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blindbeta · 1 month

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Exploring How Toph Beifong Could Be Played By A Blind Actress and Refuting Reasons Some People Believe She Couldn’t

[Image Description: Toph Beifong from Avatar: The Last Airbender. She is waving her hand in front of her face after joking that she spotted the great library, tricking the Gaang only to remind them that she is blind. She rides on Appa who is flying above a desert landscape. End I.D.]

The live-action adaptation of season 2 of Avatar: The Last Airbender is underway. This means people are discussing Toph again, much like they did during pre-production of season 1. I have seen and even participated in promoting the idea of Toph being portrayed by a blind actress. Similarly, I have come across push-back against the idea.

Instead of if Toph Should Be Portrayed by a Blind Actress, Let’s Focus on How She Could

(should and could are bolded for emphasis)

This post will address common misconceptions that serve as barriers to the idea of a blind actress portraying Toph.

A Few Notes Before We Start

These points come from posts on online forums, YouTube comments on videos related to the casting of Toph, and tumblr posts. No one will be specifically called out here, as while these points may be attributed to certain individuals online, they represent much wider views that are shared by many, even without malicious intent. These common misconceptions stem from unchecked ableism and general lack of information. Keep in mind that my intention is not to call out any individual person, as ableism is a widespread, collective problem. The reasons I refuted in this post showed up repeatedly and were not isolated opinions of one or two people.

1. No, it would not be too difficult to find an actress who is Asian, blind, and the right age

[Image Description: Toph as The Blind Bandit uses earthbending to create three pillars of rock that shoot at an angle from the ground and smash into her opponent, throwing him against the arena wall. End I.D.]

This point suggests that it is difficult to find candidates fitting Toph’s description. I suspect this is due to racism and ableism, in that a white and abled person is considered default and therefore believed to be more common, especially by Western studio standards. This is not truly the case. People of color and disabled people are auditioning, especially for the comparatively few roles that seek them out specifically, such as Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Blind Asian people exist. Some of these people are also actresses. Some have backgrounds in dance or martial arts, especially because many actors do similar activities to increase endurance and versatility. Finding a pre-teen or teenager to play Toph would not be as challenging as many people believe, especially those who already underestimate the amount of blind people in the world and their abilities.

Those who argue this point may be under the impression that a blind actress would be out of reach due to low numbers and lack of interest in auditioning. Blind people are auditioning. The reason you don’t see them on screen is because most of them are ignored in favor of abled actors. For example, in this video, Molly Burke discusses not being chosen to play a blind character whom she was told was based on her own life. The actress chosen to play the character was not blind. You can watch it here.

Additionally, Netflix has the ability to hold a widespread casting call. They are not a tiny studio doing productions in someone’s backyard. They have access to a wider pool of actresses than the average person might think, particularly if said person is not familiar with the resources big studios often have at their disposal.

In fact, Netflix is doing just that. Below is a link to their casting call, which encourages blind and low vision actresses to audition.

Link to casting call here with alt text.

2. Some people believe Toph isn’t really blind and therefore the actress who plays her needs to be able to see

[Image Description: Toph as The Blind Bandit using bending, with shots showing her hands and feet. As her bare foot slides sideways across the ground, the camera zooms out to show her sensing vibrations. The image turns greyscale, with circles of white vibrations emanating from around Toph’s body, where they expand and flow outward. End I.D.]

The rationale behind this is probably the same as it is for Daredevil, meaning some don’t consider Toph to be blind because of the way she uses her bending.

An argument could be made that Toph’s powers erase her blindness or that her powerful abilities make her less relatable to the average blind person. However, I suspect that many sighted people engaging with these discussions of Toph’s casting are not also concerned with questions of erasure or relatability. In discussions questioning her blindness, the evidence given mostly centers on Toph’s physical abilities rather than relatability to real blind people.

Her bending aside, Toph is certainly blind. She experiences ableism from her parents and general community. Blindness shaped her life in a lot of ways, even with her bending, which is also influenced by her disability.

We see Toph being guided while running on the airship, needing assistance while walking on ice, and struggling to travel in a desert. She uses her other senses, including hearing and tactile senses. She has limitations regarding how she is able to interact with an unaccommodating world, such as inaccessible reading and writing systems.

There are also lifestyle and cultural implications of blindness extending beyond the inability to see. Being blind is not only about what one can and cannot do, which is true of Toph’s experience as well. Blind people may have different values, experiences with family and friends, different senses of humor, or may place higher value on other sensory experiences compared to sighted peers.

Whether or not Toph is good blindness representation can be argued. However, she is still a blind character. Her blindness influences her whole life, even as she is more than her blindness at the same time. Her life as a blind person is about more than limitations and abilities. Reducing her, and any blind person, for that matter, to only these facets of her experience oversimplifies what it is like to be a blind person.

Claiming that she isn’t a blind character because of her ability to do x, y, and z can be incorrect for a lot of reasons.

Blind people are more than what we can do or what we produce. Our experiences are rich and varied. Our lives are inherently meaningful no matter our abilities or limitations. It is both ableist and inaccurate for sighted people to attempt to put us all into boxes.

Additionally, blindness is a spectrum. [Bolded for emphasis.] You can read about it at the following posts on my blog:

here

and here.

Here is a good list of legally blind YouTubers with various types of visual experiences.

According to various sources on the blindness spectrum, about 85% to 95% of blind people have some remaining vision:

93% according to RNIB

This Perkins School For the Blind fact sheet estimates about 90 to 95% of blind have some remaining vision

American Foundation for the Blind estimates about 15% of blind people are totally blind and discusses the spectrum of blindness here

The spectrum of blindness is important because our experiences become even more diverse when the spectrum is considered. This means that assumptions about what we can and cannot do become even harder for sighted folks to guess accurately.

This accuracy is important if sighted people are going to try to put limitations on blind people, which they have no business doing anyway. They are not the authority on what blind people can do, what we cannot do, or what is good for us. Only blind people can answer that for themselves.

Lastly, blind people are already used to navigating and interacting with their surroundings. They have had anywhere from months to a lifetime of experience, which would translate better to Toph’s ease with her blindness and confidence in her bending.

While an actor wearing contacts to obscure their vision might stumble around and have difficulty on set, someone who is actually blind could lend Toph’s character a much more relaxed, confident attitude in addition to possessing experience navigating in a way that works for her. She is used to being blind. Therefore, an actress who is also used to being blind brings a lot to the performance in terms of physicality, attitude, and the ability to focus on portraying the character, rather than simulating blindness.

Which leads me into the next point.

3. The idea that Toph doesn’t move like a blind person relies on stereotypes of blind people

[Image Description: A GIF from the episode “The Runaway”. Toph, Sokka, and Aang all con some con artists and cheer after their victory, Toph raising her arms high before snatching the prizes. They all run away. End I.D.]

There is no specific way of moving like a blind person. Like sighted people, the way blind people move may be influenced by many factors, such as level of vision, how long they have been blind, their mobility aid, navigation techniques, familiarity with their environment, level of confidence, feelings of safety, other disabilities, energy levels, cultural factors, and more.

While there are mannerisms that are recognizable to blind communities, there is no one way to move like a blind person. Just as there is no one way to look blind.

The ideas of “not moving like a blind person” or “not looking blind” come from stereotypes of blindness. In fact, these ideas can be so pervasive that blind people who don’t fit stereotypes may be accused of faking. I explore this subject here.

In this video, Sam from The Blind Life discusses the experience of performing blindness or being pressured to act more blind than he is. Link here. He explains while he has some vision, he uses his cane to indicate to others that he is blind. This is one of the main functions of a cane. Sam explains feeling pressure to adhere to certain stereotypes about blindness or risk being accused of faking.

Similarly, in this video linked here, Molly Burke discusses the stereotype that blind people’s eyes look noticeably different from sighted eyes. This includes the inaccurate belief that all blind people have cloudy eyes, blank eyes, eyes that are always closed, or eyes that simply must be covered in dark sunglasses to protect the sensibilities of sighted people. Molly explains that while blind people can certainly have these attributes, not all of us do. Molly laments that the phrase, “You don’t look blind,” is either used to invalidate her or to praise her for passing as a sighted person, which is ableist.

Just as blind people don’t look the same way, we don’t move the exact same ways either. That applies to Toph as well. For example, she prefers to keep her feet on solid ground for bending purposes, orientation, and possibly due to cultural factors valuing stability and connection to the earth.

4. The idea that accommodations would be impossible to provide is rooted in ableism

[Image description: A GIF of Toph and Zuko sitting beside each other on the floor at the Ember Island theatre episode. Toph punches Zuko’s arm. Metaphorically for the purposes of this post, she is punching ableist ideas that have nothing to do with Zuko. End I.D]

Here is a thread I shared in the early days of this blog, wherein the topics of blind actors and accommodations are discussed. The entire thread might also be helpful for this post, as I explore the same points, which shows how common these misconceptions are. While this may seem to be an isolated online disagreement, none of these arguments are new. That is why I believe this topic is important— these arguments about accommodations being too difficult or a burden on others also pop up in conversations about other workforces and other disabilities.

A blind character not being played by a blind actor is one thing. A blind person not being hired for a job they are qualified for due to resistance to providing accommodations is not so easy to ignore, not so seemingly isolated a concern. These barriers don’t only apply to blind actors looking for work. They apply to all blind people looking for work.

That means most of this isn’t really about Toph, nor the opinions of random people online. Instead, I hope to highlight common patterns in ableist thinking and dispel these ideas using a character people care about. This is, of course, in addition to my own desire to have a blind actress play Toph.

With that said, let’s explore what work accommodations might look like using examples of blind actors.

Dionne Quan is a blind actress who has an extensive filmography for voiceover work, including popular characters such as Kimi from Rugrats. In this article from when the character was first introduced, she discusses how she performs. Link.

Quote from the article: “Most of the recording was done in a studio with just a mike and a stand for the script. I had the lines in braille, and I would read them on the way over to get into character. You have to have your bag of tricks ready to go.”

Most of the work Quan discusses involves typical acting stuff. The accommodations given to her are similar to adaptations that might be made in an office setting. Additionally, with all the technology available now, it is easy to make a script accessible through large print, VoiceOver and memorization, Word document instead of a PDF, a Braille display, etc.

And as of August 2024, Quan can add adult Toph Beifong to her list of characters. Which is super exciting and, I thought, an appropriate fact to include in this post. You can read more here.

To continue the discussion of accommodations for actors, I would like to discuss Ellie Wallwork. Wallwork is a blind actress who has performed on Doctor Who.

She describes her experiences on set, such as blocking scenes and using tactile accommodations in this short video from the SeeSaw podcast. Link here.

Transcript:

Elie Wallwork speaking:

“Obviously, markers are just normally flat bits of tape on the floor. I had to have some sort of tactile ones so I knew where I was stepping onto. And it takes longer. It definitely takes a bit longer. I guess the thing that frustrates me about the industry is that sometimes casting directors will think, ‘Well, how could a blind person possibly do this, do that? How could they do stunts? How could they even navigate around set?’ But it’s perfectly possible if you— for example, with the crew that I had on all the productions I’ve been on, they’ve all been really kind, really patient with me and able to understand that, yeah, okay, it might take me five minutes longer to block a scene, but that’s fine because it means it’s authentic.”

End transcript.

You can listen to the full episode here.

Lastly, I find that many sighted people are not generally knowledgeable when it pertains to what blind people can or cannot do. Examples of this lack of knowledge include frequent questions about how blind people read, exist in online spaces, cook, etc—and these are simply from posts on my own blog.

Here is a link to a discussion thread that explores ableist assumptions people often make what blind people are or are not able to do. It particularly relevant for this topic. Link can be found here. Please remember that while I did respond to some folks who expressed opinions colored by ableist assumptions, that post is not about them. Just as this post is about addressing ableism in general rather than from a specific source.

The point is: consider why abled people are so comfortable stating what blind people can and cannot do, when one of the most common questions about blindness is still “how do you use a phone or the internet?”

People who aren’t blind often fail to grasp what our limitations actually are. Many people are still surprised to learn that technology or accommodations exist for us, despite having access to various forms of technology themselves. They struggle to understand that we can live our daily lives, possibly because they personally cannot imagine themselves without the vision they rely on, such as that time a professor asked blind content creator Stephanie Renburg [quote] “How do you live?” when the conversation was supposed to be about school accommodations [Link here].

This brings me to an assertion that is often made when sighted actors obscure their vision in order to play blind characters. It is often noted that it was too hard for them emotionally, mentally, and physically. Because of this reaction, the assumption is made that a blind person cannot possibly perform the role.

For example, in the article linked here, this is stated about Jamie Foxx in his role as Ray Charles. “Some actors, including Jamie Foxx as Ray Charles in “Ray” (2004, best actor) and Blake Lively in “All I See Is You” (2017), have chosen to wear ocular prosthetics, rendering them literally blind during their performances. But this creates a new problem: Unlike real blind people, who can spend years honing their orientation and mobility skills, the blindfolded sighted person becomes lost, confused and frightened with the sudden loss of sight — Foxx told interviewers he began hyperventilating as soon as his eyes were glued shut with the custom prosthetic eyelids that the filmmakers affixed over his eyes.”

Being blind is different from a sighted person temporarily obscuring their vision. Blind people have a better handle on being blind because we’ve been doing it longer. Blindness is part of our lives. Of course blind people are going to have an easier time portraying blind characters. This means most of the concerns people bring up when discussing sighted actors struggling with being unable to see won’t actually apply to blind people who have been at this for far longer.

I also wanted to address the idea that hiring blind actors would cost more, according to the assertion made in that thread about hiring blind actors, which you can read here if you haven’t already. While I can understand why someone might believe hiring a blind actor would cost more, I believe it would actually cost less.

Blind actors can use their own canes or other assistive devices used by the character, which saves money on expensive materials

Blind actors likely already have experience with O&M training, saving money and time that would otherwise be spent training a sighted actor, such as described here

Blind actors don’t need contacts or prosthetics, which may otherwise be used help an actor simulate blindness

And blind actors would have an easier time navigating sets, dancing, or doing required physical activities while blind, which reduces the learning curve that sighted actors with obscured vision need

A few Disclaimers:

1) Blind people learn from our communities and through life experience. While we naturally have more experience being blind, our knowledge is enhanced through learning from other blind people and participating in training designed to improve our life skills. I maintain that a sighted person obscuring their vision for a few hours will not have the same level of experience.

2) Reminder that blindness is a spectrum that a blindfold cannot replicate.

and 3) This post is not to say that sighted actors cannot do well or cannot put effort into their performance. According to the article above, Charlie Cox won an award from the AFB for his commitment to portraying Daredevil. However, just because there are sighted actors willing to put in the work does not mean blind actors can’t. I wanted to include this disclaimer in case someone sees the AFB article I shared and worried I’m trying to disparage actors who have already portrayed blind characters and happened to do a good job. After all, I love the original performance we received from Michaela Murphy, who originally voiced Toph. That doesn’t mean studios should not make an effort to cast more blind actors moving forward, nor does it justify any of the silly or explicitly ableist reasons people give for why sighted actors must be chosen over blind ones.

Let us return to refuting those excuses with the last thing I wanted to address.

5. Some people are concerned that a blind person might get hurt doing martial arts, but so can literally anyone else

[Image description: GIF of Toph dressed in Fire Nation attire. She punches through a rock.]

Kids can get hurt in any kind of sport, yet society doesn’t try to keep children from these activities for their own safety. However, disabled kids—and adults for that matter—are often reminded that we are being kept out of spaces for our own protection. Which we didn’t need, nor ask for.

This need to protect disabled people can be not only infantilizing, but hypocritical as well. For example, a blind person might be discouraged from playing recreational sports in a misguided attempt to protect them. Conversely, structures that keep blind people at risk are allowed to stay firmly in place, such as discrimination around transportation, inaccessible infrastructure, and poverty.

Blind people play sports anyway. Often, these sports carry their own risks of injury, as most sports do. Blind people have the agency to understand this and consent to it. Examples include blind football [link] and goalball [link].

Here is a video of Sadi the Blind Lady discussing goalball with Eliana Mason, a Paralympic athlete who plays goalball professionally.

Transcript: “Goalball is sport for blind and visually impaired athletes. It was created after World War II for blinded veterans and is now a Paralympic sport. The coolest thing about it is that everyone wears eyeshades so no matter what your level of vision loss is—because blindness is a spectrum— it equalizes it. The ball has bells in it and the court is straight with tape over it. It’s on a volleyball sized court. It’s three on three. And basically in offense, we are throwing the ball as hard as we can with a lot of technique involved, about 30 to 45 miles an hour to have it hit the ground and roll and hit the other players on their bodies. And on defense, you are throwing your body out and diving in front of this 3 pound ball and blocking it. So essentially you want to get hit with the ball.”

End transcript.

Getting hit with a ball, especially in the face or stomach area, is going to hurt. That is okay, because as long as safety precautions are taken, pain might be part of the experience depending on the rules and anticipated possibility of injury.

Martial arts and dance, which are backgrounds sought specifically in the Netflix Toph casting call, can also lead to accepted forms of pain or discomfort. While one could argue that sports injuries could and should be preventable, this post is more concerned with the expectation of pain, injuries, and what steps are taken to prevent them, such as protective gear or an experienced coach / teacher.

A blind person auditioning for Toph knows that martial arts will be involved. She will spend time learning choreography, building trust with co-actors, and figuring out works best for her. This structure is similar for blind people playing football or goalball or tennis or fencing or whatever else they want to do.

Lastly, people who aren’t blind also experience pain or injury during sports. Same with martial arts or dance.

The actress who plays Toph might get hurt. She might not. Some pain might even be an expected part of training. That is no reason to exclude a blind person from participating. That is no reason to say Toph couldn’t be played by a blind actress. [Bolded for emphasis]

Lastly, anyone training actors on fight choreography already knows how to do so safely. That fact that this is choreography is also helpful, allowing for memorization of actions and reactions. Conversely, the sports and physical activities I listed above are not choreographed, with the exception of dance, and are therefore less predictable. Therefore, if blind people can get head injuries playing on a recreational blind football team, a blind actress can handle fight choreography.

Closing

Thank you for reading all of this. My points still stand whether or not a blind person is actually cast for Toph.

Too Long, Didn’t Read:

Unchecked ableism can lead to oppression even if it is unintentional

Blind actors exist

A blind actor would better capture Toph’s ease and confidence with her blindness

Blind people can do a lot more than sighted people usually think they can

Blind people also face discrimination and limitations that sighted people may not have considered

Blindness is a spectrum and most blind people can still see something

There is no one way to look or move like a blind person

Accommodations are not that difficult to provide

Hiring a blind person would actually cost less money

Most of the popular reasons people believe Toph cannot be played by a blind actress are rooted in ableism

This post is not only about Toph or actors, but an example of how unchecked ableism can be harmful

For example, low employment rates for blind people, inaccessible online resources, or Toph-related posts shared without image descriptions

Toph Beifong could totally be played by a blind actress

#blind #atla toph #toph beifong #atla #netflix atla #netflix avatar #Toph Beifong casting Netflix #ableism #blind characters

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prisimic · 2 years

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Siding - Exterior

#Huge rustic multicolored two-story mixed siding house exterior idea with a gambrel roof and a mixed material roof sconces #luxury home architects #architectural design services #design studio #montana architects #grass #luxury backyard

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an-idyllic-novelist · 8 months

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Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way.

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around.

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you.

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it.

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago.

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others.

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much.

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner. They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk.

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess.

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do.

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day.

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out.

He saw you cook finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands.

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War.

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit.

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day.

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it.

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake whiny bitch.

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that.

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong.

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel.

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them.

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore.

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no.

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle.

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!”

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other.

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army. When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck.

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply.

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around scratching, kicking, and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off him and inhaling deep gulps of precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands.

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting.

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right.

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character.

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked.

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones.

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin.

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?”

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of you, quick work was made with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts.

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too.

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass.

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it.

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards.

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be.

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone.

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest.

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.”

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right. “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering.

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse.

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck.

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit.

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there?

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below, your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places.

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination.

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his.

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.”

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special.

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight.

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking.

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight.

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms.

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass.

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome."

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory?

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens.

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter.

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x you #hazbin spoilers #viviziepop #cw physical abuse #tw physical abuse #cw violence #tw violence #cw cannibalism #tw cannibalism #cw language #tw language #violet evergarden!reader #fem!reader #character!reader

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requiemforthepoets · 1 month

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i’ve got a stack of mail and a tall can 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you and oscar are two peas in a pod, but as you both grow up and began carving your own paths, everything just changed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this one’s a bit new, i tried writing in third pov. so i hope this little experiment will be okay. hope you’ll enjoy this one :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

WARNINGS: angst, mention of death and sad ending (if you squint enough)

Once, their lives had been intertwined like the roots of an old tree, growing together. From the time they were children, she and Oscar had been inseparable, they’d always share everything—school days that are filled with laughter, birthday parties that are often celebrated together and marked by chaotic games, playing by the streets under the bright sun during the summer and countless sleepovers in a tent by the backyard, where they would both whisper secrets under the starlit skies. Those were the golden years, spent building forts out of blankets and dreaming of grand adventures. They are each other’s constant—constant presence amidst the ebb and flow of growing up.

It was one autumn afternoon, as they are both sat beneath the sprawling oak tree in Oscar’s backyard, he looked at her with wide eyes that are filled with excitement.

“I’m going to be a race car driver,” he said, as his voice are laced with a mix of determination and excitement. She grinned, heart swelling with pride, “I’m going to be an artist!” She exclaimed, voice full of hopeful ambition.

They promised—pinky promised, a promise that holds the highest regard of promises, that no matter where their dreams take them, they would always find a way back to each other, in this spot beneath the oak tree, and right in this moment.

But as the years passed by, their lives began to diverge. Oscar’s path took him into the fast paced world of racing, while she decided to move and pursue her studies in another country. She immersed herself in the world of art, and the moment she graduated, she began to work tirelessly in her own studio. Their lives, once so closely knit, started to drift apart. Phone calls became less frequent, messages less personal. Soon, they found themselves swallowed by their own ambitions, those promises that were made under the oak tree are slowly becoming a distant memories.

Today, she was back in town for a brief visit, her heart unexpectedly drawn to the familiar Brighton streets—a familiar yet distant street and an unspoken hope that maybe, just maybe, things could feel like they once did. The street was much quieter now than the last time she remembered, lined with the same old trees and houses, but the sense of nostalgia was evident. She could still hear the echoes of the shared laughter and see the faint traces of their carefree childhood days, making her smile to herself.

Mrs. Lee, a kind old lady that had been their neighbor for almost forever, was still around. She had managed to stop by for a chat, and she was happy that Mrs. Lee could still remember her despite being gone for too long. Mrs. Lee had told her that Oscar was in town, having just finished a successful race season and dropped by earlier at Mrs. Lee’s house to say hello.

The idea of running into him was both exciting and nerve-wracking for her, she didn’t know if she’s ready to face the man who was once her closest friend, that is now a celebrated figure. Despite of losing contact with each other, she never failed to support Oscar. When she got the time, she would tune in and watch Oscar’s race.

As she walked past the old houses, she saw Nicole, talking to someone outside a small café, the kind where she and Oscar used to grab ice cream after school. Her heart skipped a beat, hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should approach her or just quietly walk away. The fear of Nicole no longer know or recognize her lingers, since it has been years since she left Australia.

But as if sensing her presence, Nicole turned her head and saw her. Nicole’s eyes widened in surprise, and a genuine, warm smile spread across her face. She quickly said her goodbyes to the one she’s talking and immediately rushed to her from across the street, where she were stood.

“Oh my goodness, y/n? Is that really you?” Her voice was filled with a mix of disbelief anf happiness. She nodded, trying to steady her nerves. “Hi, Nicole. Yes, it’s me, little ol’ y/n. It’s been a long time.”

Nicole pulled you into a tight hug, her embrace as familiar as ever. “It really has, darling. You look great! What brings you back here?” She broke the hug and looked at her softly.

“Oh, you know, I’m just visiting the house and the folks,” she said, her voice slightly cracking. “And thought I’d walk around and see how things have changed.” Without replying, Nicole hugged her again.

“Have you and Oscar already seen each other? I’m sure he would be thrilled to see you! He’s just inside the café grabbing a few drinks.” She smiled in excitement. “Not yet, I just got here and dropped by at Mrs. Lee for a chat.”

“Come on then!” Nicole gently guided you towards the café, and as she got closer to the establishment, she can see the familiar figure of Oscar.

The nerve had began settling in, she doesn’t know how Oscar would react to seeing her again after so many years. They had lost contact and she’s not sure if Oscar even remembers her.

“Look who I bumped into!” She said excitedly as she approached Oscar, with her trailing right after Nicole. Oscar’s eyes went wide, causing her to smile and shyly wave at him.

“y/n?” He quickly brushed off his shocked reaction and had been quickly replaced by a smile. “Hey, Oscar. Been a long time, huh.”

Oscar rushed towards you, engulfing you in hug. A hug that felt like home. “Way too long.” He responded while still hugging you. “I didn’t expect that you’ll be back in Australia.”

She chuckled, “well, here I am. In the flesh.”

“y/n, why don’t you come over for dinner?” Oscar just looked at you, hopefully. “Yeah, sure. I would love to.” Nicole cheered excitedly.

The dinner at the Piastris went very well, it is nice to see them again, and she was surprised how Oscar’s sisters had grown so much—to which they were happy to see her again, and Chris was glad as well that she’s back in Australia. Right after dinner, Oscar had invited you by the backyard. She had followed him and realized that they were heading to the oak tree where they used to sit and talk about everything.

“I can’t believe that this tree’s still here. Wow.” She said in amazement. “Yeah. I never really wanted this tree to be removed, honestly. It holds a lot of memories.” He chuckled.

They both sat down under the oak tree and looked up at the star, just like what they did back when they were still kids. There was a comfortable silence between them, until she decided to break the silence.

“You’ve really made a name for yourself,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, y/n. That means a lot,” Oscar replied, “and you? How’s everything going on with you?” He turned to look at you.

“Busy, but good.” She answered. “I’ve been working on some big projects. It’s fulfilling and keeps me busy, you know. But I sometimes miss how life had been easy for us back in the old days.” Oscar nodded, understanding.

“I’m really sorry for what happened to your parents.” She smiled at him. “Don’t be, it’s not your fault.”

“But still, I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me the most.” She sighed. “It’s okay, Oscar. Really. As they say, life has many ways of testing a person, and this might be mine…” she trailed off.

“How do you feel now?” He asked. “I’m okay. I mean it still hurts, but learned to kept myself busy, you know—emotions can’t can’t hit a moving target…” she trailed off.

“So what are your plans now?” She pondered for a bit. “I don’t know. I don’t really think much about future plans, if I’m being honest. Wherever the wind will take me, I guess? I’m happy where life took me these past couple of years, and I intend to keep it that way.” Her response caused Oscar to chuckle.

“So, you’re more like carpe diem?” He replied, “eh, pretty much!” They both laughed at her response.

They continued talking, reminiscing about the everything. It fascinated her the life that Oscar managed to achieve, and she couldn’t even be more prouder for him. Yet, as they spoke, she felt a tug of longing for what could have been and the feelings that she had harbored toward Oscar for the longest of time. She had always imagined a future where their paths might cross in different way, but now it seemed clear that their time had passed.

“It has been a fun night, Oscar. I really did miss this.” She turned towards him and smiled softly. “It has been, really.”

“As much as I want to stay up late and catch up, I still haven’t recovered from my flight.” She chuckled. “Well, it’s best you go and rest.” He smiled.

They both head back inside the house and bid her goodbyes to Nicole, Chris, and her sisters.

“Thank you so much, Nicole and Chris for a lovely evening.” The couple smiled at her. “You’re very welcome, y/n. If you need anything, just come or call us.” Nicole said.

“You’re welcome here anytime, kiddo. You’re basically a family to us.” Chris patted her shoulder. “I will. Thank you so much again.” They hugged her briefly.

Oscar walked you to the gates, before she leaves, she turned to him. “Thank you, Oscar. It was really nice seeing you again.” He smiled. “It was really nice seeing you again too. It was due time we see each other again.”

He hugged her again once more, but a bit tighter this time. “Promise me you won’t be a stranger,” he said, his voice carrying a bit of the old familiarity.

“I promise,” she replied, though she knew that the distance between them would always remain. “Take care of yourself, Oscar.” With one last pat at his shoulder, she walked away.

There was a lot of things that had been unsaid tonight. But despite the heaviness she felt in her chest, there are things that are better off unsaid. Seeing Oscar so happy and successful was bittersweet. Her feeling for him, once so strong, but in the end, only three things had mattered—how much you loved him, how you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things are not meant for you.

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books · 10 months

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Writer Spotlight: Jamie Beck

Jamie Beck is a photographer residing in Provence, France. Her Tumblr blog, From Me To You, became immensely successful shortly after launching in 2009. Soon after, Jamie, along with her partner Kevin Burg, pioneered the use of Cinemagraphs in creative storytelling for brands. Since then, she has produced marketing and advertising campaigns for companies like Google, Samsung, Netflix, Disney, Microsoft, Nike, Volvo, and MTV, and was included in Adweek Magazine’s “Creative 100” among the industry’s top Visual Artists. In 2022, she released her first book, An American in Provence, which became a NYT Bestseller and Amazon #1 book in multiple categories, and featured in publications such as Vogue, goop, Who What Wear, and Forbes. Flowers of Provence is Jamie’s second book.

Can you tell us about how The Flowers of Provence came to be?

I refer to Provence often as ‘The Garden of Eden’ for her harmonious seasons that bring an ever-changing floral bounty through the landscape. My greatest joy in life is telling her story of flowers through photography so that we may all enjoy them, their beauty, their symbolism, and their contribution to the harmony of this land just a bit longer.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

How do your photography and writing work together? Do you write as part of your practice?

I constantly write small notations, which usually occur when I am alone in nature with the intention of creating a photograph or in my studio working alone on a still life. I write as I think in my head, so I have made it a very strict practice that when a thought or idea comes up, I stop and quickly write the text in the notes app on my phone or in a pocket journal I keep with me most of the time. If I don’t stop and write it down at that moment, I find it is gone forever. It is also the same practice for shooting flowers, especially in a place as seasonal as Provence. If I see something, I must capture it right away because it could be gone tomorrow.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

You got your start in commercial photography. What’s something you learned in those fields that has served you well in your current creative direction?

I think my understanding of bridging art and commerce came from my commercial photography background. I can make beautiful photographs of flowers all day long, but how to make a living off your art is a completely different skill that I am fortunate enough to have learned by working with so many different creative brands and products in the past.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

Do you remember your first photograph?

Absolutely! I was 13 years old. My mother gave me her old Pentax 35mm film camera to play with. When I looked through the viewfinder, it was as if the imaginary world in my head could finally come to life! I gave my best friend a makeover, put her in an evening gown in the backyard of my parents’ house in Texas, and made my first photograph, which I thought was so glamorous! So Vogue!

You situate your photographic work with an introduction that charts the seasons in Provence through flowers. Are there any authors from the fields of nature writing and writing place that inspire you?

I absolutely adore Monty Don! His writing, his shoes, and his ease with nature and flowers—that’s a world in which I want to live. I also love Floret Flowers, especially on social media, as a way to learn the science behind flowers and how to grow them.

How did you decide on the order of the images within The Flowers of Provence?

Something I didn’t anticipate with a book deal is that I would actually be the one doing the layouts! I assumed I would hand over a folder of images, and an art director would decide the order. At first, it was overwhelming to sort through it all because the work is so personal, and I’m so visual. But in the end, it had to be me. It had to be my story and flow to be truly authentic. I tried to move through the seasons and colors of the landscape in a harmonious way that felt a bit magical, just as discovering Provence has felt to me.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

How do you practice self-care when juggling work and life commitments alongside the creative process?

The creative process is typically a result that comes out of taking time for self-care. I get some of my best ideas for photographic projects or writing when I am in a bath or shower or go for a long (and restorative) walk in nature. Doing things for myself, such as how I dress or do my hair and makeup, is another form of creative expression that is satisfying.

What’s a place or motif you’d like to photograph that you haven’t had a chance to yet?

I am really interested in discovering more formal gardens in France. I like the idea of garden portraiture, trying to really capture the essence and spirit of places where man and nature intertwine.

Which artists do you return to for inspiration?

I’m absolutely obsessed with Édouard Manet—his color pallet and subject matter.

What are three things you can’t live without as an artist?

My camera, the French light, and flowers, of course.

What’s your favorite flower to photograph, and why?

I love roses. They remind me of my grandmother, who always grew roses and was my first teacher of nature. The perfume of roses and the vast variety of colors, names, and styles all make me totally crazy. I just love them. They simply bring me joy the same way seeing a rainbow in the sky does.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 months

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OLD GRUDGES (part 4)

A/N: it took me foreverrrr to finish this, but at last its here and thats what matters!! this is the final part of this mini series, hope you guys enjoyed their dynamic

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The past two days Harry has questioned quite a few times whether he somehow ended up in a parallel universe or maybe someone has been playing a very sick joke on him. Either way, he wants it to never end.

Y/N hasn't left his house since the night of the break-in. In fact, she barely left… his arms, his bed… his mind. Not that he is complaining, waking up to Y/N in the morning, having breakfast with her, showering with her, spending the day just coexisting, always spending time together have been his personal piece of heaven. It’s been quite a sudden change, but he would quite literally do anything to keep it this way for as long as possible.

Today they are forced to leave their cocoon though. Y/N has to go to the police to do some paperwork about the break-in, though there hasn’t been any news about the case unfortunately, then later they have to hit up the studio for a session. But at least the morning is theirs.

When Harry steps out of the bathroom in a pair of sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt his hair is still damp as he makes his way around the bedroom, digging through his dresser for a pair of socks and plugging his charger into his phone before he walks out, heading into the kitchen where he knows Y/N is already sipping on her morning coffee just like she was yesterday and the day before. She made herself home quite fast, but he doesn’t mind. Actually, he loves the thought of his home as a trustworthy place for her as well, where she feels confident enough to do whatever she wants or take whatever she needs.

Sitting by the dining table, her legs are pulled underneath her, the coffee is still steaming in the red mug she silently chose for herself to use during her stay. She is scrolling through probably some news page on her phone, playing with the hem of her (his) sweatshirt.

“G’Morning,” Harry smiles as he enters, though they only separated about fifteen minutes ago when Harry left her in bed to shower.

“Hi.” Her face brightens at the sight of him and it clutches his heart every time.

As strange as the movement might have been just a week ago, now it feels as natural as breathing when Harry walks past her and presses a kiss to the top of her head before continuing his path to the kitchen to pour himself some coffee as well.

They drink it first, talking, checking emails, getting ready for the day and then the phones are put away as they make breakfast and eat, strictly only focusing on each other. It’s been their usual without ever agreeing on it.

And Harry loves every moment of it.

“Do you want me to go to the station with you?” Harry asks over their now empty plates.

“No,” she shakes her head. “It’s fine, it’ll be quick. I’ll meet you at the studio.”

“Alright.”

Hugging her knees to her chest, she is staring out the window that faces the sunny backyard while Harry’s eyes are glued to her face. While she is seemingly lost in her own thoughts, Harry’s mind gets into a spiral on his own. He’s been dancing on the edge of a burning question, but hasn’t found the right moment to ask it and quite honestly, he’s also afraid it might ruin their little bubble as well, so he’s been hesitant to bring it up. But it keeps nudging the back of his head whenever he gets lost in his whirlwind feelings for her.

What are we actually doing?

The amount of unsaid things and changes that happened lately are starting to pile up and he knows they need to address them sooner or later. It’s not just about the past few days, but what’s been happening even before the break-in. Their dynamic had shifted immensely, but they never talked about what it all means. Now they act like a couple, share a bed, kiss, touch, have sex and talk like it’s completely normal and expected when just a few weeks ago they were ready to murder each other over the tiniest disagreement.

Her phone buzzes on the table and reaching for it she turns it over to check the screen.

“I better start getting ready,” she sighs. Harry just nods as he watches her stand up, she brings her plate and mug to the dishwasher and then heads back to the bedroom, brushing her hand over his shoulder as she walks past. A gentle move, but it bears so much for Harry.

Being apart from Y/N almost feels wrong. After she leaves to the station Harry runs a few errands, picks up a package and then heads to the studio, only thinking about whether she’s alright or not. He keeps checking his phone, hoping for a text or a call from her, like a lovesick puppy. Somewhere deep down he knows that he shouldn’t feel this deeply for her at this point, when everything seems fragile and ready to spill any moment, but he just can’t find the will in himself to care and do something about it.

When she finally texts him that she’s on her way, he can finally breathe as relief washes over him. He tries to busy himself and not stare at the door, waiting for her to walk in, though he kind of fails. Miserably.

“Hi,” she greets him walking into the studio and Harry practically jumps to his feet as if his chair was on fire.

“How did it go?” He asks, his hand twitching to reach out to touch her, but he decides against it at last. She drops her bag onto the sofa that’s pushed against the wall before puffing out a sigh as she turns to face him.

“Nothing extra. Actually, nothing. I mean, they know absolutely nothing, there are no clues, nothing. Whoever did it was a genius and made sure to leave no trace behind.”

“How is it possible that they have zero clues? There must be something, a fingerprint, footage, anything.”

“There were a few fingerprints, but no match came up, so it’s useless at this point.”

“So then what happens now?”

“The case stays open for a bit, thes keep working on it, but honestly, I feel like there’s no point. They won’t find anything so I’ll just have to move on.”

“And go back to your place?” Harry asks. Part of him is panicking by the thought of letting her go back there on her own and then the other one because he doesn’t want her gone. He’s selfish and wants to keep her with him at all times, he is not ready to pop the bubble they’ve been living in the past days.

“I can’t camp at your place forever.” Her words and face say different things. Because the way she is smiling at him as they both take seats tells him that she might actually like the idea of staying with him.

And he likes it too.

“Let’s just put this all aside, okay? I want to work and forget all this shit.”

“Okay,” Harry nods.

It’s easy for them to slip into work and leave everything else behind as music takes over their mind. It’s their first time working together since the shift between them and it appears that the change hasn’t been only affecting their private dynamic, but their professional as well, luckily in the best way possible. It is as if they could sense each other’s thoughts, they barely even have to communicate when they want to change something, the other just knows, just like how quick they share new ideas, barely saying a few words before the other is already making it happen.

“As much as I would love to keep going, I think we should call it a night,” Harry turns his phone’s screen towards her so she can see how late it is now. Almost ten pm, they’ve been working for hours and now that Harry noticed just how long they’ve been here, they both can feel how tired they actually are.

“Alright, alright. I’ll finish this when we get home then. I really want to get it done.” Sighing she shuts her computer and while she packs her stuff scattered around the studio, Harry is trying his best not to point out how she referred to his place as home.

But the pleased smirk that’s hiding in the corners of his mouth is kind of a tell what he is thinking about.

She rests her head on his shoulder in the back of the car on the drive home and once again, Harry selfishly ignores the urge to talk about their current state and just enjoys her closeness. Walking into the house he heads to the kitchen to make a tea for them both while she sits by the dining table to finish up the editing she started in the studio. They are talking and joking around and Harry can’t wait to drag her into the bathroom for a shower once she is done.

He is scrolling on his phone with his tea in his other hand when he can sense the change. He feels it before she says anything.

Looking up he can tell she is tense, her body appears frozen as she is staring at her computer.

“Everything alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, but she doesn’t answer, just starts vigorously typing and opening things on the computer.

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening again,” she whispers as Harry slowly approaches her.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?”

“It’s… No, no!” she chokes, jumping to her feet, looking more anxious than he has ever seen her. Harry tries to lean closer to have a look at the screen, but she practically pushes him back, grabbing the laptop from the table.

“Don’t fucking touch it!”

“What the fuck is going on?” Harry asks, now starting to lose his mind over not knowing what the problem is, what caused her to act this wild all of a sudden.

“It’s not there! They are all gone!”

“What’s gone? Did you not save what we recorded today? It’s okay, we can–”

“No! I’m not talking about what we did today! All of my unreleased songs! Everything I never gave away to the artists I worked with in the past year! They are all gone!”

Her voice keeps switching from a whisper to shouting in just a matter of seconds as she is anxiously pacing the floor back and forth with the laptop still in her hands.

“What do you mean gone?” Harry asks, still pretty puzzled about what’s going on.

Then Y/N stops and the look she gives him sends a shiver down his spine. It’s as if she has turned into a whole different person in the past few seconds.

“Did you do it?” she asks in a tone that without a look of her expression would sound normal, but her eyes are bewildered and Harry’s pulse just keeps rising as he stares back at her.

“Do what?”

“Did you fucking take them? Huh? Was it you?!”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about what you already did once! Fuck’s sake I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!”

She storms past him, into the bedroom and Harry follows her, his anger mixing with confusion as he is trying to put the pieces together, with not much luck so far. When he catches up with her, she is throwing her stuff into her suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving!” she snaps. Harry tries to get closer and make her stop, but as soon as his hand reaches her shoulder, she jerks away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Y/N slow the fuck down and tell me what’s going on!” he pleads, his growing fear of having to watch her leave taking over his mind.

“Don’t act like you have no idea! I really thought what happened then was a one time thing, I made myself believe that you were young, maybe someone influenced you! But it’s not the same now!”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I’m talking about when you stole my fucking song! That’s what I’m talking about!”

Even though she just said it clearly, Harry is now even more lost about what’s happening.

“Hold on! I stole your song? What the hell?!”

“Oh, don’t fucking act like you have no idea what I’m talking about,” she laughs bitterly as she keeps packing her things, like she is in a hurry to leave. “I really fooled myself into believing you changed, but this is proof you did not.”

“Y/N, I never stole anything from you! Would you stop packing and just talk to me?”

“How dare you say you never stole from me! Drop the fucking act, Harry! You know exactly what I’m talking about! Night Changes was my song, I showed it to you and then oh so conveniently I was not signed for the next album and the song was on it! Right after it disappeared from my computer!”

It takes time for Harry to even process her words. He is raking the deepest parts of his memory to put together what she is talking about and when his thoughts start to clear, she is already on her way out.

“Y/N wait!” He runs after her, catching up with her in the hallway. “I never stole Night Changes!”

“Then explain to me how the one song I showed you ended up on an album I never worked on?!” she snaps, suitcase still in her hand. “And explain how it happened again? I let you close and it happened again!”

“It looks fucking nuts, but it wasn’t me, Y/N, I promise!”

“We’ll see about that once the police have investigated this hell of a coincidence.”

That’s the last thing she says before walking out, leaving Harry in the eerily empty and silent house, with an actual hole in his chest.

Y/N didn’t plan any of this. She did not plan the part where she got so close to Harry that his absence is now almost causing her actual physical pain, and definitely not the part where he betrayed her.

Again.

Or at least that’s where all the evidence is pointing.

She shouldn’t have let him get this close to her, because now she wouldn’t feel this shitty and naive and mostly betrayed.

She still remembers how it felt when she first listened to Night Changes just months after the file that had her version disappeared from her computer. She felt physically ill as she stared at the screen where a photo of the boys was shown but all she could look at was Harry in the picture. Part of her refused to believe that he had anything to do this, but her rational part won. There was no way he was innocent, he was the only person she showed the demo and then it was magically One Direction’s next hit.

She despised Harry for using her in such a disgusting manner, he betrayed him in such an open and arrogant way, the song was getting popular and he must had known that she would hear it as well, but he did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

For a long time she tried to put her disdain to the side and focus on her career, that’s why she agreed to work with him again. And also because there was a tiny sliver of hope somewhere deep down in her that still believed that Harry was innocent.

She let that hope grow and her feelings for Harry as well, only to fall face forward again, ten times harder than before.

Two days go by in a blur. She is back in her home but also tries to spend as little time there as possible, camping at friends’ and her sister’s place whenever she can. She tries to get her mind off of everything with work, but music seems to be betraying her as well, because somehow she always ends up thinking about Harry.

He stopped blowing her phone up a few hours after their fight. She had like a million calls from him and messages filled with him begging for her to pick up the phone, but she ignored them all until they stopped. First thing in the morning she contacted her lawyer and she also gave the new information to the police as well. Harry might have not been the one who broke into her place, but it very much seems like he had something to do with the missing files.

Then it’s radio silence and it kills her nerves. She finds herself often with her phone in her hand, her finger hovering over Harry’s contact, but she always talks herself out of contacting him. She knows she probably can never talk to him, ever.

Another two days later is when her lawyer, Violet finally calls her with news.

“So, good news, they actually know who broke into your house,” Violet announces and Y/N’s pulse jumps immediately.

“Really? Who was it?” she asks and all she can think about is how she hopes the person has nothing to do with Harry, even after everything.

“Do you know a… Daryl Parker?” she asks, as if she’s reading the name off of a paper. Y/N’s eyes go wide.

“What? Daryl? The assistant?”

“Yeah, him.”

“But… how? And why?”

“Sweets, let’s meet at the station, they are expecting you in for some more paperwork and I have other news as well.”

“O-Okay.”

Y/N feels dizzy arriving at the police station, still not quite sure what to think of Daryl breaking into her home and possibly stealing her work. He did try to push her to give him more, but she never thought he would go this far just to get those songs.

Violet is already there when Y/N walks in, waiting with an officer and the three of them move to a meeting room.

“So, Daryl Parker admitted that he broke into your house about a week ago and he was also the one who stole the files you told us about later,” the officer starts to explain the story, while he lays out a stack of paper in front of her that she has to sign. “While he was the one who did the dirty work, he is not the only one to blame.”

“Okay, then who?” she questions.

“Are you familiar with who Daryl’s boss is in the management company?” the officer asks and Y/N shakes her head no. She never actually met the guy, it was always Daryl who kept in contact with her, which at a point seemed weird, but she didn’t think much of it.

“Daryl worked for Blake Finnegan,” Violet reveals and Y/N stares back at her as the puzzle pieces start to fit together slowly.

“The guy who…”

“Yes, Blake from Modest, who worked with One Direction,” she confirms.

Y/N finishes with the signing and pushes back the papers to the officer, thanking his work and he leaves them alone so they can debrief the rest of the story.

“This was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Blake was the one who stole your work back then and then made sure you didn’t return for the next album so he wasn’t busted. Daryl wasn’t working for him back then, but he was given so much track record from the past that they were able to recover not just the files they stole now, but the ones from the past and the data shows that it was all originally created by you.”

Y/N’s mouth is going dry as she tries to keep up with Violet and all the information she is hearing.

Blake was the culprit of it all. He stole her work before and he did it again, hidden behind Daryl so she didn’t suspect him.

“Does this mean that Harry…”

“That Harry Styles didn’t steal shit from you?” she laughs. “Yeah. It was an unfortunate coincidence, though he will be questioned because he heard the song before, he should have recognized it.”

“Wait, he will be actually questioned? When?”

“Um,” Violet checks her watch. “He’ll be here in about a few hours.”

The room is spinning with her. Harry is going to come here and be interrogated about this whole ordeal. Now she knows he wasn’t the original bad guy here and that damn hope is back in her chest that he wasn’t involved at all.

“Is there… Is there any chance they will let me talk to him first?” Y/N asks, staring back at Violet’s, watching as her straight expression turns into a smile slowly.

It feels like Harry hasn’t slept in days. He has, of course, but not nearly enough he should have. And he knows exactly when his random insomnia started.

Walking into the police station with his lawyer he is ready to tell them everything and anything. Well, that’s what he’s been doing already, so it’s not a change.

When Y/N stormed out of his place panic set in first, he tried to call her, text her, he was ready to bang on her door to beg her to speak to him, though he is happy he didn’t do the latter. When he realized she was not going to talk to him, he went into solution mode.

He already knew who was to blame, he couldn’t believe that Blake Finnegan was still haunting him even years after cutting all ties with him. He was always the shadiest person around and he had quite a few stunts even back then, so it’s no surprise he went as low as stealing music.

The eerie feeling of being at a police station is strong in his gut, even though he knows he is innocent. They are welcomed by an officer and then led down the hallway towards a meeting room.

“A colleague will be here shortly, Mr. Styles,” he officer says as he opens the door for them. Harry just nods and steps into the room, taking one of the chairs around the small table in the middle. His lawyer is typing on his phone, pacing the floor back and forth as they wait and then the door finally opens again, but instead of seeing an officer walk in, it’s Y/N.

Harry’s stomach drops and he jumps to his feet instantly.

“Y/N, hi!” he breathes out, looking at her frantically as if she was a ghost.

“Hi. Can we talk?” she asks, her eyes landing on the lawyer beside Harry. “Alone.”

“I don’t think it’s–” the man starts to protest, but Harry is quick to stop him.

“Leave us alone,” Harry says. The lawyer seems surprised and for a moment it seems like he will protest, but then he just takes a deep breath and walks out of the room.

Once the door is closed behind him and it’s just the two of them, Y/N hesitantly takes the seat across the one Harry has been occupying.

“Did you… have anything to do with it?” she asks after a rather long pause.

“No,” Harry answers instantly.

“For real?”

“Y/N, I would never steal your work or anyone else’s, really.”

“So then explain to me how this coincidence happened.”

Harry takes a deep breath and leans back in his seat.

“When we were in the band, we were always overworked. One album after the other with tours in between, I was… practically a zombie for most of the time. When Blake showed us the song, it was familiar, but I just never realized why. I’m not proud of it, but I just… never questioned it after. Not even after he said that you decided not to return for the next project.”

Y/N scoffs.

“I had no decision in that. I was just told that I wasn’t needed.”

“I know that now,” Harry breathes out. “But back then, I just let it go. And I’m so sorry for that, I should have recognized the song, I should have asked why you weren’t returning, I should have contacted you, so maybe… I’m not that innocent. I should have done all of these but I didn’t. I’m very sorry for them. But I never teamed up with Blake against you. I hated his gut.” He laughs bitterly. “I always had a bad feeling about him and I wanted off the team the first given moment.”

Y/N can feel her throat closing up as she stares back at Harry, listening to his every word as if it really was an interrogation.

“I never understood why you hated my guts,” he adds with another laugh. “I didn’t understand, because we were so close back then and when we met again you were… so different, but only towards me and you never told me why, not even when I asked you. I wish you told me about this, but I understand why you didn’t want to even… talk to me.”

“I thought you betrayed me,” she whispers, tears dwelling in her eyes. “You were the first person I trusted in the industry and I thought you straight up betrayed me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I will do anything to get you the rights back on the song and I will pay you every penny you deserve for it.”

“I don’t care about the money,” she shakes her head. “Losing you was way more painful than losing the money I could have made from the song.”

She takes a shaky breath and blinks up at the ceiling, a few tears rolling down her cheeks, but she is quick to wipe them away. Harry’s whole body is itching to stand up and go over to her, to hug her and be physically close to her, but he stays still.

“You know what’s funny?” she laughs through her tears. “I told myself that I accepted this project only for professional reasons, because it’s good for my career. But all along, I had this… hope inside me that I would find out that you had nothing to do with it and you’re still the same guy I fell for years ago.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat, lips parting at her words. She pauses and just keeps staring at Harry and he is just about to break the silence when she speaks up again.

“I’m glad that hope turned out to be right.”

They start moving at the same time. The chairs screech as they are pushed back and they meet by the side of the table in a kiss that holds everything they never said but felt. It’s the kiss they should have shared years ago, it’s the kiss they should have shared when anger brought them together this time and it’s the kiss that resets everything in between.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he mumbles against her lips.

“I’m sorry too,” she whines, hands gripping his shirt for dear life.

“Let’s just stop being sorry, okay?” he chuckles, making her laugh as well as their kisses slow down. He rests his forehead against hers, arms curled around her frame tightly. “I missed you.”

“It’s been only like… four days,” she jokes, though she feels the same.

“Not just now. I missed you after you disappeared from my life before.”

Biting her bottom lip she leans back just enough so that she can look into his eyes.

“Let’s leave our old grudges in the past. I want to move forward.”

Harry smiles at her warmly.

“I would love that.”

NEW:

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N spotted on an afternoon stroll in London - Fans can’t wait for the singer’s new album he worked on with his rumored girlfriend

YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE:

Meet Y/N Y/L/N, the talented music producer who did not only capture the industry but also Harry Styles’ heart as well

One Direction’s Night Changes hits the charts again after Y/N Y/L/N legally becomes owner of rights over the song a decade after its release

Investigation about Blake Finnegan continues - even more proof was revealed of all the shady business the former manager did

Female producers speak up about the struggles they face in the industry just days after Blake Finnegan was arrested

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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babymetaldoll · 1 year

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"Little Miss Reid, entrepreneur" (Spencer Reid x fem!reader x their daughter)

Summary: Spencer and reader help their little daughter with her very first lemonade stand, and the whole BAU family gets together. Requested: Nope Warnings: This might be too fluffy: Reader discretion is advised. Category: Hardcore fluff . A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, I hope you enjoy it! Promp: Character helps their child with their first entrepreneurial venture... a lemonade stand. They weren't expecting half the damn FBI to show up. Masterlist

Summer vacation was an interesting time at the Reid’s house. With both Spencer and (Y/N) having only two weeks off from work, they had to plan in advance and schedule all their activities, to make sure they had enough time to do everything their kids wanted to do with them during the break. Raven was already five years old, and Vicent was already two, and both Spencer and (Y/N) really wanted to make it up to them for always being away, solving cases with the BAU.

That’s why that year, their “Summer fun plans” included a trip to the grand canyon, visiting lots of museums, going to a water park or two, and most importantly: helping Raven with her first lemonade stand.

The little girl was obsessed with the idea of running her own business ever since she had visited her cousin Henry, and he had a little lemonade stand outside his house. Uncle Will had explained to her that that was Henry’s way to earn some money to get a new bike, and that was enough to plant a seed in the little girl’s brain.

- “Dad, remember when you said I couldn’t get a pony ‘cos they are too expensive?”- Raven asked her father later that night, after reading a bedtime story together.

- “Yes, they are too expensive and we don’t have enough room to keep a pony here. Why do you ask?”

- “‘Cos… you know how Henry wants a new bike and he has a lemonade stand to save money and get it?”- suddenly Spencer knew exactly where his daughter was going with that question.

- “Yes, I know.”

- “I was thinking…”- Raven made a pause and looked at her father, who was trying not to laugh.- “I know I can’t get a pony, but what if I have a lemonade stand and save a lot of money and you take me to Barnes and Noble and I get to buy all the books I can afford?”

Spencer never saw that plot twist coming. Of course, there was no way he could say “no” to his kid. Raven was very smart and she knew her dad would be thrilled with that idea. So, after a long logistic debate with his wife, and a talk with Nono Rossi, Spencer and (Y/N) scheduled a day. That Saturday, Raven was having her first lemonade stand in David’s front yard. They decided to do it there ‘cos it was a more family neighborhood than their street. You don’t usually see kids with lemonade stands in front of an apartment building, do you?

While (Y/N) went grocery shopping with their kids and got everything they needed to make lemonade, Spencer asked for professional assistance from a Lemonade Stand professional: Matt Simmons.

- “So, did you ever sell lemonade as a kid?”- Matt asked Spencer as they set all the materials and tools in Rossi’s backyard.

- “No, never. I really wasn’t into outdoor activities, as you might imagine.”- Spencer replied and Matt chuckled. - “But once one of my neighbors set one, and my father forced me to go and buy a cup.”

- “Why did he force you?”- Matt questioned, confused.

- “He wanted me to have friends my age. When I was seven, my best friend was the librarian.”- Spencer explained and looked around - “So, where do we start?”

- “Did you get spray paint?”

- “Yes, all of Raven’s favorite colors.”- Spencer grabbed a few cans and tossed one to his friend. Rossi walked over and left a cooler filled with cold beers.

- “I’ll leave this here, and in case you need me, I will pretend I can’t hear you while I spend my morning reading in my studio with the AC on.”

- “Thank you for letting us do this here, Rossi.”- Spencer smiled at him as he shook one of the spray paint cans.

- “Anything for mi principessa.”- David replied and waved as he walked back into the house.- “Good luck, kids!”

Spencer had been right: Matt Simmons was a lemon stand pro. In two hours they had a green and lavender stand made with four wooden crates. One rod on each side of the stand helped hold a banner (Y/N) had made the night before that read “Raven’s Lemonade” and on the front, Spencer hung another banner that read: “Lemonade: ¢50”

- “All set!”- Matt smiled proudly and tapped on Spencer’s back a few times. - “How do you feel?”

- “Excited, pleased with our work… nervous?”

- “Why are you nervous? Your kid is going to be thrilled!”

- “I know, but… what if no one shows up? She would be broken-hearted…”- Spencer sighed at the thought of his baby pouting, and Matt shook his head right away.

- “There is no way that could ever happen here. Not under this heat and not in Rossi's neighborhood. Elderly people are very supportive.”

- “Hey!”- Rossi argued, overhearing Matt’s comment on his way out. - “Who is elderly?”

- “Your neighbors!- Simmons explained right away, trying not to laugh.

Raven Reid yelled and jumped with excitement when she saw her lemonade stand. She ran around Rossi’s backyard, nearly hyperventilating. She hadn’t been so excited since Santa brought her the telescope she wanted.

- “It’s so pretty, daddy!!”- the little girl jumped into Spencer's arms and he caught her with a bear hug.

- “I’m glad you like it, birdie.”- he replied and kissed her chubby cheek. - “Did you and your mom get lots of lemons?”

- “Yes, and some lemon bars too, in case someone is hungry.”- the little girl explained.

- “Good idea, boo. Did you thank Nono Rossi for letting us set the stand in his front yard?”- the little girl shook her head and Spencer quickly set her down.- “Go tell him thank you.”- and off the girl went, running and yelling “Nono!” on her way into the house. Spencer stared at her as he stood in the middle of the backyard, putting all the tools Derek had given him a few years earlier back into the toolbox. His heart felt full of love knowing he could give his kids the childhood he never had.

- “Hey there, Bob the builder.”- (Y/N) walked out to the backyard and smiled at her husband. - “This looks amazing.”

- “Thank you.”- Spencer whispered and felt her lips on his immediately.

- “Raven is ecstatic, she wants to start making lemonade right now.” - and just in time, they heard the little girl’s voice calling for her mommy.

- “You heard the boss.”- Spencer whispered and kissed his wife one more time. Meanwhile, I’m gonna move this outside to the front yard.”

- “Great, Pen said she was gonna come and help around four, so we should be ready on time.”

When (Y/N) said Penelope Garcia was going to help, she pictured her friend slicing lemons and making lemonade along with her in Rossi’s kitchen. She never imagined her friend was going to… well… be Penelope Garcia, and take things over the top, as usual.

First, Garcia didn’t slice a lemon, she might as well have chopped the entire tree: she got to Rossi’s with homemade lemon cupcakes, lemon cake, lemon tart, and lemon cookies (lemon shaped, of course, and covered in yellow frosting). She had so many trays with goods, Luke was forced to help her. He picked her up and gave her a hand carrying everything over to Rossi’s.

- “Oh… my… good.”- (Y/N) whispered as she stared at the number of treats her friend had baked, piling on Rossi’s kitchen island.

- “I know, I might have gone a little over the top, but once I started, I didn’t know how to stop.”- Garcia apologized and smiled guilty at her friend, who only had one worry in her mind.

- “Ok, now I’m scared. How are we going to sell all this?”- (Y/N) asked, but Garcia dismissed her fears and shook her head immediately.

- “Don’t worry about that! I’m sure Raven is going to do great. We’ll charge a dollar for everything, so she won’t get confused with math.”

- “She is Spencer’s daughter”- (Y/N) chuckled as she spoke- “Math is not the problem. But Pen, I’m just scared no one is going to show up and she’ll feel discouraged. I don’t want my baby thinking she failed.”

- “Nonsense! It’s a lemonade stand, everybody loves a lemonade stand!”- Garcia replied and grabbed a fresh lemon- “Now, let’s make more lemonade!”

Raven ran out of Rossi’s front door carrying a stack of paper cups and a bag of paper straws. Right behind her, her mom carried a big glass dispenser filled with fresh lemonade. Raven’s little stand was ready and open to the public. A glass jar on the top of the counter was ready to be filled with the profit of the dar. Spencer stared at his daughter and took a few pictures with his phone. Garcia and Luke carried some of the sweets to start the sale, and Rossi opened his wallet.

- “Are you my first customer, nono?”- Raven asked, making her mom and dad chuckle.

- “I am, mi principessa. Can I have a cup of lemonade and a cookie, please?”- Rossi placed a dollar and 50 cents in the jar, and Raven’s eyes shone with joy as she poured her first order.

- “I’m gonna need a lemonade too.”- Luke said as he paid and waited for the girl to give him a cup as well.

- “Enjoy, uncle Luke.”- the little girl said and turned to her little brother Vincent, who was playing on a blanket on the grass their mother had set for him. - “Vinnie? Do you want some lemonade? For you, it’s on the house.”- the little girl grabbed her brother’s sippy cup and filled it with lemonade, as her parents filmed the entire moment on their phones.

JJ and Will showed up a few minutes later with Henry and Michael to support Raven’s little business. The kids played on the street with their skateboards, as Raven sat behind her stand, waiting for her customers.

A few of Rossi’s neighbors walked toward the lemonade stand, and Raven was shining. Her parents sat with little Vincent on his blanket and watched from a safe distance as their daughter took care of her paying customers. Meanwhile, Luke and García walked to the backyard with Rossi, Will, and JJ to enjoy the pool.

- “Fresh lemonade, get some lemonade”- Raven said to everyone who walked down the sideway and passed her stand. Everybody stopped and bought something for the little girl, she looked adorable while selling her products. But at a certain point during the afternoon, no one was coming. And Raven looked at her money jar feeling discouraged.

- “Mama… what if no one else comes?”- the little girl walked toward her parents and sat on (Y/N)’s lap. Her mother wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheek a few times, making the girl chuckle.

- “Come on, it’s still early. It’s been what? just one hour? I promise by the end of the afternoon you are gonna be sold out of all the things you have in your stand.”- (Y/N) smiled and kissed her daughter’s cheek one more time before she stood up and walked back to her stand to wait for her customers. Spencer waited until Raven was far from them and turned to his wife. He didn’t have to say anything, she knew what he was thinking. It didn’t need saying. The two of them shared the same fear.

But after just a few more minutes, something weird happened. Anderson parked his car in front of Rossi’s and waved at the Reid’s as he walked to Raven’s stand and ordered a lemonade and a slice of lemon pie for him and his boyfriend. And less than a minute later, Andi Swan’s car parked down the street, and she showed up with her husband to get a lemonade and a lemon cupcake. Not only that, but Matt Simmons, his wife, and all his kids showed up, excused themselves for being late, and ordered lemonade and lemon cookies for the entire family. Raven was on fire, and her parents were… confused to say the least.

Where were all those people coming from? The cars kept parking: Ashley Seaver showed up with her kid and husband and got lemonade and lemon cake for her family. She hugged (Y/N) and Spencer and introduced them to her family, while more FBI agents kept showing up.

Alex Blake parked and nearly ran to the Reids as her husband followed close behind. Kate Callahan showed up as well, with her kids and husband, and soon after, Tara Lewis came along. Raven got to ask her mom for help to serve all the customers, and soon Pen and Luke showed up with more sweets and to refill the lemonade jar. Somehow, what had started like a simple lemonade stand ended up being an FBI get-together family party.

(Y/N) turned to Spencer and the two of them stared at the scene in shock. Pen and Luke walked to them and Garcia smiled and waved at everybody.

- “What did you do?”- (Y/N) asked her friend and she simply giggled.

- “I might have sent a few emails to everybody at the Bureau and some former agents telling them your little Birdie had a little entrepreneur of her own, and encouraged them all to come.”- Garcia explained and smiled innocently.

- “Everybody is here! We only need Elle and Hotch and we’d have the biggest BAU reunion ever!”- (Y/N) looked around in disbelief and chuckled.

- “You are forgetting me, little mama.”- (Y/N) froze and turned around slowly. That voice. She could never forget that voice. Derek Morgan stood in front of her, holding Savannah's hand and a stroller with their little boy: Hank Spencer Morgan.

- “Derek!!”- (Y/N) jumped and ran to hug him, as he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her.

- “Mrs. Reid! I missed you so much!”

- “I missed you too!”- (Y/N) said and turned to Savannah, who opened her arms and wrapped her in a hug.- “And you are gorgeous!!”

Spencer stared at their reunion with the biggest smile on his face, holding Vincent in his arms.

- “Is that my little nephew? You haven’t sent pictures of him this week! He looks so much bigger! What are you feeding him?”- Morgan joked and looked at Spencer. - ��You look like you could use a nap, boy wonder.”

- “Two kids are more work than chasing serial killers”- the young doctor replied and chuckled as Morgan hugged him, tapping his back a couple of times.- “I missed you.”

- “Me too, brother.”- Morgan replied and smiled at his friend- “But I’m sorry to say I’m not here for you, I’m here for my little princess. Where is she?”- Derek walked to the stand, waving at their former colleagues on his way until he reached Raven and held her in his arms.

- “Uncle Derek! You are here!!”- the little girl yelled and wide opened her eyes - “You have to help me with my stand!”

- “That’s what I am here for! Lemme see what your old man did here…”- Spencer stood behind his friend and waited for him to inspect the construction.

- “I’m proud, you used the right nail for the wood.”- Morgan said, nodding.

- “Of course I did.”- Reid replied, almost insulted

- “Who helped you?”- Derek asked, and before Spencer could deny getting any help, his daughter explained.

- “Uncle Matt said he had plenty of experience with lemonade stands, so he helped daddy.”

- “Simmons?”- Derek chuckled and turned to Reid.- “You two did a great job.”

- “Thanks.”- Spencer smiled and turned to Raven. - “So, what is your uncle Morgan going to have, birdie?”

- “For you, lemonade on the house, uncle Derek.”- the little girl said and handed him a paper cup. - “But if you want to eat anything, you are gonna have to pay, ‘cos auntie Penelope said we had to split the profits.”- Morgan tried not to laugh, but failed, as Raven stared at him, waiting for a reply.

- “If that’s the case, I’m gonna have one of everything, thank you very much.”- and the little girl’s face lit with excitement as soon as she heard those words.

The afternoon ended, the FBI agent returned to their cars, and the BAU family moved from Rossi’s front yard to the back. David, Derek, and Luke prepared a barbecue, the kids played in the backyard, and (Y/N) and Spencer put away the lemonade stand. Nothing was left, not even a cookie. The sale had been a complete success.

- “How much did she make?”- Mrs. Reid asked her husband, who held the money jar and shook his head.

- “Over three hundred.”

- “Wow… she is gonna go crazy with the books.”- and as (Y/N) said those words and finished cleaning the last jar that was left in the sink, Spencer stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

- “Thank you.”- he whispered in her ear and sighed.

- “What for?”

- “For giving me everything I ever dreamed of.”- (Y/N) turned around and stared at her husband for a few seconds. She then leaned in and kissed him sweetly.

- “Eeewww!”- Raven said as she saw her parents kissing as soon as she walked into the kitchen. - “Uncle Derek is right, you are always kissing.”

- “Hey! Come here-” (Y/N) commanded with a smile and the little girl giggled as she walked to her parents.- “It’s a good thing your parents are always kissing, and we are also always kissing your chubby cheeks!”- and as soon as she delivered that line, both Spencer and (Y/N) started kissing Raven’s cheeks.

Summer was soon going to end, but those happy memories were definitely going to last forever.

#Spencer Reid #Criminal Minds #Spencer Reid x fem!reader #Spencer reid x reader #DIWK #dad!Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid x BAU!Reader #Criminal Minds fanfic #Spencer reid fanfic #Matthew Gray Gubler #MGG #mentioningmargins #babymetaldoll writes

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lihhelsing · 1 year

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Hate That I Loved You

Now complete on AO3!

On the first day of shoot, Eddie is a nervous wreck. He can't handle it. He won't make it. He stays hidden in his dressing room until Chrissy is pounding at the door and threatening to tear it down if he doesn't come out immediately.

Eddie doesn't doubt her.

"It was your idea," Chrissy says as she eyes Eddie and how pale he looks. "Roll a joint, take a fucking shot. I don't care. Just get your ass into the studio because we're filming this today."

Eddie nods but Chrissy is too busy walking away from him to see it. She knows it, though. Eddie wouldn't ignore an order like that.

The first sequence is with Sean. Sean is taller than him and he used to drive a red convertible that Eddie thought was just the coolest. So that's why he's setting a fucking car on fire for the clip.

Sean thinks it's hilarious.

The idea is for them to film the whole song with every one of the exes, so they have options. Because Sean, Pedro and David are all from Los Angeles, they go first. Eddie kept waiting for Lou to show up, but he should know better. Lou always liked to be different, to stand out. He and Steve are pushed to day 2, and for the looks of it, it might be day 3, if they can't speed up David's shoot. Eddie's is breaking a stone wall for him. It's metaphorical and it makes him feel good, actually.

On day 2, Pedro is the only one around before lunch and Eddie actually have a good time with him. He's funny and sweet, just like Eddie remembered, and he keep calling Eddie 'mi amor' which is endearing in a totally platonic way. For a second, Eddie can't remember why they broke up, but then Pedro gets a call from his mom and everything comes rushing back.

Pedro was already thinking about marriage and building a family and Eddie wasn't really ready. They are in a backyard with a pretty white picket fence and Eddie throws paint all around. Everything gets stained with black, the color Pedro saw as Eddie's heart color.

It doesn't hurt as much, but it's harder than the two before him. When Pedro goes back to the dressing rooms to wipe the black paint from him, Eddie's mood had soured considerably.

It gets even worse as Lou walks in, looking like a rockstar. Looking exactly like what he is.

Lou was Eddie's only famous boyfriend and their relationship had crashed and burned in front of everyone. Eddie feels the tug in his chest as he looks at the scene that's getting built for them.

It's a stage. The Grammy stage.

The worst part of it all is that Lou doesn't seem fazed by any of it. It's like he barely remembers breaking Eddie's heart at the Grammy's that year. It's like that was just a day, completely forgotten.

But Eddie hasn't forgotten about it. He hasn't forgotten how bad he felt that day. How heartbroken. How Lou was trying to make everything be Eddie's fault when he was the one flirting shamelessly with other people in front of him.

Eddie needs a minute.

In fact, he feels like he needs a whole year to even be able to do that. What a great fucking idea, put himself through the most traumatic thing in his life for the cameras. No wonder people say he has no self-preservation reflex.

He just walks away. He knows Chrissy saw him freaking out and he knows she will give him a moment to collect himself so he just keeps on walking past props and music equipment and finally the front door.

Eddie is out. The cold air hits his face and with trembling hands he reaches inside his pocket just to remeber he doesn't have his joint with him since he's already wearing the outfit for the clip.

A tux just like the one he wore on the fucking Grammy's. His hands fly to his neck as he pull at the bowtie, trying to get some air into his lungs. His vision gets a little blurry as if there's not enough oxygen in the world for him right now.

Then big strong hands are pushing his hands aside, circling his neck and unclipping the bow tie. It's a fake one, so Eddie could keep pulling at it and he would get nowhere.

"Take a deep breath," the voice says and it gives him chills because he knows that voice. He dreams about that voice.

He does as he's being told because Steve always knew what was best for Eddie.

"You're ok," Steve says under his breath. His hands fall from Eddie's neck and Eddie wishes they were still there, touching him, grounding him. "Just keep breathing."

Eddie does and things start going back to normal, except there's not a normal scenario where Steve Harrington is just standing there in front of Eddie, looking better than ever, with a frown between his brows because he's worried about Eddie.

No. That should be impossible with how hard Eddie had fucked things up and still, Steve is really there.

"I, uh, thought you were only coming in tomorrow," Eddie says when he stops feeling like he's going to die.

Steve shrugs. "Landed a few hours ago, Chrissy said I could check things out."

After that, Eddie has no clue what to say so he just stares at Steve, dumbly. Much to his relief, Chrissy saves him from looking even more like an idiot by opening the door and calling him back.

"Uh, thanks for doing that. It really means a lot to me," Eddie says, trying not to sound as pathetic as he feel. Steve smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

Eddie wants to say more, he wants to keep talking to Steve. Forget the music video and forget the fact that Lou is standing inside, probably pissed at Eddie, he instantly wants to throw everything away as beg Steve for a second chance.

By the look on Steve's eyes it's like he can see Eddie's intentions clearly, but then Chrissy is pulling him in and waving at Steve like this is normal. Nothing about this is fucking normal and now Eddie needs to survive Lou if he wants to have a shot at talking to Steve.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #rockstar AU #second chance romance #steddie fic #to be honest I have no idea what I'm doing #so we're just hoping for the best #part 3 will be here soon!

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spliffymae · 1 year

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musicproducer!connie…

kio’s notes - some sfw headcanons inspired by this connie fic i read on wp a while back. it was my first connie fic and the start of this connie brain rot. i wish it was still up 🤧 shit was soooo good!

also inspired by @chrollohearttags rockstar!eren series and @privateparty3 rapper!connie

also check this

⊱ ──────── {.⋅ ✺ ⋅.}──────── ⊰

now let me say this,

connie mfn springer had a golden ear!

he could make a song out of anything, truth be told. his abuela used to tell him he was blessed with “god’s gift.” yeah, he had a voice as soothing and smooth as velvet. but put it over a track with a piano medley and some soft beats, oh baby! the man had a voice that made the greek muses swoon.

musicproducer!connie had a couple of his own songs out on streaming platforms. he mostly used spotify and apple music for his official music, and soundcloud for official music or for quick ideas he wanted his followers to hear. he loved singing, but not as much as he loved to create. producing was where connie truly felt he belonged. he couldn’t count the number of times he’s fallen asleep at his desk, drooling on his piano keys because he pulled an all nighter to finish a song because he got a sound stuck in his head and just needed to bring it to life.

(honorable mentions to the times he hears songs not by him and thinks “i can make this better” and just completely changed the entire vibe of the song)

but musicproducer!connie loved sounds. everything and anything had potential to be a song. whether it be the crunching of the fall leaves under his boot, or the bounce of the basketball he dribbled in his backyard court, or even the sound of his car’s indicator—connie found music in any sound.

if you asked musicproducer!connie what he couldn’t live without, he would describe to you in detail his music setup. his laptop, the hard drive with all his songs, his drum pad, his bass guitar, his red beats headphones, the software he uses…he would go on forever!

musicproducer!connie would be the genius behind his friends’ music as well. they would come to him either with a chopped up idea of what they wanted or sometimes come to him empty handed with nothing but a hope. either way, connie would be sitting in his home studio with his friends, working on a song. he loved helping them, so he looked at it as great bonding time too.

musicproducer!connie was also quite big on social media. he had a following of 700k on instagram and over a million listeners across his streaming services. he also had a twitch, where he would post at least twice a week, one of those times being him making instrumentals from scratch with his viewers watching and helping. he loved to interact with his followers. knowing there were people out there who connected with his music on a deep level made him so happy. hell, the first single he dropped he was kicking his feet at all the supportive feedback he was getting.

musicproducer!connie even did shows here and there! they would be house shows, with maybe 1000 people at least. he would sing some of his hits, but would mainly be the dj, working the booth for his friends. he always and only performed with his friends.

honestly, music was everything to connie and then some. it was his passion. it was what made him who he is. but most of all, it was something he always did with you.

yessir! musicproducer!connie would be telling a lie if he said he became the artist he is today on his own. if it weren’t for you, he probably would’ve quit a long time ago, when his sophomore project didn’t receive as much hype/attention as his debut.

you were always his biggest fan, though. you would use your social media following to promote his work, much to connie’s joy. what he loved more than sharing his music was you sharing it, because in turn you would be showcasing the relationship between you and connie to your hundreds of thousands of followers.

like those times he would be sitting on the floor of his living room, creating a song on his laptop. you would be behind him, sitting between the couch and him with the side of your face pressed against his back. he would be in his own world with his headphones on, you would be busy on your phone, and yet connie felt it was one of the best ways to spend time with you.

your glossy lips would be in a faint pout as you recorded yourself, stretching your arm up and out to show connie’s entire back, this tan freckled skin showcasing the tense of his muscles whenever he would reach for his pen to scribble away notes in his notebook.

you would simply post the video to your snapchat, captioning it “1/2 of us is in their creative bag rn”. you would follow up that snap with another short video, this time it being you leaving small kisses along the expanse of connie’s back. because of your gloss the lip prints were visible and you would smile mischievously.

musicproducer!connie loved you. he loved to have you near him. so when he would go on these red carpet events with his friends, you would be at his side, the two of you dressed beautifully as you smiled for the cameras. connie would make it his mission to have you flustered the whole night, giving you soft neck kisses and whispering both sweet and naughty things in your ear while he held you close. like,

“you look so beautiful tonight, i’m so lucky to have you, mi cielita.”

“i can’t wait to take this off of you, baby.. give you the proper attention you deserve.”

“been missing my lil’ songbird so much.” he would just miss the shell of your ear with his teeth, looking down at you with his eyes droopy with lust. “have you missed me, baby?”

“of course, baby. but the show ain’t even start yet.” you said with a squeal, already feeling the blood rush straight to your cheeks. there was no doubt the cameras caught that. if they somehow didn’t, then they sure must’ve captured the lovestruck look connie gave you whenever his eyes would fall on you.

“i can’t help it, mami. just love having you.” he would mumble, giving you the softest of pecks as to not mess up your lipstick.

musicproducer!connie was in deep when it came to you. and if it wasn’t obvious by the way he showered you with physical affection, then it must be from the way he had you as his producer tag, the five second audio starting with you giggling, then in your best ‘smooth r&b’ voice, saying “issa connie springer production.” connie remembers the first project he used that on—a joint lover’s ep onyankopon wanted him on. til this day, how many years later, every time a song from the ep comes on, your cheeks get hot and body all tingly at the flustered feeling that overwhelms you. it was your first time ever being on a record

musicproducer!connie used you for a lot of his songs, it was mainly on the background vocals of different projects he would do. but he also used you as inspiration. he moonlighted as a songwriter, mainly helping other artists with filler lyrics or strengthening what they already have. it would be rare connie was asked to write a song start to finish, but whenever he did, he found he was thinking back to your relationship. both good and bad times, just thinking of you filled him with enough inspiration to create several masterpieces.

yeah, musicproducer!connie loves you. he has what seems to be an endless amount of ways to express his love to you. but if all else fails, he knows his music will do it’s job every. damn. time.

#ﾟ aot╤╤｡ 𖠋 #🌞🍃spliffymae #connie springer #connie x black reader #connie springer x blackfemreader #connie aot #music producer connie #connie attack on titan #fluff #im most def making this a series

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virgoilluminati · 3 months

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A Match Made in England

Episode 1: Just two kids from england; the ups and downs of football...

A/N: This got put as mature (i have no idea why hahah) so I've re-uploaded it to make sure it's appropriate.

Series Masterlist | Next part

Episode 1

Settling into the inviting cushions, you became a tableau of spring comfort. The distant hum of a camera being activated blended seamlessly with the rustling leaves outdoors. Levi, the seasoned producer with a knack for drawing out personal narratives, sat across from you. His demeanor was calm yet engaging, a reassuring presence amid the studio's buzzing equipment.

"Okay, where to begin..." you mused aloud.

Levi nodded thoughtfully. "What about signing for England?"

The scene transitions to a bustling pressroom years earlier, where a 17-year-old you, with long, flowing hair cascading down your back, sat nervously next to Sarina Weigman after being signed to the England national team.

Reporters leaned forward eagerly, their cameras clicking and pens poised.

One interviewer asked, "Y/N, you're the youngest Lioness to join the senior team. Do you feel the weight of expectations?"

With a shy smile, your long hair framing your face, you responded, "Honestly, it's an honor to be here. I'm just going to give my best and learn from these incredible players and coaches."

Another reporter chimed in, "Y/N, what do you think you bring to the team at such a young age?"

You took a moment, glancing at Sarina for reassurance. "I think I bring a fresh perspective and a lot of energy. I know I have a lot to learn, but I'm eager to soak up as much as I can from my teammates and coaches. Being young means I have time to grow and improve."

The flashback showed you nervously twiddling your fingers as more questions came your way.

"Do you feel any pressure considering your brother's legacy in football?" one reporter asked, the question hanging heavily in the air.

Your smile faltered for a brief second before you composed yourself. "Of course, there's always pressure when you're following in the footsteps of someone successful. But I'm here to make my own mark and contribute to the team in my own way."

Cutting to a childhood flashback, you and your older brother Noah were seen playing football in the backyard, his encouraging voice guiding your early steps in the sport.

Back in the present, you ran your fingers through your now slightly shorter hair, reflecting on that moment with Levi."

"I probably would've lied back then and said I had nothing to prove. At the time, I truly hated people who asked me about my age," you laughed. "I hated people knowing I was so much younger than everyone else, you know. I guess I felt belittled and also very undermined."

Levi looked intrigued. "How come?"

You sighed, thinking back. "I don't know, when I look back on it now, l'm like damn, you know. I was just a kid. The amount of pressure I was under—"

The little screen continued to display snippets of that press conference, overlaying the commentary, "Y/N Morrison, only 17 when she first started playing for England. Now, at 19, she stands as the youngest player in the senior squad."

Levi leaned forward with genuine curiosity. "Can you tell us more about Noah? How did he influence your journey in football?"

Another childhood flashback played out, this time of you and Noah practicing together, his supportive presence shaping your early skills and love for the game.

Levi continued, his voice gentle and probing. "Do you think some of that pressure came from your brother and the legacy he left behind?"

An awkward pause hung in the air before you let out a light laugh, breaking the tension. "Uh, yeah. Haha- I don't think being the sister of an already well-known Morrison did me any favors, no."

As the crew members bustled around, adjusting cameras and discussing logistics for the next segment, you took a moment to collect yourself, reflecting on the profound journey you had just shared and preparing to continue with the interview.

The screen seamlessly transitioned into a poignant montage. One particular video clip unveiled a pivotal moment in your shared narrative. It was a chilly evening at a local pitch, where a younger you, barely a teenager, kicked the ball around with a sense of determination mirrored in Noah's watchful gaze. This seemingly ordinary moment turned out to be a precursor to the journey that awaited you.

The video shifted to a rainy afternoon at a school tournament, where Noah, now a mentor as well as a brother, stood on the sidelines cheering your every move.

The camera caught a glimpse of Noah sharing insights and encouragement, laving the foundation for a dvnamic that encouragement, laying the foundation for a dynamic that extended beyond sibling ties.

As the montage continued, it unfolded a series of snapshots: Noah consoling you after a tough loss, the two celebrating victories with infectious joy, and the subtle exchange of nods and smiles that spoke of an unspoken understanding. Your story went beyond the spotlight, a tale of shared passion, shared defeats, and the unwavering support that siblings uniquely understand. Y/N Morrison, shaped by the echoes of Noah's footsteps, began to carve her own narrative in the beautiful game.

The scenes shifted to a day of reckoning, the moment you received your call-up to the national team. Noah, now a seasoned player, embraced you in a tight hug, the pride in his eyes telling a story of shared dreams realized. And then, the turning point. Y/N Morrison, amidst her brother's legacy, emerged as a rising star in her own right. The torch passed not just through genes but through a bond forged on countless pitches, a bond that shaped you into the player you are today.

In a touching moment, the montage included a clip where, as soon as a match ended, Noah handed his sweat-soaked shirt to you—a symbolic gesture of support and shared triumphs.

As the montage concluded, the screen faded back to the interview room, where your reflective gaze spoke volumes.

Levi, now deeply moved by the narrative that had unfolded, adjusted his notes and looked at you with a newfound respect for your journey.

The interviewer, acknowledging the depth of your shared journey, posed one final question.

Interviewer: "Looking back now, how do you see your role within the legacy you and Noah have created in the football world?"

You, with a thoughtful smile: "I see it as a story still unfolding. Noah laid the foundation, and now I'm building upon it. lum-"

Levi nodded approvingly, allowing the weight of your words to resonate in the room. However, the interview had ventured into personal territory, and you couldn't shake off the vulnerability that surfaced with the last question.

Emily, noticing your unease, interjected gently, "Why don't we take five, everyone? Y/N, take your time. We can continue whenever you're ready."

You nodded gratefully, feeling a mix of emotions after reliving such intimate moments of your journey.

You walked off the set, feeling a whirlwind of emotions after the intense interview. Emily followed closely behind, her pace matching your thoughtful stride.

"Did I do okay?" You asked with a hint of uncertainty. "I stumbled at the end—"

"You did great, Y/N! Don't worry," Emily reassured her with a warm smile. "These guys can be quite intense, don't worry I'm sure Jude is in Madrid right now, getting the same level of interrogation. Why don't you wait here—" She gestured towards the makeshift living room that had been set up in one of the spare rooms. "I'll call you back in ten?"

You nodded gratefully, finding comfort in Emily's words. You entered the cozy room, furnished with plush cushions and soft lighting, and sat down on the comfortable sofa. The room exuded a sense of calm, a stark contrast to the a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the studio outside.

As you waited, you pulled out your phone and began scrolling through messages. Moments later, a text from Jude popped up.

Jude: Hey there, dove! How's the hot seat treating you?

You grinned at his message, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood.

Y/N: Surviving so far! They didn't ask me about my secret dance moves yet.

Jude: Phew, dodged one there! Remember, if all else fails, just dazzle them with your best dance move.

You chuckled softly, enjoying your playful banter despite the distance between them. You felt a surge of warmth and affection for Jude, grateful for his ability to make you smile even in challenging moments.

Your messages continued, Jude teasing you about his own interviews and you responding with playful comebacks.

Jude: Hey, have you thought any more about Madrid?

You hesitated, your heart sinking as you read his message.

You took a deep breath before responding.

Y/N: Jude, please. I can't have this conversation again.

Jude: It's been six months, Y/N. First it was the press mania, then it was your sister's baby, now it's this TV show. When are we going to talk about it?

Your fingers hovered over the screen, conflicted emotions swirling inside you.

Y/N: My answer hasn't changed, Jude. I love you, but I love my life here too. Things are finally starting to settle down, and—

Jude: No, they're not. You're lethargic, you're sitting out almost every game now, you're always not sleeping-

Your heart raced, tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn't bear to have this argument again.

Y/N: I've been helping my sister, Jude.

Jude: But it's not just that, is it? Your barely eating, your constantly distracting yourself with work. You need to take a break.

You felt a pang of guilt. You knew Jude was right, but you weren't ready to face that reality.

Y/N: Jude, I can't have this row again.

Jude: Y/N, I'm trying to be there for you, but you won't let me in!

You closed her eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks as she struggled to find the right words. Your eyes scroll along judes words once more, lethagic, trouble sleeping, weak fitness, trouble eating...

He was right of course. Ever since the end of the world cup, you had become incredibly tired, with limited energy for the basics of tasks. You had made excuses that it was the press interviews, the constant ware and tare of family life and fame, or even sometimes just thinking you weren't getting enough hours. Deep down, you knew it was something more.

As much as you would regret it, there was a part of you that wished it was a ACL injury, something that yes would take time to heal, but could be cured. Atleast you'd know what was wrong with you. Instead whatever kept you up at night, made it difficult to keep down food and made it impossible to stay on top in football games, was tearing both you and your relationship with Jude apart

Setting your phone down on the sofa, you walked over to the kitchenette area to pour herself a glass of water. As you stood there, contemplating your next move, you felt a sudden pang in her abdomen—a sharp cramp that caught you off guard.

You winced, clutching your stomach as you leaned against the counter. It wasn't the first time you'd felt this way lately, but it was a stark reminder of your ongoing health struggles.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, you returned to the sofa and picked up your phone. With a determined expression, she typed out a message to Jude.

Y/N: Good luck with your match tonight. See you monday

Jude sat in a cozy room tucked away within the Real Madrid training grounds, the distant echoes of his teammates preparing for their final training session before the upcoming match seeping through the slightly ajar door. His phone buzzed incessantly with messages from you. With a faint sigh, he retrieved it from his pocket and read your latest text:

"Good luck with your match tonight. See you Monday x." His jaw tightened in frustration; you had once again changed the subject, avoiding the difficult conversation he knew you were reluctant to have.

"Jude, you still with us?" Romeo's voice cut through his reverie. Jude blinked, refocusing on the Spanish producer seated across from him. "Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry about that." He slipped his phone back into his pocket, mentally shifting gears to engage in the interview.

Romeo chuckled knowingly. "No worries. Let's continue.

Your journey in football-from your early days in Birmingham to now playing for Real Madrid-has been remarkable. How do you reflect on your career so far?"Jude nodded thoughtfully, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes.

"It's been a whirlwind, mate. Starting out at Birmingham City as a young lad, then moving to Dortmund, and finally landing here at Madrid-it's been nothing short of a dream come true. Each step has taught me invaluable lessons, both on and off the pitch."

Leaning forward with interest, Romeo probed further."You've undoubtedly faced numerous challenges along the way. What would you consider the biggest challenge of your career?"

Jude grinned wryly, his mind drifting momentarily to thoughts of you. "Well, besides dodging defenders on the pitch, adapting to different leagues and cultures has been quite the challenge. Each club has its own unique style and expectations. But hey, I thrive on challenges; they've helped me evolve as both a player and a person."

Romeo's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "And what about the immense pressure of playing for a club as prestigious as Real Madrid? How do you manage that?"

A faint smile tugged at Jude's lips as he thought of his experiences. "Oh, you know, I just pretend I'm still kickin' it back in Brum with me mates. Nah, seriously though, the pressure is immense, but it's also an incredible privilege. Playing for Real Madrid demands peak performance every day. I rely on my training regimen, the banter with my teammates, and saying focused on my goals."

Romeo chuckled at Jude's casual demeanor. "Looking ahead, what are your personal and professional aspirations for the future?"

Jude leaned back, considering. "Well, professionally, I want to keep raising the bar, winning titles with Real Madrid, and maybe snaggin' a few Player of the Year awards along the way. But personally, I want to be there for the people who matter most to me, supporting 'em in every way I can."

Picking up on the personal note, Romeo inquired further.

"Family and relationships seem pivotal in your life. How do you manage to balance the demands of your career with your personal commitments?"

Jude's expression softened with a genuine warmth as he thought of you. "Ah, it's a juggle, mate. But having a strong support system makes all the difference. My family, friends, and my girlfriend-they keep me grounded. Despite the challenges and the distances, we find ways to make it work."

Romeo nodded, impressed by Jude's candid responses.

"Thank you for sharing your journey with us, Jude. It's been a pleasure."

"Cheers, Romeo," Jude replied warmly, though his thoughts were still partly occupied by concerns for you. As the interview concluded, he couldn't shake off the growing determination to support you, despite your stubbornness. It reminded him of the first time he had got sick, a couple weeks after they had moved into your family home.

Jude lay in bed, feeling utterly miserable. His head throbbed, his throat felt like sandpaper, and every muscle ached. He had caught a nasty bug, and it was knocking him down hard. Despite his condition, he had a match later that day, and he knew he had to rally.

You, always the caretaker, had spent the entire morning fussing over him, bringing him tea and making sure he took his medication. You were a natural nurse, your concern evident in the way you flitted around the room, fetching blankets and adjusting pillows.

"You really don't have to stay," Jude protested weakly, though secretly grateful for your presence.

You chuckled softly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "Of course I do. Who else is going to make sure you don't forget to take your medicine?"

Jude managed a weak smile, reaching out to grasp your hand. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

"Just rest," you insisted, squeezing his hand gently before heading out to run some errands.

The next morning, Jude woke up feeling marginally better but was still under the weather. You, on the other hand, woke up feeling awful. Your head pounded, your nose was stuffed, and you felt like you hadn't slept at all. Despite feeling under the weather, you stubbornly insisted on going about your day as usual. You had meetings to attend and training sessions to oversee-there was no time to be sick.

Jude watched you with increasing concern as you hurried around the apartment, trying to ignore your symptoms.

"Y/N, maybe you should stay home today," he suggested again, his voice laced with worry. "You look like you could use some rest."

You waved off his concern with a weak smile. "I'll be fine, Jude. It's just a cold. I can't afford to miss work today."

Jude sat up in bed, his expression earnest. "I know you're tough, but pushing yourself when you're sick won't do you any favors. Let me take care of you for a change."

You paused, torn between your determination and Jude's heartfelt plea. You sighed, knowing he had a point but not wanting to admit defeat. "I have so much to do today, Jude. I can't just stay home."

Reluctantly, Jude nodded, knowing from experience that you were fiercely independent and determined once you set your mind to something. "Okay, but promise me you'll take it easy," he said softly.

Hours later, you returned home earlier than expected, your face flushed and your eyes watery. You sank onto the couch with a defeated sigh, clutching a box of tissues.

"What." You sniffle, your eyebrows frowning.

"Nothing." Jude says with a glint of a smirk.

"Stop smiling." You respond

"I'm sorry, it's just i told you so."

Jude, seeing your exhausted state, moved closer and gently took the tissues from your hands. "Why don't you let me make you dinner tonight?" he suggested, his voice tinged with concern. "You've pushed yourself enough today."

You looked up at him with a stubborn glint in your eyes, still not fully willing to concede. "That actually sounds really nice," you admitted reluctantly, finally allowing yourself to relax.

Jude smiled warmly, relieved to see you starting to unwind. "I'll take care of everything. You just rest and recover," he said softly, knowing that even in your stubbornness, you trusted him to take care of you when you needed it most.

But now, he wasn't so sure. Ever since the World Cup he had begun to see a change in you. You were absent most days, granted he was in Madrid which didn't help, but even on days when you could have dinner together, your mind was always somewhere else.

He understood the pressure of being the world champions, the demands to make public appearances, but sometimes he wished that you hadn't won. Not because you didn't deserve it, but because it was taking a huge toll on you and there was very little he could do about it.

***********

Leah glanced over at you with a raised eyebrow as you took a breather during your training session at Arsenal's practice ground. You had been noticeably tense all morning, and Leah, her teammate and close friend, couldn't help but address the elephant in the room.

"Yeah, okay, but what's up with you two at the moment?" Leah asked bluntly, wiping sweat from her brow. "You keep picking at each other like cats in a sack."

You sighed, your frustration evident as you leaned against the goalpost. "It's just... we've been on edge lately. You know how Jude can be sometimes."

Leah nodded knowingly. "He's a good guy, but he can be a bit cheeky," she remarked, recalling a recent incident.

"Remember that comment he made last week? You were fuming."

You rolled her eyes, her irritation flaring again. "Yeah, and rightfully so. Sometimes he doesn't think before he speaks."

Leah gave you a sympathetic look. "Look, I get it. But you two have been solid for ages. Maybe it's just a rough patch.

You should talk it out."

You sighed heavily, running a hand through her sweaty hair.

"I know.. it's just been one thing after another. First the media frenzy, then family stuff, now this reality show nonsense he's pushing for. It's like we're not on the same page anymore."

Leah nodded in understanding. "Relationships take work, especially with all the craziness in your lives. But you guys are strong. Don't let a few bumps get in the way."

You nodded thoughtfully, grateful for Leah's perspective.

"You're right. I'll talk to him. Thanks, Leah."

Leah flashed you a reassuring smile. "Anytime. Now, let's finish this training strong. No distractions!"

With renewed determination, you and Leah resumed their training, focusing on their drills and pushing themselves to perform at their peak. The afternoon sun beat down on the training ground, casting long shadows as you ran through your routines.

As you practiced, you couldn't shake Leah's words from your mind. You knew Leah was right-you needed to address the tension with Jude before it escalated further but as much as you wanted to clear the air, doubts nagged at you.

Leah noticed your distracted demeanor and decided to lighten the mood. "Hey, Y/N, remember that game against Chelsea last season?" she asked with a grin.

You chuckled, grateful for the diversion. "Oh, don't remind me. That was a tough one."

"Yeah, but you scored that amazing goal in the last minute!" Leah exclaimed, mimicking the commentator's excitement.

"The look on their faces was priceless."

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. "Yeah, that was a good moment."

You continued your banter, reminiscing about past matches and sharing stories from your time on the pitch. Despite the weight of your conversation earlier, you found herself enjoying the camaraderie with Leah, grateful for her support.

You and Leah resumed their training drills at Arsenal's practice ground, your focus returning to the swift exchanges and precise footwork demanded on the pitch. The air was alive with the sound of coaches' instructions and the rhythmic thud of balls being kicked.

After a particularly intense sprint, you paused, a slight grimace crossing you face as she clutched her abdomen.

Leah, noticed this, her brow furrowing with worry. You had been training together for years, and Leah had noticed your occasional bouts of discomfort over the past few months, especially since the incident during the World Cup where you collapsed briefly.

Leah slowed her pace, coming alongside you. "Hey, Y/N," she began cautiously, "perhaps what I should be asking is, whats up with you lately?"

You sigh defeatedly, indicating to the pain in your stomach. "It's cramps. "They come and go, but they've been worse lately. It's stopping me from sleeping and making it hard to eat-"

Leah's expression softened with concern. "Since the World Cup?"

You nodded, avoiding Leah's gaze for a moment. "Yeah. It started then, but I didn't think much of it at first."

Leah frowned, her mind racing with possibilities. "Have you seen a doctor?"

You hesitated, her voice quieter now. "Not yet. l've been putting it off. I don't want it to be a big deal."

Leah shook her head gently. "Ah now i understand Jude's frustration recently. Y/N, your health is important. You can't keep ignoring this."

You sighed again, your frustration evident. "I know, I know. I just... I don't want it to affect my game, you know? And with everything else going on..."

Leah nodded sympathetically. "I get it. But you can't keep pushing yourself like this. Promise me you'll see someone soon?"

You met Leah's gaze, her resolve firming. "Yeah. I promise."

********

You stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your emerald green dress. The soft candlelight flickered around you, casting a warm glow in Jude's apartment. You had gone the extra mile tonight, not just with your appearance but also in preparing a special meal for Jude. As you heard the door open, you turned to see Jude entering the room.

"You look stunning," Jude said softly, a brief smile appearing on his face as he closed the door behind him.

"Thank you," you replied with a shy smile, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation. "I thought we could use a quiet evening together. No cameras, no distractions just us!"

Jude nodded, his eyes lingering on you appreciatively. "It's perfect," he murmured, though his mind was still clouded with the tension between you.

You sat down to dinner, the delicious aroma filling the room as you exchanged polite conversation about work and football. Jude was keen to lighten the mood, steering the conversation towards a recent match.

"So, what did you think of our performance against Barcelona?" Jude asked, taking a sip of wine.

You smiled, grateful for the change in topic. "I thought you guys played brilliantly in the second half. That goal you scored was top-notch."

Jude grinned, a hint of pride in his voice. "Thanks. It was a tough match, but we pulled through."

As you continued discussing tactics and upcoming fixtures, Jude noticed how you winced slightly every now and then, how you seemed to sit more rigidly than usual.

"You seem a bit off tonight," Jude remarked gently, reaching across the table to take your hand. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitated, your gaze flickering away for a moment.

"Yeah, just tired from the week, I guess," you replied, forcing a smile.

Jude searched your eyes, sensing there was more you weren't saying. "You know you can talk to me, right?" he said softly. "I'm here for you."

You nodded, grateful for his understanding, but unable to voice your worries just yet. The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but the tension lingered between you.

After you finished your meal, Jude cleared the dishes while you tidied up the table. You could feel the pain in your abdomen intensifying, a relentless throb that seemed to squeeze your insides like a vice. You tried to push through it, not wanting to spoil the evening.

Jude glanced over at you, concern etched on his face.

"Damn it, y/n" Jude's voice echoed through the kitchen, frustration and worry pouring out in a torrent. "How can we be together if you won't let me in? Do you even trust me?"

You froze, your heart sinking at the raw honesty in his words.

You knew he was right, knew you had been keeping him at arm's length out of fear and stubbornness.

"I made dinner tonight to try to change this, but we keep arguing," you retorted, your voice tinged with frustration and hurt.

"You keep doing this to yourself, y/n!" Jude's voice cracked with emotion, his frustration palpable. "Pushing yourself until you can't anymore. Why won't you let me help you?"

You looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, your face contorted with pain. "I'm sorry," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to ruin tonight. I just wanted one night... ONE night where it wasn't about how I was feeling. I wanted to celebrate you-."

Jude takes a sigh, loading a couple of dishes into the dishwasher before turning back over to you. "And this is surely the best way to celebrate me- being quiet and constantly wincing in pain-."

"No- !" You try to finish your sentence before the pain pulls you down, you stabilise yourself on the edge of the table, dropping a fork on the ground. A annoyed sigh leaves your body, as you attempt to pick up the fork. Jude glances over, reminding himself, that despite how stupid you could be, he still cared about you.

Jude turned around at the sound of your stifled sob, his annoyance quickly giving way to concern as he saw you doubled over in agony. Without a word, he crossed the kitchen in quick strides, his heart pounding with worry.

As he glances over, he see's your weak body, attempting to keep you from falling down. Jude's expression softened, guilt washing over him as he realised how much you had been hiding from him. As he saw your body give way, he closed the distance between you, gently taking your arm to support you.

"Hospital. Now," Jude said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nodded weakly, clutching his hand tightly as you hurried out the door, the weight of your unspoken fears finally giving way to a shared resolve to confront whatever lay ahead.

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