to you. it was one of those things that made you feel… better, somehow. like maybe he really did mean all the things he said about how he wanted you, how he needed you. not that you’d ever admit it—god, no, he’d never let you live it down.

you squirmed against him, suddenly hyperaware of how high he had you hoisted. “hao, i—”

“relax,” he interrupted. “i’ve got you.”

“but what if—what if i fall?”

his jaw tensed, his hands tightened on you. “you won’t fall, y/n. do you trust me?”

you nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him. his eyes narrowed. “say it.”

your voice cracked. “i trust you.”

“good,” he said, but there was a shimmer of guilt in his expression when he saw the tears welling in your eyes. his voice softened immediately. “hey, baby—fuck, i’m sorry. didn’t mean to sound so harsh. you’re safe, okay? i promise.”

his lips brushed your cheek, catching the tear that spilled over, and you sniffled, clinging to him tighter. his forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, “you’re safe with me. i swear.”

and then he rolled his hips, sliding into you, and whatever insecurity you’d been holding onto was gone—just gone. all you could feel was him, thick and deep, stretching you until your head spun. he groaned, his breath hitching as he bottomed out. “you feel so fucking good, baby. perfect. perfect.”

your fingers dug into his shoulders, a whimper slipping past your lips as he pulled back and thrust again, deep. the angle made you gasp, made your whole body shake in his arms. “hao,” you choked out, overwhelmed, and he just smiled against your neck.

“that’s it babe,” he murmured, picking up his pace, his hips slapping against yours. “see? i told you, baby. you don’t have to worry about anything. i’ve got you. always.”

his words melted into the steam around you, and soon you weren’t sure if it was water or sweat trailing down your body. he fucked you, his grip on you steady and unrelenting, making it impossible to think about anything but the way he filled you, the way he made you feel like you were his.

“shit—fuck, hao, i’m gonna—”

“i know,” he cut in, his voice thick and breathless, but that smug grin never wavered. “let go for me, baby. you’re so fucking beautiful when you cum. let me see you.”

and when you did—when your body clenched around him and your moan echoed in the steam-filled space—he followed right after, his hips stuttering as he buried himself as deep as he could go. his head fell to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as he held you close, neither of you caring about the water still raining down around you.

“see?” he said after a moment, pulling back enough to look at you. his smile was soft now, tender. “told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”

[dira333]

Mom Friend - Kenma - pt 2

The room is vibrating with quiet conversations and the anticipation only a good game can bring.

Below, Hinata’s warming up. He knows exactly where you’re sitting and he waves excitedly before moving on in the line-up.

“Hey, you’re here already.” Kuroo smiles when he squeezes through, pulling you into a hug.

Behind him, Kenma comes shuffling in. You move to hug him, like you always do when you’re meeting in a group, though you barely touch this time. It’s a fake-out more than anything else.

“Have you been here long?”

“Hinata needed a ride,” you shrug your shoulders. “I had the car this weekend, so it wasn’t a problem.”

Kuroo whistles a mismatched tune. “Do you think they’re going to win?”

“Oh, for sure,” you smile up at him. “Like how can they not?”

You know you’re not the most knowledgeable when it comes to Volleyball. Most games one of the boys ends up explaining a play to you, but no one ever seemed to mind.

Today, though, you mind.

You know Kenma hasn’t told Hinata about that night, because Hinata’s the worlds worst liar. You’d be able to tell if he knew.

Kuroo, however, is an amazing liar. If he knows, and you suspect he does, he isn’t letting it slip.

His kindness feels forced to you now. Is he pitying you? 

“Did you get that?” He asks half an hour later when the referee waves his hands in a way you haven’t seen before.

The “no” is on the tip of your tongue but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“You don’t have to explain it,” you say instead, the words a little more biting than they should be. “It’s fine.”

Kuroo startles and behind him, you can see the concern in Kenma’s face. 

You can’t stand it anymore, being this close to him, and get up.

“I need to use the toilet,” you rush out. “Lady problems.”

The line is short. 

But you sit on the cold toilet seat for fifteen minutes, scrolling through Tiktok until your heartbeat settles and you feel ready to go back out again.

You’ll have to apologize to Kuroo in some way if you want to save this friendship.

Though is there a way to save it? Should you, even? 

-

“Did you see my spike?” Hinata asks later, hair damp from the game, towel slung around his neck. “Did you?”

You’re not sure which one he means, but you nod and you fawn over him like you usually do. 

But then he’s gone, gone for a quick shower, and you’re left to wait around.

“You good?” Kuroo asks and you can feel your spine stiffen, from the top all the way down to the bottom.

“Yes,” you tell him, though your eyes stay on the floor. A quick check, Kenma’s shoes are nowhere to be seen. At least he’s not here to witness this. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I don’t want your pity.”

Kuroo quiets. He’s usually someone who moves a lot, squiggles his foot, or taps his thigh, but he’s motionless right now, at least the lower part of him that you can see. Nothing is going to make you lift your eyes up. You don’t want to see his face.

“Did something happen last week?”

You hesitate.

“Nothing happened.”

“Are you sure? Kenma said you watched the movie and went out for dinner after like we usually do. He said you didn’t talk much, that it was quiet, but if it’s something about Kenma-”

“Why does it have to be about Kenma?” You lift your eyes now, want to see his face. He looks concerned. Too soft. 

He reminds you of yourself. How did Kenma call it? Bothering people. 

“Maybe it was something at work. Or it’s because I’m on my period. Or I’m just having a bad day. Maybe some creep tried to hit on me and I’m weirded out by that. Why do you automatically assume that it’s about Kenma?”

Kuroo’s quiet for a moment. “You usually react differently to Kenma being around.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug. “Things change.”

He looks pained but he doesn’t pry anymore. You can’t help but think that he’ll ask Kenma about it later. That Kenma will tell him the truth, eventually, because they’ve been friends longer than anyone you know. 

You force yourself to smile. This might be the last time you see Kuroo in a while.

“I’m just being weird,” you promise him. “A girl has to be weird sometimes.”

“Okay,” he nods and you stay there, silent, until Hinata comes back.

- - -

“Hey.”

You look up from your desk. Kuroo’s standing in the doorway, shirt pushed up to the elbows, his hair defying gravity as usual. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen him. 

Work has kept you busy. You’ve got other friends too, though Hinata has been pretty good at calling you up.

“Hey,” you hesitate for a second. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I was in the area and remembered you work here. Do you wanna get lunch together?”

You hesitate. 

“Just checking in on you,” Kuroo promises. “Don’t be a stranger?”

You sigh. “Fine.” 

-

“Kenma hasn’t told me anything, by the way,” Kuroo tells you as he separates his chopsticks. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Why would I be worried about that?”

He chuckles. “You’re pretty good at deflecting, has anyone told you that before?”

“And you’re a mother-hen, has anyone told you that before?”

“Yeah,” he stuffs an egg roll into his mouth and nods. 

“How do you deal with that?” You ask, pushing the rice around your bowl for a moment before taking a bite. 

Kuroo shrugs. “I like being this way. If I step on somebody’s toes, I apologize of course, and try to stay clear of that, but in the end… it’s who I want to be, so why change?”

You consider that, but it’s not that easy. 

Nothing really ever is when there are feelings involved.

“We’re having a movie night next weekend,” Kuroo adds gently when your bowl is almost empty. “I’m formally inviting you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I want to. I like having you around. We,” he corrects himself with a grin. “Like having you around.”

“Who’s we?”

“Bokuto, of course, and where’s Bokuto there’s Akaashi. Atsumu invited himself and he’s bringing Osamu, so there’s food involved. I think Hinata managed to rope Sakusa in, but that’s always a little debatable.” He stops. “I just realized they’re all just guys, so I’m counting on you to invite a few girls.”

“Are you using me to find your friends some girlfriends?”

“Why, is it working?”

- - -

It’s no surprise that Kenma’s not showing up to movie night. He’s not a big fan of crowds, you know, and there’s always a crowd when Atsumu is concerned.

It’s a good thing you end up going because you end up setting Emi up with Osamu - completely on accident - and as Hinata figures out he’s allergic to some weird European drink you’re the only one with antihistamine pills in your possession.

-

“Do you always come this prepared?” Sakusa asks, hiding out in the kitchen where it’s calmest. 

“I guess,” you reply, preparing yourself for another sting.

“I like that,” Sakusa hums. “Do you have hand sanitizer?”

“Sure,” you pull it out of your purse. “Scented or unscented?”

“Unscented please.” He offers his palm and thanks you quietly when you squeeze out the liquid. 

“You can call me Kiyoomi,” he adds after a moment of silence. “Just don’t tell Miya.”

You smile. “This is what being knighted must feel like.”

Kiyoomi taps your forehead. “Don’t get too cocky or I’ll revoke your rights.”

-

“Are you coming to the cinema this weekend?” Hinata asks after a game, eyelids already fluttering with exhaustion. “It’s that one movie you said you wanted to watch.”

“Sure,” you tell him, ushering him forward, waving at Kiyoomi whose car’s a little further down in the parking lot. “Who did you invite?”

“Everyone,” Hinata yawns. “Can you drive? Key is in my-”

“Wallet, I know.” You pull it out of the bag he’s carrying. “If you invited everyone, surely you wouldn’t miss me.”

Hinata furrows his brows. “That’s not true.”

It’s sweet, but you wonder about it sometimes still. 

It’s the age-old question, isn’t it? Do you like me because you need me or do you need me because you like me?

You think you’ve grown, in these last few months. 

You like the way you are. Not the smartest and not the dumbest. Over-prepared and over-caring. 

But you’ve also recognized that you’re a friend and not a mother.

That you want a partner, not a child. 

“I’m good,” you tell Hinata when you reach his apartment complex. “But thanks for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

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Mom Friend - Kenma pt one two three

[sheree-says-stuff]

LONG LOST MCR INTERVIEW!!!! RARE!!!!! '06

Interviewer: *laughing* "Alright, welcome to this very candid interview with Frank Iero and Gerard Way. Guys, thank you for joining us today!"

**Frank Iero:** "Yeah, no problem! Always a pleasure to be here."

**Gerard Way:** *eyes glued to iPad screen* "Mm-hmm, sure." *quiet chuckle*

**Interviewer:** *glances at Gerard, then back to Frank* "So Frank, we hear you've developed a bit of an admiration for someone—or, um, something—called 'Hawk Tuah Girl'? Care to explain?"

**Frank Iero:** *grinning* "Oh, yeah, Hawk Tuah Girl. She's honestly been on my mind a lot lately. I know it sounds a little random, but there's something about her that's so... powerful, you know? She’s like, this unfiltered force of nature, just breaking through expectations and being unapologetically herself. I love that. I mean, we could all use a little more of that energy."

**Gerard Way:** *barely looking up from his iPad* "Yeah, but does Hawk Tuah Girl ever, like... flush toilets or something?" *snickers to himself*

**Interviewer:** *laughs nervously* "Uhh, Gerard, not exactly the direction I was thinking we were going in, but, Frank, back to Hawk Tuah Girl—what is it about her that stands out to you?"

**Frank Iero:** "Right, right. So, Hawk Tuah Girl, for me, she represents this kind of freedom—like, the freedom to just exist and be a little weird, without needing validation from anyone else. It’s a vibe. A vibe I’m very much here for. Like, if I was ever stuck in a bad place, I think I could look to her as a reminder that being yourself is enough."

**Gerard Way:** *snorts and glances over at Frank* "So, basically, she’s your spirit animal now?"

**Frank Iero:** *laughs* "Yeah, I guess you could say that. She’s like my punk rock superhero."

**Gerard Way:** *muttering under his breath* "I need a superhero who knows how to hit the 'skip' button on Skibidi Toilet."

**Interviewer:** *laughing* "Gerard, are you... watching *Skibidi Toilet* right now?"

**Gerard Way:** *holds up iPad, showing a clip from *Skibidi Toilet* where a dancing character is wildly out of sync with the music* "Uh, yeah. It’s... art."

**Frank Iero:** *grins mischievously* "See, Gerard's whole thing is balancing deep, introspective moments with... *Skibidi Toilet*."

**Gerard Way:** *shrugs* "It’s a balance. You can’t take yourself too seriously all the time, right? Gotta laugh at the weird stuff."

**Interviewer:** *laughing* "Fair enough! So, Frank, it’s safe to say that Hawk Tuah Girl brings a lot of meaning into your life. Would you say she’s changed your perspective on your own art?"

**Frank Iero:** "Oh, definitely. I think, just like her, I’ve been learning to embrace the messiness, the weirdness. The world doesn’t need another ‘perfect’ version of anything. It needs something that feels real. And Hawk Tuah Girl, man, she’s real. She’s like a reminder to just... make noise and have fun while doing it."

**Gerard Way:** *nodding sagely* "Yeah, and *Skibidi Toilet* reminds me that anything can be art if you believe in it hard enough." *pauses* "Also, I think I might need more toilet humor in my life after this interview."

**Interviewer:** *laughing* "Well, there you have it, folks. Frank Iero finds inspiration in Hawk Tuah Girl, and Gerard... well, Gerard is watching *Skibidi Toilet*. Thank you both for such a delightful and slightly chaotic chat today."

**Frank Iero:** "Anytime. But seriously, if you haven’t checked out Hawk Tuah Girl, you need to. It’s a vibe."

**Gerard Way:** *still transfixed by his iPad* "Yeah... it’s all about the vibe." *mutters* "I’m not skipping this one."

[rinawantstosleep]

"I don't like your stupid, white hair." 

"And I don't like your boring, brown hair, buddy."

"W-well... well, I don't like your ugly, doo-doo face!"

"Your mama does." 

The two could go bickering like this for hours on end if you let them. What may seem to be a mutually digressive arrangement is actually an oddly adorable bonding in disguise. Satoru and your son put on a front of being annoyed at the other's presence, but you've never seen them apart for longer than a few minutes at a time. They've grown on each other; much like how moss grows on a statue that's been lingering out in the open. An indispensable cycle of life that's truly inevitable. 

"No, she doesn't! She doesn't! She likes... sof- sofis... sofistogated guys."

"You mean sophisticated?"

"Shut up!" 

You'd been terrified that your little one wouldn't have a father-figure to rely on anymore after you divorced your husband. However, it was something you had to do for his sake. The child deserved to live in an environment that wasn't always reeking of alcohol, where he wasn't subjected to the constant, drunk yelling of a pathetic excuse of a father who couldn't get his shit together and lazed around at home all day while you did all the work. If that meant that you'd have to raise him on his own, then so be it. At least he'd be raised properly. Signing those papers was, by far, the easiest decision you'd ever made. 

"I'm not shutting up because a kid in clothes too big for him is telling me to."

"You... you're the one always wearing tight clothes around the house to impress my mama."

"No, that's because I'm ripped. Gotta show off what I've got. And your mama loves that." 

"Oh, yeah? That means you show off your... your - um... ugly, doo-doo face!"

Would you regard it a miracle that Satoru just so happened to stumble into your life around that very time? Well, relatively. Meeting him wasn't something you'd planned, nor anticipated. The kind stranger who offered to pay for your order at a café a year ago has somehow, thanks to quite a romantic sequence of events, turned into your boyfriend; a rock to lean on for when you need the support. And, also, someone that your little one can look up to (with the fun, bonus benefit of the pair getting into silly, childish quarrels nine times out of ten). What is Satoru if not a three-hundred-and-thirty-six-month-old toddler, too? Puts your five-year-old to utter shame with the way he acts. 

"Enough. Baby, we've been over this before. Behave."

"But, mama, he's being a meanie!" "But, babe, he's acting all pretentious." 

The responses come simultaneously: one is high pitched and whiny, and the other is your son. Sometimes, you have to pause and ask yourself how you haven't gone insane yet. It's the love that keeps you from falling apart. How could you ever harbor any other feeling for these two, except for wanting to cherish them? You just... need to work on a pet name that doesn't apply to the both of them at once.  

"I don't want to hear it. Sweetie, finish your lunch. And, Satoru?" 

"Yes, honey-who-loves-me-and-my-'ugly, doo-doo'-face?" He's smirking, snickering, while saying this, the sly bastard. When will the pair ever relent on trying to one-up the other? 

"Why have you got one of my hair ties on your wris- never mind. Don't forget to change the sheets in our room. I'd do it myself if not for the meeting I need to get to in an hour." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Cue a tiny gasp. 

"But, mama..." The voice of your little one breaks the peaceful silence at the dining table once again. His legs start kicking back and forth - a sign that he's growing restless - from the chair they're dangling off of. He's got a protest already forming up in that head of his. "Toru said he'd take me to the skate park today. And he promised to get ice cream after."

Toru, huh? That's new. You can't help the smile that paints itself on your lips. The two have been getting along pretty well, it seems, contrary to all the bickering they do. That's always nice to know. It's amusing to see the dynamic they've built. One second, they're riling each other up to no end, the next, they've already formed a secret alliance to go out and have fun together. How cute. "Is that so?"

"Mhm! So that means we need to leave riiight after I finish my lunch. Don't get mad, okay?" 

It's the small things like these that warm your heart. Some sacrifices can be made if it's in regards to this adorable (step, even though you haven't married Satoru yet)father-son moment. The sheets are insignificant right now. "Awwh. Of course I won't get mad, baby. It's good for you to want to spend more time with Satoru. Isn't he a fun guy?"

"... maybe." 

. . . 

"Just make sure he's safe out there. Helmet and gear on at all times, no big ramps. And don't let him eat too much sugar. He'll get hyper. Once the rush dies down, he'll get cranky -"

Satoru's arm wraps around your waist before you can finish your sentence, pulling you overwhelmingly close to his frame. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck, just the way Satoru likes it. Oh, how he wants to just throw everything else out the window and drag you to the nearest room with a lock in place.

"You -" A quick peck to your lips, followed by a nibble on your bottom lip. "- worry -" Another peck. "- too -" Another. "- much." Then, an unexpected bite on the shell of your right ear. "I'd never allow myself to let that little demon get hurt; or hyper."

Large hands wander across the curve of your back, resting firm on your butt. Satoru doesn't want to expose your son to the way he's squeezing your plush flesh with his long digits, so he shifts to have your back pressed against the wall. A perfect opportunity to kiss you - which the man can't help but seize. What else is a smitten boyfriend to do while waiting for your son to get ready and come down from his room upstairs? Lips against lips until one of you pulls away for air. "He's safe with me, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Atta girl. Now, you go that meeting of yours. And, tonight, after we both get back- oww."

"Groooss! Don't kiss my mama, or you'll make her ugly! Like youuu!"

"Baby, no. Don't kick Satoru's ankles-"

"I'm saving you, mama."

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

[starboykel]

an artist and his muse ⭑⚝²

pt1

artist! König x chubby!F!reader

!!content warnings: König is younger than canon, pistol mentioning, idk this is just fluff. Chubby reader. Extensive description of how to make a condensed milk cake. Maybe a bit out of character.

3,7k words — English isn't my first language, i apologize for any mistakes.

Since that day, you and König have been talking practically every day through the cellphone, König would often talk about his day and his new projects, sending you photos of the new paintings he was working on and recently, he started a new hobby: learn digital art. He would send you screenshots of his drawings, they were... Certainly something, it wasn't as great because he was used to work on a canvas with paint and such but, he was trying at least.

If he disappeared for 3-4 hours, you were sure he was just working on whatever his mind was thinking of, painting, digital art or even ceramic, yeah, he also started ceramic. He was trying to occupy his mind with something and it was obvious... You just didn't know he was trying to occupy his brain because you were everything in his mind.

König was having trouble painting because he couldn't focus on anything but you, his happiness was texting you everyday and looking at the selfies you send him anytime you were doing something mildly interesting, watching a movie, cooking, baking, oh god, baking, he could kill someone to taste those brownies you baked practically every weekend. He really wanted to ask you out on a date but he didn't have the guts to, you were such a pretty girl, who was he to think he had a chance with such a beautiful girl?

On your side... Well, it was the same. You were too shy to ask him out on a date, he was such a busy guy, he was painting and when he wasn't painting he was training his digital art and when he wasn't training he was doing ceramic, you didn't want to bother him. Your heart skips a beat every time he sends a photo of what he was working on, his face wasn't even on the photos but you were so in love it didn't even take too much to make you kick your feet and smile like a fool...

"Who are you talking to?" Suddenly, your father kicked you out of your thoughts, he was frowning and trying to peek on your phone as you were eating. You were already an adult but old habits never die to your father.

"M...my friend, his name is König." You reply, showing him the conversation, Anton takes a look and nods. "Your boyfriend?" He asks, you blushes slightly and shakes your head, "N-no, he's just a friend." You stutter. He gives you a look like 'yeah, sure' and then goes back to the living room, leaving you in the kitchen to finish your lunch.

You didn't have anything to do that day. You wanted to go out with your friends but they were all busy, you didn't have a photoshoot today, no modeling or something, so you would just enjoy the day, just being lazy... So you decided to bake a cake! Why not?

You looked for a recipe on the internet and found one you found interesting, 'Condensed Milk Cake'... Hmm, sounds good! And you have all the ingredients, luckily.

You grab the apron that was probably too old for its own good and protect your hair and start making the cake, it was therapeutic. In a large bowl, you pour the condensed milk, whisk in butter and the vanilla extract, over the bowl, sift four and the baking powder over the condenser milk mixture. After that, you grab the rice cooker, grease the interior with butter and pour in the batter, spreading it evenly in the rice cooker, you decide to top with some chocolate chips, put the cover on and cook for 20 minutes. After waiting, you pick a toothpick and poke the cake, it comes out clean so it means it is ready! You place a plate on top of the rice cooker pot and carefully invert. The scent of vanilla and condensed milk infested the kitchen. It was so good, you were proud of yourself, it looked delicious!

Your father walks in the kitchen, "What are you doing?" He asks, frowning slightly before he sees the cake, "Oooh, it looks good. Gimme a slice." He picks a knife and goes to cut the cake but oh no, your father didn't have the reputation of being the best cake cutter.

"Waaaaait!" You shouts, trying to stop him but your father was a man on a mission. He cuts a huge part out of the cake and walks away, you can practically see the evil smile on his face as he goes to his room, leaving you with less than a half of the cake... Goddamnit.

You sigh and decide to take a photo of the... Half cake you have, you grab your phone and try to get the best angle of it but yeah, a cake cut in half wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing thing ever.

Eating a slice of the cake while watching something was a pleasing experience at least, watching some old humoristic sitcom your father had on DVD since the 90s that he refused to get rid of was nice at best. You hear a notification coming from your phone and check it... It was König!

'Hallo, are you free tonight? I would be pleased to have dinner with you.'

You found it amusing how he always wrote it grammatically correctly, you could've never, sometimes you just forget how to write some words.

'Yeah, I'm free! Where do u wanna meet?'

'Meet me at the park, I am going to take you to the restaurant from there, at 7pm. Don't be late.'

You smile, he was always so assertive and direct sometimes, it was nice though, at least he wasn't confused about what he wanted and treated you well.

You start getting ready at 5pm, showering, doing your makeup, choosing the best clothing, fixing your hair, airdrying it and, oh god it's already 6:56pm! You run out of the house, forgetting to bring your lip oil.

You go to the park and look around for König, it was 7:04pm. You feel a cold hand on your shoulder, looking over your shoulder...

"Oh, hi Kö! How are you?" It was König! He didn't seem mad at you, good. He smiles and gives you a little pat on the head.

"I'm fine. Let's go to my car." Simple as ever. He takes your hand and leads you to the car, opening the car door for you. You two make small talk in the car on the way to the restaurant. He was wearing some nice clothes, a white button shirt that was rolled up to his elbow, black tailored pants with a belt and black shoes. It was minimalistic and he looked good on it. You could see some scars on his arms, that was interesting, maybe he wasn't always an artist.

The restaurant was nice, had a warm atmosphere and some relaxing jazz music playing. You order some alfredo pasta and chicken with some orange juice, he orders steak with onion, rice, salad, some rustic potatoes and... You lost track of the list after that, he was a bottomless pit. Oh, he ordered some apple juice for himself too.

"So, what do you like to do in your free time? When you're not doing paintings and such." You were the one to start the conversation, noticing that Konig was more of the quiet type and that, depending on him, the date would be mostly silence and eating.

"I enjoy... Uh... I enjoy television shows, I watch it when I'm... I'm not doing art..." He stuttered, not looking at you directly, you noticed that he was very nervous, his hands shaking, it was very different from the man you met before. Maybe you were starting to get under his shell.

Your soft smiles didn't help much. His mind was going a mile a second, his hand shaking and his body couldn't relax, he felt like everyone was staring at him, why wouldn't they? He's on a date with a cute girl while he looks like this giant freak, you probably don't even like him, you're just with him because you pity him youcangetsometingbetterthanhimyou—

"König?" Your soft voice slaps him out of his trance, his eyes focusing on your worried expression, "Are you okay? You seem... I don't know—" "I'm fine." He cuts you off, his hands still fidgeting underneath the table.

You were a bit confused and even a little shocked. He was so serious, confident before and now he's shaking like a wet cat. Well, he's trying to hide it but it's obvious, someone his size can't hide. You decide it's best to let him relax, stay silent for a while, let him recompose.

Well... His brain was going miles an hour, waiting for YOU to say something, to talk about something YOU like, maybe you could even forget he's there and just ramble away his anxiety... But that doesn't happen. He's waiting for you to talk and you're waiting for him to speak. Both so awkward, his anxious behavior getting into you, where you are scaring him? Why? What have you done? Did you do something that made him uncomfortable? Doeshenotlikeyouanymore-

Then, the waiter arrives after what felt not even a second, you swear you had just ordered not even 10 minutes ago. The waiter places your order in front of him and two of König's extensive list of food, the potatoes and the beef. The orange juice being placed in the middle for the both of you.

He awkwardly starts cutting his beef, the cutlery was so small in his hands that it made a task as simple as cutting a steak difficult. You eat your pasta, staring at nowhere as your mind is non stop thinking that you did something wrong. You both reached for the orange juice glass, his fingers touching yours before he flinched his hand away, just reassuring that he was scared of you on your worried brain.

The rest of the date was... Not cozy, just two looked like two pathetic wet cats that didn't know where their mama went and was scared of the world. He pays for everything, even if you insisted that you had money. You two step out of the restaurant, some significant distance from each other, and just... Staying there, waiting for the one another to say something.

"Look-" "I'm sorry-" You two speak up at the same time, eyes meeting in an anxious atmosphere, silence remains for a few seconds. "Hear-" "I apologize-" Interrupting one another again, the atmosphere getting tenser and tenser, you both take a deep breath, taking a step closer to each other. He let you talk first.

"I'm sorry, I'm not aware of what I did but I apologize for making you uncomfortable." You speak up, playing with the hem of your clothes as you try to sound not nervous.

He frowns slightly before sighing and nodding, "I'm the problem. You're not the problem, I've always been this... Social awkward, since I was a teenager. It's not your fault." He reassures, taking a step closer... Closer... Closer until he's right in front of you. He looks at you... "It's going to snow, you should go home." Before he lifts your chin and gives you a forehead kiss...

Then he turns around and walks away, you don't know that but he's panicking inside, his hands shaking and his heart beating like a drum, his face red as a tomato... That man saw you naked and is flustered because he gave you a forehead kiss! Men...

Well, you were blushing too, your mouth opened slightly in shock... The snow starts to fall, the cold feeling makes you feel even hotter inside, it has just started. You didn't know what to do so you do the same as him, you turn around and walk home... No, you can't do that. You stop in your tracks, turn back and start running towards him.

"König!" You shouts, making him stop and turn to see you. You don't know what you're doing and why but you feel like you need to do this. You reach him, panting, you weren't used to exercising. "I'm- I'm-" "You don't need to be sorry, it's okay." He cuts you off.

"No, that's not it, I-i... I-" You look up at him and you just... Can't finish your phrase, he's so handsome your heart beats and your brain stops.

He smiles softly and ruffles your already messy hair, "You shouldn't stay outside, you're gonna catch a cold... Wanna go to my place?" He speaks up, and honestly, he's being too damn bold, his heart feels like it's gonna explode out of his chest, he's trying to keep this cool guy persona but... That's not him.

You definitely didn't want to freeze outside so... "Y-yeah, sure." You nod. He takes your hand and starts walking to his car. This all feels too... Unbelievable... Damn, you're going to a guy's house after the first date? What are you? You silently judge yourself but König isn't like other guys... You hope.

The car ride back to his place was silent, some random song in German playing on the radio. His car was fine, definitely not the best or the most expensive but also not the cheapest, it was a nice car that had the necessary to live. When arriving at his place, the snow was already filling the streets with its soft whiteness, he opens the door and gets inside after you. The place was... Nice? It was a bit messy but it was comfortable.

"Make yourself at home. The TV has a little sound problem but nothing that will bother you, I'm going to take a shower, there's a few snacks in the drawers in the kitchen if you feel hungry." He welcomes you, giving you a faint smile before going to his bedroom.

You look around... Should you explore? Yeah, why not? As soon as the shower starts, you begin to wander around the house. The drawers were filled with snacks and the fridge with water, milk and egg... Nothing else. How did this man lived? Whatever. You go to the living room and turns on the TV, putting on your favorite show, yeah, the sound definitely has a problem but your ears would probably get used to it, it was some sort of faint static it could be heard on the background but whatever. As you wander through the house, the drawer closes to the door catches your eye, you open it and... A pistol and a dog tag. Your eyes widen slightly but then you frown, you take the dog tag and before you can read anything in it, a hand rips the dog tag from yours, your heart falls, your face going pale.

You gulped and looked at König, his face was dark, his eyes filled with disappointment, your eyes immediately went back to the drawer, not wanting to look at him, your hands shaking. He sighs and throws the dog tag back in the drawer and closes it. "Forgot to lock it."

You two stay silent for a while, before you murmur an "Sorry." Nervously. He shakes his head, "Don't be. It's okay to be curious... Just don't do it again." His voice was deep and dark, like if he was giving an order...

"... I'm gonna order some pizza. We can watch a movie, c'mon." He tries to sound more excited as he pulls you by the waist, leading you to the couch. You were still shocked, but trying to relax as you do breathing exercises. He tried to make small talk but you were still thinking about the pistol and the dog tag...

The pizza arrives not long after, he picks it up and goes back to the couch, placing the pizza on top of the living room mini table and putting on some movie on Netflix.

The silence was uncomfortable, the pizza munching sounds not helping. After half an hour, he pauses the movie and looks at you. "I have to explain something to you." He says in a serious tone. You look back at him and gulps, nodding.

He takes a deep breath, "I used to be a soldier, a lieutenant. I was in the army from 17 to 29, almost 30. I retired earlier because of my mental health, it was killing me from the inside." He puts his hand on his chest, "I had no choice. I've done a lot of things that shouldn't have been done and I regret it with my heart."

"You're... A war criminal...?" You ask, the tone quiet and uncertain. He shakes his head, "No... No, not that I'm aware at least." He chuckles nervously, looking away, "I've... Killed a lot of men. My hands are filled with blood... But I've never wanted it, I never wanted to be a soldier, to kill people. I've always loved art, and I'm doing what I want, what I love now and I can't escape my past, it doesn't matter where I go. My soldier self is part of me, I can't get away from it." He vents, his tone getting sadder and more self aware.

You nod, taking a breath and sighing, "I don't know how it feels, how it is to have such a hard backstory... Are you in therapy at least?" You ask and he nods, "I take meds.. I don't want to talk about it."

Nodding, you sigh, "I understand... I'm sorry for sneaking in your things, I shouldn't have done that." You clench your fists and look at your lap, feeling trapped, disappointed at yourself... Until, he takes your chin and lifts your face to look at him. "It's okay." He says, softer, making your heart beat faster. He gets closer... Closer... Closer, until your lips touch his. You immediately kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. He smiles on the kiss and takes you closer by your waist until your legs are on his lap. The kiss is soft, like a make-up kiss, warm.

You were the one to break the kiss, your eyes meeting his... And he panics, "Oh verdammt— es tut mir leid— I'm sorry, you're just so pretty and I'm so awkward, I'm-" He freaks out, immediately taking his hands out of your waist. You smile and giggle.

"It's okay, I liked it." You take him by the cheek, making him look at you. "You- you did?" He asks, not believing you. You nod and smile, "Yeah." "Y-yeah?" "Hell yeah!" You giggles and kisses him, you taking the lead now. This one was much more playful than intense as the last one, you break the kiss a few times because you were giggling and he starts giggling too. He pulls you closer as he lays down on the couch, you getting on top of him. You two start laughing, apparently for no reason at all.

After relaxing, you two just cuddled, he was warm and you even warmer due to your weight. It was comfortable and the closeness was making the heart of the both of you relax. Him giving you forehead kisses from time to time. "Hey... You wanna sleep here?" He asks and you nod, "Sure, why not."

The night falls and you were used to showering before sleeping and you definitely needed one... But you had no clothes to wear! He was okay with sharing the bed with you and you didn't want to smell bad. So you asked for some of his clothes, he at first laughed but then gave you a shirt and some boxers.

For some reason, the water of his shower was freezing cold and had no heating option, so poor you. His shirt was bigger than your, that was rare, that never happened with your exes, it was nice to now have someone that was bigger than you, it makes your heart warm... and the boxers a bit loose but fitted better than the shirt, you put your hair on a bun with a satin scrunchie and go to lay with him. The heater was on so that was nice. "Goodnight." You tell him before he turns off the lights and lays next to him.

..."Can we cuddle? You're warm and I like your weight on top of me..." He asks a bit shyly, your heart beating faster. You look at him and nod, snuggling closer to him, he pulls you closer, getting you slightly on top of him. "Goodnight." "Night..." And you both fall asleep.

When you woke up he was already up. You stretch and yawn, going to the kitchen after fixing your hair (or trying) and he was already there, eating his breakfast. His eyes light up as he sees you, "Morning. I made breakfast! Eat!" He says, sounding excited. You smile and join him, it wasn't the best but it was good enough.

You two spend the afternoon together, watching movies, chatting, playing in the snow. At night, you were ready to go home. He drives you to your place, and in the door, he kisses you goodbye.

You get in the house, very happily, smiling widely and your father notices, he smirks. "Just a friend, uh?" He teases and you chuckle. "Boyfriend now, dad." You correct him playfully and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew it.”

Sorry, this took too long!! I was in a creativity block and didn't know what to do but i hope this is fun to read!!! Love yall, stay safe, xoxo from Kel. Feel free to send me asks!

[the-himawari]

A3! Magazine Interview Translation - B’s-LOG March 2024 [Cover Boys Interview]

The true faces of today’s flourishing young actors

This month’s cover features Hyodo Kumon & Izumida Azami. Azami didn’t have any particular school he wanted to go to. So when Kumon invited over him to Tsukushi High School, the two became senior and junior. The two of them show close they are by walking to and from school and eating lunch on the rooftop together.

We bring you a newly written interview that provides a closer glimpse of their true faces.

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

Q: Do you have anything that’s been important to you since childhood?

Kumon: Since childhood, huh~? Ah! I thought of something!

Azami: What is it?

Kumon: A home run ball from my favourite baseball player! One day when I was little, I was watching a game at the stadium. While I was cheering as hard as I could, it flew right by me and I caught it.

Azami: Oh, that’s pretty amazin’. That’s not something you can get no matter how many times you go.

Kumon: Exactly! Do you have anything like that, Azami?

Azami: I’ve… always had a cheek brush with me. It’s kinda like my good luck charm.

Kumon: Ooh, right. I know which one you’re talking about!

Azami: Yeah, I’ve used it on you before.

Q: Would you rather be called “cool” or “cute”?

Kumon: I’d definitely be happier being called cool! You’re the same right, Azami!?

Azami: If it’s between those two choices, then I guess it doesn’t really matter what you call me. But I don’t like it when people call me cute to tease me. I hope they'll quit doing that.

Kumon: Now that you mention it, Azuma-san calls you cute every now and then, right? Like it’s so cute and innocent how you immediately get embarrassed whenever you talk about love.

Azami: That’s why I keep tellin’ him to quit it.

Kumon: That doesn’t make you happy?

Azami: Azuma-san is totally just makin’ fun of me.

Kumon: Eh~? I don’t think he’s teasing you though. I think he genuinely means it.

Q: Tell us the truth. Are you actually a scaredy-cat?

Azami: Nah, not really.

Kumon: Me neither! Actually, Azami and I went to a haunted house together the other day!

Azami: Right, Kumon said he wanted to go to one outta nowhere.

Kumon: I thought it’d be interesting so I invited Azami and we went right away. That haunted house was loads of fun!

Azami: Well. I guess I’m glad I went since I could use their makeup as reference.

Kumon: Maybe I’ll go with Summer troupe next time!? Ah, I wonder if they’d come though…

Azami: It wouldn’t hurt to try invitin’ them. …I can’t say for sure that all the members would go though.

Q: How would you confess? In-person, by phone, or by LIME?

Azami: H-HUH!? Who the hell would answer that!!

Kumon: It’s fine, it’s fiiine! By the way, I’d do it face-to-face for sure! I’d like to see their face as I tell them and make sure I'm getting my feelings across properly.

Azami: …I see.

Kumon: C’mon, Azami. How about you?

Azami: I’m not gonna say. Lay off me! Get to the next question already!

Kumon: I sure wonder when we’re gonna get to hear Azami talk about this stuff~.

Q: When you’re on a date… would you hold hands, link arms, or do something else?

Azami: Another question like this? You gotta be kidding me!

Kumon: Now, now. Chill out, Azami! Considering the distance with my girlfriend… I guess I’d like to hold hands. But I bet both are out for Azami! So for him, it’d be “something else”?

Azami: Hey, why’re you answering for me without askin’?

Kumon: I knew you wouldn’t answer so I figured I’d say something for you!

Azami: This isn’t somethin’ you talk about with other people!

Kumon: You weren’t saying anything though. You gotta give an answer here! For the Azami in my mind, I don't think he’d be interested in doing PDA outside—or rather, I don’t think he’d be able to do it in the first place… Ah, you see, Azami’s a serious guy! But I’m sure there’s someone out there who’ll say they like that about you!

Azami: Uh, why am I being encouraged right now…?

Kumon:: Anywho, what do you really think? Did my answer hit it out of the park?

Azami: Urk, don’t fricken ask me! No comment!

---

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 14

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of selling drugs, angst, cursing, mentions of death, funeral setting

Y/n’s POV

The soft chime of the bell above the bridal studio’s door signals the end of my shift. I tidy up the counter, brush a few stray threads from my clothes, and grab my bag. It’s been a long day of fittings and consultations, but my excitement about tonight keeps me energized.

Chris is meeting my parents tonight. The thought alone sends a nervous flutter through my stomach, but it’s a good kind of nervous.

On my way out, I stop by the cafe down the street to grab two lattes and a croissant for Willow. It’s become something of a tradition to visit her after my shifts, especially when I need a pep talk. With everything going on tonight, I need her calming advice more than ever.

Willow’s apartment is buzzing with energy when I arrive. She’s blasting music in the kitchen while unpacking groceries, a pair of fluffy slippers on her feet.

“You’re a lifesaver” she says, grabbing the coffee from my hand and taking a sip. “Ugh, perfect. Come in, sit!”

I settle onto her couch, pulling the croissant out of the bag and sliding it across the table to her. “Figured you could use this.”

“You know me too well” she says with a grin, taking a bite.

As she eats, I fill her in on the news. “So.. my parents are meeting my boyfriend tonight.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “BOYFRIEND?!”

I nod, though the flutter of nerves in my chest betrays me. “Yeah, it feels right. I mean, he’s really trying, you know? So he’s coming over for dinner.”

Willow leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies me. “How’s he doing after today, though? With the funeral and all?”

I freeze mid sip of my coffee. “Funeral?”

Her expression shifts, suddenly cautious. “Wait, he didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head, my mind racing. Why didn’t he mention this? Now I feel stupid.

“Yeah” Willow continues, her voice softer now. “I heard it was today, Chris must’ve been there.”

I nod slowly, unsure how to process this new information. A funeral. A funeral. And he hadn’t said a word to me about it.

Part of me feels hurt, like I’ve been left out of something important. But the other part of me, the rational part, knows why he didn’t tell me. He’s trying to protect me, to keep me away from the darker parts of his world.

Still, it stings.

Willow must notice the shift in my expression because she reaches over and places a hand on my arm. “Hey, don’t overthink it. Chris probably didn’t want to stress you out with everything going on. He’s dealing with a lot.”

“I know” I say, my voice quieter than I intended. “It’s just.. I want him to feel like he can tell me these things, you know?”

Willow nods, her eyes sympathetic. “You’re in a tricky spot, Y/n. But he’ll come around. Just give it time.”

I glance at my phone and realize how late it’s gotten. “Shit, I need to get going. I have a million things to prep before dinner.”

Willow grins, her mood lifting again. “Go knock em dead. And text me after, I need all the details.”

“You’ll be the first to know” I promise, grabbing my bag and heading for the door.

As I start the journey home, my mind is buzzing with thoughts. Chris and I have come so far, but there’s still so much I don’t know about his life. Maybe tonight will be a step toward bridging that gap.

When I get to my house, I take a deep breath. Time to focus. Tonight isn’t just about meeting my parents, it’s about taking the next step, together.

Chris’ POV

The air outside the church was heavy, the kind of suffocating weight that sticks with you after saying goodbye to someone you cared about. Nate and I stood in silence as the crowd dispersed, the murmurs of the attempted hit at the funeral still fresh in my mind.

“You hear that shit?” Nate finally spoke, his voice low but brimming with anger. His jaw was clenched tight, and his hands balled into fists at his sides.

I nodded, keeping my gaze on the ground. “Yeah, I heard. It’s messed up, man. Who does that at a funeral?”

“It’s more than messed up” Nate snapped, turning toward me. His eyes were bloodshot from crying, but now they burned with rage. “It’s a straight up declaration of war. At Danny’s funeral, Chris. Do you understand what that means?”

I did, and it made my stomach churn. Whoever tried to pull this off wasn’t just sending a message they were escalating things in the dirtiest way possible. It wasn’t just about Crimson and H-Block anymore, it was personal.

“What do you wanna do?” I asked carefully, knowing full well Nate was on the verge of boiling over.

“What do I wanna do?” he repeated, his voice rising. “I wanna find out who did it and make them pay. No one disrespects my cousin like that.”

I grabbed his shoulder before he could start pacing. “Nate, you gotta keep it together. If Vince catches wind of this before you calm down, he’ll drag you into something you might not come back from.”

“And you think I’m just supposed to sit here and do nothing?” he shot back.

I didn’t have an answer for that. Nate was right to be angry, and it wasn’t like I didn’t feel the same way. But going off the rails wouldn’t bring Danny back, and it definitely wouldn’t stop whatever was coming next.

I felt like I was being pulled in two different directions. On one hand, Nate needed me. He was barely holding it together, and leaving him alone after what just happened felt like a betrayal. On the other hand, I’d made a promise to Y/n. Meeting her parents tonight was a big deal, and I couldn’t just bail.

“You’re not alone in this” I said after a moment. “But we gotta be smart about it. If we make a move now, it’ll only give Vince more of a reason to lose it. Let’s figure out who’s behind it first, then we’ll decide what to do.”

Nate stared at me, his expression a mix of fury and frustration. For a second, I thought he was going to argue, but then he exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. But if I find out who it was before you do, I’m handling it my way.”

I nodded, even though his words made my chest tighten. There was no stopping Nate once he set his mind on something.

“Listen, I’ll check in later tonight, okay?” I said, trying to sound confident.

“Why? You got plans or something?”

I hesitated. “Yeah. I promised Y/n I’d meet her parents tonight. Dinner in hers.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You’re ditching me for dinner? After everything that just happened?”

“It’s not like that” I said quickly. “This is important, too. I have to show her I’m serious about us. You know that.”

He scoffed, turning away from me. “Whatever, man. Go play house. I’ll deal with this on my own.”

“Nate-”

“Just go, Chris. You’ve got your priorities.”

The words hit harder than I expected. I wanted to stay, to make sure he didn’t do something reckless, but I couldn’t let Y/n down. Not tonight.

I sighed, running a hand over my face. “I’ll be back after dinner. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

He didn’t respond, just waved me off as he walked toward his car.

As I headed to my own car, the weight of everything pressed down on me. Nate was right, this wasn’t just about me anymore. If Vince found out about the attempted hit, there’d be hell to pay. And if Y/n’s family got even a hint of the world I was wrapped up in, things could fall apart before they even began.

Tonight wasn’t just a dinner, it was a balancing act. And one wrong step could send everything crashing down.

Y/n’s POV

The smell of garlic and rosemary filled the kitchen as I put the finishing touches on the roast chicken. Cooking wasn’t something I did often, but tonight felt special enough to make the effort. Mom had already filled Dad in on the whole boyfriend meeting the family situation, which saved me from the nerves of breaking the news myself. He didn’t say much when she told him, just gave a nod and asked what time dinner would be ready. Typical Dad.

At 6:15, I sent Chris a quick text:

“Hey, let me know when you’re on the way :)”

I set my phone on the counter and busied myself slicing vegetables for the side dish, trying not to obsess over every little detail. The table was already set, candles in the middle, the good silverware out, and plates that matched that's how much I wanted this to go smoothly.

By the time the clock read 6:30, my phone buzzed.

“On my way.”

I smiled, though a part of me couldn’t help but feel conflicted. My mind drifted back to what Willow had mentioned earlier about the funeral. Chris hadn’t told me about it. He was probably trying to protect me, but it stung a little, knowing he’d gone through such a heavy day without letting me in on it.

I couldn’t shake the guilt, either. Taking him away from Nate on a day like this felt wrong. It hit me then just how serious Chris must be about me. He was choosing to be here, despite everything else going on in his life. That realization made my chest tighten in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

Another buzz pulled me from my thoughts.

“Here.”

I grabbed a kitchen towel to wipe my hands and headed for the front door, my heart thumping a little harder with each step. I took a deep breath, opened it, and there he was, standing on the porch in a black button up shirt and dark jeans, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Hey” he said, a soft smile playing on his lips.

The sight of him took my breath away for a moment. He looked good, better than good, but his eyes were tired, a heaviness lingering behind them that I knew came from the day he’d had. But I don’t think this is the right time to say anything.

“Hi” I said, my voice catching slightly. I cleared my throat and stepped aside to let him in.

“These are for you.” he said, holding out the flowers.

They were simple, red roses. But something about the gesture made my heart flutter.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you” I said, taking them and stepping aside so he could come in.

“Smells amazing in here” he said as he walked into the hallway.

“I decided I’d cook tonight. Felt like the right occasion” I said, trying to sound casual as I led him toward the dining room.

Chris nodded, glancing around the house. “It’s nice. Feels.. homey.”

“It is..” I trailed off, before I started rambling. “Anyway, my parents are in the living room. Ready to meet them?”

He hesitated for half a second, but then he nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

I led him into the living room, where my parents were seated on the couch. Mom stood first, her warm smile instantly breaking the ice.

“You must be Chris” she said, stepping forward to shake his hand.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you” Chris said, his voice steady but polite.

Dad stood next, giving Chris a firm handshake and a nod. “Welcome to the house, son.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As they exchanged pleasantries, I caught a brief flicker of nervousness in Chris’s eyes. He was doing his best, but I could tell this wasn’t easy for him.

“Dinner’s ready” I announced, hoping to move things along. “Let’s eat.”

As we all headed to the table, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at Chris. He’d shown up for me today, even with everything he had going on. And as conflicted as I felt about some of it, one thing was clear, he was trying. For me.

Chris’ POV

By the time I pulled up outside Y/n’s house, my nerves were shot. It wasn’t just the day weighing on me, Danny’s funeral, the whispers, Nate’s rage, but the thought of sitting across from her parents, trying to fit into their polished world, made my stomach churn. I glanced at the flowers in the passenger seat, hoping they’d help me make a good first impression.

The house was cozy but big, sitting on a quiet street that screamed stability and comfort, two things I wasn’t exactly overflowing with. I stepped out of the car, straightened my shirt, and grabbed the flowers, making my way to the door.

Y/n opened the front door, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw me. She looked.. incredible, dressed casually but effortlessly perfect.

“Hey” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I held out the bouquet. “These are for you.”

Her smile widened, and she took the flowers, her fingers brushing mine for a second. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

I stepped inside, instantly hit by the smell of something amazing coming from the kitchen. “Smells incredible in here,” I said, trying to focus on anything other than how my pulse seemed to quicken every time I looked at her.

“I cooked tonight,” she said, leading me toward the dining room. “Figured it was a special occasion.”

“It definitely is,” I said, managing a small smile.

The living room was warm and inviting, her parents sitting on the couch as we walked in. Y/n introduced us, and I reached out to shake her mom’s hand first.

“You must be Chris,” her mom said, her smile kind but curious.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you,” I replied, feeling a little more at ease.

Her dad stood next, his handshake firm, his eyes sharper. “Welcome to the house, son.”

“Thank you, sir” I said, keeping my tone polite but not too stiff.

After a few minutes of pleasantries, Y/n led us all to the kitchen. The table was set perfectly, and the meal she’d made looked like something straight out of a cookbook. I sat down, feeling a little out of place at the polished table but determined not to show it.

The small talk started as we dug into the food. Her parents asked me the usual questions, where I grew up, what I liked to do, and I tried to answer as smoothly as I could. But the longer we talked, the more I couldn’t help but notice how put together they were. Everything about them, from the way they spoke to the way they carried themselves, screamed stability.

Meanwhile, I felt like a mess, a guy with a patchy past, walking on thin ice between two worlds.

“So” her dad said, setting his fork down and leaning forward slightly. “How did you two meet?”

I glanced at Y/n, and she smiled, stepping in to help me out.

“We met through mutual friends when we were fifteen” she explained. “We hung out a lot that summer, but then we just.. drifted apart.”

“Life happens” her mom said with a nod.

“Exactly” Y/n agreed, her gaze flicking to me as if to say you’re doing great.

And then her dad hit me with it – the question I’d been dreading all night.

“So, Chris” he said, his tone casual but pointed. “What do you do for work?”

For a moment, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. I set my glass down carefully, trying to keep my expression neutral.

“I, uh..” I started searching for the right words, the ones that wouldn’t make me sound like a complete disaster.

But what could I say? The truth wasn’t exactly an option, not here. My mind raced, and I glanced at Y/n, hoping for a lifeline.

“Freelance” Y/n said, cutting in before I could respond.

The words hung in the air, and I felt my chest tighten. Ground, swallow me up. It was a good save, sure, but it also stung a little. She knew that was my go to line when I didn’t want to get into details about what I actually do.

“Oh?” Her mom’s eyes lit up with interest, leaning forward slightly. “What kind?”

“Social media marketing” Y/n answered quickly, a polite smile on her lips.

Social media marketing? Jesus Christ. From the man with zero social media presence? I could barely keep my Instagram alive, let alone manage someone else’s.

“That’s fascinating” her mom continued. “I’ve heard it’s a really lucrative field these days.”

“Yeah” I said, clearing my throat and forcing a nod. “It’s definitely.. something.”

I glanced at Y/n, who gave me a subtle look that said just go with it. I appreciated the save, but I couldn’t help feeling like a fish out of water.

Her dad, however, seemed less convinced. He raised an eyebrow, clearly about to ask a follow-up question. “Do you work with specific clients or more general campaigns?”

Before I could stammer out an answer, Y/n swooped in again. “He works on a project basis” she said smoothly. “It’s more flexible that way.”

Her mom smiled, nodding in approval. “That sounds perfect for someone your age. Flexible, creative, it must keep you busy!”

“Oh, yeah. Busy,” I said, forcing a chuckle and taking a long sip of water to hide the fact that I was absolutely dying inside.

The conversation shifted to something else, thank fuck, but I could barely focus. I felt like an imposter sitting at this pristine table, in this perfect house, with these perfect people. Y/n’s parents seemed like the kind of couple who’d had their lives mapped out from day one. Stable careers, a beautiful home, kids who followed the plan.

And then there was me. Barely holding it together, juggling one lie after another just to keep my head above water.

Y/n’s hand brushed against mine under the table, pulling me out of my thoughts. She gave me a small, reassuring squeeze, as if to say it’s okay.

I squeezed back, grateful for her in that moment. Even if I didn’t feel like I belonged here, she was my anchor. I just had to make it through tonight without screwing it all up.

Suddenly, I felt a buzz in my pocket. Crap. My phone.

Y/n clearly felt it too, her hand slipped off my leg, her warmth replaced by a flicker of tension.

It buzzed again. And again.

Each vibration felt louder than the last, rattling through me like an alarm. God, I should’ve just turned it off.

Y/n’s dad looked up from his glass of wine, raising an eyebrow. Her mom followed his gaze, giving me a polite, curious smile. “Popular tonight, aren’t you?” she joked.

“Sorry about that” I muttered, trying to play it off as casually as I could. “It’s nothing important.”

But it kept buzzing. Over and over.

I glanced at Y/n, and her expression had shifted ever so slightly. Not enough for her parents to notice, but enough for me to catch the flicker of suspicion in her eyes.

“Maybe you should check it” Y/n’s dad said, his tone friendly but firm, the kind of tone that wasn’t really a suggestion.

Y/n was already shaking her head, smiling to defuse the situation. “He doesn’t have to, Dad. It’s probably just work stuff.”

“Yeah, work.. It’s nothing urgent. I’ll deal with it later.”

Except the buzzing stopped… only to start up again a second later.

Damn it, whoever it is calling me.

Her dad leaned back in his chair, clearly skeptical. “Must be a busy night in social media marketing” he quipped.

Y/n shot me a look. A small, apologetic one, but it was enough to say you’re making this worse.

I forced a laugh. “You’d be surprised. Campaigns don’t stop, even for dinner.”

“Mm” her dad hummed, still unconvinced.

The buzzing finally stopped, and I let out a silent breath of relief. But the damage was done. I could feel the tension hanging in the air, subtle but heavy.

Y/n’s mom, ever the optimist, changed the subject, steering the conversation back toward lighter topics. But I caught Y/n’s glance again, and this time, it was harder to read.

What was she thinking? Was she mad? Annoyed? Or just worried?

I shifted in my seat, the guilt already clawing at me. The funeral, the whispers of a hit, Nate’s grief, all of it had been piling up in the back of my mind, and now it was bleeding into this moment, ruining the one chance I had to prove to her parents that I could be someone normal. Someone stable.

But normal and stable didn’t come with constant buzzing phones, or lies about jobs, or friends who might not survive the night.

As the conversation went on, I did my best to focus, to smile, to play along. But inside, all I could think about was the messages and calls I knew were waiting for me. And how, once again, the life I was trying so hard to build with Y/n was colliding with the one I couldn’t escape.

As we finished up dessert, I followed Y/n into the kitchen, insisting on helping her with the dishes. Her mom and dad moved to the living room, their voices carrying faintly as they settled into a more relaxed conversation.

I rinsed a plate under the warm stream of water, my mind replaying the awkward moment earlier at the table. “I’m sorry about that job thing” I said, keeping my voice low. “I didn’t mean to put you in that spot. It must’ve been awkward for you.”

Y/n glanced at me, her soft smile instantly putting me at ease. “It’s fine, Chris. Really. They like you, I can tell. Don’t overthink it.”

“I just.. I worry, you know?” I admitted, setting the plate in the drying rack. “They’re so put together, so sure of everything. And I’m just..” I trailed off, shrugging.

She dried her hands and reached out, her touch light against my arm. “You’re you.” she said simply. “And that’s more than enough for me. Trust me, they see that too.”

Her words settled something in me. I leaned down and kissed her gently, feeling the warmth of her reassurance seep into me. But just as the moment softened, I felt it again, the buzz in my pocket.

I pulled back slightly, my stomach knotting as I hoped she hadn’t noticed.

“I think I might need to use the bathroom” I said quickly, my voice steady even as my heart raced.

Y/n didn’t seem suspicious, just gesturing toward the stairs. “There’s one right under there” she said.

I nodded, giving her a small smile before making my way out of the kitchen. My steps felt heavier with every buzz I’d felt on my phone.

Once inside the bathroom, I locked the door and leaned against it, pulling out my phone with shaky hands. The screen was lit up with a mess of notifications, missed calls, unread messages, demands.

Nate:

"Where are you, man?" (47m ago) "We found out who tried to make a hit earlier on. Going to fuck him up." (43m ago)

Vince:"Need you to cover a run. Meet at Dock." (33m ago) "Big hits tonight. Need you now." (29m ago) "?" (22m ago) "You have 30 mins to get here." (3m ago)

Thirty minutes. I had thirty minutes to figure out how the hell to get to the docks without tearing everything apart.

I leaned against the sink, gripping the edge like it might steady me. My chest felt tight, and my mind raced. They didn’t just "ask" for things, especially not Vince. They demanded. And missing a demand didn’t come without consequences.

But this wasn’t just about me. If I bailed tonight, it wouldn’t just be me in trouble. Nate could be left dealing with the fallout alone.

I stared at the mirror. My reflection was a mess of worry and panic. I ran my hands through my hair, took a deep breath, and tried to figure out my next move.

I slipped back out of the bathroom, tucking my phone deep into my pocket like I could bury the problem there. Making my way into the kitchen, I found Y/n putting away plates. She looked so at ease, so normal. I hated how I was about to ruin that.

“Hey” I started, my voice low, “I’m not feeling great. I think I need to head home and sleep this off.”

She turned to me, frowning slightly. “Are you okay? You didn’t seem off earlier.”

“Yeah, it just hit me” I lied, forcing a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to cut the night short.”

I could see the disappointment in her eyes, but she covered it quickly with a soft smile. “It’s okay” she said. “Dad’s already passed out in a food coma, so I doubt he’ll even notice.” She paused, searching my face. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just need some rest.”

She reached out, brushing her hand against my arm. “Alright. Go home and feel better, okay?”

I leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss, lingering just a moment longer than I should’ve. Part of me didn’t want to leave her, but I knew I had no choice.

I slipped into the living room to say goodbye to her mom, who was already halfway through a glass of wine. “Thanks for having me, Mrs. Y/l/n” I said, keeping my tone as polite as I could manage.

“Of course, Chris. See you soon!” she replied with a warm smile.

I walked out of the house, the cool night air hitting me like a slap. My chest felt heavy, but my feet moved fast. I wasn’t ready for this, none of it. Not Nate’s vengeance. Not Vince’s demands. Not the lies I was weaving into my time with Y/n.

As I got into my car, I stared at my phone again. Thirty minutes. Less, now.

I didn’t even start the engine before slamming my fist against the steering wheel.

��What the fuck am I doing?” I muttered to myself.

I had no answer. Only more questions, and no time to figure them out.

With a deep breath, I started the car and pulled onto the road. I wasn’t ready, but readiness didn’t matter anymore. It never did in this life.

a/n: its become more and more obvious to me that im shadow banned so i appreciate everyones interactions 🥲🥲

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo @sophand4n4 @ilovepurpledragons @mattsside

[burrowdarling]

Welcome to the Prompt List

Hey there!

Below is a list of dialog prompts that can be requested for a blurb or headcanon. I do have a few guidelines:

*please read before requesting*

➭I’ll be doing each prompt request on a first come first serve basis, as to not get too many repeats (depending on interest)

➭I’ll allow a maximum of 2-3 prompts together to ensure there are plenty of options (used prompts will be crossed off)

➭If there is anything specific you would like to be included, please mention it with your prompt request.

➭Just because a prompt is under a certain theme doesn't mean it has to be, just specify if you'd like something different

Any other questions? Feel free to reach out. Otherwise, request away!

Fluff

“You’re so cute when you blush.”

“Everything alright?” “I just missed you.”

“Rough day? Can I make it better?”

"Have I told you I love you today?" "Yes, but please say it again."

“There is no better way to start the day than seeing your face.”

Flirting + Teasing

“It’s so cold, you should hold my hand, so it doesn’t freeze.” “I’m not that cold, I can give you my gloves if you want.”

“Annoying you is what I’m best at.”

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” “Yes. Is it working?”

“It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

“Oh, you’re so jealous. This is great to watch.”

Romance

"You're so red all of a sudden. Did I say something wrong?"

"I've never seen you not happy." "Maybe I've always been in good company when you've seen me."

"I thought you didn't like the show." "Yeah, but you like watching it, and I don't exactly hate it..."

“I need just one date.” “You think you can woo me with just one date?” “Absolutely.”

“You kissed me.” “You kissed me back.” “And I’m not here to apologize.”

Angst

“Just look at me. Forget everything else.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

“Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Just close your eyes. I will still be here when you open them again.”

“If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.”

Steamy

“Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago.”

“The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused is making me lose my mind.”

“Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you.”

“Let’s go, I’ll buy you dinner. And maybe breakfast.”

“Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.”

credit to @creativepromptsforwriting for the dialogue starters

[rd0265667]

Irene X Reader: Stupid Human

shakespeare would be dead on the floor if he saw how good this was~@seullovesme

Tags: Tsundere, Genie Irene(she just reached through the screen and slapped me for calling her a genie)

There were 3 things you knew were absolute in this world, the chapter you did not study will be tested, the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, and that if you made it out of this alive, Jimin was going to kill you. With a sack of potatoes, all the while telling you that she had told you so. “Stop walking home at night yourself.” She’d insist. You nodded in faux agreement, mostly to placate your best friend. Listen, Taxis are expensive, and you’d gotten self defence training, not just that, you kept a pepper spray on you, an item that Jimin seemed to have in spades. See, it’ll be fine.

Except, yeah. No. The so-called universe clearly had other ideas, because here you were, hands tied, a thick, uncomfortable blindfold over your eyes, and the scent of incense hanging around you like a curse. The blindfold ripped off with a tug, and there they were: three figures in dark robes, all with candles, strange charms, and enough assorted witchy knick knacks to look like a shitty halloween costume. Bound by a chalk-drawn circle on the cold stone floor, you realised the truth. You’d been kidnapped. By a cult.

Of course you had.

"I know, I know," you muttered under your breath, almost amused despite it all. Of course they were a cult. That’s just your luck. “Honestly, blame the author. Cliche little shit.”

“Hey, umm, fellas, can we talk this out?” You look around, trying desperately to get one of the cultists to look at you, but to no avail. “Let us begin.” The one most clad in regalia spoke, the other two nodding, as they began to chant softly.

You look at them in light amusement, despite the predicament you found yourself in. This all seemed ridiculous. This stuff didn’t exist. As if the world was on an agenda to prove you wrong today, from a small amulet lying on the table emerged a smoky figure, a cute but seemingly sinister smile on her face as her arms stayed close. Seeing the figure emerge, the three cultists immediately bowed down. “Who awakens me from my slumber.” The deep and husky voice of the figure boomed, her voice as smooth as velvet and twice as dangerous. “Oh exalted one, we bring you this fine sacrifice as an offering for your great power.” The main cultist spoke.

Sacrifice. Yeah, that word did not sound good. Panicking, your mind began to whir, neurons firing, trying as hard to think of something, a way to get out of this. “Wait! May I speak?” You quickly say, forcing the words from your mouth. All three cultists glared at you like they wished they’d gagged you sooner, one of them even moving to push you down. But with a snap of her fingers, the spirit stilled them, her gaze settling on you, curious and amused. “Speak.” “Oh exalted one, I bring you these 3 cultists as an offering for your great power.” You quickly say. There was a beat where you weren’t sure she’d respond at all, and then, she laughed—a low, husky chuckle that filled the room. “I accept.” She said, fingers snapping once again, the 3 cultists disappearing, the ropes around your wrist going free.

The spirit stood with her arms crossed, watching you with a gaze that was sharp but softened at the edges. She tilted her head, considering you, and then gave a faint, almost reluctant sigh, as if this entire situation had been some unnecessary hassle she couldn’t quite bring herself to resent.

“Well,” she said slowly, as if choosing her words carefully, “I guess you did offer those cultists. So, I owe you.” She paused, the hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. “Three wishes. Don’t get too excited.” Her tone was cool, but there was a flicker in her eyes—curiosity, maybe, or the barest hint of a smile she hadn’t meant to let slip. Her arms dropped from their crossed position, one hand falling casually to her side, as if relaxing just enough to test the waters.

“So,” she continued, studying you with a mix of amusement and intrigue, “what’s it going to be? ”

You raised an eyebrow. “A little excited, aren’t we?”

A tiny snort escaped her, and she gave you a look somewhere between exasperated and amused. “It’s my duty, I don’t have a choice… but I’ll admit, you’re… a little more interesting than most of the mortals who’ve tried summoning me before.”

You couldn’t help but grin, sensing you were maybe, just maybe, getting through her walls. “Guess that’s something, right?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “So,” she said again, her voice a touch less frosty, “let’s hear it. What’s your first wish?”

You raised your hands, giving her a quick shake of your head. “Look, Genie woman-” “I’m not a genie! And call me Irene.’ Irene said almost indignantly

“Alright, Irene, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t actually need any wishes,” you said, surprised at your own words even as they came out. “I mean, sure, it’d be nice to have a few things, but I don’t want to get into any of this business.”

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Excuse me?” she replied, her voice cool but laced with an edge of irritation. “You dragged me out of slumber, and now you’re… passing on your wishes?”

You shrugged, feeling strangely casual despite her intense stare. “In my defence, I didn’t wake you, the cultists did. And in the end, you got the cultists; I got to walk out of this situation without a scratch. So, no harm, no foul?”

She let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s not that simple.” Her voice softened, but you could still hear the exasperation there. “Without the wishes, I’ll be… bound to you.” Her cheeks flushed a faint pink, which she tried to hide by looking anywhere but at you. “Until your wishes are granted, I can’t sever the connection. It’s… an inconvenient rule.”

You paused, processing that, and she gave you an indignant look.

“Before you get any ridiculous ideas,” she added, her tone defensive, “this isn’t some arrangement I chose. It’s an ancient pact, one I’m obligated to follow.” She shifted uncomfortably, almost as if she were embarrassed to admit it. “So, if you have any decency, you’ll make your three wishes and let me be on my way.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise it was that serious,” you replied, trying not to smile at how put out she seemed. 

“Can’t I wish for your freedom?” 

“For the last time, I’m not a genie!” Irene said, her indignation now in full force

“So if I don’t make these wishes… you’re stuck with me?”

Her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing. “Unfortunately, yes. And trust me, the last thing I need is to spend my time… babysitting a stupid human.”

There was a faint, grudging warmth to her tone, like she was trying to convince herself she didn’t mind either way. And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t entirely against the idea. But the flash of vulnerability was gone in an instant, and she folded her arms, looking at you with an expectant glare.

“Well, give me some time to think about it, is that okay?” You ask with a sheepish smile.

“Fine, but you’d better not make me wait.” Irene grunted, rolling her eyes before she snapped her fingers, her form turning to mist, absorbed into a spiral, flying towards the amulet.

You stared at the amulet dumbfoundedly, scratching your head. This was going to be a tough sell in therapy

“Finally here to make your first wish?” Irene grumbled as she appeared in a swirl of smoky tendrils. But when she took in the sight of you—cross-legged in a bright blue monster onesie, surrounded by enough snacks to feed a village, her confident smirk immediately faltered.

Her gaze swept over the scene, and she raised an eyebrow, scoffing. “What is all this? Some weird human ritual? Or are you trying to summon a spirit with all this… junk food?”

You rolled your eyes, catching the way her lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “No, no, nothing like that. Jimin was supposed to come over for a sleepover, but she got called into work at the last minute. And… Well, the food was for her. She eats like a bear.”

Irene huffed, crossing her arms with a look of supreme indifference. “And that concerns me why?”

“Well…” you looked up at her, trying out your best pleading eyes. “I was hoping maybe you’d help me out with it?”

“Help you out?” She arched an eyebrow, her look turning sceptical. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to waste one of your precious wishes… on food?”

You nodded, trying not to laugh. “It’s my wish, right? So technically, I can do whatever I want with it?”

She crossed her arms, lips pursed, clearly torn between annoyance and disbelief. “Fine, whatever,” she muttered, snapping her fingers. “But don’t blame me if you regret it.”

With a flash, her elaborate robes transformed into soft, striped pyjamas in muted blues and browns, her hair pulled back in a neat braid, with a scrunchie around her wrist. She looked down, then let out an irritated huff, tugging at her sleeves as if they were a personal affront.

“Um… what exactly are you doing?” you asked, biting back a laugh.

She scowled, face flushing slightly. “Look, you weren’t specific, okay? So this is what you get. I’m ‘dealing with the food,’ just like you asked.” She added the last part in a mumble, like she was thoroughly unimpressed with herself, her indignation less befitting of a supernatural power and more fit of a teenage girl stuck at home, eliciting a chuckle from you

“Uh-huh. Well… have a seat,” you said, patting the couch beside you. “And, for the record, you look amazing.”

Irene went rigid, her cheeks taking on a noticeable pink hue as she shot you a glare. “D-Don’t say dumb things like that! It’s not like I dressed up to impress you, okay? Besides, I’m a supernatural being, of course I look amazing” she snapped, but despite her protest, she slowly sat down beside you, folding her arms and turning her face away.

You just chuckled, hitting play on the remote.

A few minutes into the movie, you noticed Irene sneaking little glances at the screen. She was practically rolling her eyes at every line, but you could tell she was getting into it, her lips starting to move along to the songs.

“Seriously? Aladdin?” she asked, voice laced with mock disdain. “I’m not a genie, you know.”

“Hey, I just wanted a way to explain you to Jimin. Aladdin was the closest thing I could think of.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Irene groaned, lying down as the movie started. As the movie played, you couldn’t help but chuckle. Irene wasn’t fooling anybody. She was acting like she’d rather be anywhere but here, but she was the one humming the songs, the one bobbing her head. She seemed almost human. “What’re you looking at, stupid human.” She mumbled the last part, blushing, clearly realising that she had been caught. “Nothing, nothing, you just look really cute like that.” “Shut up!” Irene grumbled

When the movie finally ended, she cleared her throat, fixing you with a glare that was more defensive than angry. “Alright, I have to know—why would you waste a wish on something this ridiculous? You have all this power, and you just… use it on snacks?” She sounded incredulous, as if your choice was somehow a personal offence to her.

You shrugged, the humour fading from your voice. “I don’t know… I just think this kind of power doesn’t belong in anyone’s hands. ‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely,’ right? I don’t think anyone ever did the world any good by trying to play god.” “That’s….new. Most of the people who used my powers just used it for their own selfish gain, but you’re different.” Irene pondered “Well, like you said, I’m an interesting mortal.” You quipped with a smile. “Stupid, but an interesting mortal.” Irene grunted. “So how does this go, does the wish just consume itself.” “Well, no, you need to say, my first wish has been granted.” Irene explains. “Alright, umm, my first wish has been granted.” You say, causing Irene to slip back into the amulet

You’d been pacing your room for nearly an hour, turning over your next wish in your mind. You were conflicted on this one. On the one hand, you didn't want to make wishes that were just made to benefit you, but…on the other hand, how much harm could this wish be? And this got Irene one step closer to being unbound from you anyways

In a swirl of smoke, Irene appeared, arms crossed, her gaze flicking over you with that ever-present mixture of annoyance and exasperation. "Another wish already?" she drawled, her voice dripping with boredom. "This had better be important. I’m busy."

You winced a little at her tone but pressed on, determined. “I—uh—I’ve got my high school reunion coming up, and, well... I don’t have a date. I was wondering if you could, you know, help out? Just, like, make sure I don’t show up looking like a total disaster?”

Irene raised an eyebrow, not a hint of sympathy in her expression. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be your date? For a whole night? To keep up the charade for your high school buddies?" She scoffed, her voice thick with mockery. "Honestly, humans are so pathetic sometimes."

You shifted, feeling the familiar sting of her words, but held your ground. "I don’t need anything fancy. Just someone who won’t make me look like I’m still living in the basement."

Irene rolled her eyes. “Honestly, humans are so pathetic sometimes,” she muttered, but her gaze softened just a touch. With a deep sigh, she snapped her fingers, and in a swirl of light, her usual flowing robes were replaced by an elegant black dress, sleek and understated yet somehow breathtaking. Her hair was swept up in a loose, casual style, a few strands framing her face, and there was a faint flush on her cheeks as she looked you over with barely-concealed irritation.

“Wait,” you stammered, staring at her in surprise. “You… you’re my date?”

Irene scoffed, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her shoulder. “What? You thought I’d conjure up some random person and just send you off? That’s not how this works,” she said, crossing her arms defensively. “I’m your wish, so I’m the one going.”

You struggled to keep a smile off your face, but she must have caught the glimmer of excitement in your eyes because she immediately turned away, feigning exasperation. “Don’t get any ideas. This is strictly for show,” she muttered.

The reunion venue buzzed with familiar faces and old classmates, some of whom you hadn’t seen since graduation. The moment you walked in with Irene on your arm, heads turned. Her cool, detached beauty drew immediate attention, and whispers trailed after you as people cast curious glances in your direction.

Irene’s expression remained perfectly unreadable, though you noticed her eyes darting around, subtly assessing the room with a hint of wariness. You leaned toward her, whispering, “See? You’re already the most intimidating person here.”

She huffed, but a small, self-satisfied smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Hardly a challenge, considering,” she murmured.

The reunion was in full swing, the laughter and chatter echoing around the grand ballroom as old friends and classmates reunited. Irene stood beside you, her presence commanding attention in a way that almost made you forget your nerves. She was cool and collected, her eyes scanning the room as if nothing could faze her.

“Everything okay?” you asked, still a little self-conscious as people gave you curious looks when they saw Irene on your arm. It was hard to ignore the whispers floating around.

Irene turned to you, her expression unreadable but softening just a fraction. “Why wouldn’t it be?” she asked, her tone casual but with a hint of something else—a little amusement at your discomfort. "People just like to gawk at anything different, don’t worry about it."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. It was obvious that she didn’t care about the stares. She never did. But you weren’t quite as unaffected. Still, the fact that she was here with you helped ease the tension. In her presence, with her arm looped around yours, the room didn’t feel so intimidating.

The evening passed by in a blur, with Irene at your side, casually deflecting people’s attempts to engage with her with a polite but icy tone. Her reactions ranged from curt one-liners to complete disinterest, but something about the way she carried herself made everyone respect the boundaries she set. They knew better than to push.

You caught up with some old friends, and every now and then, Irene would lean in close, offering a dry comment or two. When someone mentioned an awkward moment from high school, she would casually toss out a sarcastic remark that left the group laughing in spite of themselves. It felt almost like she was part of the conversation, even though her presence remained otherworldly.

It was when the slow music started playing, and the floor cleared a little, that Irene surprised you. She didn’t flinch when you tentatively extended your hand, as if she hadn’t even thought about it. “You’re going to make me look bad, aren’t you?” she said with a raised eyebrow, her lips curling just slightly.

You couldn’t tell whether she was teasing or genuinely reluctant. But either way, you didn’t have the courage to let the moment pass. You gently took her hand, feeling the softness of her skin and the coolness of her touch. “Just for the night,” you said quietly.

Irene nodded, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Fine,” she muttered, but you saw the look in her eyes. There was something real there, a quiet warmth that surprised you. Something that said she didn’t mind it as much as she let on.

The music drifted through the room, the melody slow and soft, and you both swayed to it with an ease you didn’t expect. It wasn’t a grand, ballroom dance—just the quiet movements of two people trying to blend in.

Irene’s grip on your hand was firm but relaxed, her other hand lightly resting on your shoulder. The faintest glow of the room’s dim lights made the curves of her face softer than usual, and for the first time, she didn’t look like she was trying to escape.

“You’re not half-bad at this,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper as her gaze met yours. The teasing edge was gone, replaced by something else—something almost vulnerable. “You should get used to it. People will start thinking we’re a real couple.”

You tried not to let her words throw you off guard, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Is that so?” you teased, feeling a little emboldened. “Would that bother you?”

For a split second, Irene’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t place—something deeper, more genuine—before she straightened, letting the mask fall back into place. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said firmly, though there was a softness to her voice that didn’t quite match the sharpness of her words. “This is all for show.”

You wanted to laugh but held it in, not wanting to break the fragile moment between you, though you had to admit, you’d been enjoying yourself, and hearing that it was all for show hurt a little. Instead, you just nodded. "Of course," you murmured, your eyes lingering on hers. She quickly averted her gaze, but there was still a softness there that hadn’t been there before.

For the next few moments, you both continued to sway together, caught in the rhythm of the music. You could feel the tension between you, the space between what she wanted to be and what she was allowing herself to feel.

And then, just as the song was about to end, Irene squeezed your hand—a fleeting touch that almost felt like an accidental intimacy. Her gaze met yours for the briefest moment, a look that spoke volumes, but she quickly pulled away, her cool, aloof demeanour returning in full force.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she muttered again, but the glimmer of a smile was still present, hidden behind her usual sarcasm. 

You watched her for a moment, noting the pink in her cheeks that she was desperately trying to ignore. “Thanks, Irene,” you said, your voice soft but sincere.

She rolled her eyes and took a step back. “Whatever. You’re welcome.” Irene said, unable to contain a blush as she looked away

The rest of the night passed in a similar rhythm. Well, you hoped it would, but clearly not.

As the night wore on, the buzz of the reunion picked up, and more familiar faces came and went. The wine flowed freely, and the tension between past and present felt less like a weight and more like a strange mix of nostalgia and regret. You were starting to relax, enjoying the unexpected camaraderie of having Irene by your side. It had become clear she wasn’t just tolerating the evening anymore—she was leaning into it, in her own subtle way. Her usual sarcastic quips were still there, but they had a bit more warmth, a bit more playfulness.

It was then that the moment you’d been dreading—Jackson—finally made his appearance.

You hadn’t seen him in years, but it didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to spot you. His face twisted into that familiar smug grin, the one you’d spent high school trying to avoid. He sauntered over, drink in hand, his eyes immediately darting to Irene. It only took him a moment to size her up, his grin widening into something far too pleased with himself.

“Well, well, well…” He looked at you first, then back at Irene, his gaze lingering longer than it should have. “What do we have here? I didn’t think you’d ever get a date for this thing, but, well, it seems you’ve outdone yourself.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the old sting was still there, the reminder of high school’s worst moments rising to the surface. He wasn’t just an ass, he was an expert ass—a master at making people feel small.

Irene, however, didn’t flinch. Her eyes flicked over him, cool as ever. But the way her lips twisted, just slightly, into something that wasn’t exactly amusing caught you off guard. She wasn’t about to let him ruin your night. She wasn’t about to let anyone do that.

“So,” Jackson continued, taking a step closer to Irene with a suggestive grin, “did you get roped into this too, or are you the one with the real taste in men? Because, I gotta say” He motioned toward you, still grinning like he had the upper hand. “You could do a lot better.”

You tensed, but before you could say anything, Irene stepped in, her voice suddenly colder than the temperature of the room.

“Excuse me?” she cut in sharply, her tone dangerously sweet. “You think I’m here because I was roped into it?” She looked him over like she was inspecting a particularly repulsive insect. “No, darling, I’m here because I wanted to be. I wouldn’t waste my time with someone like you if I were paid to. And trust me,” she added, her voice turning slightly mocking, “I can do better than someone who thinks their charm is something worth showing off.”

The asshole’s smug expression faltered just slightly, his confidence wavering. “You can’t seriously think—” he began, but Irene cut him off again, her voice sharper than a whip.

“Oh, but I do.” Her eyes flashed with an icy intensity that made him take a step back. “But here’s the thing, buddy—you might want to look in a mirror and reconsider who’s really the joke here.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. It was the kind of smile that made people feel small. “I’m here, because I want to be here, and there is no one else I’d rather be here with. You talk a big game, but you’re just a sad sack, at least Y/N is a good person, someone who doesn’t make me want to smoothen out my ears with sandpaper”

Jackson blinked, clearly stunned by her words. He opened his mouth to respond, but Irene didn’t give him a chance. Her voice, calm and controlled, broke through the tension like a blade.

“If you’re really trying to flirt with me,” she continued, “you might want to step up your game. You might have been cute back in high school, still I doubt it, never had a thing for bullies with a Napoleon complex bigger than their little peanuts, but now? Well, it’s clearer now that nothing about you’s changed. You’re still the same pathetic little boy trying to prove something that doesn’t matter.”

His face turned a shade of red you couldn’t quite describe. He opened his mouth again, stammering, but no words came out. Finally, he turned on his heel, muttering something under his breath before practically running away.

You stood there, blinking in shock, your heart pounding in your chest. That had been�� unexpected. Irene was usually so detached, so indifferent, that seeing her actually stand up for you—really stand up for you—felt different 

She stood there for a moment, arms crossed, her usual confident mask still in place. But when she turned to you, her eyes softened for just a moment, concern, care, maybe even a tinge of affection, all wrapped in one, just enough that you could see the faintest glimmer of something like… pride?

“You’re not a complete disaster, you know,” she said quietly, looking at you as if she were trying to convince herself more than anything. “That guy was pathetic, but you? You’ve got more going for you than you think.”

You blinked, not entirely sure how to respond. “Thanks,” you said after a beat, your voice soft but full of sincerity.

She rolled her eyes, the typical Irene sarcasm flooding back. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t about to let him run his mouth. Someone had to shut him down.” Her gaze flickered briefly to the spot where Jackson had since retreated, and she smirked. “Honestly, he deserved it. Can’t believe people like that still exist.”

You could see her trying to hide the fact that she did care, that she hadn’t just defended you out of duty. But the way her gaze lingered on you for a second too long gave it away.

“Let’s just get out of here,” she muttered, her hand brushing yours as she moved to leave the crowd behind. But before you could walk away, she glanced over her shoulder. “And don’t think for one second I’m doing this for you. I’m only here because I’m bored. Remember that.”

Just as you were about to leave, however, you heard a soft song began to play. “May I have one last dance?” You asked, bowing your head as you extended your hand to Irene. Irene didn’t immediately respond, and for a moment, you thought she might dismiss you or make some sharp comment. But when you looked at her, you saw something else—something subtle in the way she relaxed, just a fraction. She sighed, eyes flickering from you to the floor and back again, and for the briefest moment, you saw that tiny spark of warmth she usually hid so well.

“Don’t make me regret this. You’re lucky I like this song.” she muttered, her voice soft but steady.

With a small, almost imperceptible smile, you led her to the centre of the ballroom. The music swelled around you, filling the space with a gentle rhythm as the two of you settled into the dance. The movement was slow, effortless—just the two of you, caught in a moment of quiet connection. Irene’s hand rested lightly on your shoulder, and hers in your hand was warm, soft, but her fingers still held that quiet, guarded strength that reminded you who she was.

Her gaze stayed just slightly averted, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. It wasn’t something you were used to seeing, and it made your heart skip a beat. You’d seen her icy exterior so many times, but here, in the privacy of this slow dance, there was something else—something less perfect, less guarded.

“I didn’t expect you to dance like this,” she said, her voice surprisingly soft, the teasing edge in her tone barely there. “I thought you'd be a disaster.”

You chuckled quietly, not wanting to break the delicate silence between you. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”

Her lips quirked, so subtle it was barely noticeable, like a wind in the storm. "I guess so." She shifted slightly, her other hand resting gently on your arm, her movements smooth, as though she was slowly letting go of her usual defenses. For a moment, you felt her melt into you, and it made your chest tighten with something you couldn’t quite place.

The song continued, and the two of you swayed in perfect rhythm, as though you’d done this a hundred times before. You couldn’t help but notice how close you were now, how every little movement seemed to draw her nearer. The smell of her perfume lingered in the air, warm and comforting, and you couldn’t resist stealing glances at her—just a quick look at the way her face softened in the quiet of the dance.

Irene’s gaze flickered toward the ground for a second, but when she looked back at you, it was with a rare, almost hesitant warmth. "I don't do this," she said, her voice almost a whisper. 

“Hmm?” You hum in curiosity as you continue to sway.

"Letting people close. But…"

"But?" you prodded gently, your heart thumping just a little faster.

Her eyes met yours again, and for the first time all night, you saw something different—a quiet acceptance, not of you, but of the moment. “But it’s not the worst thing.” She looked away quickly, her cheeks flushing a deeper pink now, but you caught a smile tugging at her lips.

You both danced in silence for a while, the music winding down, the world outside of the ballroom forgotten.  Her hand tightened around yours, just a fraction, as if to hold on to this fleeting moment, a moment she’d never admit to wanting.

As the final notes of the song drifted into silence, you weren’t ready to let go. So, you didn’t. You held her for just a little longer, letting the stillness of the moment settle between you. Her breath was steady, her chest rising and falling against yours, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift closed for a second. It felt peaceful—almost perfect.

But then, of course, Irene cleared her throat, breaking the moment with her usual sharpness. “Well, that wasn’t terrible,” she said, voice laced with sarcasm, though her tone was quieter than usual. “But don’t get any ideas. I’m not turning into some sentimental fool just because you managed to stand on your feet without tripping.”

You smiled at the playful edge in her voice. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Her lips twitched, the faintest sign of a smile, but she quickly masked it again. “Good. Let’s get out of here before you start thinking I actually enjoyed that.” But there was something in her voice—a softness beneath the teasing—that told you more than her words ever could.

As the two of you pulled away from the dance floor, the night seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a quiet understanding between you. Irene, despite all the walls she’d built around herself, had let a little bit of them fall tonight. And in that moment, with her hand still resting lightly in yours, you knew this was more than just a dance. It was the start of something new—something neither of you had expected, but both of you felt deep down.

But Irene? She would never say it. She simply looked at you, rolling her eyes, and muttered, "I’m not a damsel in distress, so don’t go getting any ideas about saving me, okay?"

You grinned, your heart full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. “I’m not,” you replied, but the unspoken truth hung between you two—there was something here, something that went beyond what either of you would admit.

“Well, the night’s over.” Irene said, her usual matter of fact tone, but you sensed a lower, almost unspoken tone to her voice, as if she was almost disappointed. “Yeah, I guess it is. My second wish is granted.” You say, Irene vanishing back into the amulet. You rest your hand on the amulet, allowing your hand to linger. You hadn’t wanted Irene’s power, you still didn’t, but you had come to value her presence, and this night had just left you wanting for more. Too bad you only had one more wish left.

You let out a long sigh, stepping out of the shop with your groceries clutched in your hands. You had to make your last wish soon. It was always part of the plan—the last step, the one you had promised yourself to fulfil. It’s what you wanted at first, and it’s what Irene had said she wanted, too. But now that the moment had come, the hesitation clung to you like a weight around your chest.

You couldn’t shake the thought that something wasn’t right. After everything that had happened between you two—after everything you had gone through together—the idea of letting her go felt more and more like an impossible choice. She might’ve wanted her freedom, sure, but now that it was so close, you weren’t sure if you were ready for the finality of it.

Your footsteps echoed in the cool evening air as you walked, the weight of the decision pressing in. Distracted by your thoughts, you barely noticed the soft sound of footsteps trailing behind you. It was too quiet, too deliberate. Your heart skipped a beat as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

You glanced over your shoulder. Figures. Three men, walking too close. They emerged from the shadows with knowing grins, their eyes narrowing as they stared at your bags.

"Hey, you!" one of them shouted, his voice thick with menace as he sized you up. "Looks like you’ve got some nice bags there. Why don’t you hand ‘em over?"

You groaned. “Of course, first a kidnapping, then a mugging. The writer needs to get some new material.”

The leader stepped forward, his face twisting into a grin that made your stomach flip. "Shut it. Empty your pockets. Now."

The second man—tall, broad-shouldered—took a step closer, and the third, a wiry figure, pulled out a knife. The metal gleamed menacingly in the dim light, sending a chill down your spine. Your pulse quickened. This was bad. So bad.

You needed a way out. Anything.

Panic clawed at you, and before you knew what you were doing, you reached up to your chest, hand on the amulet resting on your neck. 

The air around you shifted. A swirl of light filled the street, and the men froze, confusion flashing across their faces. In the blink of an eye, Irene appeared, stepping into the scene with effortless grace. Her presence was like ice—cool, calculating, and impossibly beautiful. She didn’t even look at the men as she turned her sharp gaze toward them, her eyes narrowing in distaste.

"What do you think you’re doing?" Her voice was low, smooth, but underneath it was something far more dangerous. She didn’t move, only stood still, her cold stare cutting through the group.

The leader’s bravado faltered just for a second, but it was enough. He took a step back, eyes wide with fear. "What the hell are you supposed to be? A freak?" he spat, trying to sound tough despite the growing unease in his voice.

Irene didn’t even blink. Instead, she flicked her wrist. The knife in the leader’s hand was torn from his grip with a flick of her fingers, sent spinning across the pavement, clattering into the street. His face twisted with shock, eyes widening as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.

"Didn’t see that coming, did you?" Irene’s voice was syrupy sweet, dripping with sarcasm. She turned her attention to the second man without missing a beat. Before he could react, Irene was on him, her hand wrapping around his wrist in an iron grip. With one fluid motion, she twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him face-first into the pavement with brutal force.

The third man, seeing the others go down so easily, hesitated, his eyes darting around as if looking for a way out. But Irene was quicker. She raised a hand, and in an instant, the man was yanked off his feet, his body jerking toward her like a puppet on invisible strings. He flailed uselessly as she pulled him closer, her expression unchanging.

"Running?" Irene’s voice was dark with amusement. "How pathetic."

She lifted her hand higher, and with a final flick, she sent him crashing into a nearby dumpster with a sickening thud. The man groaned, crumpled against the metal, barely conscious but too dazed to fight back.

The leader was the last one standing, his face pale, eyes flicking nervously between Irene and his downed companions. Irene stepped forward, her gaze steady and dangerous. "You’re lucky I’m in a good mood," she said, her voice smooth and cold, "but you do not threaten my human."

The man stumbled backward, his legs trembling. But Irene didn’t let him get far. With a swift movement, she grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground with a terrifying ease.

"Get out of here before I make you regret it," she warned, her voice colder than the air around you.

The man’s pride shattered as he scrambled to his feet, his resolve gone. He turned and fled, leaving his comrades behind, their groans the only sounds as they slowly regained their senses. Irene let him go, her shoulders relaxed but her eyes never leaving the spot where he had disappeared.

You stood there, still processing what had just happened. Your heart was hammering, your legs shaking slightly, but the adrenaline was slowly starting to wear off. You couldn’t believe what you’d just witnessed..

Irene turned to you, her usual cool mask still in place, but there was something different in her eyes. Something almost... soft. "I... I don’t know what to say. You just... saved me."

Her eyes flickered over to you, and she let out a sigh, her usual nonchalance slipping back into place. "Don’t get all sentimental," she muttered, crossing her arms in front of her. "It’s not like I did it for you."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, a nervous sound, but a laugh all the same. The tension was melting away, replaced by a strange warmth. "I know. But still, thanks. You really... protected me."

Irene’s gaze flickered away, and her cheeks flushed just a little. "It’s not a big deal," she grumbled, the sharpness in her voice fading. "Just don’t go getting yourself mugged again. You’re a pain in the ass to deal with."

You chuckled softly, stepping closer. "I’ll try not to. Promise."

She shot you a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Yeah, you better."

The two of you walked in silence for a moment, the street around you quiet once again. The world felt a little less heavy now, your body still shaking but comforted by her presence.

You glanced down at your Amulet, then back at Irene. "I guess this is it, huh? My last wish?"

Irene froze. For a moment, she looked like she’d been struck by lightning. Her eyes widened, and she blinked, mouth parting as if she was about to say something but couldn’t find the words. Finally, she stammered, the icy coolness in her voice replaced by something... far less composed.

"That wasn’t a wish!" She snapped, her face flushed with embarrassment. "That was—! You—you didn’t wish for that! You’re—!"

You raised an eyebrow, a little surprised by her reaction. "But this is what you wanted, Irene. You're free now, right? Isn’t that what you wanted?"

Irene opened her mouth, then quickly shut it again, her face turning an even deeper shade of red. Her hands clenched, and in a flash, she bolted—vanishing into the amulet in a swirl of light, leaving you standing there, confused and left alone.

The apartment door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing in your ears as you stood there, groceries still in hand. It had been weeks since you’d last seen your family, and you hadn’t been looking forward to this visit, but you couldn’t keep avoiding them. Not anymore. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you walked further into the dimly lit hallway of your childhood home. You had enough on your mind as it was, Irene having refused to emerge from the amulet

The place was just as you remembered—dusty corners, faded pictures on the walls, the smell of old furniture and lingering tension. You could feel it in the air before you even heard the voices.

"...You always do this, Mom. It's the same damn thing every time!" Your younger brother, Noah, yelled from the living room. "You never listen to anything I say. You just—"

"Noah, I told you, this isn’t a damn democracy! I’m the one who pays the bills here!" Your mother’s voice was strident, her temper rising as usual.

"You think you’re the only one who has problems, huh? You think it’s easy to get by in this house when everyone expects me to be some perfect kid?" Noah snapped back, his voice laced with bitterness.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, dragging you back into memories you had long buried. The fighting, the yelling, the way they always pulled you into the middle of it. You’d spent your whole childhood walking on eggshells, trying to soothe the chaos, but it never worked. It never made them stop.

And now here you are again. As much as you tried to get away, you always ended up back here. The familiar pain crept back into your chest, an old wound reopening, threatening to consume you.

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat wouldn’t go away.

In the living room, your father’s voice cut through the argument, trying to mediate, but it was no use. His calm was as fragile as glass, and you knew it wouldn’t take much to shatter it. “Both of you need to calm down! This isn’t helping anyone!” he shouted, but no one listened.

You stood at the edge of the hallway, the tension in the air pressing down on you like a heavy weight. You wanted to go in. You wanted to be the peacekeeper, the one who fixed everything like you always did. But you could already feel the familiar panic creeping in, the suffocating sense of being caught in the middle. It was too much. It had always been too much.

You froze, the words slamming into you like a wave. The argument wasn’t directed at you, but it didn’t matter. The noise—sharp, accusatory, rising and overlapping—burrowed into your chest. It dragged you back, pulling you under, to a time you couldn’t seem to forget.

The yelling. The anger. The helplessness.

When you were a kid, this was the soundtrack to your life. You’d spent countless nights hiding under your blankets, trembling as the walls seemed to shake with their shouting. Even now, as an adult, the sound didn’t just echo in your ears—it lived in your body, burrowing into the spaces where fear and pain had carved out homes long ago.

The voices got louder, blending into one another until they were an unintelligible roar. Your hands tightened around the bag of groceries until the plastic handles bit into your skin, but it wasn’t enough to ground you. Your chest tightened, your breaths coming too fast, too shallow. The hallway around you seemed to blur, the walls closing in as your heart pounded harder, faster.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

And the worst part? You knew this would happen. You knew. But you came anyway, thinking this time would be different. It never was.

Your vision blurred as tears welled up, spilling hot and heavy down your cheeks. A small, broken sound escaped your lips—a plea, a whisper of desperation, before clutching your chest.

The words barely left your mouth before the air in front of you shifted. A sudden rush of cold, then a plume of silvery smoke, shimmering faintly in the dim light. From the haze, Irene emerged.

Her figure was unmistakable, her sharp eyes scanning the scene. The usual air of superiority that clung to her was still there, but it softened the moment her gaze landed on you. Her expression changed instantly, the sharp edges melting into something you’d rarely seen from her—concern.

“What’s happening?” Irene asked, her voice low but urgent as she crouched down in front of you. Her hands hovered near your shoulders, unsure for a moment, before finally settling there. “Hey. Look at me. What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t answer, couldn’t do anything but shake your head as the tears kept falling. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat, and you gasped, clutching at your chest.

“Shit,” Irene muttered, her voice tinged with panic. “Okay, okay. Listen to me. You’re safe. You’re okay. Just breathe. Can you do that for me? In through your nose. That’s it.”

Her hands moved to cup your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Her touch was cool, grounding, and her voice—low, steady—cut through the noise in your head like a lifeline.

“Focus on me,” she urged, her tone softer now. “Whatever’s happening out there doesn’t matter. None of it can touch you. You’re here. You’re with me. Just keep breathing.”

Bit by bit, the tightness in your chest eased. Your sobs turned into shaky breaths, though your shoulders still trembled under her steady hands.

When you finally managed to meet her gaze, her usual sharpness was gone. The Irene looking at you now was softer, her eyes filled with something warmer, more protective.

“They were yelling again,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice barely audible. “It just—it reminded me of when I was a kid. I couldn’t stop it then, and I still can’t... I just...”

Irene’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering toward the muffled argument still raging in the living room. When she looked back at you, there was a quiet fury in her expression, like she’d burn the world down in an instant.

“You don’t have to stop it,” she said firmly. “You don’t have to fix it, or even deal with it. That’s not your job. And it’s sure as hell not worth tearing yourself apart over.”

She pulled you closer, her arm wrapping around you protectively. “Whatever this place took from you, it doesn’t get to keep taking. Not while I’m here.”

You leaned into her, the warmth of her words wrapping around you as much as her presence. For a long moment, you just let her hold you, her steady breaths anchoring you.

When the tension in your body finally eased, you pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze. “Irene...” you began, hesitating. “Why haven’t you taken my last wish yet? You just disappeared...”

Her expression softened, but only for a fleeting moment before she crossed her arms and glanced to the side, her cheeks faintly pink. “I—I didn’t disappear. I was... busy. Important genie things, you wouldn’t understand.”

Your brow furrowed. “Important genie things?”

“Yes. Very important,” she shot back, her tone defensive. “Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of moping around all day.”

You tilted your head, a small, teasing smile forming despite yourself. “Irene, you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

Her blush deepened as she snapped, “Avoiding you? Don’t flatter yourself! Why would I avoid someone like you?” She turned her nose up, but the crack in her voice betrayed her.

“Then why?” you pressed gently, your gaze steady on her.

Irene hesitated, her sharp facade faltering as her eyes darted away again. She muttered something under her breath, too quiet for you to catch.

“What was that?”

“I said…” She huffed, her arms tightening over her chest as her blush spread down to her neck. “I didn’t want you to use up the wishes, okay? Are you happy now?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You didn’t want me to use the wishes? But I thought you wanted to leave. To be done with humans. To be done with... me.”

Her eyes snapped back to yours, wide and flustered. “Wha—Why would you think that?! I never said that! Don’t just go putting words in my mouth, you idiot!”

Your grip on her forearm tightened, grounding her. “So you don’t want to leave?”

Irene froze, her lips pressing together before she let out a groan, dragging a hand through her hair. “Maybe—maybe it’s not so bad,” she admitted begrudgingly, her voice dropping to a mumble. “If it’s with you.”

The vulnerability in her tone caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help the small, teasing smile that tugged at your lips. “Of course. I’m your human, aren’t I?”

Irene’s eyes widened before her blush turned scarlet. She immediately buried her face in her hands with a muffled, “Oh my god, I can’t believe you heard that.”

“I did,” you said, unable to suppress a light chuckle.

“Don’t you dare read into it!” Irene snapped, lowering her hands just enough to glare at you. Her face was still bright red, her pout far more endearing than intimidating. “I am not some lovesick little puppy, got it? I’m still an all-powerful genie, and you—y-you’re just a ridiculous human who happens to need a lot of supervision, that’s all!”

“Whatever you say,” you replied, your tone soft as you leaned closer.

Her breath hitched as you reached out, cupping her face and pulling her in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“W-What—” Irene spluttered, pulling back with a glare that was more flustered than furious. “What do you think you’re doing?! You can’t just—you can’t just go kissing me like that without warning!”

You grinned. “I thought you were all-powerful. Shouldn’t you have seen it coming?”

Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again as she struggled to find a retort. Finally, she turned away with an exaggerated huff, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “Completely ridiculous.”

“Not bad for a stupid human, aren’t I?” You tease, hugging Irene tightly

Irene rolled her eyes, but by now, she could do little to stave off the smile on her face. Seungwan would laugh at her, of that she had no doubt, but you were her stupid human now. And she didn’t mind it.

[a1ecmcdowell]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤjust like the movies.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤor, 90s!jensen & starlet!reader.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤTEEN PEOPLE exclusive!

a never-before-seen inside look on america's favorite celebrity couple, starlet & jensen, only found here!

★ ˚⋆

it is, at this point, redundant to introduce the hollywood bombshell that is starlet, the new & upcoming actress taking over the scene. first met in days of our lives as a returning side character, starlet has since moved on to star in the likes of scream, terrifying the world with her breakout role of sidney prescott, and has since gone on to reprise that role, alongside her days of our lives character, many times.

on the other side of the dynamic duo, jensen ackles also got his notable start on days of our lives, working alongside starlet and, as he's stated before in multiple prior interviews, where he first met her.

"utterly captivating," he'd called her to an mtv interviewer, "there's no one else who can do the things that she does, and so effortlessly."

a romance should have been expected to follow after such high praises, though the way that it dominated the world was not so expected. their adorable acts of shameless pda & the blatant enamor that radiates from them when they are in a room together captured the hearts of millions.

today, we sit down with the both of them, and unpack just how they came to be.

★ ˚⋆

sat next to each other on two director's chairs is starlet and ackles, whispering to each other in soft voices, his palm atop hers on its back, the tip of his finger tracing shapes on her palm. he murmurs something, and her head falls back in a bright laugh.

jensen ackles (eric brady of days of our lives): oh! hey. didn't even hear you comin' in.

brittany johnson (interviewer for teen people): no, don't apologize! i'm just taking notes... capturing everything...

jensen: ah, gotta get all the details for the report, i see.

brittany, laughing softly: oh, yes. just doing my job. and how are you, starlet?

starlet (casey kennedy of days of our lives): spectacular, how are you?

brittany: can't complain at all when i get to spend my day with the both of you.

starlet, smiling warmly: oh, none of that. we're just people.

brittany: two of the most beloved of our decade, yes! did you anticipate such a positive response to your first public sighting together?

jensen: honestly wasn't even something that crossed my mind. i just wanted to take my girl to dinner.

starlet: it was so lovely, too. remember the hanging lights on the outside patio? and the candle in the center of our table?

jensen: is it a good time to tell you that i arranged that?

starlet: what? no!

jensen, laughing to himself: i did! called ahead and made sure we could have the patio to ourselves.

starlet: well, i guess we're both learning things today about my relationship, aren't we... oh, i'm sorry, i never asked your name.

brittany: brittany johnson. and that's alright, love, you were preoccupied! i'd never blame you for the honeymoon phase daze.

jensen: is that a real thing?

brittany: no, but i'm going to copyright it. it has a ring to it, doesn't it?

jensen: it does, yeah.

jensen's fingers lock into starlet's, raising her hand to his mouth to plant a chaste kiss on the skin.

starlet: sorry, this was probably a terrible idea, letting us do an interview together. we're not really good at anything but the... well, the honeymoon phase daze.

brittany: here, let me see if i can help keep the both of you on track, shall i? what were your initial thoughts when you first saw each other?

jensen: can i swear?

starlet: jens!

jensen, cackling: it's just a question!

brittany: i can censor it, don't worry. speak freely.

jensen: honestly, and i'm not exaggerating, she always thinks i'm lying about it, but my very first thought when she walked into the reading room was holy f**k.

starlet: no, it wasn't. he wasn't even looking at me, he was looking at his script—

jensen: s'called being sneaky, baby, i was lookin' over the edge.

starlet scoffs, her lips curling into a smile, betraying the feigned irritation.

brittany: starlet?

starlet: i was definitely intimidated. i don't remember my exact reactions, but we locked eyes at one point while reading our lines, and it felt—

jensen: just like a movie scene.

starlet: yeah. i honestly thought that when people said the world stops, it was just a cliche, but...

brittany: but it wasn't, not with you too.

starlet, warmly: exactly.

jensen: she wouldn't go out to dinner with me immediately. just so you're aware. this little lovelorn act she's portraying? wasn't immediate and was not as swoonworthy as you're lookin' at me like it is.

starlet: hey! i was being cautious—

jensen: hard to get. she was being hard to get.

brittany: you asked her out to dinner that very day?

jensen: that very day. i thought, "hell, if i don't swoop in, someone else will." so i swooped.

starlet: and missed the landing.

jensen, mock offendedly: because you were playing all coy!

starlet: since when is being cauti—

jensen: hard to get.

the two's words begin to overlap in an unintelligible argument, jumbled with laughter and tugging on their locked hands.

jensen: anyways. yeah, she rejected me at first. big ol' fat blow to the ego.

brittany: what eventually made her say yes? or, really, i should be asking you that, starlet.

jensen: yeah, baby, go on. i'm curious too.

starlet: it... well, it sounds really superficial. but we had this scene together, and our characters practically mirror the story of us, in a way, because— i don't know, something clicked. the director called cut after eric was about to kiss casey goodnight, and he leaned in, and...

...

...

starlet: it's really cliche, i know that's how it must sound, but it really felt like magic, standing in front of him, looking into his eyes and feeling the emotions he poured into himself while he was acting, and knowing that they were at least somewhat true, considering he'd asked me out a week or so prior. i thought, "god, why did i say no? what kind of idiot was i?"

jensen: very cute that your moment of clarity came from me kissing you. that's all i wanted to say— don't look at me like that. carry on.

starlet: that's it, you loser. unless you want me to continue stroking your ego.

jensen: there's a few other things you—

brittany clears her throat, her palms patting against the notepad rested on her thighs.

brittany, flushed: alright, well... i think that wraps it up for us! it was incredible to get to hang out with the both of you. do you... have any final comments? anything you want to tell the people?

jensen: yeah. go watch my pretty baby in scream 2. and thank you, brittany, for putting up with her, i know she gets a little ditzy and talkative—

starlet swats jensen's bicep, laughing along with him.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤEND TRANSCRIPT.

notes, nobody look too close at the transparent ok its shoddy at BEST but i was having a meltdown over 90s jensen earlier n couldnt relax until i did this ok feedback appreciated sm unless its mean HAHAHA bc i honestly dont know . . . if i like this HJTKLGDFSH style heavy inspired by daisy jones & the six my beloved

tags, @jasvtsc @figthoughts @deanswidow @depressionbarbie2023

[didyoulookforme]

a different arrangement

a fluffy, rambling, unedited blurb based on this from months ago.

it just kept popping up in my mind, so yeah...

—

the morning feels like a secret. the air is cool and delicate, the kind that belongs to an hour when most people are still tangled in their dreams. the cafe patio is calm, empty except for the shuffle of leaves and the scrape of chairs against concrete. you’re moving through it on autopilot, balancing a tray in one hand, the other shielding your face from the sun cutting low across the horizon. the smell of coffee—warm and grounding—clings to you, though it does little to wake you up. opening shifts always feel like borrowed time, half-remembered and hazy.

and your feet slow when you spot him.

he’s sitting at the farthest table, one leg is stretched out, the other tucked beneath him, and a suitcase sits neatly at his side. his notebook lies open, its corners curling slightly, and a pen twirls idly between his fingers. his hair is dark and messy in a way that feels intentional—like he’s pushed it back a hundred times and given up. sunlight catches on the soft scruff along his jaw, softening the sharp lines of his profile.

he’s focused, brow furrowed as though the page in front of him holds a puzzle he hasn’t solved yet. but there’s no rush in the way he sits, like he has all the time in the world. polished isn’t the right word for him—he’s too unruly for that—but there’s something distinct about him, something that makes this sleepy town feel even smaller. and yet, he doesn’t seem out of place. he looks like he belongs to the morning in the same way the sunlight does, temporary but perfect for the moment.

the tray in your hand feels heavier as you approach, the cups clinking louder than you intend. “black coffee,” you say, your voice steady but unfamiliar in the quiet.

he looks up, and the moment stretches, folds itself into something unexpected. his eyes meet yours, and they’re darker than you’d imagined. not cold, though—there’s warmth there, something sharp and curious. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away the way most people might. and then, the faintest smile curves his mouth. it sends a quiet, breathless ache somewhere deep inside you.

“thanks,” he says, and his voice is low and easy, his accent stretching over the word like honey. it’s the kind of voice that feels like it belongs to another life entirely, something out of reach.

your eyes flick to the suitcase beside him before you can stop yourself. “heading somewhere?” you ask, feeling suddenly too aware of yourself.

“yeah. back home later today.”

“and where’s home?”

“london.”

you blink at the answer, the word heavy in your mind. london. it feels distant and impossible, like it belongs to movies and postcards, not to this conversation on this patio.

“i’ve always wanted to go,” you say softly, the admission slipping out before you can think better of it. “but i’ve never made it past here.”

“why not?”

his question feels casual, but the way he asks it—his eyes steady on yours, his tone light but sincere—makes it feel like more. your fingers tighten slightly on the edge of the tray. “life, i guess. work, family, money… the usual excuses.”

he hums, tipping his head slightly as he taps his fingers against the mug. “sounds like you need a break.”

you let out a soft laugh, trying to deflect the way the comment lands too close to something you’ve been avoiding. “don’t we all?”

“maybe,” he agrees, his voice dropping to something softer, more deliberate. “but you mean it.”

there’s a certainty in his tone that makes it hard to meet his eyes for too long. you glance toward the cafe, catching sight of a regular waving for your attention. the moment breaks like a thread being pulled loose.

“i should—” you start, nodding toward the door, but he interrupts gently.

“wait. what’s your name?”

the question feels startlingly intimate, even though it’s simple. you tell him, your name unfamiliar on your tongue, and he repeats it softly, like he’s testing how it fits in his mouth. it sounds better coming from him, and you hate how much you like it.

“matty,” he says, offering his name with a tone that feels just a touch warmer than before. “nice to meet you.”

the words stick with you as you retreat into the cafe, your heart thudding in a rhythm that doesn’t belong to the quiet morning. when you glance back, he’s still watching, his expression steady but unreadable. it’s enough to make your pulse stutter all over again.

—

matty doesn’t just sit at the table—he claims it. every time you step outside, he’s doing something different, though the focus in him never wavers. at one point, he’s writing, the pen in his hand moving with a kind of urgency that makes you wonder if the page will catch fire. later, he’s leaning back, one arm draped lazily over the chair, a crossword puzzle in front of him. the grid looks like a battlefield—half-filled answers, some scratched out, others left untouched. his pen taps against his bottom lip, his brow furrowing like the clue in front of him holds the answer to something far bigger than a single word.

you also notice the napkin—a blank canvas when you brought him his coffee, now covered in tiny sketches and spirals. there’s a cartoon coffee mug with a ridiculous expression, a constellation of stars, and looping scribbles that don’t seem to form anything in particular. it’s messy and oddly endearing, the kind of thing you wouldn’t expect from someone who carries himself like he’s got everything figured out.

when you bring him a refill, he pulls out an earbud before you’ve even reached the table, his attention snapping to you like he’s been waiting. the way he smiles makes something unfamiliar twist low in your stomach.

“you’re spoiling me,” his is voice warm with humor, his fingers tracing the edge of the mug you’re refilling.

you tilt your head, feigning nonchalance as you set the pot down. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“not bad,” he says, leaning back in his chair as though the morning were made just for him, “just risky.”

his reply catches you off guard, and your face betrays you—just a flicker of surprise before you recover. his mouth curves slightly, almost smug, like he’s pleased he’s thrown you. you lift an eyebrow, refusing to let him win. “i’ll take my chances.”

his eyes dip briefly to the crossword, and he twirls the pen between his fingers before gesturing toward it. “you any good at these?” he asks, as if it’s the most natural thing to include you in whatever this is.

“why? need rescuing?”

“possibly.” he glances at the page, his lips pressing together like he’s fighting off a laugh. “turns out ‘chaos’ doesn’t fit into a six-letter space.”

your laugh is soft but unrestrained, spilling out before you can catch it. his gaze finds yours again, heavier this time, and your pulse stutters under the weight of it. “try ‘mayhem,’” the suggestion tumbling out before you’ve had a chance to think about it.

he raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. “clever and helpful,” he murmurs, jotting down the word. “what would i do without you?”

the question lands somewhere it shouldn’t, leaves a warmth behind that lingers too long. you glance away, catching sight of the tattoo covering part of his forearm. it’s bold against his skin, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

“mortal kombat?”

his gaze follows yours, and his smirk widens into something softer, almost nostalgic. “yeah. childhood obsession.”

“didn’t peg you for a gamer.”

“i’m full of surprises.” his tone dips, playful but steady, and he leans forward slightly, closing the space between you just enough to make you breathless. “what about you? ever play?”

“once or twice,” you admit. “terrible at it.”

“button-masher,” he accuses, the word landing like a challenge. the laugh that slips out of you feels unintentional, easy in a way you didn’t expect.

“is there any other way?” you counter, crossing your arms as though to steady yourself.

his smirk softens into something quieter, his gaze lingering on you for a beat too long. “not if you want to win.”

—

“so, you’ve always lived here?” he asks, not quite a question, more like a statement he’s waiting for you to confirm.

you nod, brushing a hand over the edge of the tray still balanced against your hip. “born and raised. it’s not exactly exciting, but it’s home. predictable, you know?”

he hums softly, his expression thoughtful as he glances past you toward the street. “predictable’s not the worst thing in the world,” he says after a moment. “but you don’t strike me as someone who’s too thrilled by it.”

you laugh softly, the sound more honest than you intended. “no, not really. but it’s easy to get stuck, you know? years go by, and suddenly you’re still here, doing the same thing you were five years ago.”

“sounds familiar,” he admits, his voice dipping lower, quieter. “sometimes i think the only reason i’m not stuck is because my job keeps moving me around. but even then, it’s not like i’m actually living in those places—just passing through.”

“what do you do, exactly?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

his gaze shifts back to you. “i scout locations for films. basically, i find places that match the story—where the light works, or the atmosphere feels right. spots that set the tone before anyone even says a word.”

“that’s… unexpectedly poetic,” you say, smiling despite yourself.

he chuckles softly, the sound warm and easy. “yeah, well, the reality’s a bit messier. lots of late nights, arguing over budgets, dealing with directors who want impossible things. but every now and then, you stumble across somewhere that just works, and it makes all the chaos worth it.”

his gaze flicks back to you, steady and deliberate. “this place… it’s got something. quiet, sure, but there’s a kind of honesty to it. like it’s not trying to be anything other than what it is.”

you raise an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “honest? that’s one way to put it. most people would just say boring.”

he shakes his head, leaning back in his chair as his fingers drum lightly against the table. “nah. it’s not boring. it’s… understated. besides, if it was so dull, you wouldn’t still be here.”

his words settle into something heavier than you expect, and you hate how much they get under your skin. you glance down at the tray in your hands, brushing your fingers over its edge.

—

you find yourself wandering back to his table. it’s not because you have to—his coffee’s still half-full, and he hasn’t waved you over. but something about the way he’s sitting there, relaxed and yet quietly focused, draws you in.

“everything alright over here?” you ask lightly, tilting your head as you stop by his side.

his attention shifts to you immediately, like you’ve just become the most interesting thing in the room. “more than alright,” he says, his lips curving into that expression that’s already starting to feel dangerous. “though i wouldn’t say no to a top-up.”

you pour slowly, the steam curling between you. when you glance up, he’s watching you again—not just watching, but really seeing, like he’s cataloging every little movement.

“so,” he starts, setting the pen down and leaning forward slightly. “if you could get out of here, just for a little while, where would you go first?”

the question catches you off guard, and your hand stills over his cup. “i mean… anywhere,” you say, shrugging slightly as you set the pot back on the tray. “i’ve always wanted to travel—see places that feel bigger than here. but it’s not exactly in the cards right now.”

“what if it was?” he presses, his tone lighter but still carrying a hint of something more serious.

you raise an eyebrow at him. “what are you getting at?”

he leans back again, crossing his arms over his chest. “hear me out,” he says, his smile widening just enough to make you suspicious. “you stay in my flat in london for a couple of weeks. see the city, live a little. in the meantime, i’ll stick around here. get to know what it’s like to slow down for once.”

the suggestion hits you like a splash of cold water—shocking, absurd, impossible. “you’re joking,” you say, though your voice doesn’t carry as much conviction as you’d like.

“dead serious,” he replies, his face softening into something clearly sincere. “you said you’ve never left. maybe it’s time to change that.”

you blink at him, your mind racing to keep up. “and you’d just… what, live my life for a couple of weeks?”

“something like that,” he says, shrugging easily. “seems like a fair trade. i get to breathe for a bit, and you get to see the world—or at least, a small corner of it.”

“you don’t even know me,” you point out, your voice quieter now.

he tilts his head, his gaze steady. “i know enough,” he says simply. “and besides, this isn’t exactly a permanent arrangement. think of it as… an experiment.”

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “this is insane.”

“most good ideas are,” he counters, his voice dipping lower, warmer now. “so? what do you think?”

you hesitate, your pulse quickening under the weight of his gaze. “and how exactly would this work?”

“easy,” he says, reaching for the napkin covered in doodles. “give me your number. i’ll reach out once i’m back in london, and we’ll sort out the details. no pressure—you can back out anytime.”

his tone is light, but there’s a flicker of something earnest in his expression, something that makes it hard to look away. against your better judgment, you take the pen resting beside his notebook and scribble your number in the corner of the napkin, your handwriting slightly slanted from the nerves tightening your grip.

“don’t make me regret this,” you say as you slide the napkin toward him.

his fingers brush against yours as he takes it, the touch brief but enough to send a shiver up your spine.

“i wouldn’t dream of it,” he says softly, his grin returning just enough to make your heart stutter.

you straighten up, clutching the tray to your chest like it might keep you grounded. “we’ll see,” you manage, though your voice feels far less composed than you’d like.

“we will,” he says, and the way he says it—calm, certain—makes it feel less like a question and more like a promise.

—

the minutes stretch and settle as the day unfolds, but matty stays rooted at his table. his coffee cup sits empty now, his notebook tucked back into his bag, but he doesn’t seem in any hurry to leave. you catch glimpses of him through the window as you move around the cafe—leaning back in his chair, his gaze wandering over the trellis above, as though he’s letting the stillness soak into his skin.

when he finally stands, the scrape of his chair against the concrete draws your attention. you watch as he stretches, arms reaching high above his head, his movements slow and unhurried. his suitcase, still sitting neatly beside him, serves as a quiet reminder that this is temporary—that he doesn’t belong to this place the way you do.

he adjusts the strap of his bag and slips the folded napkin with your number into his pocket. the motion is deliberate, careful in a way that makes your pulse flutter, though you try not to let it show.

he lingers by the table for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the patio as though trying to memorize it. when he turns, his eyes find yours through the doorway, and that faint, crooked smile of his returns—softer now, less teasing but no less disarming.

“thanks for the coffee,” he says, his voice low and warm, carrying easily through the space.

“anytime,” you manage, though the word feels flimsy under the weight of his gaze.

he nods once, his expression calm and steady, before turning toward the street. you watch as he pauses at the curb, his head tilting slightly as though deciding which direction to go. the sound of his suitcase wheels clicking against the pavement feels louder than it should, each step pulling him farther away.

just before he disappears around the corner, he glances back. his eyes find yours again, and the curve of his mouth deepens into something warmer, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t want to name. he lifts a hand in a casual wave, his movements easy and unhurried, and you lift yours in return, your heart racing as you watch him disappear from view.

the rest of the day passes in fragments—orders taken, tables cleared, polite conversations carried out without much thought. but his words linger, echoing softly in the back of your mind.

by the time you lock up for the night, the patio is empty, the chairs stacked neatly under the trellis. the air is cool now, carrying the faint scent of ivy and coffee grounds, and for a moment, you let it all settle around you.

[yesihaveaobsession]

A Break in the Chaos

Alastor x female!reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by art burnout, the reader (you) reluctantly takes a break when Alastor creates a calming escape. Through his unconventional help, you find the peace she needs to regain focus and clarity.

A/N- REQUESTED BY: @jormungandr-42, I hope you like <3 !!

You were an artist, an artist whose work was more of a side job in addition to helping Charlie manage the hotel. It was something you enjoyed, and you made a little cash while doing it. You could call it a hustle. Today, though, it wasn’t your favorite. You had so many commissions to get done, and you were still staring at a blank canvas.

Needless to say, it had been a long day, and the dim light in your room had been flickering as you stared at the pile of crumpled art commissions and scrapped ideas scattered across your desk. Your hand trembled slightly as you picked up your pencil, only to let it fall back down with a sigh. You were mentally exhausted. You spun slowly in your desk chair, the rhythmic motion trying to soothe your frazzled mind, but it did nothing to calm the pressure mounting inside you.

As you glanced up at the ceiling, as if praying for answers from the old, faded painting above your desk, you could feel the tension in your shoulders, the stress building like an unstoppable force. How could you possibly finish all of this? You thought, feeling the weight of every brushstroke and sketch.

From the doorway, a familiar voice broke through the silence. "Well, well, well, my dear. It seems like you’re in quite the... predicament," Alastor said with his signature smugness, his eyes gleaming with mischief as always. His presence filled the room with that unsettling yet strangely comforting energy.

You groaned and spun in your chair again, this time more forcefully. "Yeah, no kidding, Alastor. I’ve got a mountain of commissions to do, and I can’t even pick up a pencil without feeling like I'm drowning," you muttered. Frustration and a hint of tiredness were clear in your voice. Alastor chuckled, and his grin widened.

“Oh, darling, you do know how to make things sound dramatic. Perhaps you need a little... help?" Alastor was still standing in the doorway, leaning forward with his claws resting in front of him on his microphone. You could tell there was curiosity and amusement in his tone, and you didn’t even have to look.

"Help?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you spun in your chair again. "You’re not helping. You’re just standing there and watching me," you snapped, clearly agitated. "I need to finish this, not have you stand there being all... mysterious and making everything worse." You leaned back more in the chair, which made a noise. You could feel the heat in your cheeks from how annoyed you were, and the last thing you needed was Alastor being his usual teasing self.

Alastor raised an eyebrow and gave you a mock pout, though he still wasn’t hiding his amusement. “Oh, how tragic. I do so enjoy your fiery spirit, but surely you can’t deny that my mere presence is quite enthralling?”

Finally, picking up your head, you shot him a pointed glare. “You know, if you actually helped me with these damn commissions instead of making sarcastic remarks, I wouldn’t be losing my mind right now!”

His response was only a thoughtful hum, his hands now behind his back. “You do seem a bit... overwhelmed, dear. Perhaps you need a different kind of assistance.” Was he flirting with you? Or were you being delusional? Maybe you were just tired. The only response you could muster was a huff, and you turned away from him back to that blank canvas, feeling the pressure of burnout press down harder. “I don’t need help with anything, Alastor. I just need to finish these. But I can’t focus. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

The room fell silent for a long moment, and maybe, just maybe, for a split second, you got your hopes up, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Alastor would say something useful. But instead, you felt a sudden weight lift off your shoulders as the air shifted slightly, the tension easing just enough for you to breathe.

You blinked and looked back at him. He was now somehow in front of you. His smile was softer than usual. "Perhaps the real help you need... is a little time away from all this pressure. A moment to breathe and find that spark again," Alastor suggested.

As much as you hated admitting it, he might have had a point. You were running yourself ragged, drowning in commissions, almost forgetting why you loved art in the first place. “…Maybe,” you sighed, feeling the exhaustion seep deeper into your bones. "But what do you know about taking a break, huh? You’re always on."

Alastor chuckled. “Even a demon needs a moment to catch their breath now and then, darling.” You sat there for a moment, your gaze falling back to your desk. The mess of unfinished art sat in front of you, but something about Alastor’s presence made it seem less insufferable. Maybe a break wouldn’t be the worst thing after all. “…Fine, maybe I’ll take a little break,” you grumbled, slumping in your chair, though you couldn’t fully suppress the hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Excellent choice, my dear. I’d be more than happy to help you unwind.” Alastor smiled. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Ridiculously helpful," he quipped back, giving you a theatrical bow. You shook your head, but at least, for the moment, the weight of artistic burnout seemed just a little lighter. Alastor hovered nearby and watched your every move like a hawk. Although you agreed you would take a break, you were still sitting at your desk. He knew you were hesitant. "A true break requires more than just stepping away from your work for a few seconds. It’s all about a change of scenery... and atmosphere."

You eyed him warily. “What are you getting at?” Alastor snapped his fingers, and the room shifted. The cluttered, dim space morphed into something entirely different—a cozy, dimly lit parlor with plush chairs and a warm, inviting atmosphere. A crackling fire roared in the hearth, casting a soft glow over the room. A velvet chaise lounge appeared next to a small table.

You blinked in surprise, half-expecting the room to revert back to your messy space. But it didn’t. The warmth of the fire and the soft scent of something sweet filled the air. The tension in your shoulders loosened just a fraction. You had to admit, the sudden shift was… oddly soothing.

“What… what is this?” you asked, incredulous.

“A perfect place to take a proper break,” Alastor replied smoothly, his grin never wavering.

"A little relaxation before you dive back into the trenches of your art. After all, you need a clear mind to continue, don’t you?” Alastor said, and you just stood there and looked at him. Why was he helping?

“You underestimate the power of comfort, my dear. It’s just as important as hard work. Without it, one can easily crumble beneath the weight of their own expectations.” You raised an eyebrow at him, suddenly noticing the hint of sincerity in his words. You hadn’t expected that from the Radio Demon, who was often more interested in his own amusement than anyone else’s troubles. “You value my well-being? I thought you just liked watching me run myself ragged.”

Alastor smirked. “Oh, I do find your struggles... entertaining, yes. But that doesn’t mean I want you to break under the pressure, dear. Where would the fun be in that? If you’re unable to perform at your best, how could you give me your finest work?” He gave a dramatic sigh. “Such a disaster that would be.”

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“That’s what you love about me,” he replied with a grin.

“Alright,” you said, settling further into the chaise, “I’ll admit it. This is nice.” You glanced at Alastor, who was still watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “But it doesn’t fix my art block.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it gives you the space to fix it. Sometimes, the best ideas come when you’re not drowning in stress. Just remember, you’re allowed to rest. And when you’re ready to go back, your mind will be clearer, your hands steadier.”

“I hate to say it,” you murmured, staring into the flames, “but you’re right. I needed this. You’re not as useless as I thought.”

Alastor’s grin widened, “A compliment from you? How delightful. I do enjoy helping when I can." You snorted. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I’m sure I won’t,” he said with a wink. “But perhaps next time, you’ll allow me to help you before you reach the breaking point.”

You just smiled and shook your head and leaned your head back against the head rest, and closed your eyes, taking in the peaceful atmosphere, all thanks to him.. you guessed.

[bintturaab]

Normally I'd consider having breakdowns as a waste of time and a nuisance, berating myself but mostly my brain for being triggered by the most random things ever that I never saw coming and then having a huge dramatic reaction that I cannot find any justifications or reasons for, that even I'm left confused by (so let alone even attempting to explain anything to anyone else).

But, subhanAllah, in Ramadan, even the biggest breakdown over the most unexpected and random thing, feels like it has a purpose and it's not a waste or a nuisance. It feels like your heart is just wanting to be torn open in front of Allah for Him عز وجل to mend the wounds even you can't make sense of; to mend your heart that has been broken in such a way that you don't even remember any of the origins of any of the scars, they've just been there since what seems like forever.

I think, of all the possible times to break down, Ramadan is the most ideal time to break down in front of Allah عز وجل, because this is the month of dua and this is the season of healing and this is the month of Qur'an and we feel a closer connection to our Lord and our Deen than we usually do throughout the year. So even after we break, there's no better time to pick ourselves up and return to Allah with whatever of ourselves and our hearts that remain. Because nobody except Allah can mend and heal us from our deepest traumas and fears and insecurities. May Allah have mercy on us all ameen.

[demaparbat-hp]

Want to know what I believe? It's right here

Dig a little deeper and it's crystal clear

.

(WIP)

[wayfinderships]

The power has done out multiple times today😔 not the most ideal when it's been so hot lately-