#is this how people feel when celebrities look at them

[girlgenius1111]

homesick

barcelona femeni x reader r is having a difficult time settling in with her new team in Barcelona. making friends with her teammates and being so far away from home is proving to be much more difficult than she expected. luckily, there are a lot of people around to help her. if she just lets them. angst to fluff <3 —

—

There was something you learned long ago, having moved across the world at such a young age for your career. Being alone sucked. But what was worse? Being surrounded by people and still feeling completely alone. 

There was a level of disconnect between you and your teammates, something you didn’t blame them for. You were younger than the majority, only just 19. Spanish wasn’t your first language, though you had a good handle on it, you missed some of the nuances that came with being completely fluent in a language. Being introverted didn’t really help your case, because even the teammates closer in age to you were loud and outgoing, for the most part. 

You were living your dream, thousands of miles away from home and from everyone you knew. You weren’t stupid or ungrateful enough to regret moving to Barcelona, but that didn’t make the day to day easier. It felt like your teammates didn’t like you, it was taking so long for you to adapt to the playing style of the team, and as every day passed, you felt worse and worse. 

Why couldn’t you just figure it out? Why couldn’t you talk more, contribute to conversations? And when you did talk, why did you have to overthink every word you said? Why hadn’t you adjusted yet? Why did you long for a home across the world when you were living out the opportunity of a lifetime? 

It didn’t matter that the coaching staff had been nothing but kind and encouraging, promising that it took time to get into the flow of the game, that everyone had to adjust. It didn’t matter that your teammates really seemed to be trying with you, it still felt like they were just being polite.

When it came down to it, you were doing your best, yet you were still struggling. You were all alone, with no clue how to pull yourself out of the slump you’d fallen into. 

—

The first time Ingrid and Frido realized something might be going on with you was after a solid win away. Both of them made a point to get to know the new players, especially the non-spanish ones. They remembered what it was like arriving in Barcelona, not speaking a word of Spanish and trying to integrate into the team. And they hadn’t been nearly as young as you were now. They looked out for you, the quiet anxious girl that no one seemed to know very well. They made sure you were eating enough, made sure you called your mother and told the physios if you had any soreness anywhere. 

Despite the win by several goals, you didn’t seem content. The team was lighthearted and carefree, and while you normally joined in with a small smile on your face, the only time you really let yourself be pulled into the team atmosphere being when the team was celebrating, this time you didn’t. You took a seat towards the front of the bus, curling up against the window and putting your headphones on. 

It had been obvious to pretty much everyone that you were having a tough time adjusting, really feeling like the team was your team. It wasn’t for lack of trying on their part. The younger girls would try to pull you into conversations, but you always pulled back after a few minutes, your face going red after you’d spoken like you thought you’d say something wrong. You were playing well, considering you’d only been with the team for a few months, but you didn’t seem happy with your performance. Whenever anyone gave you a compliment, you politely thanked them, but it was clear you didn’t believe what they were telling you. When Ingrid and Frido, or any of the older girls for that matter, tried to check in on you, you were quick to assure them you were fine. 

It had seemed pretty routine, though, up until this point. Everyone struggled when they joined Barça. They assumed you were just adjusting, but that you were having an entire crisis of confidence in yourself on top of terrible aching homesickness that lived in the back of your mind every minute of every day. 

But something seemed wrong today. You weren’t just quiet, you were morose. Staring out the window with no music playing through your headphones, looking dangerously close to tears. It didn’t make sense to Ingrid or Frido, or any of the captains that also had their eye on you, because you’d had a good game. 

Sure, you’d missed a few chances, but you’d also scored. Just looking at you, though, it seemed like you’d had the worst game of your life. 

The chances you’d missed were playing on a loop in your brain. You’d been good at trying to keep yourself from dwelling on how much you were struggling until this point. Perhaps it was just too much today, or perhaps it was because you knew you were missing a family dinner that evening for your cousin’s birthday. Whatever it was, everything suddenly felt irreparably terrible. 

You’d never make friends. You’d never integrate into the team. You’d never be the player you knew you could be. You’d be sent back home a failure, disappointing anyone who had ever believed in you. Your thoughts were a downward spiral as the bus started moving, so much so that you didn’t even realize you’d stopped moving until Ingrid was tapping you on the shoulder and telling you that you’d arrived back in the parking lot.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked gently. The Norwegian didn’t miss the way you whipped your head around, as if scared for anyone to think you weren’t okay. Luckily the rest of the bus was mostly empty, aside from Patri trying to drag a half asleep Claudia out of her seat. 

“I’m fine!” You replied quickly, rising to your feet and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I’m fine. Sorry, I just spaced out.”

Ingrid didn’t move for a moment, blocking your exit entirely. She studied you, green eyes piercing right through your very soul. 

“You don’t seem–”

“I’m okay, really.” You interrupted, inching closer until Ingrid got the message and moved out of your way with a sigh. “I’m tired, I want to get home.” 

And with that, you made your escape, slipping past your teammate and rushing off the bus. To be fair, you were tired. Exhausted, actually. But you needed to be home within the next hour because your mother was going to call, and if you talked to her around anyone else, they’d see you cry after you hung up. The tears were inevitable, but you didn't have to let anyone see them. 

—

Though you were unaware, you were somewhat of a topic of conversation among the older girls on the team in the days following that away match. Ingrid had filled in the captains, and there were more eyes on you at training. They saw things they’d missed before, mostly just the way you seemed tense all the time, the absurdly high standard you held yourself to. No one thought you were just adjusting, anymore. No, something deeper was going on, something that had you falling apart at the seams. The issue they found themselves facing was one that plagued you as well. Because you weren’t particularly close with anyone on the team, no one had any idea how to figure out what was wrong. 

Ingrid had tried, to no avail. Alexia, with her stern captain voice and then the next day, with a softer approach. Esmee had tapped in then with Frido, but still. Nothing. 

You insisted you were fine. Seemed guilty that anyone was even taking the time to ask you if you were okay, and then more guilty because they were making an effort and you had no idea how to respond. Your instinct was to shy away from anything your teammates offered but you weren’t sure why when you so deeply craved friendship. 

Something you couldn’t escape, though, was team bonding. It was unspoken that events like this were mandatory, and normally you wouldn’t necessarily mind going. They were fun evenings, even if you felt like you basically watched them from the sidelines. Now, though, when it felt like everyone on the team was watching you, waiting for something, though you weren’t sure what… you’d never wanted to attend less. 

In fact, you found yourself quite nervous as the evening approached. Training had been normal, or what passed for normal now with everyone seemingly watching your every move. At least 6 people had reminded you about dinner that evening; you couldn’t even pretend you forgot. 

So, there you were. Squished in between Jana and Ona at the table of everyone’s favorite sushi place. It was a social overload, with everyone talking all at once. But you were doing fine, mostly. Jana and Ona both seemed to be making conscious efforts to bring you into conversations, which you pretended you didn’t notice. As the evening went on, it only got better. You relaxed more, letting yourself fall into conversation with Caro across the table. You felt you were being more.. you than you’d ever been in front of the team. 

The admittedly long list of people Ingrid and Frido had recruited to keep an eye on you were all very thrilled to see you getting on so well. You laughed at Pina’s jokes, started speaking not just when you were spoken to. There was light in your eyes, joy on your face. And now that your teammates had seen you like this, how you should be most of the time, they couldn’t help but feel guilty for not noticing how unwell you were before. 

But still. Progress was progress. And the evening could definitely be considered progress. 

Until you glanced down at your phone, and saw a missed call from your Mom. It was well past the time you normally spoke to her, and you hadn’t realized. You were supposed to call her an hour ago, like you did every day, but you’d forgotten. 

A million thoughts ran through your head in just a few short seconds, the most prominent of which being that you hadn’t forgotten or missed a call from your Mom since being here. Maybe it was pathetic, but talking to her was one of the only things that made you feel completely at ease in this new city. For a reason you couldn’t wholly justify, tears burned your eyes. 

You’d forgotten to call. You’d missed her call.

A level of guilt you’d never before experienced overwhelmed you, because you’d basically ignored your Mom, and you’d never been more aware of how terrified you were to forget where you came from, forget your family and your friends, than you were in that moment. 

Perhaps that was why you were terrified to let your guard down around your teammates; because settling in felt like forgetting, and forgetting didn’t seem fair. You barely registered mumbling something about needing to leave before your chair was scraping on the floor and you were out of there as fast as you could be. 

You wanted to go home. Not the home in Barcelona, the apartment that didn’t quite feel like yours. But the home you’d grown up in. It was funny, because you’d spent so many years wanting to get out of there, and here you were. Living your dream, but you couldn’t stop thinking about home. It didn’t matter that you used to fight with your parents all the time, or that your siblings never left you alone. You’d take any amount of yelling, any amount of annoyance if you could just go home. 

Much to your dismay, the door to the restaurant had barely shut behind you before you heard it swinging open again. There were fast footsteps, even as you sped up and tried to hurry to your car. Then, a hand wrapping around your wrist and softly tugging. 

“Chica, wait a minute,” Jana called. You stopped, not turning around until Jana practically did it for you. Her face was full of concern and sympathy and it made your stomach twist. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah.” You tried to sound casual, calm, but your voice cracked. “Everything’s fine.”

Jana looked doubtfully at you, her fingers raking through her dark hair as she considered your words that were a complete contradiction to your appearance. You didn’t look fine at all. You looked like you were barely holding it together, and Jana wasn’t sure what had happened. Just moments ago, everything had been fine. 

“If everything is fine, why are you rushing out like there’s a fire or something?” 

You opened your mouth, trying to come up with an excuse. There were a million possibilities; your head hurt, you’d forgotten to blow out a candle, you’d forgotten a meeting with your agent. Anything. Anything would have been better than the truth, but for some reason, the truth seemed to be forcing its way out. 

 “I… I was supposed to call my Mom but I forgot.” You choked out. 

Jana’s confusion didn’t fade, but she took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “Can’t you call her later?”

You shook your head rapidly, a few tears springing free and trailing down your cheeks. A gust of wind blew, a chill running down your spine, and for some reason, you thought about the big oak tree in your front yard at home. How the leaves would rustle in the wind when you used to climb up the trunk, and you’d feel so at peace, even 15 feet off the ground. Your chest ached, deeply. Painfully. 

“No. I call her every day at the same time, so I have to call. I have to call.” You mumbled, waiting for Jana to laugh or tease you or something, though she’d never do that and you knew it. She didn’t even push, didn’t suggest you text your Mom to explain you were busy and say you’d call her later. Instead, Jana stepped even closer, her hands finding both of your shoulders.

“You miss her?” Jana asked gently. Her voice held an empathy and concern that shouldn't have surprised you. Everyone knew Jana was kind, but you were always surprised by how purely good someone so young was. 

Biting your lip, you nodded, more tears escaping. 

Jana gave you a somewhat sad smile before pulling you into a hug, squeezing tight and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

“I bet it’s so hard being so far away.” 

“Yeah. It is.” You paused, hesitating. Something about standing there with Jana felt like you could say anything, could be honest and it would be okay. “It’s really lonely sometimes.” 

Jana’s heart broke at the fractured sound of your voice, the way you clung onto her like you weren’t sure you’d stay standing if she let go. She hugged you tighter for a moment, before pulling back and giving you a reassuring smile. 

“I bet it is. I’m sorry we haven’t tried harder to help you settle in.” 

At this you shrugged, pretending her words didn’t hold any weight. 

“ Okay, chica. Go home, call your Mama. You’ll feel better tomorrow, and if you need anything, you call me, okay? Anything.”

You appreciated the offer more than you could articulate. Jana wasn’t judging you for being homesick, didn’t feel like you were taking your spot with the team for granted. She hadn’t questioned the validity of the reason you were so upset. She was being a friend. 

“Thank you, Jana. Really.” 

“Of course!” Jana replied easily, giving your hand one last squeeze. “I’ll tell Ale you had a headache, and I’ll see you tomorrow at training.” 

You nodded, smiling gratefully at the defender. 

As you got into the car and started your journey home, you were more sure than ever that you’d been the problem the whole time. Resisting and pulling away from something you weren’t sure you could have, yet your teammates kept reaching out anyway. So afraid of rejection and being disliked that you didn’t let anyone get to know you in the first place. 

—

Jana did not tell Ale you had a headache. No, she went back inside, mind racing with ways she could possibly help you, and was promptly ambushed by Ingrid, Frido, and Alexia. All three women were taller than her, suddenly staring down at her with half concerned, half frantic looks on their faces. 

“Did you catch her?” Ingrid questioned. 

Jana sighed, nodding her head. “Yeah. She had to go, she… forgot about something.” 

“What? What did she forget?” Alexia wondered. 

Jana hesitated. She wasn’t sure what the right thing to do here was. She did know, though, that Alexia always seemed to be able to help solve her problems. And Frido and Ingrid were so concerned. Jana didn’t want to break your trust, but she didn’t know how else to help you. 

And more than anything, she really just wanted to help you. 

—

Something was different the next day at training. 

It began as soon as you walked into the locker room. Loud voices had echoed down the hall, all of them falling silent as you walked through the door. Countless pairs of eyes were on you, the room falling quieter than you’d ever heard it. A very heavy moment passed, before Alexia cleared her throat, and everyone fell back into their conversations. You couldn’t help but feel, though, that they’d been talking about you.  

That feeling only intensified as you slipped into your training kit, pulling your top over your head to find Kika and Ona standing on either side of you. Though you often found it hard to break into conversations, there was no time that this rang truer than morning training sessions. You weren’t a morning person, and your brain simply refused to keep up with the fast paced spanish like it normally could. As a result, the time you spoke the least to your teammates was when you arrived in the morning. 

“Hi?” 

“Do you have plans after training?” Kika asked, a soft smile on her face. One that was almost too kind. Too… searching. 

“I-”

“Wait! No! Ingrid and I were going to ask her to get coffee with us!” Frido cut in, appearing behind Kika and throwing an arm around the younger girl’s shoulders. 

“Well you should have asked first,” Kika smirked, shoving the blonde away from her. 

Ona nodded her head. “We’re going to lunch, you can see her tomorrow.” 

You looked between the three of them, confusion evident on your face. None of them had ever made this much of an effort with you before, and it was suspicious to say the least. Also suspicious was the way half the team seemed to be stealing glances at you, waiting for you to agree to lunch or coffee or whatever you were about to be roped into.

You thought about earlier, how they’d all stopped talking when you walked in. You felt like there was some joke you weren’t in on, and it occurred to you that maybe… maybe the joke was you. The pieces didn’t exactly match up, yet you could feel the paranoia creeping in, the anxiety making your chest tighten. 

“I… I have plans this afternoon, but another time.” You stuttered, giving your teammates a half smile as you turned back to your cubby and worked on pulling your hair up. It wasn’t exactly a lie; you’d planned to go to a cafe and read that afternoon. You’d had a rather long and tearful call with your Mom the night before, and she’s suggested you try to get out of the house today, to get your mind off things. 

You didn’t think about the fact that she would absolutely tell you to go spend time with your teammates if the opportunity presented itself. While you normally would have been excited about the opportunity to spend time with some of them, something felt so off about this. Artificial. 

“Okay! Tomorrow then.” Kika declared, squeezing your shoulder and walking off. 

You sat on the bench to put your boots on, pretending you didn’t notice Frido and Ona still lingering by you. Pretended you didn’t notice that Patri was speaking quietly to Pina and Vicky, their eyes all trained on you. Pretended you couldn’t tell that something was going on, and it most definitely had something to do with you. 

—

Everyone was watching you. Everyone was talking to each other and looking at you, checking in with you, asking about your morning, what you’d had for breakfast, what your plans were for the afternoon. It was too much, too suddenly.

Your mind kept flitting to the moment you’d walked into the locker room earlier, the almost guilty looks on everyone’s faces as they all stopped talking. They’d been talking about you, you were sure of it now. And whatever they’d been saying, they didn’t want you to hear. 

As training dragged on, and the attention on you didn’t waver for a second, you began to spiral. 

Were they… making fun of you? Logically, you knew the chances of that were very low, but your anxiety was drowning out the logic quickly. 

Maybe they really didn’t like you, had all been discussing it when you’d walked in. Maybe the guilt had kicked in, then, and they were trying to overcompensate. 

It felt suffocating, the weight of everyone’s attention, the pressure to perform perfectly in training and answer everyone's constant questions. It was odd, that for so many weeks now you’d just been wishing for your teammates to notice you, to make an effort but now that it was happening, you were terrified. It couldn’t be genuine, couldn’t be real. They just felt bad for not liking you, probably. Or maybe one of the captains was making them be nice to you. 

It was as if your body was rejecting the attention, your panic building and building until it was all you could do to run through the drills and not collapse onto the ground. 

There was only an hour or so left of training, but you weren’t sure you could make it. Every one of your senses felt heightened. Every voice and glance in your direction felt like an attack on your nervous system and you wanted more than anything for everyone to just stop. 

Stop whatever they were doing, whether that be a joke or pity or something else. Stop looking at you, stop talking to you with an undertone of pity and concern. You just needed it all to stop. 

“Are you alright?” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin, the water bottle you were clutching tight in your hands falling to the ground. Ingrid had wandered over during a water break, and you’d been too caught up in the spiral of your own thoughts to notice. The brunette was gazing at you, her cheeks flushed from the heat but her green eyes clear and full of worry. 

“Ye-yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, willing Ingrid to go away before anyone looked over and noticed what she was clearly seeing; you were very far from okay. It was too late for that, though, Irene appearing on your other side, her hand pressing to your forehead as she studied your face. It felt so similar to when your Mom would check you for a fever, you choked on your own breath, pain ripping through you. 

“You look unwell, are you having a bit of heat stroke? Sit down, let me–” Irene was talking, but you barely heard any of it.

“–I’m fine, I just need… need to go. I have to go, I’m sorry.” 

You wrenched yourself away from Ingrid and Irene’s hands, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste to get away. The shared locker room was probably the least logical place to go to escape your teammates, yet that was where you found yourself, mind in overdrive as you began to pace back and forth. 

You didn’t want to be the butt of the joke or the group charity project. You didn’t want people to pity you, you didn’t want to be coddled or watched over. You just wanted to be normal, like the rest of your teammates. 

You couldn’t do this any longer. It was too hard, being here was too hard. You wanted to go home, more than anything in the world. You wanted your Mom, your dog, your bedroom, and the safety of being with the people you loved. 

Hands found your shoulders, interrupting your pacing. You looked up, tears streaming down your face, finding Alexia looking at you with so much concern, it made your stomach twist. 

“What’s going on, chica?” Alexia asked gently. 

You broke, a small whimper falling from your lips as you exhaled, everything you were feeling and thinking coming pouring out of you like a tidal wave you couldn’t control. 

“I-everyone is being so weird and you were all talking about me this morning and no one will leave me alone and you’re all staring at me and I don’t know what I did wrong, I don’t know what to do, I just want to go home. I just want to go home, I can’t do this anymore,” 

Strong arms were wrapping around your trembling form a half a second later, and as much you’d deny it happened to anyone who asked afterwards, you found yourself sobbing into your captain’s training kit. Alexia shushed you gently, steady even as you fell apart. 

“It’s okay, chica. You’re okay. Just let it out.” Alexia murmured, carefully steering you over to the bench and guiding you to sit down on it. Her arms didn’t release you, not as you sat down and not for the next few minutes as you cried yourself out. Eventually, you pulled it together enough to lean away from your captain and wipe at your face with your shirt. 

Wordlessly, Alexia handed you a water bottle, one hand still resting on your back. The touch felt remarkably comforting, and you already felt better, already realized you’d let your anxiety get the better of you and overreacted. But then, Alexia broke the silence. 

“We were.” She admitted, reaching out to help you unscrew the cap of the water bottle when your hands proved to be shaking too hard to do so yourself. You looked at her questioningly, and she sighed, a guilty look flashing across her face. “We were talking about you when you walked in.”

Your stomach dropped, the color draining out of your face. You’d hoped that you were just being crazy and anxious and paranoid, but no, they did hate you, they all hated you and–

“Nothing bad, though. We were just worried. Jana… Jana told me what happened yesterday, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that you had the support you needed. I didn’t want you to feel alone.” 

The words were everything you should have wanted to hear, yet you couldn’t move past the first thing she’d said. Jana had told her what you’d said. 

“I realize we haven’t made enough of an effort to incorporate you into the team, and that is our fault. It’s always hard when someone first gets here, and we thought you were just adjusting, we didn’t realize you were having such a hard time.” 

If you’d known Alexia better, you’d have realized she was rambling, scrambling to try to justify everyone’s actions. As it was, you didn’t even really process what she was saying, feeling humiliation wash over you instead. 

It had been pity that fueled them, yet still, they’d made an effort. You couldn’t decide if that made it better or not. You couldn’t decide how you felt about any of this. 

“It’s normal to feel homesick, chica. Very normal. You are so far from everything you have ever known, of course that is going to be hard. We should have noticed, and we should have done more to help you adjust.” 

She was speaking so earnestly, you couldn’t help but thaw a little. 

“I’m not… I’m not some pathetic person everyone needs to feel bad for and–”

“No. No one sees you like that.” Alexia insisted. “You are our teammate, and we take care of our own. We should have been doing more for you.” 

At this, you averted your eyes, shrugging and inhaling deeply. She wasn’t… wrong. And she spoke with such conviction that you kind of believed her, that your teammates really cared about you, and didn't just feel bad for you. 

“You are so mature, I forget how young you are sometimes. But us especially, the captains, we should have been looking out for you. I’m sorry about that, chica. Can you forgive me?” 

And, well, what were you supposed to say to that? 

“Yeah.” You agreed, clearing your throat when the word came out raspy and broken. “Yeah, I can.” 

Alexia studied you for a moment, a contemplative expression on her face. “You forgive too easily.” She said finally. “But I am glad, because Jana has been having a nervous breakdown about telling us what you said, even though she was just worried. I can’t take another Jana breakdown, chica, I really cannot.” 

You laughed at this, a genuine laugh that made your captain grin and ruffle your hair. 

Alexia stood, extending her hand out to you. “Back to training? Or do you need the afternoon?” 

Her voice was free of any judgment, and you could tell that whichever option you chose would genuinely be okay. But you also knew yourself, and if you left now, you’d just be more nervous tomorrow to come in. Putting off the anxiety inducing situation would only make it worse. So though you’d run off in tears like a child, you nodded, grabbing Alexia’s hand and standing up. 

“As long as everyone stops staring at me.” 

“Done.” 

— 

It wasn’t a quick fix, by any means. But it was the little things that changed, and those seemed to make the biggest difference. It began that very day, when you walked back out to the pitch with Alexia. Everyone was staring, but trying to pretend they weren’t, until Alexia whistled and raised her voice. 

“Oye! Be normal. Now.” She shouted. It was as if a switch flipped, and the general energy within the team relaxed instantly. You hadn’t been the only one tense, you realized. 

Later, Jana caught you as you were heading back into the locker room, looking genuinely distressed. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to anyone about what you told me, I just–”

“It’s okay.” You interrupted. You figured there wasn’t a better place to start with fitting in better than forgiving. “You were just worried, Ale told me.” 

Relief broke out across Jana’s face and she exhaled sharply, yanking you into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, chica.” 

With Jana forgiven, with the team acting more normally, you could actually enjoy watching your teammates fall over themselves to do something with you. Whether it was driving you to training, or getting lunch or coffee with you. Making christmas cookies or going on a hike. 

The offers didn’t feel empty anymore. They hadn’t been, the whole time, but only now could you see that. Your teammates wanted to get to know you, you just had to let them. And as you let them, as your teammates became friends, your homesickness faded. Not entirely, of course not. There were still moments you wanted nothing more than to get on a plane and fly home and never look back. There were still moments you cried, still days that felt heavy and terrifying. But you weren’t alone in these moments anymore; or really, you’d never been. 

It was a funny thing, how two problems you’d kept separate in your head were really so intertwined. There wasn’t as much room to be homesick when you were having fun with your friends. And even when you were still homesick, there was always someone there ready to listen and give you a hug. Always. And you found that made all the difference in the world. 

—

hope you enjoyed :)

also i feel like im missing something from this but i can't put my finger on what it is? so... making the very rare statement that i would not be opposed to one shot requests in this universe :)

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think were any kind of specific aspects of the culture, industry, economy, etc that made making cartoons in 90s / 2000s better or worse than trying to make them today?

They're literally different worlds.

As a 22 year old neurodivergent, I was able to pitch show ideas directly to executives. Part of that was because TV Animation wasn't a glamorous profession (quite yet), so the higher-ups were genuinely passionate about the medium. I earned good money for the time and was generally trusted to run my show and tend to the crew. I would periodically be handed portfolios, which I would personally review and pass on to other show runners. For the networks it was always corporate, cutthroat, and ultimately about the money, but as an artist you could still have a voice and make art while being paid a living wage.

The pay for a freelance storyboard in 2005 is almost exactly what it is today, but now you're likely to have less time and be required to do an animatic on top of it. Portfolios are online, and (beyond metrics) you'll probably never know if anyone looks at it or not.

Animation got big. Too big. The executives got "glamorous", then the talent got "glamorous". By then you probably wouldn't get a pitch meeting unless you were a celebrity or knew one willing to be connected to your project. Animation eventually got so big that it popped. And that's where we are now.

Most of the people I know from Kid's TV Animation are currently unemployed. I have been off Jellystone for over a year, and I'm starting to get genuinely worried. Like, "move away to save money" worried. Most of the employed artists I do know are on long-running legacy series, and they're concerned about their futures when/if those series end. Right now is not a fantastic time for "animation as a money-making profession". The "glamorous" part popped years ago.

That being said, there are still opportunities out there. If you're just starting out, apparently there's a planned surge in adult and pre-school animation. It's also a great time (as long as YouTube remains sane) to be crafting your own content. But I think that the time of Big Studio Patronage is over for most of the industry. It's up to the individual artist now more than ever, not only to make but to promote their own content.

Back at the height of Billy & Mandy, we mostly pulled fours and fives in the Neilsen ratings, but we occasionally got a seven. For reference, E.R. consistently got eights. It's difficult to say exactly how many people that actually was due to how those ratings work, but it was a big deal for the time. Millions. Enough people that if I had a dollar for each person that just watched that one episode, I would have been set for life. Now, nobody gets a seven. A four is huge. Back then there were maybe fifteen or twenty channels of programmed content as opposed to the streaming smorgasbord we were all just enjoying (and which now also seems to have popped). Point being, even though I wasn't paid-per-view, I was able to use those views as justification for an eventual raise. In modern times, streaming numbers are seemingly deliberately kept secret. You'll never really know how well your show was doing until it's over. Or maybe never.

In modern times, a million views on YouTube is enough to get you noticed online. It's a lower bar for entry in a way, but you've got to get there all by yourself. Once you're there (hello Hazbin) a network may indeed come and scoop you up. Even if they don't, you can probably make a decent living with numbers like that if you're savvy and willing to take the time.

I feel like I could go on all day, shaking my fist at the sky, gray-ass beard blowing in the wind. Was it better or easier making cartoons in the past? It seemed that way to me, but that was a world I knew. There was no AI to sell you out to, and the media was more of a "Wild West" than it is today. I do think that AI is going to continue to displace artists (and soon others), making it even more difficult to get anyone's eyes on anything at all.

Culturally, we lack the common cultural touchpoints that bonded our society in the 20th Century. I suspect that the media landscape will continue to become more "bubbly" and disjointed unless some powerful force swoops in to mandate a common viewpoint. Those are two very divergent, uniquely tiring futures, each presenting a different challenge for an artist's survival.

Outside of whatever our modern world is, animation was made for a century by photographing drawings. If Émile Cohl could do it in 1908, you can do it now. It's a lot of labor, but maybe that's part of what makes it special.

[for-a-longlongtime]

To all the fans in the Pedro fandom who feel like they don't belong

I see you. We see you. You have a place here among all of us, and we want you to be here - we really do.

No, this isn't a Kumbaya post, I'm fuckin' for real.

To all the writers...

... who receive racist messages, death threats, are being told their reader insert isn't good enough, that this and this character wouldn't be with someone who looks and sounds like you, that you're not using the right words or that you misspelled something --

I am so fucking sorry people had the fuckin' gall to direct that hate at you, because you don't deserve it. You share your stories and characters with us, and they are adored and read and celebrated exactly for who they are - not despite of who they are.

To everybody who lurks, reads, but doesn't feel like they can participate...

... who see how their skin tone, language, identity, gender, body type, sexual orientation, culture, type of relationships, and so much more is underrepresented or actively treated with hostility --

I'm so fucking sorry, and I - as many of us - understand completely why you feel that way, because it's absolutely valid. But I promise it's not how the majority of people feel about you. I know that doesn't make up for shit, but I do want you to know that most of us care a lot.

Nobody should stay in an environment where they feel like they're not wanted, or where remarks are made carelessly without regard for how hurtful stereotypes are. But if this has ever happened to you, be it out of ignorance (or at times malice), please know - your presence matters.

To everybody who has ever felt insecure about their kinks or liking smut... ...please don't. Seriously. Your kinks are what they are and they are completely fine. Liking smut is fine. Liking Pedro characters in smutty fic is fine too. Kink exploration in fic should be a safe space and respected.

Don't shame others here, especially not as an anon. Yes, certain topics that writers address in fic may be challenging for you for a number of reasons, but guess what? You don't have to read it! You don't have to dissect *why* someone wrote that! Don't like smutty fic? Cool, so don't wade into fics marked as explicit. Don't like certain kinks? That's cool, just read the warnings and skip fic when it doesn't appeal to you. Sure you're entitled to your own opinions, but you do not need to air them out in public or trash an author because you didn't like how they wrote something.

To everybody in this fandom...

... especially those of us who are white, able-bodied, straight, cisgender, had formal education, are a native English speaker, and/or many of the other privileges that a lot of us carry in our backpack every day:

We need to do better. Please. For so many reasons.

We need to be aware of our blind spots, biases, the fact that at times everybody fucks up - because we live in a racist, homophobic capitalist patriarchy -, and that occasionally means admitting we were wrong. That we unintentionally said something that was hurtful and that we're sorry for hurting people with our words. That ignorance can slip so easily into words that we type, and that the only way. But own up to it and please don't pull the 'I'm sorry you feel hurt' card - no. Take actual responsibility. Particularly when underrepresented voices explained to you why something is wrong.

And please, call out your friends on things like this - especially if you're white/straight/cis. It's your responsibility to speak up because you're closer to them. White people should be the first to call out racism; it's not up to the people that already are on the receiving end of prejudice (or worse, hatred) to fight that battle.

Exclusion doesn't only happen if you're actively spreading hate - it also happens by not taking accountability for when you fuck up, or when you are erasing and ignoring identities. If the word 'representation' doesn't mean much to you, that's probably because you constantly see yourself reflected in the stories and people in society (that, in itself, is privilege too) - and hey, good for you! But there are many of us who that doesn't apply to in the same measure.

I've had many conversations lately about this with fellow queers as well as brown/black/Latinx folks, so I really wanted to post this. Not as virtue signaling or whatever the hell, but because I know a lot of people are seeing and reading things that are understandably make them reluctant to engage.

So hey, let's do better and look after folks in our community whether we directly engage with them or not. The amount of comments that are always gushing about 'I love how Pedro cares about others/is an ally!' is very disproportionate to seeing similar support expressed for creators and fellow fans. Let's also not forget he's a Chilean man, the son of socialist refugees, who has always actively been on the barricades for LGBTQIA+, rallies against white supremacy and the toxicity of patriarchy -- so if you appreciate his dedication to 'causes', lets apply that to the very real people in this fandom too. And fyi, this isn't just about a single instance or a single person - it's so much bigger than that, and we all know it.

(oh, and if you feel like I'm being a moralist about this - feel free to unfollow or block my ass. You do you! I don't care. I care about the people here who don't want the community harmed by anons who get their kicks from being a bully.)

[thecheshireprincess]

Because all of two people said they wanted to read my newest story obsession, here's a sneak peek at my favorite chapter I've written . . .

Let me introduce you to:

The Game Itself

A Chishiya x childhood best friend reader (Niragi's sister!) fic

Content Warning: Mentions of an abusive father, mentions of reader trending toward a panic attack, canon-typical violence, curse words, Niragi is in here and is a menace

A/N: This chapter takes place well into the story, having already introduced many of the main characters and some important plot points. None of my own twists are spoiled by reading this chapter first, and I think it's the best representation for how this story will be 😘 I hope you love it 💕

You lean back with a sigh, relaxing into the plastic beach chair set in front of the glittering pool packed with bodies. The sun is high in the sky, and the citizens of The Beach are happily drinking it in. That's not the only thing they're drinking in, mind you - it's mid-afternoon, and the party is absolutely raging. The music is bumping, the drinks are flowing, and the people are doing what people at The Beach do best - celebrating life. It may seem macabre, to party the days away when you're forced to face deadly games by night, but honestly it feels kind of right when you aren't really sure how much longer you have left to live.

Chishiya sits at your feet, one arm draped lazily over your bare calves and the other holding him upright on the chair. As usual, his face is devoid of any emotion, but you know he is enjoying the opportunity to people watch and get some sun. Even he isn't a vampire, after all.

You spend a few moments studying the people yourself - many splashing around drunkenly in the refreshing pool water and others dancing uninhibited around its edges, everyone looking free as can be. How must it feel to not have to worry about anyone in the Borderlands but yourself? How easy it must be to not have the two most important people in your life stuck here with you, wondering if today is the day they're going to die.

You feel the familiar tight feeling in your chest start to build, and force yourself to shake away those suffocating thoughts - you simply cannot afford to panic here.

You turn your attention instead to playing with the beads adorning the straps of your emerald green crochet bikini. The suit was new, wearing it outside of your room for the first time today. It was special to you - Kuina had found it while she was out for a game last week, saying it had reminded her of your sparkling eyes. The gift made you feel loved, and the suit made you feel sexy.

Rolling the wooden beads between your fingers seemed to help settle your nerves. When your breathing finally returned to normal and the simple anxious task was no longer needed, you sigh loudly, covering your face with your arms and flopping further back into the chair. Bored.

Chishiya smirks, raising an eyebrow. The man very nearly laughs at the dramatic habit that was very you. "Bored already, hm?" He hums, "Coming down here was your idea after all."

"Yes, but I thought there would be more excitement" you whined, flailing your arms widely to accentuate your point. Chishiya sweeps his eyes over your form, looking at you with amusement.

He's about to say something more when he's interrupted by the arrival of two familiar figures - a nervous looking guy with shaggy black hair, and a fit, muscular girl with a cute bob cut. Chishiya squeezes your calf to get your attention, flicking his eyes toward them as they sit down apprehensively on two beach chairs across the pool from you. It was the two newcomers from the most recent executive meeting, and before that, your 5 of Spades game. Arisu and Usagi.

"So they decided to stay after all," you muse, sitting up in interest and folding your legs underneath you. You scoot your body closer to your friend, your thigh brushing against his, as you continue to observe the couple. You briefly wonder what had happened to his blonde friend, and the one they'd been trying to get medical help for. In a place like this, it's probably best not to ask.

The blonde turns his head to study your face, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear as he does, "I can't imagine that it would have gone over well had they declined Hatter's offer." You feel a slight shiver run down your spine at Chishiya's intimate touch. That's new, you note. He had brushed your hair behind your ear like that many times in your life, and only now does it take your breath away. You hum distractedly, still staring at the pair but suddenly feeling very far away from the events taking place around you.

You grin brightly, then, having noticed Kuina skipping over to them. She plops, likely uninvited, down on the chair beside Arisu, her unlit cigarette hanging characteristically in her mouth. There is no doubt in your mind that she was already teasing them about the relationship between them, despite having just introduced herself.

Kuina was confident like that, and you loved that about her. Well, except for when she was teasing you and Chishiya. You blushed slightly just thinking about it, wondering when you had started becoming so flustered about your best friend. You duck your head at these thoughts and pretend to study the sparkly manicure Kuina had given you last night.

You and Chishiya were still just best friends, right?

Within a minute or two, the air had turned from relaxed to tense, and your neck snapped up to find out why. Your discerning eyes land on the militants, of course, you really should have guessed. The hostile and generally power hungry group of The Beach's "personal protection unit" were filing into the party, sure to flash their weapons at anyone looking. The smart people were avoiding their gaze entirely, and the stupid (drunk?) people were openly gawking. You rolled your eyes, how typical.

Leading the charge onto the pool deck was Aguni, looking cold and calculating as usual, with your brother following close behind. Your eyes narrowed, having not seen him for a few days.

"Looks like you're about to get your excitement after all," Chishiya whispered, his breath tickling your ear. You took in a sharp breath in anticipation; the full militant corp was standing at arms looking ready to fight, at the pool. Could this mean the fall of The Beach could be coming sooner than you previously expected? Anxiety swirled heavily in your stomach, fingers subconsciously finding the wooden beads again.

You look to Niragi, the one person who would normally soothe your frayed nerves with just a glance, but feel even worse seeing the wild look in his darkened eyes. Had your relationship truly deteriorated so much in a matter of weeks?

Being all the way on the other side of the pool from them, you're unable to hear Aguni's request, but Niragi was quick to obey. He moved towards Usagi, pulling her roughly up to her feet.

You watch with widened eyes - had Aguni asked for Usagi? What would he even want her for? Nothing good, certainly. Maybe you overestimated his kindness and empathy the day he saved you in the 9 of Hearts game. Or maybe this place really does create monsters out of men - you could certainly see that in the long-haired man across the pool from you, once soft and caring, now swinging a gun around without a care in the world and physically threatening a girl not much older than you. Hell, you see it even in yourself, having been happy enough to let everyone but Chishiya die from the second you landed in this wretched place and started playing.

You're shaken from your reverie when Arisu springs up from his place beside Kuina to help Usagi. You groan in despair, knowing full well that your brother would only be further provoked; Borderlands-version Niragi has an extremely short fuse. Kuina also looks displeased, as though she'd literally just told them not to mess with them, which she probably had.

The people of the party are now definitely watching, but openly pretending not to be. If you didn't feel so anxious at the situation, you'd probably laugh at how nosy and indiscretion drunk people truly are.

You find yourself standing instead, ready to close the distance between your perch and where Niragi has now thrown Arisu to the ground, kicking him repeatedly in the stomach. You felt like throwing up watching the display. Memories flooded your mind of watching your father do the exact same thing to the tall man who was now delivering the blows. It was taking everything in you to not curl up in a ball crying like you always had when the two men in your family were fighting. No, this time you had to put an end to it. This time you would be brave and fight.

"You're going to try to save them, aren't you?" Chishiya mumbles in concern, knowing this scene was likely triggering to you. You knew he wanted you to stay out of it, but you just couldn't help yourself.

"I can't sit back and play victim anymore, Shiya," you whisper. You move swiftly around the pool, before you could lose your nerve or Chishiya could stop you.

"Niragi, please. They're my friends," you plead with the violent man, grabbing onto his forearm as he delivers another crushing blow to Arisu's ribcage. The people of The Beach were now actively watching the scene, fully invested in your family drama. You're unsure of why you called the couple your friends, when you just barely know their names. All you know is that you don't want to watch your brother kill the poor guy, and you definitely don't want to find out what Aguni had planned for Usagi. Or was it that you couldn't stand to see your sweet brother hurt someone the same way he had been hurt so many times in his life?

Niragi ceases his assault on the boy and rips his arm from your grasp. He gives you a full once over in the process, his cold eyes meeting yours for the first time in days. You feel real, raw fear filling your system, something you haven't felt since leaving your father's house for the last time 8 years ago. You'd never felt smaller in your life than you did now, shrinking under Niragi's brutal gaze.

Taking a shaky breath, you muster the shiniest, prettiest puppy dog eyes you can, peering up at Niragi through long eyelashes. "You won't hurt them, right? I'm friends with them."

Niragi continues glaring intimidatingly down at you, in what you realize is disgust. He doesn't address your concerns, but instead has something else to say.

"Put some fucking clothes on, you look like a slut" he spits fiercely, his pierced face now just centimeters from yours. The tight feeling in your chest had returned in full force, threatening to suffocate you.

You stumbled back as if he'd struck you - Niragi had never spoken to you like that. Your stomach dropped, and it took all of your willpower to maintain your composure. You obviously couldn't cry in front of all these Beach idiots, gaping at the two of you like you were the best soap opera in the Borderlands. You turn your head to escape his intense gaze, and put your tongue in your cheek to keep the tears from spilling over. You want soap opera? I'll give you soap opera.

Looking back up at your brother, you cross your arms over your chest. "What are you going to do, make me?" you implore him brattily. Niragi seethed, pierced eyebrow arching, looking like he was seriously considering slapping the attitude right out of you. You stand your ground, the way you should have every other time you've faced a monster like this.

As you and Niragi stare each other down, the initial cause for your dispute long forgotten, Aguni and the others have become distracted by Hatter's arrival. One side demanding peace, and the release of the newest members of the beach; the other begging silently for chaos to ensue. The tense atmosphere surrounding you indicates the balance of power between the two leaders was indeed in jeopardy.

After what feels like hours of strained silence, Aguni ultimately yields to Hatter. The Beach seems to collectively release their held breaths as Aguni and the militant corp flock away to another part of the resort. Usagi quickly tends to Arisu, leading him back into the building to treat his wounds and get to safety. Meanwhile, you have your own struggle for power going on.

Niragi still stands towering above you, obviously not in the mood for your games. He unbuttons his black and white collared shirt, draping it over your shoulders, "Go. Change. Not a request." His fingers wrap tightly around your forearm, aggressively yanking you towards the entrance to the hotel. The force that Niragi had exerted on you nearly sent you careening into the pool still glistening mockingly at your feet, but luckily Chishiya had appeared in just the right position to catch you. Unbeknownst to you, the two exchange a brief look before Niragi skulks off to find Aguni and his other lunatic friends.

The panic within you threatened once more to boil over and your brain simply shuts down - this day had been too fucking much. In your daze, you barely register Chishiya dragging you inside, away from the curious and scrutinizing glances of The Beach citizens. You were embarrassed, confused, and fucking mad.

Just as you passed through the swinging double doors and into the air-conditioned building, Kuina fell in step with you two. She let a reassuring hand fall on your shoulder, squeezing it for comfort. At her kind touch, you feel your carefully crafted resolve finally crumble to the floor. Chishiya knew immediately that you were done for, lifting you easily into his arms and allowing you to ground yourself in him. He carried you protectively the rest of the way to his room as your thoughts thundered around in your head like a wild storm.

You had been lying to yourself your whole life, Niragi had been lying to you your whole life. He promised that your family wasn't broken, that you weren't broken. You guessed it was too much to ask for you to remain untouched by your father's special brand of cruelty. That one day, you'd likely both become just like him.

And now Niragi had. He called you a slut, degrading an outfit that had made you feel beautiful. He embarrassed you in front of an audience. He grabbed you so hard you could see his fingerprints etched in your skin. He was just like him and this time you knew you wouldn't escape.

It was then that you knew - this game that you were playing was much more dangerous than you had initially realized.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

OKAY so I got a little carried away 😅 Yes this was supposed to be a sneak peek, but believe it or not it's not even the entire chapter 🤭

Who's ready for the whole story?

[cryptictongues]

Manifesting a Valentine

pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader rating: PG-13 (mildly) word count: 2.6K summary: You wonder what Logan is to you. Whitney Houston manifests that answer for you. warnings: this is just straight up fluff, gender-neutral reader, kissing

This is my piece for the Loveuary Writing Challenge created by @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt, which was a wonderful thing they both set up. I got assigned 2000s Logan with the song 'I Will Always Love You' by Whitney Houston. I had a lot of fun writing this, especially since I took a different approach to it. All I will say is my inspiration was this video right here.

Enjoy!

Please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog’s content is NSFW.

[AO3 link]

There is dust dancing in the air, swirling in the fumes of disinfectant. They float and falter, only to seemingly disintegrate as they hit the wooden floor. There are piles of clothes, some in need of folding and some waiting to take a ride in the washing machine. Papers and books are pushed into a corner, waiting to return as you organize your writing utensils and silly trinkets.

You need to stop pushing off the task of cleaning your room, but it can’t be helped. Juggling being a teacher to a multitude of students and going on missions for Charles as an X-Man, your free time is slim to none. By the time the day is over, all you want to do is flop onto your bed and sleep until morning breaks. The idea of being more productive than you already were was exhausting to think about.

Yet here you are on a Friday evening, Walkman blasting music into your headphones as you run the rag across your desk, the wood sparkling from cleaner that smelled of citrus. 

A hodgepodge of tunes played one after the other as the CD spun, all being love songs for the season of February. Some were simply romantic and joyous, while others played the melancholiest of sounds. It didn’t matter what kind of love song it was; you loved them all.

Valentine's Day was always a holiday you adored. Growing up, your family would always use it as an excuse to get together. While it has always been viewed as a time for romance, your family saw it as a time to celebrate the familial side of love. It created a cherished feeling for the season, especially with having a family that loved you no matter what. Even when all you saw was romance, your heart was happy.

At least, that was the case until a certain man came into the forefront of your existence.

Logan Howlett was something else. The first time you saw him, he was walking down the hall with the Professor getting the grand tour. You didn’t think someone could look so attractive in a jacket with the school emblem on it, but damn. The skin that pulled against his exposed collar bones made you want to sink your teeth into him. 

It started as a small crush for a while. Even as an adult, you’ve always been fairly reserved around people unfamiliar to you. So, like a fly on the wall, you would look from afar, studying him closely. You would drink him in as he made himself more comfortable and it wasn’t until you accidentally made eye contact with him that your lives started to tightly intertwine.

You could feel your face heat up as you thought about how close you two have gotten. You wouldn’t say the two of you are inseparable, but it’s pretty damn close. Every time you come back from an errand, he is there waiting for you. Every morning, he is waiting for you in the kitchen to have breakfast together. Most evenings after the school day is done, he is meeting with you in your room to enjoy his cigar while you wind down with your secret stash of wine. It's become apparent to you that you are his go to, and it would be a lie to say he isn’t yours as well. You enjoy his company, which has transformed your feelings into something far greater.

You wouldn’t know what to call your relationship with him. You know it’s nothing super serious, but you feel the potential for it to be. You see how different he is with you; how his crass attitude seems to change into something much more sincere and open. You think he is much like you; the more he opens up, the more he shows he cares. Even so, you aren’t sure he would allow himself to indulge in the idea of belonging to someone. 

The thought alone dampers your mood slightly, causing your shoulders to sag slightly. As much as you love this time of the year, having Logan so close yet not quite in your grasp makes your heart crazed. You crave his companionship, and oh what you wouldn’t give to have it. 

You wonder if he has Valentine's Day plans but knowing him you highly doubt it. You’d bet money that he doesn't even know the 14th is tomorrow, the days and months meshing together. Maybe you’ll do something for him anyways, like buy him some quality cigars or good whiskey to hide with your stash of alcohol. Maybe you could run out tonight and grab something. 

In the midst of your thoughts, you hear Whitney Houston’s rich voice travel through your ears, causing you to perk up.

“Oh yes!” You whisper with excitement. “I haven’t heard this song in a while.” 

You twirl over to your door, cracking it to help air out the fumes of disinfectant and wood polish. You grab the broom and start to sweep, humming along to the song until it’s too hard to resist opening your mouth.

“And IIIIIII will always love youuuuu,” you sing out, enunciating Whitney’s range as you brush away the remnants of dust and junk that found itself stranded on the floor. 

There was something about this song that always drew you in. It’s a love song, yet it’s bittersweet. It’s a song that truly encapsulates loving someone so much that you must set them free. Maybe you love it because it’s a way for you to empathize, or it’s preparing you for the day you may have to let someone go with love. A small part of your mind wonders if you are already doing that with Logan, but it quickly vanishes; it’s just you and Whitney.

You can’t help but sing into the broom, dancing in circles that slightly scatter your dust bunny piles, but you could care less. When the sax solo plays, you hold the broom up front with fingers moving sporadically along the wooden handle. You make noises trying to replicate the sound of the alto, dipping back and forth recreating movements you’ve seen saxophone players make. You’re in the zone now; immersed in a dream as you sing along without a care in the world. Little did you know, there was someone watching you from your door.

Soon enough, you find yourself on your bed, broom being held like a mic stand, dipping down into a low bow before the climax of the song hits. You take a deep breath, preparing to unleash the iconic phrase and pitch from past your lips.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII EEEEEEE IIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOOUUUUU,” your back goes back in an arch, lungs working overtime as air rushes out. You can’t hear yourself, and you know rather than the beautiful sound of Whitney Houston, you probably sound insane. You didn’t care though. 

Well, you didn’t until your eyes landed on your now closed door, a body leaning against it with a smug grin on the face of the person who has infiltrated every part of your daily life. 

Oh God… Logan…

“So, this is what you’ve been up to all evening.” 

The broom drops from your hands, falling to the floor with a clank as your embarrassment permeates the room. 

“Um… how long have you been standing there?”

He pushes off the door, hands behind his back as he continues towards you. “Long enough to see that stellar sax solo of yours.”

If your face could get redder, you’d be a maraschino cherry.

“So stellar in fact, I think I need a listen.” 

“I’m not performing for you again,” you huff. “This is so embarrassing.” 

“While I’d love to see and hear you again, I was talking about what you were listening to, sweetheart.”

You pause, looking at him confused. “You’ve never heard of Whitney Houston’s ‘I Will Always Love You’?”

“Should I?”

“Um yes!” You proclaim, arms shooting up into the air. “It’s one of the best love songs ever written and performed! Are you telling me you don’t listen to music?” 

He is standing in front of you, and he’s tall enough to be leveled with your chest. His face tilts up, and you can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at you: both light-hearted and full of adoration that shows through the crows feet. It makes your heart race.

“Not many love songs play in a dingy, underground fighting ring,” he grins, raspy tone pleasant to your ears. “Come on, sit down. Give me a listen.” 

You hear rustling behind him but quickly shift attention when he sits down, putting whatever’s in his hands out of your line of sight. You move to sit down beside him, removing your Walkman from the pouch on your hip. Your left leg is almost touching his right one, the heat begging to transfer with one touch. You remove your headphones, moving to put them over Logan’s ears, the band pressing down the points of his hair.

You giggle at this. “There go your cat ears.”

You go to shift the track back, and as you get ready to hit play, you feel a cushioned headphone against your ear. You turn and Logan’s face is very close to yours.

“What are you doing, Logan?” 

“About to give this song you love so much a listen, but I want you to listen with me.” He smirks. “Is that okay, sweetheart?”

He’s going to be the end of me. What’s with him tonight?

You can’t speak so you nod, pressing play to let the song take its form. His eyes closed as he listened, allowing you to watch his facial movements as he reacted. You could see every crease and divot shift as he listened intently. You looked for key reactions during certain parts of the song, your lips quirking up when a smile appeared on his face.

A chuckle rumbles from his chest when the saxophone solo starts, your eyebrow raising in response. “What’s so funny?”

He doesn’t answer, just shakes his head as the song enters the third verse. You see him lock in, smile fading slightly as the song rolls on. You wonder what he’s thinking; what is Whitney telling him? It isn’t until she belts out the final chorus that his smile returns tenfold, making the butterflies fluttering in your belly go crazy.

The song fades out, and before the next track can play you press pause. There is a beat of silence before you pull away from the headphone, looking at Logan with a curiosity to know what his brain is churning. 

“Soooo, what do you think?”

Logan looks to ponder, his fingers messing with the hem of your shirt. You feel the rough skin of his fingertips graze your tummy ever so slightly, causing a shiver to run down your spine. This moment is so intimate and for the first time you are seeing a vulnerability that Logan has never expressed before. 

“I think…” he draws out, eyes lifting to meet yours. “I think I understand why you danced like no one’s watching, especially during the sax solo.”

You groan, face going into your hands with words muffled as he laughs. “You are so unserious. That’s all you got from this?”

“Oh, trust me. I got a lot more than you probably bargained for.” 

You peek from between your fingers, hands becoming hot from the blood rush in your cheeks. You feel his hands wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands into his. “Did you know there is a Wolverine Alto Saxophone?”

You gawk at him, pushing against his hands playfully. “You’re so full of shit.”

“They don’t make them anymore. Fairly rare and a little hot headed but…” Logan brings both your hands to your hips, his own flipping on top with a slight grip that causes you to squeeze your flesh. “I’m sure the right player could handle it just fine.”

“Logan, are you flirting with me?” Your heart is racing, your mind controlling its speed as it goes 100 miles per second. 

“Is it working?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Because if it is, I think you should play me sometime.”

Your breath comes out shaky, nerves racking your body. This is the closest you have ever been to being with him. You are so close to having an answer as to what you two are; what you two could be. You wonder what has gotten into him. What pushed this on? 

A laugh comes from under your breath. “You are something else, you know that?”

“Hmm,” he hums, moving closer to you so his face is mere inches from yours. “What can I say? I can’t help myself.”

“Is that so? And why is that?” You challenge, hoping for him to say what you want to hear.

“I’ve got someone in my life who likes to press my buttons without even trying, and I think I wanna start pressing theirs too.”

“Wow,” you breathe out. “You’re good.”

“Yeah? Then show me.” His lips are almost on yours, a smirk plastered on his kissable lips. “Show me how good I am.”

You nod, leaning fully in to press your lips to his. He groans against your mouth; a sound so delightful it makes your skin raise. You remove your hands from under his, moving to his biceps to ground yourself. You can finally feel his grip on you, and it’s secure. He kisses you with a purpose, his movements precise, and it draws you in. It creates a gravitational pull between the two of you, your hands pulling on him and his own pulling your hips. Next thing you know, he is almost on top of you. 

“Mmm,” he purrs. “You taste so sweet, baby.”

You pull away slightly, his lips chasing yours for a moment before you steady him. “Yeah? Well, you’re fun to play.”

His shoulders shake as he chuckles, going in for another round before he pauses. “Before I forget…”

He sits back up, reaching behind him as he grabs something that crinkles. You try to peek over his shoulder, curiosity getting the better of you, only for him to face you once more. Your eyes go wide as you see the bouquet of daisies in his hand, white tissue wrapping keeping them together. 

You are in awe. You can’t remember the last time someone got you flowers. “These are for me?”

“They sure are,” He smiles with crinkled eyes. “Had to get flowers for my Valentine.”

You look down bashfully, tongue drawing over your lower lip, tasting remnants that are so him. “I didn’t think you’d care about Valentine’s Day.”

“You said you love Valentine’s Day. Seems right to celebrate my baby’s favorite time of the year.”

My baby…

He hands you the flowers, and you cradle them in your arms. They are lively and simply beautiful; a fresh, sweet scent floating up to your nose. Everything about this moment is sweet, and the flowers make it even sweeter.

“Soooo,” you draw out. “Does this mean you want to make things official?”

“Official?” He takes the flowers from your hands gently, placing them on the floor before pulling you onto his lap. You yelp as he squeezes you to him, vibrating with the urgency to be close. “I sure like the sound of that.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling yet another wave of shyness at how he holds and looks at you. It’s something new, and it blossoms in your chest as he slowly rocks you with kisses against the side of your face. All you can think is that you love him, and you can’t help but think he loves you too.

Thank God for love and Thank God for Whitney Houston. 

[odyssean-flower]

Happy (?) Valentine's Day (?)

I swear this was going to be a cute fluffy one, but then I thought, "I wonder what a Valentine's Day would be like when they're still in their awkward phase?" And so the Valentine's thing ended up becoming this.

Don't think too hard about how this fits into the timeline please🙏

Valentine’s Day. A human holiday primarily for celebrating romantic relationships.

At this time of the year, the city seemed to be entirely plastered in hearts and roses. One wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without passing at least three people dressed in pink, white, and red. Everywhere one looked, there were couples walking hand-in-hand, holding bouquets of roses or boxes of chocolates.

Even the Palais Mermonia wasn’t immune to the Valentine atmosphere. But for Neuvillette, it was merely another day of work.

While he had always found human customs fascinating and encouraged the celebration of joyful occasions, he had to admit he had always found this particular holiday rather frustrating. For one thing, the sudden increase in number of people who approached him with gifts. It was easy enough to avoid them when he stayed in his office. But it was a different story when he was outside.

“M-Monsieur Neuvillette, I…I’ve always had feelings for you and only you. P-please accept this poem I wrote to convey my deep, burning passion for you!”

The person standing in front of him was a lavishly dressed young woman who smelled strongly of perfume. Neuvillette recognized her as being the daughter of a high-ranking politician, which meant that, unfortunately, her love was doomed before it could go anywhere.

Neuvillette listened patiently as the woman recited her poem in a quavering voice. Having listened to a considerable number of romantic poems and sonnets dedicated to him on this day over the years, he thought it was quite decent, though a bit too heavy on the flowery metaphors.

“That was a lovely poem. You are a very talented writer,” he said after she finished. He was careful to keep his voice and words gentle. “But I’m afraid I must apologize, Mademoiselle. I cannot accept your feelings. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with my position. I appreciate your warm sentiments, but—”

“I see. I-I-I understand,” the woman’s expression crumpled, even as she tried valiantly to maintain her smile. “Forget about it, Monsieur. I’m sorry for taking up your time. Farewell.”

Neuvillette watched her back as she ran away to her waiting friends, who rubbed her back in comfort as they left. He couldn’t help but sigh. This was actually among the better reactions towards his rejections. In the past, it was not uncommon for him to be on the receiving end of tears and wails. Perhaps he had gotten better at being more sensitive to the feelings of humans.

But, as though to disprove that thought, an image of you flashed across his mind.

Neuvillette sighed again. It had been almost two weeks since you moved into his house, but the two of you had hardly conversed beyond exchanging pleasantries whenever you saw each other.

The way your body tensed whenever you saw him looped through his mind, threatening to make the oppressive gloom in his heart even heavier.

I was a fool to think that simply entering into a marriage with someone would automatically give me an understanding of matrimony.

Neuvillette was aware that he wasn’t very good at putting people at ease. He considered it an inevitable , but in this case…

A storefront advertisement for a chocolatier caught his eye. “Chocolate—the perfect gift for your loved one!” it proclaimed.

Hmm, Neuvillette thought to himself as he observed the stream patrons entering and exiting the shop. As a husband, it would be reasonable to give his wife chocolates on Valentine’s Day. It would also be reasonable to strike up a conversation while the exchange is conducted, would it not?

Mentally patting himself on the back for the brilliant idea, Neuvillette strode towards the chocolatier, unaware that he would be the center of romance rumors for at least a week after this.

By the time he returned home, Neuvillette completely regretted his decision.

What was I thinking? Neuvillette stared down at the red, heart-shaped box tied with a lacy ribbon in his hands. It would be highly inappropriate of me to give something like this to Madame. For humans, the custom of gifting chocolates usually holds romantic connotations. She would only grow even more apprehensive of me. If we were friends, it might be different, but…we are barely acquaintances.

He had completely overlooked the reality of the situation you were both in.

Still, Neuvillette couldn’t bring himself to throw the chocolates away. And he did want you to have them. Dessert wasn’t served in his household, and Sigewinne had told him that young ladies, on a whole, loved sweets.

He found Marie in the kitchen. “Marie, I would like to ask you to do something for me,” he said.

“What is it, Monsieur?” the housekeeper said as she wiped her hands on a towel.

“Could you give this to Madame for me, please? Don’t tell her that they are from me,” he held out the box of chocolates to her.

Marie looked at the box of chocolates, then at him. “You want me to give Madame the Valentine chocolates you bought for her without telling her they’re from you?” she repeated.

“Yes,” he nodded emphatically. Marie was one of the few people who knew the truth behind this sham marriage. “It would be inappropriate of me to give her something like this, so I thought she would accept it more readily if it came from you.”

Marie was silent for a moment. Her lips were pressed tightly together. Neuvillette was beginning to worry that he might be imposing his personal troubles onto his employee before she spoke again.

“Hmm, I understand, Monsieur. I shall help you,” she said, taking the box from him. She knocked on the parlor’s door. “Madame, it’s me. I have something for you.”

Neuvillette found himself hovering close by. He kept himself out of view from the parlor, so he couldn’t see what was going on inside, but judging by the pleased exclamations he heard, the gift was a welcome one.

Marie came out of the parlor. “I am happy to say that Madame enjoyed the chocolates very much,” she reported to him. Her lips were once again pressed into a thin line.

“I’m very glad to hear that. Thank you for your help, Marie,” Neuvillette said, feeling a warm rush of relief fill his heart.

“It was my pleasure, Monsieur,” Marie bowed her head before returning to the kitchen.

After she was out of sight, Neuvillette turned to the parlor door, steeling himself without knowing why. He brought his fist to the door and tapped on it lightly. “Madame, may I come in?”

He heard a surprised “Mmph!” from within along with the sound of something being placed on the table. “Y-yes, you may, Monsieur,” you answered.

Neuvillette opened the door and stepped into the parlor. You were sitting on the couch, your hands clasped in your lap, your spine straight. The opened box on the side table next to it. There were already a few pieces of chocolate missing.

“Marie gave them to me,” you said after following his gaze. “They’re delicious.”

“I’ve heard—I mean, I’m pleased to hear you like them,” Neuvillette stumbled over his words for a moment. He suddenly regretted coming in without at least thinking of what he wanted to say to you. “The Melusines told me that that shop is quite popular among those with a sweet tooth.”

“Interesting,” you said. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Neuvillette stared at your face, trying to gauge your expression. It was utterly neutral—you most likely were waiting for him to leave.

Just as Neuvillette opened his mouth to inform you that he would be doing just that, you reached over to the box and picked up a small seashell-shaped chocolate. You then stood up and, before his disbelieving eyes, held it out to him.

“Would you like one, Monsieur? Since it’s Valentine’s Day and everything,” you said, looking up at him questioningly.

The words automatically slipped out of his mouth before he could think about them. “Thank you, Madame, but I’m afraid I must decline. I never had much fondness for chocolate, you see.”

It was the truth. Chocolate was too dry for his liking. But he did gratefully accept them whenever the Melusines shared some with him.

“Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Monsieur,” you said, your face still without expression, then retracted your hand. He watched as you returned it to the box and clutched the whole thing to your chest. “I’m going to my room now, Monsieur. Have a good night.”

“You as well, Madame,” he called after you as you left the room. All he was left with now was an empty parlor and a sinking feeling in his chest. It wasn’t long before the first raindrops splattered against the roof.

[takusan-no-ai]

Our Rising Star is the Mask We Wear

PAIRING: Astra x Male Reader (Platonic) (Fluff)

SUMMARY: (Y/N), Phaethon’s youngest brother, isn’t a fan of Astra’s music.

After you found out your older sister and brother were not only proxies, but THE Phaethon, your distance became very apparent. You didn’t spend as much time with them anymore, nor did you continue to pretend to have the same interests; before you would pretend to be somewhat intrigued, but now there just seemed to be no point to that.

The same could be said when your sister and brother kept begging Fairy to buy them Astra Yao tickets. You didn’t hold much of an interest in her, heck you outright disliked her music. Much to the chagrin of Wise and Belle. For the most part you just minded your own business, happy to fade even more into the background. Sadly, a chaotic fried rice decided to befriend your siblings.

That is to say that Astra found herself a lovely little hideout whenever she wanted to just run away. Belle and Wise were overjoyed to say the least. But for how happy Astra was to befriend them, she was saddened by your apparent apathy towards her, among other things.

So Astra made it her mission to put a smile on your face. From finding out your interests to building a bond, she wasn’t going to give up until you would proudly say, “Yeah, I know Astra Yao. She’s my friend.” But like a shooting star, your presence was there one moment and then gone the next for hours, sometimes days, on end.

“Oh, (Y/N)! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Astra had strode up to him, a skip in her step, with no apparent intention of leaving. His room quickly became her new hangout spot; she had already made herself comfortable on his bed. (Y/N), sitting at his desk with his headphones on, sighed.

He paused the song, turning around to look at her. “Wise and Belle aren’t here right now.”

Astra pouted. “I’m not here for them! You know why I’m here—now don’t be shy~ let’s hang out!” She said while hugging his spider pillow. (Y/N) finally got up and sat down next to Astra, flopping over on his bed. He curled halfway into the fetal position, eyes staring off into the distance.

“Do you ever feel like the people you love hide secrets from you?” He asked her.

Astra’s smile faded, her face becoming more pensive. She shifted over towards (Y/N), now lying face to face with him. “Yes. And I know what her secret is.”

“So do I. But it hurts, doesn’t it? Why keep such a secret? Where was the trust?”

Astra pondered for a moment before smiling. “I’m not sure what your situation is but…I know I can trust her. Thats why it didn’t bother me. And even if she never trusted me, I’d be happy. Because the moments that we spent were…,”

“Astra-nomical?” (Y/N) jested, a small smirk finally having lifted on his face. Astra nodded in agreement. “I can’t say that I agree with that, but I’m glad that I can confirm this at least.” Astra looked at him quizzically.

“Confirm what?”

“That you’re genuine. To be honest Astra, I don’t personally like your music. And I’m always suspicious of celebrities. So I’m happy to know that your personality isn’t a facade.” He stood up and went to his personal computer. “I may have my…issues with Belle and Wise, but I still don’t want to lose them; they’re the only family I have left.”

Astra, now standing up, hugged (Y/N). “This got a little too serious so let’s change the subject. What kind of music do you like?” She watched him with starry eyes.

“I like rock music. A lot.” He answered plainly.

“Ooh! That makes sense. Perhaps I’ll sing a rock song; then you’ll surely be an Astra Yao fan!” She giggled to herself.

(Y/N) looked at her confused. “Ignoring the part about you singing rock…what makes sense? About me liking rock?”

“You’re just really emo, so it makes sense!”

“???”

- Fin

[alotofpockets]

Every scar has a story | Lucy Bronze x Reader

5k celebration prompt: “Your scars don’t make you weak, they show you how strong you are.”

Woso masterlist | Words: 700

-----

You had known Lucy since you were kids, the two of you instantly becoming friends in school. Lucy had been your closest friend from the very start, and even a year on the other side of the world to study in the U.S. couldn’t change that.When Lucy returned to England and joined you at Leeds University, your friendship deepened in ways you hadn’t expected.

At Leeds University your friendship with Lucy turned into a relationship. Despite countless people telling you that your relationship from such a young age wouldn’t last, the two of you have been going strong for over ten years now.

You had both grown a lot since your university days, but were always able to grow together and adjust where necessary.

The growth you've seen Lucy go through with her career has been incredible. You watched her play with the boys back home, and join her first all girl’s team. You watched her go pro. Win with both club and country. Earning more trophies than could possibly fit in your apartment, or the new one when you’d move when she joined a new club.

But you've also watched her get injured more times that you'd like. Minor muscle injuries, but also hamstring injuries, and her worst enemy, knee injuries. Over the years, she had more surgeries than you could count on one hand. 

Lucy was a tough one though. Of course she was, tough was literally in her name. Even during her many recovery periods, she kept a smile on her face for the most part.

But you also knew that beneath all that toughness, she struggled sometimes. Whether it was physically or mentally, no injury really went without struggles. By now you had learned what she needed when she was struggling with her injuries, and you could always be the person she needed in those moments.

She could have been doing well for months and then out of nowhere she’d have a night where she was struggling again. 

Tonight was one of those nights.

Lucy said she was going to change and be right back, but she had been upstairs for almost thirty minutes now. You went up to check on her and found her sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were unfocussed, and her finger was absentmindedly moving over the scars on her knee. She didn’t look up when you entered the room, but she knew you were there.

 “Sometimes I hate looking at them,” She spoke barely above a whisper. “They make me feel weak.”

Hearing her say that broke your heart a little. She was the strongest person you knew, and she thought she looked weak?

You crouch down in front of her, placing your hand over hers, stopping the tracing she was doing. “Your scars don’t make you weak, Luce. They show you how strong you are.”

You give her hand a soft squeeze. “Every single one of them has a story. A story that shows the proof that you fought, healed and came back even stronger.”

Lucy searched your eyes, trying to figure out if you were just saying that to make her feel better, or if you actually meant it. So you kept going. “You’ve overcome so much, and you’re still out there playing at top level. You’re still winning. Luce, you are the strongest person I know.”

The only thing she could find in your eyes was sincerity. She stayed silent for a moment until her lips curled up slightly. She pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You chuckled, “Part of the job description, remember?”

Lucy let out a soft chuckle. “Right, I forgot I was talking to my personal therapist. How much for the session?” She jokes.

You pretended to calculate in your head. “I think a kiss and a cuddle should cover today’s session.” She smiled and kissed your lips. Then she pulled you in even closer and let the both of you fall back onto the bed. 

“Thank you.” She said into the otherwise silent room. You pressed a loving kiss to her cheek. “No need to thank me, I’ll always be here for you.”

-----

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[lynnieverse]

like real people do // rafe cameron

oneshot

drew stakery x popstar!reader

synopsis: after a little slip up in an interview where you accidentally reveal your celebrity crush, things get a little complicated when someone starts meddling.

4.2k words

You knew doing the interview was going to bite you in the ass. Nothing good ever came from distracting you with puppies and asking personal questions. So, when the interviewer innocently asked your celebrity crush, you didn’t hesitate to say Drew Starkey. It didn’t hit you until afterward, sitting in the back of your car, debriefing with your assistant. 

“I can’t believe you said your celebrity crush though,” she said, eyebrows raised. Your heart stutters a bit and you quickly whip your head towards her. 

“No I didn’t.” 

“Um…yeah, you did.” Panic spiked through your veins, sweat beading on your brow. 

“Oh shit. Oh shit! Amara, tell me I didn’t say who I’m thinking of,” you grip her arm tightly, eyes pleading. Amara winces and looks at you with what could only be pity. “No!” 

Madelyn was going to kill you. 

You met Madelyn Cline a few months ago at the People’s Choice Awards when you were presenting. You’d instantly clicked and made plans to hang out the next week. Everything was going really great, and you were doing a good job at keeping your little crush a secret. Now, it’ll come out, be circulated everywhere online, and Madelyn’s going to think you’re some crazy stalker. How would she react to you having a crush on her co-star? Definitely not well. 

Amara places a comforting hand on your shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “It’s okay, Y/N, it’s just a silly interview. Nobody will take it seriously.” 

“Everyone will take it seriously! I don’t know why I started fraternizing with actors, I need to stick to my lane.” 

“Hey, why don’t you write a song about it? It might help.” You thought about it for a moment, feeling the familiar bubble of lyrics tickling the back of your mind. Writing always helps you calm down, maybe putting the feelings on paper would make them go away. 

As the car stopped in front of your hotel, flashes from the paparazzi’s cameras were bright even through the tinted windows. You sigh and grab a jacket, wrapping it around your head like a shield, and wait for security to open the door. You ignore the loud shouting as you dash inside, closely followed by Amara and the rest of the crew. Inside isn’t much better, but at least the other guests have the decency to leave you alone for now. 

You sometimes feel bad, often making it up later by signing a bunch of autographs outside, but right now you’re exhausted and embarrassed. The interview threw off your whole day, and you just want to lay in bed and watch trashy reality television. 

Your security escorts you to the elevator, and then does a sweep of your room before eventually leaving. Finally alone, you put on your rattiest and comfiest pajamas, take off all your makeup, and throw your hair up before jumping in bed. You reach for the remote to start your aforementioned binge, but hesitate over the little purple notebook you carry everywhere. Sighing, you know you won’t be able to relax without getting it all out. You dig through your bag and find a glittery pink pen, uncapping it with your teeth and getting to work. 

You’ve never met Drew, not once, but something about him just had you giggling like a schoolgirl. Witnessing his kindness through your constant internet stalking quickly proved to be a bad idea, because now you have a big fat crush on the man and he doesn’t even know you exist. 

Well that’s not true. Everyone knows you exist, but he would never think of you that way. Dating as a popular musician was not as easy as one might think, it’s often too much for people. The words start flowing with ease, filling up the cream pages in no time. 

Gleaming

Twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships

On waters so inviting

I almost jump in

His eyes really are beautiful. So blue, so warm. But the feelings you have aren’t logical, and they’re so exhausting. 

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

He’s the internet's boyfriend right now, edits flying around like crazy. You know dozens of people back home who are definitely salivating over this man. Something about him…you can’t put your finger on it. 

What must it be like

To grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominos

Every silly thought you’d ever had poured out onto the page. By the time you were finished you knew it was a hit. Grabbing your guitar you make a split second decision to tease your fans a bit. Unlocking your phone, you quickly open Instagram and go live before you can stop yourself. Your face pops up on the screen, thousands of people already in and commenting. 

“Hey guys! I just finished a new song and wanted to play a little for you if that’s alright?” You smirk, knowing the answer already. Of course, everyone starts freaking out and flooding the comments with different affirmations and emojis. You laugh, loving every second of it, before strumming the beginning chords on your guitar. 

As you start singing you let your eyes close, feeling each note in your soul, pressing every callus on your worn fingertips. The pacing is a little rough, still getting the hang of the new melody, but you know as soon as you finish that you killed it. So many fans are expressing their love for the song, already asking for it to be out on streaming platforms. Others are curious as to who your muse is, throwing out the wildest guesses you’d ever seen. 

“Chace Crawford?!” you exclaim, face contorted in surprise. “Y’all have a distorted sense of my ability to pull these men,” you laugh in disbelief. Your heart skips a beat when a couple comments actually guess correctly, but don’t react, knowing every single microexpression is analyzed. 

“Alright guys, I think I’m going to eat myself into a sugar coma while watching Love Island, but thank you for listening! I’m glad you enjoyed the song,” you wink to the camera before waving and closing the app. Covering your face with your hands, you fall backwards on the bed, letting your guitar rest beside you. You don’t even want to check social media, already knowing screen recordings of the live will be everywhere. 

Sometimes it’s crazy to think this many people care about your day to day life. The art you create touches lives across the globe. It’s both amazing and terrifying at the same time. 

Not wanting to start an existential crisis on a random Tuesday night, you quickly turn on your show and cuddle up under the duvet. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

By the weekend the interview was everywhere. You’ve stayed out of it, going pretty much radio silent in response. Many are asking if you’re secretly dating, if you were going to write a song for the new season of Outer Banks, if Drew felt the same way…it’s insane. 

You’d purposely put off talking to Madelyn out of sheer embarrassment. That man was like her brother and you admitted to liking him. Still, it’s time to address the issue head on, so you dial her number shakily. The phone rings three times before she answers, a sweet greeting sounding through the speakers. 

“Y/N?” You clear your throat, reluctant to speak. 

“Hey…” You wince at how rough your voice sounds, facepalming at your own awkwardness. 

“What’s up, girl?” Madelyn sounds normal, but you know she has to be weirded out by you. 

“Um, nothing much, just wanted to talk to you about something I may have said recently.” 

“Is this about the puppy interview?” 

“Yes?” Your voice comes out squeaky, nose scrunched. But Madelyn just starts laughing. You stare at your phone in confusion. What the hell?

“I can’t believe you finally admitted it, and during an interview? That was ballsy as hell!” You slowly start to regain your breath, brain processing her words. 

“You’re not mad?” 

“Why would I be mad?” she snorts.

“I didn’t want you to think I was using you to get to him.”

“Are you?” 

“No! Of course not!” 

“Okay then, there’s no problem.” A breath of relief escapes, and you put a hand on your chest. She’s not mad. 

“Thank you so much for understanding, I really love our friendship.” 

“Me too,” Mads says sincerely. “Now we just have to figure out how to get you two together!” 

Your eyes widen. “What? Absolutely not. This was not an invitation for you to play matchmaker, Mads.”

“Aw man, why not? I could literally get you both in the same room tonight.” Your heart starts beating out of your chest, feeling more anxiety talking about this than being on any stage.

“He’s probably seen the interview by now, it’s so embarrassing!” 

“It’s not embarrassing, Y/N. You’re attracted to the man, it’s not that crazy of a concept! Just give me a chance, please?” 

“Nope. I don’t want to bother him or weird him out. Let’s just do something me and you; are you in L.A.?” 

“Ugh, fine. Yes I’m here, just come over whenever.” You can feel her annoyance across the line, but ignore it. You’re not going to let her meddle. 

“See you then!” Mads ends the call, sending you back into your shame spiral. Every little thing you do is always picked apart and ridiculed in the media, and you’re usually a lot more careful with what you say. The interview slip up is going to keep you up at night for the rest of your life. 

Hours pass waiting for the appropriate time to head over to Madelyn’s house. You decide to dress comfortably, but have your makeup done on the off chance pictures are taken. The drive over is quiet, save for the initial crowd outside your house. How it’s legal for celebrities' addresses to be available on the internet, is something you’ll never understand. 

When you pull up you notice a Jeep in her driveway and shake your head. That girl is always spending money. Your phone pings with yet another Twitter update and you roll your eyes. How can this be the most popular thing in the world right now? You glance at the notification and see it’s Drew’s name that’s trending. Huh. Interesting. 

You decide to follow your instincts and ignore it, wanting to focus on girls night with Mads. As you approach the porch you find yourself nervous; even though she wasn’t mad, you still feel bad for causing such an uproar around her co-star. 

Three knocks later you're waiting outside her front door in anticipation. You find yourself shifting from foot to foot, tracing the cracks in the stonework with your eyes. When the door opens you look up with a smile, expecting Madelyn’s smiling face, only to be met with the very man that had haunted you the past week. You gasp, words catching in your throat as you stare. 

Drew was wearing a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his hair looked freshly cut into a soft mullet, and he looked just as surprised as you do. You can’t seem to close your gaping mouth, a pained sound escaping without realizing. 

“Uh, hi,” Drew says sheepishly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Eyes wide, you turn on your heel and speed walk away, leaving him alone in the doorway. You’re fumbling with your keys, cursing under your breath, when you hear a shout from behind you. 

“Y/N!” 

You almost make it inside your car when an iron grip latches onto your upper arm, yanking you back. 

“Hey!” you protest, almost losing your balance as you’re dragged back to Mads’ house. 

“Oh no you don’t, you’re not getting away that easily.” 

“Madelyn Renee Cline, let me go!” You struggle against her grip, but only cause her nails to dig in deeper. 

“You’re not leaving, Y/N, I won’t let you.” She finally stops when you’re once again at the door, but she doesn’t let go. Drew must’ve gone back inside, thank God, but Madelyn is glaring at you. 

“Don’t look at me like that! How could you do this to me?” You give her your most withering look. She rolls her eyes at you, only pissing you off more. 

“Just talk to him. I promise he doesn’t think you’re weird, or whatever you’ve concocted.”

“Well he might now!” 

“That’s your own fault, I can’t believe you ran away,” she snickers, pulling you inside and closing the door. When she finally lets go of your arm, you rub the crescent indentions with a wince. The girl has some nails. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” Mads looks taken aback, freezing in place. 

“Really?!” You give her a pointed look. “Right, be cool. Okay come on follow me, he went back to the living room.” Reluctantly, you do just that, trailing closely behind her. You’re a ball of nerves, and can already feel your stomach twisting to knots. 

Madelyn was right, he was lounging on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone. When he hears you two approach, his head shoots up and his back immediately straightens.

“Everything okay?” he asks, voice smooth and melodic. Your cheeks warm, and you avoid eye contact as much as possible. 

“Um, yeah. I just–you know.” You jab your thumb back awkwardly, not even you know what you’re trying to say. But Drew cracks a smile, looking at you fondly and nodding along, as if you make perfect sense. 

Madelyn’s eyes flit between you with a wide smile on her face. Not knowing what else to do, you sit down on the couch, as far away from him as possible, and stare straight ahead. Silence ensues, and you have absolutely no idea what to do in this situation. Thankfully, Madelyn breaks the silence. 

“So…want to watch a movie?” 

“Yes!” You and Drew speak at the same time, causing you to stare at each other shyly. Madelyn smirks and comes around the couch, forcefully sitting between you and the arm rest. You shoot her a what the fuck look and she simply shrugs. 

“I like the armrest! Scooch.” Begrudgingly, you inch closer to Drew, who pretends not to notice the entire exchange. As soon as you're settled you sit pin straight, not wanting to breach the confines of your cushion. Drew’s left ankle is resting comfortably on his knee, arm thrown over the side of the couch in what seems to be a very relaxing position. Mads rolls her eyes and pulls out an ottoman, giving you something to stretch your feet out on so you can lean back. 

It takes forever to pick a movie, suspiciously so, but it’s Madelyn’s house and you’re not going to say anything. Once she finally picks Avatar, she dims the lights from her phone and the three of you settle in for what’s going to be a weird couple hours. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Everything was going fine, until suddenly Madelyn got tired at nine and decided to go to bed…leaving you and Drew alone. You mentally cursed your friend for putting you in this position, obviously not listening to the blanket “no matchmaking” statement from before. 

You glance at him from the corner of your eye and find him already looking at you. He quickly looked away and started tapping his fingers on his knee nervously. The movie had long since been forgotten and no words had been exchanged. 

“So…” you manage, turning to face him slowly. He smiles at you, running a hand through his hair and making his bicep flex. Your stomach does a little flip flop and your face reddens at where your mind went. Drew smirks like he knows exactly what just happened, but doesn’t comment. 

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” His voice, oh my God. “I’m Drew, it’s nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand to shake, and you clumsily take it, feeling the warmth envelop your palm immediately. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you too,” you smile, swallowing the anxiety. 

“I’m a fan of your work, actually, you’re really good.” 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. “You listen to my songs?” Drew laughs and shakes his head, shooting you a look you don’t quite understand. 

“Are you being serious?” he leans forward a bit, surprise evident on his face. You scrunch your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re easily the most popular musician of our generation and you don’t think I listen to your music?” You find yourself blushing, and a little flustered. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say the most popular…I have quite a few fans, sure, but not everyone vibes with all types of music. I don’t really know what you listen to, and I didn't want to assume anything.” Drew looks you up and down, seeming to size you up. 

“You’re not at all what I expected, Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“And what did you expect, Drew Starkey?” 

“Well, I don’t know to be honest, but you’re surprisingly humble for someone as successful as you.” You had actually gotten that a lot, although you didn’t think it was being humble so much as being a decent person. You’re still just the girl who grew up in a perfectly normal town, with normal loving parents and a wonderful home. Just because you make popular music doesn’t mean you’ve changed at all. Plus, you know it could all go away with the snap of your fingers. 

“I don’t know what to say, I’m just like everyone else,” you shrug. 

“I beg to differ. You’re…extraordinary. You have to know that?” There goes that damn stomach flip again. 

“Thank you,” you look down at your lap. “I could say the same for you. I love your projects.” His eyes light up at the mention of his work, making you smile in turn. 

“Thank you! I love everything I’ve been a part of, especially OBX. I met my second family on that set, you know?” You didn’t know, actually. Being on the road all the time meant limited options for friendships, and no time for the ones you did manage to keep. Mads is the first girlfriend other than Amara–who you employ–you’ve had in years. 

“Yeah, I love Mads already. I can’t imagine how fun it must be getting to work with your best friends every day…” your voice trails off. Drew seems to notice your shift in mood and decides to change the subject. 

“Hey, why don’t you play me something?” 

You immediately freeze. “What?” Drew smiles and stands up, searching for something. He disappears in the hallway before emerging a minute later with a beautiful acoustic guitar in his hands. You immediately feel a pull to grab it and start playing, but are still confused. 

“Here,” he hands it to you. “I want you to play me something…something nobody has heard yet.” You immediately start racking your brain and decide to take a leap and play something that could get you in trouble. 

“Um…okay. This is something I was actually working on today. It’s not finished but I can play a little.” You nervously pick up the guitar, but immediately relax when you feel the rough strings beneath your fingers. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to forget the gorgeous man in front of you. 

In the middle of the night, when I'm in this dream

It's like a million little stars spelling out your name

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You manage to take a peek at him while you strum, catching him totally entranced by the sound of your voice. A little confidence boost flows through you as you continue the song. 

But you're untouchable, burning brighter than the sun

And now that you're close I feel like coming undone

In the middle of the night, we can form this dream

I wanna feel you by my side, standing next to me

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You strum a few more chords before stopping, silently waiting for his reaction. He’s staring at you, mouth parted slightly. 

“Another,” he whispers. Surprised, you do what he asks, pulling another unfinished song from the vault in your mind. This one wasn’t about him, not like the last one, but it still applies. 

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

You hum for a little longer, this song actually being one of your favorites. Drew is starstruck, an unknown look on his face the whole time. He seems to snap out of it and clears his throat. 

“Wow, Y/N. You’re amazing…those were amazing. Were they about anyone in particular?” You internally panic, because duh. But you don’t want to weird him out. 

“Um, the first one was,” you whisper, avoiding eye contact. You feel the couch move, and look up to find Drew right beside you. His leg was flush with yours, and he was so close you could see each and every freckle splashed across his cheeks. You also notice his eyes crinkle at the corners slightly when he smiles. 

“Can I confess something?” he says softly. You don’t trust your voice, so you nod once. “I saw your interview.” Immediately, the embarrassment causes your face to turn into a tomato. 

“Uh–about that…I–” You don’t really have an explanation, but you scramble for one anyway. Drew chuckles and grabs your hand, effectively stopping your rambling and making you redder at the same time. 

“Y/N you don’t have to be embarrassed. Did you see my interview?” What interview?

“No? I didn’t know you did one. Should I have?” He squeezes your hand gently and his eyes bore into yours. 

“It would’ve made this a lot easier,” he jokes. “They asked for my response to being your celebrity crush.” Fuck. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause drama for you.” 

“You didn’t, I promise. But do you know what my response was?” You shake your head. He hesitates for a moment before grinning, almost shy. “I said that’s a crazy coincidence because you’re my celebrity crush.” Hold the fucking phone, did he just say what you think he said?

“What?” 

“I think you’re beautiful, talented, kind, and I’ve always wanted to spend time with you. I didn’t think it was even in my realm of possibilities. Then you befriended Mads, and I thought maybe I had a chance…” Your brain must be short circuiting, because no way in hell Drew Starkey just said the feelings are mutual.

“Oh,” is all you can manage.

“Oh? That’s it?” he smiles, intertwining your fingers. 

“I’m honestly so surprised right now, I don’t know what to say.” 

“Say you don’t think I’m a weirdo.”

“I don’t think you’re a weirdo,” you shake your head. 

“Say you’ll go out with me?” his pitch rises with uncertainty, looking nervous for your response. 

“I will definitely go out with you.” Relief floods his features and he tugs you closer, pulling your legs on top of his. 

“That was terrifying,” he says, massaging your calf. 

“I still cannot believe this is happening right now,” you tell him honestly. 

He smirks, leaning in close. “Believe it, baby.” Your heart skips a beat, mind going blank momentarily. 

“I think I owe Mads a thank you,” you giggle. 

“Fuck that, I’m sending her a damn gift basket.” 

“You’re so right, she’s getting an album dedication from me,” you joke, causing Drew to poke you in the ribs. 

“Hey, no fair. She’s going to like that so much more!” he whines. You can already see yourself falling head over heels in love with this man, and that scares you more than anything. 

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” you hold your hands up in defense while Drew rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, let’s just watch another movie.” 

“Sounds like a plan!” you hear from behind the couch. The two of you immediately jump, scared out of your minds, until you realize it’s just Madelyn creeping in the hallway. 

“What the fuck?!” Drew yells, clutching his heart dramatically. 

“You were supposed to be asleep!” You cross your arms, glaring at your blonde counterpart. She sucks her teeth and shrugs, walking over and plopping down on the couch.

“What can I say, somebody had to get you two together.” You share a look with Drew, both of you simultaneously not surprised, but exasperated by her little games. 

“You’re insane,” Drew tells her, taking his spot back on the couch and throwing a pillow at her head.

“It worked didn’t it?” 

Yeah. You thought. It really did. 

[moon-ttokki-x]

hello. 😊 if it's not a bother, could i please request stray kids celebrating their 9th member’s birthday with her (please leave her age unspecified)? 🥰 no pressure, it's okay if you don't do this! 🤗

hiyoooo this was such a cute request . . . i didn't do a traditional fic bc i know everyone likes to celebrate differently >< i'm def more a lowkey type of person but i know others who like to go all out <3 here you goooo

skz and celebrating their 9th member's birthday

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member!reader

summary: how skz would celebrate your birthday !

genre: fluff, idol! au, chaotic skz, reader celebrates their birthday, age left unspecified (though they're the youngest of the group), cute innie, big brother skz agenda all the way, mentions of forehead kisses, mentions of eating, mentions of chan's back pain

a/n: happy birthday to anyone who's celebrating lol

skz masterlist

so how skz celebrates your birthday definitely depends on whether you're a big, grand gesture sort of person or not

if you are

then expect half the company to be there at the party

or a big fancy event in one of the halls

lots and lots of singing and dancing, if your birthday happens to fall on a skz concert date, they'll definitely perform 'happy birthday' and sing one of your favourite songs

lots of gifts

i mean lots

they could be the most random things too

we all know how leeknow gifts things

so expect anything from a new nachimbong to a cucumber

skz would def be the type of people to surprise you at the dorms too, with a whole massive spread of food and sweets

felix would def be baking for you too

and there'd be a cake in your favourite colour with your name written on slightly messy icing on the top

when you look closer you notice your name is spelt wrong

jeongin excitedly points out that he wrote your name on the top and you kiss his forehead anyway in thanks

bc he's cute and you would never point out the fact that he spelt his only younger member's name wrong

oh well

you appreciate the gesture anyway

then it's gifts

most of them are good and you love them

but there's a select few that make you laugh

like a matching horse mask from jisung or a singular messed-up paintbrush from hyunjin

you keep them anyway for the memories

(and make a mental note to scare chan with the horse mask later, alongside jisung, who already has one of his own)

shhh !!

then it's opening the cards from each member

again, super cute messages from the members, aside from seungmin's card

he's just written in sparkly blue gel pen 'you survived another year'

'good job'

and that's it

slightly menacing but you thank him for it anyway, watching him grin as you place it down

and then it'd be a night out at the mall or the arcade

or anywhere you want to go

expect to be spoilt by your eight older brothers

they spare no expense to make you happy

whether you choose to take advantage of that or not is up to you

changbin or chan would def let you climb on their back as a once-off

and they'd carry you through the streets while you giggle in their ear

changbin doesn't even feel you

while chan is wishing he'd stretched his back earlier

you all end up falling asleep in a heap as soon as you guys get back to the dorms

no one has bothered to undress either so you all wake up looking like you did the night before

if you're not a grand gesture sort of person

or you just get a little shy on your birthday

skz will def be a little more lowkey

some of the members, especially the maknaes, don't really understand why you don't want to go all out for it

but they try to make you happy anyway

personally i feel like they wouldn't make too much of a fuss in fear of upsetting you

so you'd wake up as per normal and go to the kitchen

and minho has cooked breakfast for you

your fav obviously

and the other members just kind of go about their business and wish you a happy birthday

chan def stops to kiss the crown of your head bc you're like his little sibling and felix does the same

bc he's sweet like that

your day then goes as per normal

maybe with a lot less schedules and practices bc no one wants to do work on their birthday

unless you're super productive i guess

but yeah

and then you get home and walk into the living room

the boys have set up a blanket fort and a mess of cushions and pillows on the lounges

netflix is already loaded on the screen and chan and hyunjin have ordered takeout for everyone

so you all dress down into comfy clothes and pyjamas and sit and eat while watching a movie

your pick ofc

they do bake you a cake, or buy one for you if you're not into that

but they don't sing happy birthday bc they don't want to embarrass you

the maknaes def try and burst into off-tune song

you just let them bc it's funny

'you guys are literally singers how do you massacre 'happy birthday'...'

anyway

you all fall asleep in a heap with frosting-flavoured lips and sticky fingers

when you end up waking up, you decide to go to your bedroom

there's gifts from all the members on the bed and cards too

which makes you tear up

bc they were considerate enough to determine that you might be uncomfortable opening them in front of everyone

you make sure to thank them all the next day

skz loves you so much and will do anything to see you happy <3

a/n: i want cake now

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 14)

A/N: for the first time in foreverrrr there’s a new chapter

WORD COUNT: 1,096

“I had heard this was your favourite spot in the castle.” You tilt your head up, hearing your husband’s voice from your hidden alcove in the corner of the library.

“It is. Though, your library is small… and rather unused.”

“Reading is not a very common pastime here. Ladies usually prefer to sew and chatter in their groups while the men train.” He runs his thumb over one of the book spines on the shelf, chuckling lightly at the dust that coats it. “Though it pleases me to know someone is enjoying the space.”

“I usually enjoy its privacy.” The intent of your words is clear.

“Is that your way of telling me to leave?” He asks, only ever amused by your harshness.

“Would you even go if I had asked?” You brush your fingertips over the leatherbound cover of your book, closing it.

“Of course. I respect your space, princess.” He always seems so hurt by your possible judgments of him.

“Why are you here?”

He sighs. “It is my cousin’s birthday in three weeks time. Usually it is the lady of the castle throwing the celebration.”

“So you have a chore for me?”

Cregan’s brows furrow. “Not a chore, simply a task, should you like to perform it. I thought most ladies of high society enjoyed hosting.” He takes in the look on your face. “But perhaps I thought wrong.”

“I’ll have a few things brought in. Who usually sets up these events?” You ask.

“Uh, my aunt.”

“I’m sure she resents her loss of duties. I would leave the rest of the planning to her. I don’t care much for the planning of frivolities.”

“I’ll inform her then. Though, i’m sure she doesn’t resent it or you.” The comment has you making a face, not understanding why anyone wouldn’t resent a demotion in station. “She was actually quite excited when I informed her of the engagement. She always wished to see me wed as she had a great part in raising me… especially since the passing of my mother.”

You suck on the inside of your cheek, seeing how he attempts to mask his sorrow. “Well she did a fine job with you. I’m sure that your mother would be pleased.” You look at your hands, feeling flushed at your own comment.

“That is very kind of you to say. I believe your father would be proud of you as well.”

You snort, finding it unlikely that he truly thinks that. You think your husband must dislike you, though he tries to portray otherwise.

“I meant that in earnest.” He mumbles.

“I hardly believe that.”

“You are strong willed and ride one of the grandest dragons i’ve ever seen. I would think these are very true Velaryon traits, knowing how your father had a thrill for battle.”

In all honesty, you didn’t see much of Laenor. He wasn’t very present and you know you can’t speak the name of the man who was.

“His loss does not sit very heavy on my heart.” Is your only reply.

Cregan sits at the chair in front of you. You don’t protest.

“Is your book enjoyable?” He asks. You raise an eyebrow, wondering why he is still speaking to you.

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me what it is about?”

You think for a moment, trying to decide whether the conversation is worth having. “It's a book of northern folktales.” You toss it to him. “Have you not read it?”

“I have likely heard the stories. Though, I am keen to hear it from your perspective.”

“I’m reading about the white walkers and how they came to be. Do you believe in them?” You look to him, interest in your eyes.

“It is a child’s tale.”

“I am sure in faraway lands men riding dragons would be children’s tales.”

He fiddles with the book, looking down at it before back up at you again. “I have heard things from men who have ventured to the far north and from wildlings who fled south.” The wildling remark interests you as you've heard little of the free people. “There was a girl once, when I was younger, who had been captured by the guards. She was crazed, speaking of men who had come back from the dead with eyes bluer than sapphires. The guards said she would wake up screaming from nightmares. Apparently her father and brothers were all turned into the wicked things. She was mad though. I don’t think the guards believed her much.”

“I believe her.” You say.

“You do?”

“When princess Aerea went missing and came back spouting impossible things. People thought she was mad. I think she saw something she wasn’t supposed to see. Something no mortal should be exposed to. Magic is dangerous to tamper with.”

“I heard the Targaryens lost all their magic. That you can only ride dragons through your blood.” Cregan says.

“Who told you that?” It’s a dangerous thought. It makes your family look weak.

“My father, but it is only rumour, not something I would speak about. Especially not about my wife’s family.” He replies and you know he means it in earnest.

“The loss of blood magic is not something to be mourned. It is a filthy thing, the treatment of the serfs in Valyria. There is no glory in suffering.”

“You have a more forward perspective than most.” He says, appreciating the idea that you are hardly as cold as you seem.

“There is no progress if you do not think forward.” You muse.

“That is true.” He seems to think for a moment before placing the book back down on the table in front of you. “You’re quite clever.”

“I was raised by clever people.”

“You were.” He says, pausing to think. “I should quite like to have you sit in on council meetings. I can’t promise you a position but I think your input would be beneficial to me.”

Breaking out a modest smile, you speak, “I would like that, very much my lord.” You try not to look too excited. You always appreciated how your mother accepted and listened to your thoughts. You didn’t think you’d be granted the same respect in Winterfell.

“Oh and the celebration. I have informed the Queen of it. I believe your step sisters will be coming to visit. I know it isn’t your whole family but i hoped you would be pleased.”

“I am very pleased… Cregan.” You give him a gentle smile and for the first time, you realize you might be growing fond of him.

Comment to be added to taglist

[qrrieterisunnq]

Amara's Valentine's Challenge - Jack Hughes

strawberry girl masterlist

JACK!HUGHES X AMARA!JAMES — WARNINGS: nothing just sweet pure content — SUMMARY: Amara challenges Jack to a “best Valentine’s gift” contest. Jack goes all out with a surprise dinner, personalized gifts, and even some cheesy romantic gestures. Amara, caught off guard by how much effort he puts in, realizes there’s more to his feelings than just competition. — WORD COUNT: 3,0 — AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am so sorry it took so long!! But school was hell last and this week and I just didn't have time. But I hope you'll like it!! PART OF STRAWBERRY GIRL AU

“I love you too mom,” Jack sighed with a shit-eating grin on his face. His phone was resting on his chest as he lay on the sofa.

“Tell Amara I love her and to call me as soon as she gets home.” Ellen’s voice was full of love as she said those words.

“I will mom. Bye! I’ll call tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay, bye, love you.” Jack could hear the love in her voice as she said them.

“Bye.” With that, he ended the call, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. It was a long, really long day and all he wanted was a hot bath with Amara and then cuddles until they both fell asleep.

But with Amara still gone in a shop, he lay on a couch and decided to wait for her.

It wasn’t until an hour later when Amara finally got home with bags hanging from her hands. When Jack and Luke spotted her, they shot up to their feet to take those bags away from her and let her rest for a while.

“Enjoyed shopping, Berry?” Luke asked her with a grin as he sorted the groceries from the bags.

“Not exactly, too many people there.” She sighed, leaning her head against the headrest on the sofa.

“You know I would have gone with you if you’d asked, love,” Jack called from the kitchen while putting the groceries in the freezer and fridge.

“I know, but you had practice, and I didn’t want to tire you even more.” She called back, crossing her legs under her and massaging her temple.

“Anyway, mom is saying hi, that she loves you and you are supposed to call her.”

“I will, but right now I need to get some rest.” She smiled when she saw Jack and Luke entering the living room.

“Jackyyy?” Amara sang her boyfriend’s name through his room while she was lying on his bed.

“Berryyy?” he mocked her, his head peaking from his bathroom door.

“I have an idea,” she grinned when she heard the faint sigh coming from the bathroom. Jack walked out with a toothbrush in his mouth and rested his shoulder against the doorframe. He nodded his head signaling for her to start speaking.

“You know Valentine’s Day is in ten days, and I was thinking,” she paused to take a breath because sometimes she forgets to breathe when she speaks. “What about a little contest? Between you and me. About whom will have the better gift.” She suggested, playing with the hem of her shirt nervously. “But we don’t have to.”

Jack looked at her with a soft smile, his hand still moving the toothbrush in his mouth. “No, I want to. It is a nice idea.” he grinned with toothpaste in his mouth. Amara squealed in happiness, clapping quietly her hands.

“But so, you know. I will win!” he grinned at her and then returned to the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

“No way! I am a winner!” she called after him, throwing the duvet over her.

The days flew by, and Valentine’s Day was behind the door. While Amara already had Jack’s gift at Nico’s place for a few weeks and was now waiting for the rest to come so she could wrap them, Jack decided to take it differently.

Of course, he bought her gifts, which are now in Lukey’s room, but he wanted to do something she would not forget. That is why he is standing in the Prudential Center with Nico, Luke, and Jesper, preparing the date for them. Because of the Four Nations, Jack had to leave just like Jesper, so he wanted to prepare in time.

The good thing was that there weren’t any games on Valentine’s Day, so Jack could return to New Jersey to celebrate it and then leave for Montreal the next morning.

He had arranged with a restaurant that they would prepare food for them, just for Nico to pick it up and deliver it to the Center.  

“Okay so I was thinking about a red heart made of rose petals somewhere in the middle of the ice with a table, where you would then bring the food,” Jack grinned as he looked at Nico, who smirked at him.

“Oh, wait until you see what I have planned to wear,” Nico responded grinning widely.

“Can wait to see,” Jack laughed and pulled out a bag with rose petals. “Okay, shall we start?”

“Yeah, let's get into it.” They nodded in unison and got into work. After an hour and a half, they were finished and headed home. When Jack and Luke entered the apartment Amara was nowhere to be found, only the bright red note she put on the fridge.

Left for a class. Will come later have something to do.Love you both!- Berry

“Wanna play something?” Luke suggested as he opened the fridge getting out two cans of Diet Coke.

“Why not.” Jack shrugged, popping onto a couch, and making himself comfortable.

“Thank you again, Nico,” Ara smiled at him, while she sat on his couch, packing the gift for Jack.

“No problem, Berry,” he responded and sat down beside her. “You know you are always welcome.” He nudged her foot with his chuckling when she sent a glare his way.

“Oh, don’t you by any chance know what did Jack plan?”

“By any chance, I do not know,” She chuckles at her question, knowing damn well that she is nervous about it. “I’ll put on some film, what do you think? I am kinda tired.”

“Sure,” smiling she nodded her head, while she continued working.

Amara worked on the gift for the next two hours, while Nico passed out next to her snorting quietly. She was glad she had someone she could confide in and it was a nice feeling because she knew it was sometimes hard to get along with her. When she was finally done, Nico was still sleeping so she left a note on the table and left quietly.

Thank you so much for letting me do it here!Love you N.- Ara

When she opened the door, all she could hear was Jack and Luke’s bickering. Quietly she closed the door behind her, putting the keys in the bowl next to the doors.

Kicking off her shoes, she walked deeper into the apartment, the voices getting louder as she walked towards the kitchen. When she looked for what was going on, she gasped.

It looked like there was some kind of explosion because the flour was everywhere. And she meant everywhere.

“Jesus, Luke! I told you to be careful,” Jack sighed, soothing the flour from his clothes. “Look at the mess.”

“I’m sorry, did know it would fly everywhere.” Luke defended himself, couching when the floor fell from his hair to his mouth.

“I rather don’t want to know what is going on in there.” She mumbled to herself, leaving quietly, so the two of them didn’t notice her.

When Amara woke up two days later, on Valentine’s Day, she couldn’t wait to see Jack.

She was anxious all day as she was preparing for Jack to arrive. She already had the gift in Nico’s car, for when they leave for Jack to the airport.

She spent two hours choosing her clothes until she decided on light wide-leg jeans with a white sweatshirt, uggs, and coat.

She was so nervous she cleaned the whole apartment two times and even sorted out her messy closet. Which, to be honest, was a good thing.

When Nico knocked on the door, she almost tripped and fell face straight on her face, but she managed to keep herself from falling and opened the door for him.

“You ready, Berry?” Amara just nodded her head and took her purse.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to see him.” She called out with excitement jumping a little bit.

Nico just chuckled at her eagerness and led her to his car so they could leave in time.

The whole ride there Amara talked about how excited she was to see Jack and couldn’t wait for his reaction to her gift.

“Don’t be nervous. He’ll love it,” Nico said, trying to calm her nerves as he noticed her bouncing legs and slightly shaky hands.

“I hope so.” She sighed, resting her head against the car window.

“He will. I’m positive.”

The rest of the ride was quiet, as Nico focused on the traffic and Amara was thinking about Jack’s reaction. Imagining every scenario her mind could think of.

She knew she shouldn’t do this but she couldn’t control her mind and it was hard for her to not do this.

When they arrived, Amara almost ran inside the airport, but Nico stopped her from doing so. He knew she would probably trip over something on the way there.

“I am so excited.” She giggled as she waited for Nico to join her side, so she could grab his arm and walk with him.

“I can see that, Berry.”

“Sorry.” She mumbled in embarrassment, her cheeks turning bright red.

“That is okay, girl! I get it!” he chuckled, tickling her through the layers of clothes.

“What about you? Do you have any plans for today?” she asked wiggling her eyebrows.

“No, not at all,” He had to laugh because he would spend the day helping Jack with his gift. “Will probably just relax at home.”

“You should find yourself, someone,” Amara sighed slipping through the door Nico was holding open for her. “Hate seeing you alone all the time.”

“Oh, come on, I like being single,” Nico smirked, wiggling his brows. “You know how peaceful it is at my apartment? No one is telling me about the mess in my room, or in my bathroom.” Amara just giggled shaking her head at his words.

“Jackyyy!” she shouted when she saw him approaching them with a bag in his hand.

“Babe,” he laughed, dropping the bag on the ground and waiting for her to approach him and jump at him. As soon as she jumped at him, he grabbed her under her ass and slammed her lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned against her lips, adjusting her in his arm and steadying himself. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She mumbled, leaning her forehead against his.

“You haven’t seen each other only for two days.” Nico sighed from behind them with a chuckle.

“Shut up Nino,” Amara said over her shoulder, but still giggled because it was true. Jack was gone for two days but still, she missed him so much, because she was alone in the apartment, after Luke left for Michigan.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Berry.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jacky.”

“Okay, shall we leave or are you going to make out?” Nico sighed after five minutes of you standing in the middle of the airport hall.

Amara jumped down, blushing when she noticed the people staring at them.

Jack and Nico just chuckled at her reaction and together left the airport. A few minutes into the ride Amara didn’t notice, that they were heading in a different direction than their apartment was.

“Where are we heading?” she asked, from the backseat. Jack looks around at you with a smile.

“Somewhere.” Jack grinned at her. Amara looked at Nico with confusion and he just smirked focusing on the road. She took in a deep breath and patiently but nervously waited until they reached their destination.

“Jack, if I fall, I will smack you!” Amara mumbled under her nose quietly, but loud enough for Jack to hear it.

“I’ll catch you before your pretty face touches the ground.” He smiled lightly and carefully led her through the arena hall towards the ice.

Nico was in their locker room, changing into his clothes, and Amara’s gift was next to him.

He would wait until dinner to give the gift to Amara so she could enjoy the dinner.

“We are here,” Jack announced as he stopped in front of the ice. He was standing back towards the huge heart ob the ice, wanting to see Amara’s reaction.

Amara slowly took down the bandana and blinked few time to gave her eyes the opportunity to adjust to the dim light. When her eyes were okay, she looked around and gasped when her eyes landed on the sight in front of her.

Tears welled up in her eyes. The place looked gorgeous. There was red carpet on the ice, lighted by candles and was leading to the two seat table in the center. The rose petals were around it and she could assumed it was the shape of heart, even though it was hard to guess that from this far.

The red highlights were dimly lighted, bringing out comfortable and romantic atmosphere.

“Jack,” she breathed out, her eyes darting across the entire setup. There was so much to take in—the candlelit pathway, the petals arranged in what she thought was a heart, the dim red lights making everything glow softly. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

She blinked a few times, trying to process it all, but her brain was moving faster than she could keep up with. “Did you—how did you—when did you even—?”

Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “So, I take it you like it?”

Amara turned to him, still in slight shock. “Like it?” she echoed, her brain short-circuiting. “Jack, I didn’t even know you were planning anything! I thought we were just exchanging gifts! I—I did not prepare for this level of romance!”

Jack laughed, reaching for her hands. “That was the point, Berry.” His thumbs brushed over her knuckles, grounding her. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Amara exhaled sharply, her mind still racing. “Okay, okay, let me just—” She squeezed his hands and closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. When she opened them, her brain finally caught up with her emotions, and the full weight of what Jack had done hit her.

She let out a small, breathy laugh. “Jack, this is… it’s amazing.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he grinned. “Yeah?”

Amara nodded furiously. “Yeah. I just—wow—okay. I need to sit down before my brain combusts.”

Jack laughed again, tugging her gently toward the table. “Then let’s eat before Nico gets impatient.”

As if on cue, Nico appeared, dramatically clearing his throat. “Speaking of which, your waiter has arrived.”

Amara turned her head—and promptly snorted.

Nico stood beside the table in a ridiculous bright-red tuxedo, complete with a bowtie and an exaggeratedly professional stance. “You like it?” he asked, spinning slightly to show it off.

Amara clapped her hands together, giggling. “You look incredible, N.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I told you he’d be dramatic.”

“I prefer dedicated,” Nico corrected, pulling out Amara’s chair with an exaggerated flourish. “M’lady.”

She shook her head, grinning as she took her seat. “Wow. Five-star service.”

Jack took the seat across from her, smirking. “So. Since I obviously won our Valentine’s contest—”

Amara gasped, leaning forward. “Excuse me?! We haven’t exchanged gifts yet!”

“I mean, look around,” Jack teased, gesturing to the entire setup. “Kinda hard to top this.”

“Oh, just wait,” Amara shot back, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Wait—what do you mean by—”

Before he could finish, Nico dramatically placed two plates in front of them, interrupting. “Your meal, lovebirds.”

Jack gave him a look. “You love this, don’t you?”

Nico simply smirked. “Enjoy your meal. I’ll be over there, minding my own business—”

“Yeah, sure you will,” Jack muttered as Amara giggled.

Even as they ate, Amara still felt a bit jittery—not in a bad way, just in a too much excitement all at once way. She bounced her leg under the table, fingers fidgeting with her napkin, mind still spinning from the surprise. Every time she looked at Jack, he was already looking at her, and she’d get hit with another wave of holy shit, he really did all this for me.

When they were done eating, Jack leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Alright, Berry. You ready to admit I won?”

Amara smirked. “Not yet.”

She grabbed her phone and sent a quick text. A few seconds later, Nico walked over, holding a neatly wrapped box. He handed it to Jack with a smug smile.

Jack shot her a curious look. “What is this?”

“Your turn, Jacky boy,” Nico said, smirking.

Jack looked down at the wooden box, opening it slowly. The first thing he noticed were polaroids on the lid of it, then the stuffed bear and some candy. He pulled out the bear, revealing a sleek leather-bound journal with his initials embossed in silver. He ran his fingers over the cover, his expression softening. “Berry…”

“Open it,” Amara urged, bouncing slightly in her seat.

Jack did—and immediately sucked in a breath. The pages were filled with handwritten notes, little doodles, and tucked-in polaroids of them. There were memories scribbled in the margins, song lyrics she knew he loved, even inside jokes she’d carefully written down.

Jack flipped to a page where Amara had drawn a tiny, terrible stick-figure version of him. Underneath, she’d written: Future hockey legend (but still my dork).

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You made this?”

Amara nodded, suddenly shy. “I started a while ago. Thought it’d be something you could take with you when we’re apart.”

Jack swallowed hard, his fingers tracing over the pages. “Berry, this is…” He shook his head, at a loss for words. “This is the best thing anyone’s ever given me.”

Amara felt her face heat up. “So… did I win?”

Jack let out a choked laugh, closing the journal before standing up. Without another word, he walked around the table, pulled her up, and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“Yeah,” he murmured against her hair. “You win.”

Nico groaned in the background. “You both win, okay? Now stop being disgustingly cute before I throw myself onto the ice.”

Amara laughed, burying her face in Jack’s shoulder. He just held her closer, swaying them slightly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Berry.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Jacky.”

[stasis-shatter]

Yoinking this for Klein-4 (She/they):

1: Asterion (He/it. Aggressive Shell with a purple and gold shader that I don't remember the name of)

2: Rezzed in a peat bog around Old Chicago.

3: Rezzed Early City-age. Helped build the walls.

4: Hammer titan, was gifted Lorelei's Splendor. Only ever really uses Solar - not for any reason in particular aside from Solar being their most honed and proficient subclass.

5: They reacted mostly out of instinct to being rezzed - completely bewildered, then realizing with the help of Asterion that they had to escape the peat bog. They had little time to dwell on "why" or "how" they were risen, it taking them many deaths and nearly a month to get our from their muddy prison.

6: They struggled with Arc and Void - Solar being the first class they could really grasp.

7: They don't want and are not interested in knowing their past life. They made it this far, why look back?

8: More of a loner. They get really attached to people but when they die or drift away, Klein is left empty and heartbroken again and again. She tried to convince herself that she's better off alone but then some New Light will stumble towards them and their protective instincts will kick in.

9: Neither Dredgen nor snitch because it'd put her in an uncomfortable situation but if she were to involve herself, she'd side with The Drifter for two reasons, 1/ She heavily dislikes the Praxic order & 2/ She enjoys Gambit.

10: She has no qualms about Darkness wielders and wielding it herself, though she'd only use it with caution. She leans more into Stasis than Strand as it is more straightforward for her. (They also hate the feeling of being unraveled.)

11: They aren't quite certain what to think of the Traveler, though they are grateful for its existence. They'll defend it and the City, even though they won't delve into ontologies.

12: She gets along with Asterion, though the latter is mostly quiet and stays hidden. Both of them communicate via a private frequency/wavelength, finding it more efficient and intimate.

13: Their motivation for being a Guardian isn't one of seeking heroism, moreso to protect the City that they helped build up and all those within it. They'll seldom be on the front lines, moreso patrolling.

14: The shape of their Nightmare is that of their non-Lightbearer lover, Reuben, who passed away in the City during the Red War.

15: The Dawning always leaves them bittersweet but it's the time of year for indulgences for them. They'll celebrate, and make sure they don't remember who they celebrated with, the day after.

16: Off duty, they mostly rest and roam the city streets aimlessly, helping civilians with various tasks if asked to. Since the Red War, they've always somewhat been on guard - concerned about another attack.

17: On good terms generally with the civilians. They feel more at ease around them. Less attached. Won't hesitate to step in when there is civil unrest though, example, they were stationed at the Botza district for a while, helping the Eliksni settle in and dispersing the more intolerant civilians.

18: They keep a low to moderate amount of Glimmer on themself. Her vault isn't exactly filled to the brim either but she doesn't live impoverished.

19: They have a few small wooden hand-carved buttons in their left flank pocket, a concealed carry sidearm on their right, spare ammunition and a small damascus steel knife that they retained from when they were rezzed.

20: Their secret stems from the conditions of where they were first rezzed; they have a permanent impediment due to sustained damage to their speech systems. If they talk long enough, they'll sound glitchy or their voice will cut out, thus seeming like the stoic and uptight kind, while not really being so in their personality.

21: She would love a permanent Fireteam but the risk of loss is too high for her. She does not deal with grief well, bottling everything up. The New Light distribution system (see: "Kitten distribution system" if confused) keeps hitting her though!

Feel free to dm or ask if you wanna know more about Klein!

I'm going to use this as an info dump for Sera.

So buckle up, y'all about to learn about my Stormcaller ⚡🩷

BTW if anyone is interested, I did reblog this with all of my answers.

[she-whatshername]

I don't think you have done this yet, but honestly you're my favourite FW writer on here so I wanted to ask if you could make a sceanrio were its all the marked ones (set wherever kitchen, lounge room, someones bedroom, etc) with us/her/he/them (idk) and were all platonic no one is dating us/her/he/them (still don't know lol) and its just a hang out with all of them with some light banter, chit chats, private converstaions, funny moments, people coming in and out, etc. Something that can be chaotic but calm at them same time, and just make your heart warm since all of these people are still alive and breathing and you get to still have time to relax with them, no war, no pain, just love. (idk how to explain it) If you can do this YOU HAVE MY HEART when it comes to writting FW scenarios/headcanons (you already do though). Sorry if this is alot 😅 I haven't seen anyone do this yet

OMG, STAP! You are so sweet. I can’t even. Thank you for the very kind words. Also, thank you for being so patient while I worked this one out. I know its been in my inbox for awhile.

I like this prompt; honestly it could be a whole series. I do love a good calm moment with the marked ones theme. So, lets give it a go.

“Seriously, none of you are going to move?” You huffed while turning your foot out to the side to lightly kick at Bodhi’s boots. You would give a full on shove but you were balancing a board of shot glasses and after the first round of liquor you had earlier, the most simple of movements began to feel more complex.

“No way we’re letting you back in with those.” Garrick replied from the center of the booth, his arms crossing over his broad chest, “We said get another round from the keg, not the bottle.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You smiled, “We’re celebrating here aren’t we?”

“Celebrating what? I got dumped. You’re all supposed to help cheer me up.”

“We’re celebrating another woman spared from your obnoxious dick jokes.”

“Here Here!” Imogen cheered while pressing her shoulder against the now glaring Garrick, giving him the extra nudge to scoot in just enough to let you sit in the booth. You smiled in victory, giving a wink to Imogen, always your right hard in torturing Garrick.

You pass around the shot glasses to each one of them, one for Bodhi, Garrick, Imogen and you. You eyes moved around the crowded bar in search of the final member to your celebration crew. You spot Xaden leaned up against the wall glaring at the group across the dance floor. The group that comprised of Violet and her squad, and a eager cadet looking to flirt. Poor thing.

You turn your attention back to the group, who were all waiting for you with their hands raised slightly in the air.

“Cheers to you, Garrick.” You toast. “Our favorite stallion.”

Garrick manages to wiggle his middle finger free from the glass he was holding before downing the liquor. His brown eyes roam across the dance floor, a dimpled smile making his way on his face.

“No no. Everyone lock in.” Imogen groans, knowing full well that Garrick was definitely making eyes with someone across the room. The group all leaned in, pressing up against the tall man in an attempt to keep him in his place.

“Aww c’mon.” He groaned. “I need a rebound.”

“You came out with us and you’re leaving with us.” Bodhi reminded him, “And we’ll let you out,”

“We will not.” You argue back.

“If,” Bodhi continues raising a cheeky brow, “You help me torture Xaden for a little bit.”

Everyone shifts back, giving Garrick breathing room again. Because if there is one thing everyone could find joy in, its pissing off Xaden.

“Deal.” Garrick says. You and Bodhi soot back to let Garrick out of the booth “Get us another round, we need reinforcements.”

“Will do.”

You and Imogen head up to the bar together. Over the next hour you both watch as Garrick and Bodhi toss some jokes and more shots with Xaden, even convincing him to partake in a few rounds. It was just when the night was at its peak you see a most beautiful scene on the dance floor. Garrick and Bodhi have lost their shirts, dancing together in the crowd, Garrick at one point pulling Xaden into it, though it lasted mere seconds before he got a lovely little shove so he could get back to dancing with Violet. Yes. Violet. Xaden was inebriated enough to be dancing in public with Violet. Yes. This was the good vibes you had wanted. Everyone was happy, everything was wonderful.

“Come on.” Imogen called while looping her arm around yours, “Let’s get out there.”

“Seriously. Since when did we become apart of the dance crew?” You ask. You and Imogen had a clear bond that you both were the once’s that stood on the sidelines and had your own fun chatting in the booths while everyone else gets wild.

“I’m in a rare mood. Don’t make it weird, just come on.” You’re dragged out onto the floor only to be quickly dropped at Bodhi’s side while Imogen grabs Garrick by his belt and pulls him towards her for a dance.

“I’m not going to do that to you, just so you know.” You yell to Bodhi over the music. He laughs and reaches out a hand towards you. You grab it and find yourself in a twirl before the two of you begin your own dance. You then feel a hand tap on your shoulder, twisting your eyes light up,

“Mind if I cut in?”

“Liam!”

The whole group erupts in cheers.

“We missed you!”

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“No drinking.” Even Xaden’s in on the merriment as he plucks the beer from Liams hand before passing it to Garrick, “You’ve got class tomorrow.”

“Go dance with Violet.” Liam tosses back, which earns him a glare before Xaden latterly goes back to doing just that.

You and Liam have a few moments for light conversation before he’s dragged into a circle with Garrick and Bodhi. You figure this is time to make your escape from the dance floor before a set of arms reach for you again, pulling you back into the group for more rounds of dancing, music and laughter that carries on well into the morning hours until you all walk together, arm in arm, back home.

[milunalupin]

For your valentine event, how about ❤️ soulmate ; friends to lovers for Harry Potter with the trope “thanks for making today a little less depressing.”? I imagine Harry never really had a proper Valentines Day before Hogwarts and the reader wants to change that for him ☺️

apologies for the late response my love but here is a little harry on valentine's day for you ! <3

— heart to heart

harry potter x reader ★ 837 words

Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts wasn’t something Harry had ever really celebrated. A simple day for lovers, for couples, for people who didn’t have a lifetime of danger and loss hanging over their heads. Love wasn't something he would say he's experienced much in life, apart from his best friends he was lucky enough to meet at school.

But he found a different kind of love the moment you entered his life. You never saw him as the ‘Chosen One,’ nor did you pity his past. Through you, he came to understand the true meaning of kindness and sincerity, feeling them in ways he never had before.

For you, Valentine’s Day had always been a cheerful occasion. It wasn’t just about heart-shaped chocolates or bouquets of flowers, but about taking a moment to show the people you cared about how much they meant to you.

You noticed it early in the week—how the thought of Valentine’s Day made Harry retreat into himself. Forced smiles and distant eyes, like he was already counting down the days until it was over.

So you decided to change that.

It was the morning of February 14th when you approached him in the common room. He was sitting by the fireplace, his worn-out copy of Quidditch Through the Ages spread across his lap. His glasses were slipping down his nose, eyes squinting at the page.

“Harry,” you said, walking over to him with a small but determined smile. “I need your help with something.”

He looked up from the book, giving you a distracted, confused look. “What’s up?”

“I have a plan for today, and you’re part of it,” you said, sitting down beside him and leaning over to pull a small, folded note from your bag. You handed it to him. “Read this.”

Harry blinked at you, then unfolded the note carefully. Inside were your scribbled plans for the day—an escape from the usual routine of classes and the lingering gloom. You had arranged a picnic, complete with homemade sandwiches, pumpkin juice, and a few of his favorite treats.

“You’re serious?” Harry asked, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “You want to spend Valentine’s Day with me? You know it’s not really… my thing, right?”

“That’s okay,” you said with a warm grin. “We’ll figure it out together. No pressure.”

And so, you spent the day together. No extravagant plans, no rush. You sat in the soft grass by the edge of the Black Lake, enjoying the peaceful afternoon, watching the giant squid playfully surface from time to time.

You had packed a few little gifts—nothing too fancy, just small tokens of appreciation. You handed Harry a box of chocolate frogs with a grin. “A little something for your sweet tooth.”

He laughed quietly, taking the box from you. “You know me too well,” he said, his voice finally sounding lighter.

Later, as the two of you walked through the grounds, Harry paused, taking in the sight of the sky turning from soft pink to deep purple as the sun began to set. He let out a long sigh, a contented one.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “I didn’t know Valentine’s Day could actually be… fun.”

You smiled at him, the warmth spreading in your chest. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

There was a long pause before Harry turned to face you, his gaze soft but intense. “You’re not like anyone else,” he said quietly. “Most people feel sorry for me, but you—” He shook his head, as if he didn’t quite know how to finish the thought.

“You don’t need to apologize for who you are, Harry,” you said, stepping a little closer to him. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re a burden. You’re my friend, and… well, you mean a lot to me.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by the honesty in your voice. The air between you seemed to crackle with something unspoken, something that neither of you quite knew how to define, but you both felt it.

“I…” He hesitated, running a hand through his untamable hair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You gave him a playful smile. “Good thing you don’t have to find out.”

He chuckled softly, a real, genuine laugh that made your heart flutter. “Thanks for making today a little less depressing,” he said, his voice warm.

You reached out and squeezed his hand, “You deserve to be happy, Harry. And if I can be the one to make that happen, I’ll do it every day.”

His eyes softened, and for the briefest moment, it seemed like the world around you disappeared. All that mattered was the connection between the two of you, something deeper than just friendship.

And in that moment, Harry smiled, not just because of the chocolates, the picnic, or the day itself—but because for the first time in a long time, he truly felt seen.

And for you, that was all that mattered.

[aechlys]

One of the most interesting things about looking at Buck-Tick lyrics is not just Atsushi (and Imai)'s evolution as a wordsmith but his evolution with topics, if that's even the right word for it. You literally get to watch him get hit by things we both do and don't know about that happen to him throughout his life, and then how over time he grew to deal with them- or sometimes just accept them as fucked- and what he thought about it. And of course not everything is auto-biographical- we know his love for creating characters to tell meaningful stories about- but you still have the well-known strains of how he deals with significant loss, how he comes to terms eventually with people from his past he can't change, his own fuck-ups, encouragement to fans, examinations of things he encountered either irl or in the news.

And then, whoever came up with the brilliant idea to record so many live performances literally from day one until the very, very end...because not only does he evolve with each layer of new songs but also with each fresh performance of even some of the band's oldest, iconic songs. We get to see for ourselves how his relationship to various subject matter changes from performance to performance, the best ones being with decades between them. Whether it's a raw, excruciating grappling, to a sort of sublime madness of acceptance, to finally elevating himself above the issue entirely-- 太陽に殺された/Murdered by the Sun is such an excellent example of this, and for those just wandering in is a song about questioning celebrity, whether it's worth being a player on the stage when the attention can be excruciating- and with the added subtext that the ones you love may die with you nowhere near them for the sake of success. Atsushi questioned his entire career with this song after his mother died from cancer while the band was on tour- "Murdered by the Sun" perhaps more than just a metaphor for being killed by the spotlight, but him as a son feeling extremely responsible for not being there. If you have the time to take out to watch all three play out, I encourage it:

The most famous, from 1992, where he even added an extra verse at the end that I don't think he ever sang again- an extremely raw and clawing performance where the lighting at the beginning hits his face perfectly to reveal a Noh mask-like countenance to pull us back to this idea of the oldest theatre, and also to the fact that he likely felt like he was currently hiding behind perhaps several masks at the time.

10 years later in 2003, now the lines of the song are drawn out, more floating, his lilting voice older and more seasoned than last time. It's been ten long years that probably shot by in a flash and he's experienced so much with still so much yet ahead of him. The madness of it all is settled in his bones now, you feel, and there is an acceptance about it even though he's learned to shoulder the strain that's still there.

10+ years again to 2015, now the song starts off as if he's telling a story about someone else entirely- he's risen so far above the issue because it is wholeheartedly his life now- but in the second half of the song you sort of see him reawaken and look back down at his past self as he asks his questions "Will I just die? Will I live?"- like looking back into the past and going "Well what will you choose, kid? Because here we are now." And in his final chorus he no longer is left beating himself up telling the sun to just kill him like he did the first time in the added verse- now he's blowing kisses to the sky in each direction as he thinks about those gone on- and this time, this time, at the end he does not die.

Honestly, that someone had the genius idea- even if it was just for marketing and to make money- of recording so so many lives which allows us to literally see it all in action with our own two eyes like the best sort of modern anthropology...I want to hug them. Because such a life...such an artist and their very vivid artistry is preserved forever now in a way that we can look at almost like pages in a book.

There is no conclusion to this post because ultimately there is no conclusion- at least not a satisfying one- to his story. Or perhaps, writing it out and thinking about it now, ironically there is. Atsushi, essentially, died on stage. Weirdly self-fulfilling that the 'sun' of the stage, in a sense, did catch up to him in the end when a song about dealing with problems in the moment was never meant to be a prophecy. And I don't think it was, genuinely. More of a curiosity at best. Something that makes his story all the more interesting, perhaps. And that's precisely why I think there's no ending to be had- every person who sinks their claws in deeply to the material will come away with some treasure that possibly no one has managed to see before. And that, right there, keeps adding pages to the book.

There is no ending because a sudden curtain fall does not constitute an ending, and there is no ending if all of us continue to add pages to his and the band's story. Not even the band is stopping their own page-adding- Imai claiming Atsushi was causing mischief in the studio while recording Subrosa is testament to that.

I don't know. This post started off as just a vehicle for me to rattle off the pressing thoughts I had about artistic and personal evolution and then turned into this whole thing so I don't have much of an ending here myself. Except to perhaps say don't stop listening, don't stop watching, don't stop posting and comparing and questioning and sharing your thoughts about things, because these are all pages to a book about a man whose artistry is very much alive and well- because of us. They say, too, sometimes, that when people are reincarnated they can still remember who they are, or they remember wisps of enough to recognize things from before. I'd like to think, perhaps in a rather fantastical way maybe, that when the wheel turns and he comes back again, that in his travels he may stumble across some old band called Buck-Tick and see not just the mountain of art he and his best friends created but also all of our little foothills piled around it containing our thoughts and translations and praises and grief and happiness all carefully built with love left behind for him and the guys. And that somehow, whether he understands it or not, he can smile at seeing us all again, even if it makes no sense to him at all.