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dira333 · 7 months

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Of Lovers and Friends - Ushijima x Reader

thank you @screamin-abt-haikyuu talking to you is inspiring

If you find a typo, I wrote this instead of going to bed. Goodnight.

“Just a Tonic Water, please,” You order, well aware of all the eyes on you.

“Are you sick?” Kindaichi asks, already pressing a hand against your forehead.

“Pregnant?” Kunimi’s next, though less serious.

“As if, you can’t get pregnant from RPG,” Makki points out, licking foam off his lip.

“You would know,” you tell him, a little peeved, as you push Kindaichi away.

“I’m fine. I just have a date later.”

Yahabi whistles, clearly impressed. God, you need to amp up your game. This is just sad.

“Who is it?” Kyoutani asks, forever your best friend. Or at least the one guy who’s seemingly the least interested in teasing you.

“I don’t know, my Mom set us up. She went to school with his Mom or something like that. I just know that he plays Volleyball and is about my age.”

“Could be anyone,” Watari mumbles into his Aperol Spritz.

“Could be Ushijima,” Mattsun jokes, causing Makki to choke on his beer, spluttering as he bellows out a laugh.

“Can you imagine? That would be hilarious!”

“Har har har,” you thank the waitress for your drink and lean back in your chair, “Can we change the topic? Does Makki have a job yet?”

“Uncalled for!” Makki points an accusing finger at you. “And no. But a little birdy told me that Kyoutani’s got a fangirl.”

Kyoutani blushes, glaring into his drink. The girl must mean something to him if he’s trying to pull himself together like this. You swerve to look at Kindaichi who’s managed to spill his diet coke - again.

“What about you? Did you call that girl we met at the coffee shop?”

“No,” he ducks his head. “I didn’t. I was… I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

“Yeah, well, you did,” Makki lets his eyes wander as usual, “Tell you what. There’s a nice girl with her friends two tables over. We’ll get you her number but you have to call. Or at least send her some funny memes, okay?”

“Okay,” Kindaichi’s looking at you. Makki’s looking at you.

You groan and get up. “Next time you get someone else to get that number, okay? This is the last time.”

“Love you too, pumpkin!” Makki calls after you as you make your way over. These patterns have turned familiar.

You should have gotten a beer, you think two hours later as you wait, your legs twitching with anxiety.

You’ve been painfully single for so long that you can’t help but feel you should have worn a dress or at least something more fancy than the jeans and top combo you’re sporting. But it’s comfy and it sets you at ease. And you’ve always been an advocate for being yourself on the first date. If they don’t like you like that, they won’t matter anyway.

So far that has brought you a lot of first dates and not a lot of second dates.

A deep voice calls out your name. You turn, your hands clutching the single purple carnation you had to bring - your mother’s idea.

You spot the flower first, a tiny purple thing held in massive hands. He’s tall, impressively so. You let your eyes wander up as he walks over, the flickering street light casting long shadows over his face until he’s reached you and the soft warm glow of the restaurant behind you.

Your heart skips a painful beat as he attempts a rather forced smile.

“Ushijima-kun,” you stutter, the confidence earned in twenty-something years shattered and replaced by the anxious brain of a teenager.

He offers you his hand, the one without the flower and you take it. His palm swallows yours, his grip warm and firm. If you can blend out the history your team has with his, that your friends have with him, you can give him a chance, right?

“Are you close with your mother?” He asks in the tense moment when the food’s already been ordered and the drinks aren’t served yet. It’s the worst possible question to ask, too, because no, you’re not close. Not since she went through with the divorce, unable to settle with a man ever since, as dissatisfied with them as she is with life, her business, you.

You don’t ramble often, but you do when you’re nervous.

If he’s taken aback by the flood of words, of trauma seemingly long overcome, he does not show. He’s like a rock, sitting steadfast in the crashing river of your emotions, unmoving, sturdy.

When you’re finished, throat a little dry, he nods slowly.

“My parents are divorced as well,” he says. You wonder if he’s told it often.

“How was it for you?” You ask and the surprise in his eyes tells you that he hasn’t been asked this before.

His tale is told more slowly. He hands out information bit by bit, always confirming that you’re still listening, still interested in what he has to say about this topic. You share a bottle of wine over his parent's divorce, the main dish just an accessory to the topic at hand.

When his words run dry and the last drop of wine is poured into your glass, your mind a little fuzzy and his lips tinted a little blue, you are full and empty at the same time. All the anxiety has left you over dinner.

Seijoh and your friends are far, far away but Ushijima - Wakatoshi, as he asks you to call him - is right there.

“Do you want to share dessert?” You ask and his eyes light up with a new emotion, one you haven’t seen before on him. It’s a little softer, makes him look a little younger, maybe.

“Do you like chocolate?” He asks, leaning forward a bit as if to share a secret.

“Who doesn’t?” You ask back and learn about his best friend.

“This was nice,” you say when he walks you to the train station, slowing his steps to be in tune with yours. The cold night air does wonders for your fuzzy brain but the chill is less pleasant. You shiver.

“Here.” A warm weight settles over your shoulders. His jacket drapes over your skin like it was made for this. It smells good, too.

It’s not the first time you wonder if there will be a second date. But it’s the first time you really, really hope there is.

The train station appears much too soon. You want to prolong this evening, stay longer in this emotion that you cannot name. But you’re a realist at heart and you slip his jacket off before you become too used to its warmth.

“Keep it,” his large hand stops your movement, easily takes hold of yours. “You can give it back the next time.”

“Next time?” You ask, unable to keep that hopeful tone out of your voice.

“I don’t have much free time,” Wakatoshi explains, “Could we meet again in a week? Same time, same place?”

You nod, much too eager to come off as nonchalant. It reminds you of Kindaichi, but you cannot bring yourself to care. You give him your number and feel your lips slip into a smile when he immediately texts you so that you have his as well.

Overhead your trains arrival is announced. You turn, still unwilling to part.

“Until Friday,” Wakatoshi says, one last wave. “Good night.”

- - -

You sleep well, better than you have in days.

It’s only when you wake up that you realize what this means.

You have a second date. The first in a long time.

But as excited as you are for it, dread still settles in your stomach. How on earth will you explain this to your friends?

The answer is, you don’t.

When you meet up for beers and games on wednesday, Makki consolingly pats your shoulder. He seems to think your date went awful and you do nothing to correct him. You only feel a little guilty. It’s his fault for not even asking.

The others seem to already have forgotten. The news of Kindaichi getting a first date is more exciting and you let yourself get dragged into it, give him fashion advice - that goes ignored - and laugh with the others when Yahaba tries to fix his hair.

It’s only Friday afternoon that your nerves make themselves known.

Surely there’s nothing wrong in dressing similar again. Wakatoshi didn’t seem to mind and neither should you.

But you want to, you desperately want to… look a little better. You want him to look at you, unable to catch his breath, unable to form words, at least for a few seconds. Is that too much to ask for?

But you don’t own any Make-up, courtesy of rebelling against everything that makes you think of your mother. So you do the next best thing and call Mattsun.

“I’m not late,” he answers, immediately defensive. Right, you’re still on for drinks before the date. You can’t think about that now.

“I don’t care. Get your girlfriend on the phone, I need help.”

“What? Why?”

“Girls-stuff, you wouldn’t understand.”

Miri agrees to join you for drinks. According to her she won’t need more than ten minutes in the bar bathroom to give you a little bit of an extra kick.

“You don’t want to look too different to what he’s seen the last time,” she reasons as you go over the few options of fancier clothes you have.

You're anxious the whole time, nurse one soda after the other. Even Kunimi notices.

“Second date?” Kyoutani asks. Makki’s eyes widen in surprise. You hate it.

“Maybe,” you grumble, getting up to pee once more.

“What? You didn’t tell us the first one went well.”

“You didn’t ask,” you tell him as you make your escape to the bathroom. But this is Makki. He doesn’t let go of a topic.

“What’s his name?” He asks as soon as you’re back. “What team does he play for?”

“Let me get through this date first,” you huff, trying to sound more relaxed than you are.

“He’s nice?” Kyoutani asks, able to put a threat and a question and a whole lot of worry in those few words.

“Yeah,” you say, a little flustered just by the thought of him. The boys go silent around you.

“Wow, you really like that guy,” Mattsun points out.

“Shut up,” you grumble and empty your glass, calling for another. You don’t want to talk about it.

“Anyway,” Miri points out and you’ll forever be thankful for that, for her switching topics when you need it most, “Mattsun and I have decided to move together. We’re still debating about which apartment to move into, though.”

“Are you for real?” Makki’s always the first to put in his two cents, “Miri’s apartment is way better.”

Miri laughs. “Thank you Makki, I knew I could count on you.”

“There, done.” Miri steps away. You look at yourself in the mirror, the knots in your stomach slowly loosening. You don’t look like a clown, not like your mother either.

“What did you do?” You ask, a little perplexed by how long your lashes suddenly are.

“Mascara and some eyeliner. A little lipgloss too, you can reapply it when you’re at the restaurant.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. If you want, we can go shopping for some of this stuff. You don’t need much and I can show you how to do the little things you might want to do sometimes.”

“Ah,” you look away, embarrassed, “Let me get through this date first.”

Miri smiles, understanding visible in her eyes.

“Go get him, tiger,” she tells you when you part ways.

- - -

Wakatoshi is already waiting for you.

Warmth pools in your stomach when he stills at your sight, his eyes warm as they wander over your face.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you and you have to look away, too flustered to face him for a second.

“Am I not beautiful all the time?” You joke, hoping against hope that he does not notice the way your voice breaks slightly.

“Of course,” Wakatoshi tells you immediately, not an ounce of insincerity in his voice. You have to swallow twice before you’re able to talk again.

“You’re very pretty too,” your voice is doing funny things. You offer your hand to shake, a little unsure of what greeting is correct. He takes your hand in his, not to shake it, but to hold it all the way to the table and you’re unable to look anyone in the eyes until you’re seated, your insides a fluttery mess.

“Can I see you again?” Wakatoshi asks when you reach the train station, his jacket a comforting weight on your shoulders, your hand resting in his.

You nod, unable to hide your eagerness.

You can’t blame the buzzing of your mind on alcohol this time. He’s calmly explained that he can’t drink often with his strict diet, has to choose between dessert or a glass of wine most of the time. It didn’t feel right to drink when he wasn’t allowed to.

Somehow your conversations feel deeper, more meaningful without the alcohol coating them. You know he means it when he asks and he knows you mean it when you nod.

Overhead, your train is announced. You don’t let go of his hand.

“I could do a little walk,” you say, “What do you say?”

You kiss his cheek when you eventually part. His skin is soft and warm underneath your lips. It follows you into your dreams.

On Wednesday you get a text just as you head out to meet the boys for beers and games.

“I’ve got out of practice earlier. Do you want to go for a walk?”

You go back inside, put on the lipgloss Miri had lent you as you text him your confirmation. You think about kissing him and wipe it off again, unsure of what you want. In the end you put it into your pocket just in case.

“Can’t come today, I have another date,” you text the group chat.

Makki’s the first to answer, per usual, but his use of emojis has your anxiety rising so you put your phone on silent. You’ll deal with this on Friday.

It’s not yet time for the Sakura blossoms, but the park is beautiful anyway.

Not that you can focus on much besides the feeling of your hand in his, the way his voice rumbles in his chest as he talks about practice and his plans to meet up with his old teammates.

You like this, the calmness of it all. You like him, with his serious expression and his direct way of asking. You like how he never fails to ask how your day has been, how he’s interested in all aspects of your work, even the little ones that no one seems to care about.

You like him, a lot. And if the way he looks at you is any indication, he likes you too.

It’s when you’re on your way back, the setting sun bringing forth a chill, that someone calls your name.

You turn, your hand still firmly in Wakatoshi’s grasp, only to spot Kyoutani. He’s frozen on a near path and you know with certainty that he’s recognized your date. Your heart beats painfully in your throat and you feel sick.

“Everything okay?” Wakatoshi asks at the same time the girl next to Kyoutani pulls her massive scarf down to look at you. She looks familiar, blond hair, brown eyes, petite figure. It’s only when she opens her mouth to ask Kyoutani what’s going on that you recongize her. She’d been Karasuno’s volleyball manager. Yachi something.

Kyoutani seems to realize that you’ve recognized her because his face turns dark. He shakes his head at Yachi, points into the distance and leads her away.

You’re still frozen next to Wakatoshi, realization washing over you like the cold floods of the Tamagawa.

“Is everything okay?” He asks again, cradling your face in his hands to make you look at him. You blink to clear your mind, wish you could just lean into his touch and disappear forever.

“You know what school I went to, right?”

“Aoba Johsai, yes. You were a manager for their volleyball team.”

“Yes,” He must have realized the truth already, still he asks you to say it out loud. “I’m still friends with the team, like you are with yours. They are not… They’re not fans of you.”

“I understand.” Wakatoshi nods. His hands slip away from your face, you miss them immediately.

You didn’t plan for it to go like this. He’s got an uncanny ability to make you open yourself up. Being vulnerable feels less scary when it’s him.

He takes your hand again, guides you around the park for another round as you tell him all there is to know about your poor attempts at dating. How it sucks to be “just one of the boys” sometimes. How it hurts that they don’t even ask anymore if you’ve got a second date. How scary it is to admit to them that you’re dating him.

You bite your tongue after those last words. You’ve been on two dates so far, this is your third. Is it too forward to call this “dating”? What if he’s not-

“I understand if you want to keep this a secret for longer,” he says. His voice is heavy in a way that tells you that there’s more to it.

Two things can be true at the same time. Understanding it won’t mean that he’ll appreciate it.

“I will… I will try and talk to them,” you promise. And you will. Even if you could keep this a secret, you won’t if it hurts him. And you can tell that it hurts.

You wish you could kiss him goodbye. But you can tell that he’s distanced himself, put up a wall to protect his heart.

“On Wednesday we usually meet up to drink beer and play games,” you explain, wringing your hands, “They should all be there right now. Well, except Kyoutani. I will... I will go and talk to them right now.”

He nods. Your voice breaks a little when you ask. “Are we still- Are we still on for Friday?”

“Of course,” his deep voice soothes your anxious heart a little. You take a step forward and hug him, stiff and awkward, before you move back.

“I really like you, Wakatoshi,” you say before you can take it back, swallow it down, hide it from the world.

“I like you too.”

- - -

Makki is already buzzed when he opens the door.

It’s probably not the best time to talk about things like this, but you want to get this over with. If you talk about it now, the dust will settle by Friday. Or so you hope.

There’s an iPad on the coffee table, Iwaizumi and Oikawa grinning back at you. You accept a beer, almost drop it with how jumpy you are, your legs unable to stay still.

“So, how was your date?” Makki asks, cutting off one of Oikawa’s rants.

“Good,” you say and take another sip of beer, “We met Kyoutani at the park.”

“Oh?” Mattsun looks up from his phone. “So you met the girl he fancies?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, unwilling to give up his secret. He’s got his one fears to face.

“What you mean, dear Mattsun,” Makki teases, “Is that Kyoutani met her boyfriend.”

Oikawa gasps dramatically. “No way?! You got a boyfriend? Who is it!”

“Ushijima,” you say, ripping the bandaid off in one swoop.

Makki cackles, spurned on by Oikawa’s apparent confusion.

“Good one,” Mattsun jokes as Iwaizumi snorts. The younger players don’t think the joke’s that funny. It’s Kunimi who bothers you the most, his perceptive eyes locked onto your face.

“Guys,” he cuts through the laughter, “She’s serious.”

And it would have turned out better, you suppose, without the beer. Because Oikawa gets more petulant when drunk and Makki’s jokes are a bit less funny and a lot more mean when he’s buzzed. The younger guys don’t really know how to mediate. That has always been your job, or Iwaizumi’s. But the distance does not work in your favor.

You leave half an hour after you’ve arrived, angry tears streaming down your face.

It’s always the people closest to you that hurt you the most. They know what parts of you are the most sensible, and which parts of you are still bruised, still in the process of healing.

You press your phone to your ear.

Wakatoshi picks up right away.

“I talked to them,” you press out. Your voice is doing funny things again and you swallow back another wave of tears, less motivated by anger and more by hurt.

“Do you want to come over?” He asks and you don’t hesitate to agree.

It hurts to fight, to possibly lose good friends over something as stupid as old rivalries, but Wakatoshi is good at soothing over it, with warm hands and the gentle rumble of his voice as he holds you close.

You don’t meet up with the boys on Friday. No one has bothered to invite you.

You watch Wakatoshi practice instead, laughing about Kageyama who pesters you about how to better his form - you’re a licensed sports therapist after all - and teasing Hoshiumi who fake gags every time you throw Wakatoshi a kiss.

You move your date to Wakatoshi’s apartment, cook dinner together - it turns out pretty decent - and talk through the night. When you wake up in his arms on Saturday morning you know that you want this to go on, that you want this to be a relationship that lives instead of dies, one that strengthens over time.

- - -

You’re a little surprised to find Mattsun and Makki at your work.

It’s Wednesday and they should be working too, well, at least Mattsun should.

“Iwaizumi called us every day,” Mattsun admits eventually, “Apparently we’ve been dicks.”

“Yeah,” you tell him bluntly, noticing that Makki’s still stubbornly staring out of the window. “You were.”

“Oikawa’s still pissed,” Mattsun admits next, taking a seat in front of your desk. “But he’ll get around. Kunimi pointed out that it was a blind date. You didn’t actively pick him.”

“Even if-” You start but Mattsun just shakes his head. “It’s Oikawa. Logic does not pull.”

“I’m only apologizing-” Makki interrupts, huffs, and continues, “I’ll only apologize if you do too.” He glares at you. Mattsun’s looking too, though his eyes are softer.

Finally, you nod and get up, offering your hand for Makki to shake.

“I’m sorry I made fun of you. It’s not your fault that you got fired.”

He huffs again. You know that sound. He sounds like that when he’s trying not to cry. And you suppose you can’t fault him for that. Friends just know where it hurts the most.

But he shakes your hand, his grip a bit firmer than it needs to be.

“I’m sorry that I called you an ugly bitch that has no game.”

Suddenly you can’t help but laugh. It flows freely, from deep within, has you bending over the desk as you cackle. They laugh along, softly first before it breaks out of them too.

“All good?” Makki asks when you eventually calm down.

“All good,” you agree, looking over at Mattsun. He shrugs. “Don’t look at me, I’ve always been good.”

“Sure,” you joke, “But just so you know, I’ll bring Wakatoshi along tonight.”

Makki rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’ll smoke him at Mario Kart.”

As it turns out, however, Wakatoshi smokes him.

Who knew he had it in him?

-.- Warsaw -.-

The front door closes with a soft click, alerting you.

“Shh!” You hiss at the boys before turning toward the door of the living room.

“Hey honey, welcome home!”

“Hi,” Wakatoshi steps inside, spots the beer and your laptop screen and waves. “Beers and Games?”

“Yeah, but it’s not that important.” You get up to kiss him, ignoring Makki who’s trying to make a point of his importance. “You wanna go out to eat?”

“Can we stay in?” He asks, “There’s this new movie that Satori recommended.”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. “Go shower. I’ll make some food.”

He smiles and leans in for another kiss, waving at the camera before he leaves for the bathroom.

“So he doesn’t know, huh?” Mattsun asks as you pick up your laptop and carry it to the kitchen.

“No, I want to tell him tonight. Thanks for not spoiling it guys.”

“Anytime,” Kindaichi pipes in. You bet he’s got no clue what you’re talking about. “What are you making?”

“Golabki,” you answer, “Cabbage roles. I’ve been obsessed with these lately.”

You catch up while you cook, eager to hear more about Kindaichi’s budding relationship or Makki’s latest work adventure. Even Kyoutani contributes a lot today, proudly talking about how Yachi has won a prize for one of her designs.

At some point Wakatoshi appears, leaning into you as you work. He likes to be in the way when you facetime the team, thinks it’s funny that Makki has named him “the Log” or that he’s always blocking the drawer you need to get to the most.

“Move,” you tell him, pulling at his thighs. Behind him’s the cutlery you need to set the table.

“There’s a price for that,” he tells you quietly. You roll your eyes and move to kiss him. He shuffles slightly to the side, now blocking the cabinet that hides the plates.

It’s only after dinner, your laptop put away, the dishes done, that you find yourself back on the Couch, cuddled into him.

“Wakatoshi,” you address him, your hands shoved under his shirt. His eyes have closed but he’s still awake, you can tell by his breathing.

“Hmm?”

“Remember how we were talking about what we wanted to do on your next break?”

“Yes?” He opens one eye to squint at you. “Do you still want to go back to Japan?”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” you confess, “But we talked it through. It’s not feasible and I’ve got a better idea.”

That has him opening both his eyes. He can sense that something’s coming and you nestle further into him.

You like to surprise him, for sure. You love how quiet he gets when you do something special for him, almost unsure if he deserves it. If this is really just for him. But that doesn’t mean you don’t get flustered by your feelings for him once in a while.

“I got us tickets to Paris,” you tell him quietly. “Tendō already knows.”

When he pulls you close he doesn’t have to say anything. You already know.

He misses his best friend just as much as you miss yours.

#my writing #Ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #Ushijima fluff #angst to fluff #Haikyuu fluff #Haikxuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x you #haikyuu drabbles #hq x reader #seijoh #Seijoh Four #aoba johsai

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lovecla · 16 days

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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter seven:

➴ warnings: brief mention of smut

➴ word count: 2.4k

➴ author’s note: is the thing people say about rainstorms before rainbows true? i guess it’s time for soph and jack to find out. “happy” reading ♡

FALLING out of love was something you had yet to experience.

Of course, back then you thought you had fallen out of love with Harris, but soon you’d realize that you had never really loved him. It was some kind of strong admiration, a need to have someone to call yours, someone who you could write love songs for, someone who you could imagine yourself getting old with.

‘Course, none of those things happened with Harris, not even during your honeymoon phase. You were young when you started dating him, twenty-one and with no real idea of what love truly was.

So an older actor who thought you were cute?

It felt like you had hit the jackpot.

But now, as you try your hardest to forget what Jack meant— means— to you, you realize that it isn’t as easy as you initially thought it would be.

Jack is everywhere, occupying every corner of your mind. You remember how sweet he’d talk to you after sex, always treating you with kindness and making sure you were well taken care of. How he’d send you memes that were purely about Hockey even if you never understood what was so funny about them, how he’d get excited talking about his job and how he’d try to explain all the terms to you.

Despite what happened, Jack had made you so happy. It was sad to think that it was all probably a joke to him, but for you? No, it was real. So real. Every time you looked at his face, you reminded yourself that some things are not meant to last forever.

But God knew how much you wanted him to be your forever.

Keeping yourself busy was easy, and you were thankful for that. Your small concert, a week ago, filled you with so much joy and contentment— you were alive and not thinking about the middle child of the Hughes family for the first time in seven months.

Grace made sure that you took enough breaks but whenever you were alone with your thoughts for a long time, the first image your brain liked to share with you was Jack’s smile and Jack’s eyes and Jack’s nose and lips.

It was tiring.

You didn’t tell anyone, but you secretly watched his games when you were alone at night. You didn’t know much, but the experts keep saying that this is Hughes’ worst season and that he’s playing like shit, which, unfortunately, made you worry.

But you wouldn’t go back, you couldn’t go back.

Sometimes, at night, you’d remember how he looked at you when you told him you were in love with him. Or how he looked when you told him to leave, so desperate for you to hear him, at least for a few more minutes.

You’d replay that day inside of your head every night, like a nighttime routine, trying to find a different, better ending.

You’d always come up empty.

Sighing, you looked at your phone, reading Grace’s text with a smile.

Grace being Grace.

Even if she technically worked for you, you’ve barely seen Grace the past couple of days. You were both so busy it was almost impossible to keep up with each other’s schedule. But you did manage to free up some space so you could at least have lunch with her, and turns out she thought it’d be cool to include Nico too.

So, lunch at Nico’s house.

You said goodbye to the people who were working with you at the GQ photo shoot and drove to his house, blasting music through your speakers. No thoughts allowed!

You rang the doorbell, waiting until Grace herself opened the door, like she owned the house. You still weren’t sure if you wanted to know what was truly happening between the two of them, so you didn’t ask questions.

“Hi, my little popstar,” Grace shouted, hugging you tightly.

“Stop putting little before every noun when you’re referring to me.” You mumbled, face still shoved in the crook of her neck.

“Why would I do that? It’s fun and true. Come inside, Nico’s ordering pizza!”

You entered the house, feeling your cheeks getting warm when you remembered what happened the last time you were here.

“Shut the fuck up, Sophia,” during sex, he only used your name whenever he was really pissed, and apparently this was one of those times. “Don’t need anyone hearing how much of a whore you actually are.”

“Fuck, uh, come for me, baby, c’mon,” Jack whispered, hands still on you, dick fucking you hard and rough, leaving your insides raw and deliciously hurting. “Come on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Well. No more of that.

“No— Man, listen. I want a large pepperoni and a large margherita, please,” Nico smiled at you before putting his hand on his head, holding his phone with the other. “Why the hell would I put pineapple on a fucking pepperoni pizza? Let me speak to your manager, that’s— that’s a crime.”

“He’s just a Swiss Karen, really,” Grace sighed, sitting on the couch. You sat next to her, watching as Hischier tried to explain to the manager why pineapples shouldn’t even be included in pizzas in the first place. “I think he’s just nervous about the games.”

“Yeah,” you wanted to tell her that you’ve been watching the games and that it didn’t look really good for them but it would just give your I’m-already-over-Jack facade away. “Must be hard.”

“Tell me about it, I barely see him. It’s like hockey players only exist during the summer or whatever.” She sighed again, fixing her braids. You looked at her, full of compassion.

If you and Jack dated, would you feel like her?

No.

You wouldn’t know the answer to that question because that won’t happen.

“Hi, Soph,” you heard the Devils’ captain say, greeting you.

“Hey there, thirteen. How are you?”

He yawned, stretching his arms. “Tired, stressed, hungry, tired.” He stopped for a second before continuing. “Have I mentioned tired?”

“Sucks to be you, to be honest,” you giggled, looking at him funny.

The pizza would take a while to get delivered— especially since Nico argued with the manager and now they were probably taking their time spitting on the dough— so you used the time to catch up on their lives.

Grace talked about how her marketing degree never prepared her for how much work she’d actually have to get done, and how much she missed her mom and dad, and how Jessica, your vocal coach, was starting to piss her off with her I-am-better-than-everyone attitude.

Nico talked about the games, and how he basically was never at home, and how he’d spend half of his time on planes and the other half on practice and yet he still felt like they weren’t going to make it.

That made you wonder how Jack was doing with all of this. If he had come back to Newark after their week away, to spend thanksgiving with his family.

Not that you cared, you just wondered.

Noticing how both Grace and Nico stayed quiet, you realized that they’re probably waiting for you to update them on your life. You smiled awkwardly.

“I have been working a lot,” you shrugged. “I love what I do so it isn’t exactly working for me. Besides that, I sleep, eat and drink water.”

They both looked at you with pity, which made your stomach ache. You didn’t want anyone pitying you, in fact, you didn’t need it. You weren’t a damsel in distress, you didn’t need to be saved— you just chose to spend your free time alone. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

“I’m gonna go grab some wine from the cellar, be right back,” Nico announced, out of nowhere, getting up and heading downstairs. Grace looked at him with puppy eyes and you laughed.

“People in love are disgusting,” you joked, and Grace rolled her eyes at you.

“Shut it, Twilight,” she laughed, not denying it. “I’m gonna go grab the glasses.”

The doorbell rang and you got up. “It looks like I’m gonna go grab the pizza.”

“Make sure they didn’t put poison in it!” Grace shouted, making her way to the kitchen, while you walked until you were in front of the door, smiling still.

“Sophia?”

Hi, Universe. It’s your girl, Sophia. So, what is this about? What are you trying to do here? Let me tell you now, it won’t work.

“Hum, hi?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting, but out of all things you would have imagined that could happen to you that day, opening the door and finding Jack on the other side of it wasn’t on your list.

“What are you,” he stuttered, clutching hard the bag he was holding in his hands. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m sorry.”

You leaned against the door, confusion taking over your face. Jack wasn’t the type of man to apologize so easily.

“It’s fine.”

You both went quiet, staring at each other. It was weird to be around Jack without touching him, your heart still hurting because you love him deeply.

It was the type of love you’d want to tell your children, if you decided to have them one day. The type of love where you’d come home after a long day, just to find your forever sitting on the couch, yapping about his day. The type of love you read in books and watch movies about, the type of love you want to write songs about. The type of love where his hugs feel like a cold, gentle breeze during a sunny day, and his kisses felt like the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

You loved Jack Hughes deeply and he wanted him to be your forever more than anything.

But it wouldn’t happen. And it’s fine. It’d be fine.

“Do you want me to call Nico?” You whispered, averting his gaze.

“You don’t need to, I just stopped by to give him this,” he raised the bag in his hands, shrugging.

“Okay…” You nodded, not sure of what to say. “Then, I guess I’m… gonna go. Nice seeing you.” You lied, because you’d much rather keep watching him on TV, with a safe distance between you two, than to face him in real life.

“No, Soph, wait—” he called you, putting his feet between the door gap. “Can we, like, talk?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.” You retorted, biting your bottom lip.

“Soph, did they spit on our pizza?” Grace’s voice sounded cheerful behind you, and you cringed, knowing exactly how she’s going to react once she sees Jack here. “I hope they only spitted on Nico’s pizza, to be honest. What are you doing there— Oh.”

You turned around and looked at her, smiling awkwardly. No one moved a muscle for at least ten seconds and you gave in, knowing that discussing things with her would be harder than hearing Jack out.

“I’ll just… I’ll be right back, okay?” You announced, pointing to Jack behind you. “It’s fine.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Grace. Go find Nico, please.” You pleaded, not wanting to feel any shittier. Grace only stared at Jack for what seemed to be a whole minute before nodding once and making her way to Nico.

“I guess she still hates me.” Jack pointed out, chuckling humorlessly.

You turned around, raising your eyebrows at him. “Can you blame her?”

“No, not really,” he shrugged, putting the bag on the floor and putting his hands inside of his jeans’ pockets. “I get that you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you, I’m not mad at you. Hurt? Maybe. But I knew what I was getting myself into, so I guess I can’t really blame you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying really hard to be the bigger person when all you wanted to do was smash his face into a wall and kiss him right after that.

“I want you to know that I am sorry about what happened,” he stepped closer, making you smell his cologne, sandalwood and something else that smelled a lot like money. Weird combination but it worked for him. “Truly. I didn’t fuck Ava or any other woman while we were together. I— I just wanted to be with you, Soph, I need you to know that.”

You stared at his face, trying so hard to find the same expression you found on your ex’s face whenever he lied and manipulated you. But you couldn’t— Jack was still the same as he was seven months ago, when he hit on you at that dinner party.

He still looked like the guy who held you close after sex, the guy who order take out for you just because he knew you’d get too tired to cook for yourself, the guy who had a playlist just for his favorite songs by you, the guy who never understood your chronically online memes but laughed nonetheless because he said the way you laugh is funnier than the joke itself.

Jack still looked like he could be your forever.

So close yet so fucking distant.

You could feel yourself slipping into him again and you knew you couldn’t do this with yourself. You had to choose yourself before choosing anyone else.

“You don’t need to say sorry,” you whispered, smiling softly. “It’s fine. As you said, we weren’t even dating. I bet you wouldn’t have reacted the way I did if it’d been the other way around.”

He looked at you like you had grown a second head. “I would’ve gone crazy if it was the other way around. Sophia, I know it’s hard to believe but—”

“It’s fine, Jack, it really is,” you stated, shaking your head. “I accept your apologies but I think—” you broke eye contact, stepping back. “I think it’s just best if we stay out of each other’s way.”

You couldn’t tell which one of you cracked first. Jack, who looked at you like he’d seen a ghost, let his shoulders fall, looking as dejected as ever. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes but you held on tight. You had already cried in front of him once, and you weren’t going to do that again.

“Soph,” you heard his voice, so soft and so unlike him. “Soph, you don’t… you don’t mean that, baby.”

“I do,” you looked up, squeezing your eyes shut. “I do, Jack. And it will be fine. Let’s just move on.”

“Soph…”

“Please,” you whispered, already stepping back into the house, hands on the handle. “Jack. Please.”

You finally looked at him, noticing how his eyes looked so blue and sad. He stared at you before shaking his head, once and then twice, stepping back.

“I’m so sorry, Soph.” He said softly, before leaving Nico’s porch and making his way to his car.

“I know you are, baby,” you whispered, letting the tears finally fall. “I am, too.”

“Hum… pizza for Nico Hischier?”

Great.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #IYLMLMK

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horreurscopes · 9 months

Note

So, I could be out-of-bounds here since I think you meant it as dark humor, but what did you mean in the tags of that 'israel-hamas war' post? I suspect you(and op) are criticizing that framing because Israel is obviously demolishing much more than 'Hamas'(and probably doing a terrible job of actually targeting terrorists- they seem content to reduce Gaza to rubble even if the brass of Hamas escapes). I'm guessing that by saying "joining the Israel-Hamas war on the side of Hamas" you mean, if they're going to conflate Palestinians with Hamas unilaterally, then you're saying, whatever the media wants to call Palestinian civilians- you still support them. I am asking anyways though bc, given reports of increasing antisemitic activity in the US and Europe, I am worried about the potential for blurring lines between the cause of Palestinian civilians and the alt-right individuals who are likely masking their antisemitism in the context of being anti-Zionist. Although Israel's government has been the source of Palestinian loss for decades, (it seems to me that) even joking about supporting terrorism is enough to reinforce the persuasion that Israeli/Palestinian Jews and Palestinian Arabs must be mutually-exclusive peoples. I don't think it's fully rational per se(tho I'm not claiming to have all the relevant information myself, and I'm white US American goyim so like- grain of salt-), but I think that existential fear is the incredible hurdle facing Zionist Jews. (Idc too much about the opinions of non-Jewish Zionists bc I don't grant that they are dealing with the same emotional complications at this time, although that doesn't stop me from arguing w my acquaintances abt their callous acceptance of US/Israeli propaganda.) I just think..... isn't it overall harmful to allow anti-semitic rhetoric, even used sarcastically, to enter the genuine humanist cause for Palestinian liberation? Or, have I misunderstood, and you actually are not in opposition to Hamas, or something else I didn't think of?

hi! thank you for approaching the question thoughtfully and with curiosity, i really appreciate it. i was being kind of flippant with that meme, but this is the only ask i'm going to reply to on the matter given that i am neither jewish nor arab, so i'm going to answer in earnest:

hamas is a political resistance movement with an armed wing, much like the black panthers party was, and like the bpp, a large part of the organization is dedicated to social welfare and civic restoration.

they have stated that they are not against judaism, but against the zionist project. they openly support political solutions.

labeling hamas a terrorist group is a propaganda tactic used by the united states and israel to justify the horrors of settler colonization.

hamas is palestine, a part of it, even if palestinians like any other demographic on earth, are not a unified, single-minded people. to declare hamas a separate entity falls prey to the imperialist lie that there is an enemy to fight "fairly" within the people they are displacing and exterminating.

am i rejoicing in the deaths of israelis? of course not. killing civilians and taking civilian hostages is a war crime, whether it is committed by the opresor or the oppressed. the israeli government is not its people, and many jews, within israel as well as in the US, are bravely risking their lives to publicly dissent the criminal acts of the israeli government. all loss of human life is a tragedy.

no one should ever be faced with the choice between annihilation and murderous violence after exhausting all other forms of peaceful protest and being massacred like animals.

but why is it that we consider a resistance group formed within a population with a median age of eighteen a terrorist group, and not the IDF, a US-backed military force with an annual budget of twenty billion dollars?

i am currently reading hamas and civil society in gaza by sara roy to learn more about hamas and the history of israel in palestine. i'll remember to post more excerpts which i am admittedly terrible at.

but all of the information above can be found by reading wikipedia. investigating with duckduckgo searches (not gonna pretend google isn't prioritizing propaganda, to be fair), and reading reliable news coverage like aljazeera and the many journalists who are at risk of, or have lost their lives, reporting on the ground.

i have also appreciated reading posts from @determinate-negation @opencommunion @fairuzfan @ibtisams and @bloglikeanegyptian amongst others

in conclusion:

#palestine

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mochinek0 · 1 year

Text

3 Steps Back (meme)

Marinette stood awkwardly as she was confessed to, yet again. Before she could say anything, she saw someone rushing towards them in the distance.

"Um, can you take three giant steps backwards?" Marinette asked.

Confused, the person stepped back. In the blink of an eye, they found a dagger tip at their throat.

'What the fuck?'

They looked up to see Marinette with her arms around some guy's waist.

"Who is this guy?" he questioned, out loud.

"This is my very overprotective boyfriend." Marinette smiled.

The guy paled and took another step backwards.

"Got it." he announced and rushed away.

Marinette sighed as she let go of Damian.

"Habibiti, I could have handled him." he declared.

Marinette leaned up and kissed him.

"I don't want to call your dad and tell him your in jail for maiming." she replied.

Damian rolled his eyes, putting the blade away, "He can afford to bail me out."

"Like all the other times?" she questioned with a smile, "You're cute when you're jealous."

"People should stop asking you out." Damian huffed.

"I have an idea." Marinette announced, "You have to wait until tomorrow. I don't think you have anything to worry about after that."

Marinette walked into school with a shirt that read: Property of Damian Wayne. Damian blushed at the familiar writing style. He had seen it on cheerleaders at forced functions. She had chosen a dark blue shirt and yellow colors. It was reminiscent of when he went to Gotham Academy.

"Is this helpful, Dami?" Marinette asked.

The people around them stopped what they were doing to stare at the pair. Damian said nothing, but grabbed her hand and pulled her further into the school. Marinette smiled at his approval. Damian tried not to flush red at the warning sign on his girlfriend. It was a giant keep away sign.

'Why hadn't I thought about this sooner?'

Lila couldn't believe what she was seeing. Marinette was wearing a shirt that flaunted Damian Wayne as hers. There was no way that was going to happen; not while she was around.

"Damian, " Lila voiced in fake concern, "did you lose a bet?"

Damian merely glared at her. Marinette smiled from her place on his arm.

"It's okay, Habibi." Mari spoke, "It must be strange for her to see people like this; so happy."

Damian smirked and looked down at her. Lila couldn't believe that not only had Marinette talked back to her, but Damian Wayne had smiled at the goody-goody's snarky comment.

"You're one to talk." Lila lashed out, "Everyone hates you! Who wouldn't hate a bully?"

"You mean the pathetic rumors you spread around?" Marinette asked, "Only that one class believes you. The rest of the school laughs when your back is turned."

Lila heard people giggle behind them. It wasn't just one person, either. It was multiple people.

"Marinette is my property." Damian declared, "The shirt doesn't lie. She's my girlfriend and has been for two years."

Marinette smiled, "Damian got a little possessive when someone tried to ask me out again, yesterday."

"That is twenty people, who have asked you out in the past five months." Damian hissed.

"People?" Lila questioned.

Marinette blushed, "I've had girls confess to me, too. I don't mind wearing the shirt. Hopefully, after today, I won't have to stop Damian from attempting murder."

Damian and Marinette walked passed Lila. Lila moved to the sidelines as other people started to speak up.

"Damn, Damian made sure to scoop up the 'Queen of the School'."

"The Queen?"

"Do you expect anything else from a Wayne?"

Lila walked to class in silence. As she got closer, she could hear new whispers.

"Did you see Marinette?"

"Yeah, she was all over the Wayne kid!"

"I heard they're dating!"

"No they're not!"

"Everyone is talking about it! They have been toegther for two years!"

"Damian was the one to announce it."

"I never knew that Marinette was so popular."

"I feel bad for all those people she turned down, but she was already taken."

"What about her bullying Lila? I thought we all agreed it was because she was jealous of Lila getting close to Adrien."

"I don't think that's the case and it sounds like it hasn't been for awhile."

Lila decided to wait until after the bell to walk into class. From her spot, she noticed Damian walk Marinette to class.

"I will see you at lunch." Damian spoke.

She hated seeing Marinette smile.

"Habibiti, I must ask you one question." he spoke.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What am I to do if your shirt fails and people still try to claim what is mine?" he questioned.

Marinette stayed silent for a moment.

"I can wear this at least every two weeks, but I'm sure everyone will know by the end of the day." she began.

"And if they persist?" he growled.

"I'm sure they'll learn how possessive you are over the coming days." Marinette declared, "I think Bruce will be even more surprised he's not bailing you out of jail and paying for hospital fees."

"Father can afford it." Damian sighed.

Damian leaned down and kissed her.

"My statement stands; I will see you at lunch." he announced, before leaving.

Lila stayed flushed against the lockers, as Damian walked passed her. She sighed and sank to the floor.

'Jail? He hurt people for her? His father just bailed him out?'

She suddenly spotted a pair of shoes by her own feet. Lila quickly looked up and saw Damian Wayne glaring at her.

"I suggest you leave Marinette alone from now on." Damian declared, "My mother taught me that woman are manipulative. She taught me how to fight. I don't care if you are a girl; if you continue to spread rumors and I find out you started it, you will be injured beyond repair."

"You would be expelled." Lila spoke, softly, "You can't let Marinette manipulate you like this."

Damian quickly punched the locker next to her head. Lila slowly looked at his hand and saw the locker had been dented around his hand. He slowly pulled away, revealing the imprint of his hand.

He leaned in close and whispered, "Now imagine that being your jaw. You would never speak again. No more lies. I didn't move to Paris to be with Marinette; Father sent me because I was too violent away from her. It wouldn't be my first or last time breaking bones."

Damian turned and walked away. Lila snapped her eyes away from the locker as the bell rang. She quickly ran to class. As she sat down, she decided she was never going to ever say Marinette's name again.

TAG LIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus

#daminette #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #overprotective boyfriend #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #confessions #mlbxdc #au #dating #marinette belongs to damian #property of damian wayne #lila rossi #lila rossi jealous #damian threatens lila #lila scared

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flowerfreya · 2 months

Text

Did you want a picture?

Social Media AU based off of this post

Pairing : John Price x reader

John is a divorced dad with two teenagers and reader is a famous influencer think Victoria Paris , Jackie Aina , Monet McMichales type beat

John Price is a famous retired hockey player that played for over twenty years in the NHL. He’s always been a famous athlete despite all his attempts not to. He didn’t do any press and he only did a handful of sponsorships. No matter that, the fans loved him.

John Price was with his highschool sweetheart for a little over seventeen years with two kids now teenagers when they got divorced, the split was amicable understanding that they are just not in love anymore. His ex-wife means a lot to him , he still pays all the bills, she doesn’t work and he had to decide to be the one that moved out the house. His kids come to visit him all the time and with them being teenagers of course they are on tiktok and they think that it is hilarious when they record anything and it gets posted by every sports channel because they have never seen this side of him before.

John knows that he’s famous not just for being an athlete anymore but for being famous on social media as well. A lot more younger fans have come up to him asking for a picture than he’s gotten in years and at first it threw him off , but a year in he’s used to it now.

He’s see’s you walking down the sidewalk with pink headphones on and one of his older jersey’s , you're walking towards him , playing on your phone not really paying attention, and when you get close enough, “You want a picture?”, he ask.

“Huh”, you reply.

He reiterates the question and that’s when you take off your headphones and ask, “Where’s your phone for the picture”.

“Wouldn’t we use your phone”, he replies.

“I’m sorry but I can’t give you my phone number”, you smile back at him but it’s a bit strained, thinking that this weird guy wants your number.

“I think there's some confusion,luv”,

You tilt your head to the side, “Aren’t you a fan?”

“No I’m not a fan, are you ?”

“I don’t know who you are”, you say with a laugh and you start to back away obviously this is not an interaction you want to be a part of.

“Your wearing my jersey”, John points down at your shirt, which makes you look down,

“You’re the Rangers?”, you ask sarcastically.

“No, but I am the man on the back of the jersey”, he says with a smile.

“Oh, anyway, did you want a picture”, you ask him, kind of over this back and forth.

“Sure,luv”, John hands you his phone and you lift it up in a selfie motion and right before you take the picture , you hear him sniff and then moan, which causes you to turn your head and snap the picture.

When John gets home , he’s ambushed by his teenage daughter demanding what he does to you? He’s confused , he doesn’t even remember having had a long day with practice and then meetings after that.

“What are you talking about?”, he ask his daughter calmly. She explains that someone had recorded the whole interaction about worlds colliding and memes being made about mixing the friend groups, and opposites attract.

He mentions that he ran into you but didn’t know who you were. John’s daughter just about screams when she realizes that her dad met just about the most famous influencer , maybe not in the world but you're up there. His daughter gets an idea, her dad needs to met you again, she saw the connection between the two of you, she hasn’t seen her dad like that , well ever.

#influencer!reader #hockey player!price #task force 141 #john price x readee #captain john price #dad!john price

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whetstonefires · 5 months

Note

A LA MEME. MDZS, Really nice guy who hates only you, hate at first sight?

It was totally inappropriate for a corpse to be popular.

But there it was: the Ghost General was more well-liked every day. He seemed to spend all his time wandering around rescuing maidens from monsters and lifting wagons off of old men. In a few years he'd be a hero of the people.

Even the cultivation world didn't expect harm from him anymore. Most of Jin Ling's peers addressed the corpse as qianbei; Jin Ling didn't, but he seemed to get on with him well enough.

Jiang Cheng hadn't actually said out loud, when he saw Wen Qionglin parting ways with Sect Leader Jin with an exchange of polite salutes, he killed your father, but he'd looked it. Jin Ling, fluent in Jiang Cheng's expressions, sighed.

"It was an accident," he said. "And he's apologized. And, you know, uncle, he was held prisoner by Jin Sect almost my entire life, you can't say he hasn't paid for it. And..."

And they had killed his whole family. And his older sister.

Jiang Cheng looked away. "Huh."

When Jiang Cheng had made his first, clumsy attempt at mending a little of the gruesome breach between himself and Wei Wuxian, the Ghost General had been there, glaring daggers at him from behind the Yiling Laozu.

It had been more disconcerting than it should have been, and Jiang Cheng had stumbled, interrupted himself, and fallen silent enough times that eventually Wei Wuxian had taken pity on him, reached out, patted him on the arm one time, said, "Good talk, Jiang Cheng," and extricated them both from the situation.

Freed from the burden of conversation, he'd returned Wen Qionglin's glare, and lost. Corpses didn't need to blink.

He didn't want the bastard to like him. Which was just as well since it was out of the question. Jiang Cheng had never for a second in his life liked Wen Qionglin; from the first time he'd laid eyes on him when they were youths he'd interpreted him as a pathetic, burdensome coward, and despised him for it.

Owing the man his life had made it worse--he hadn't even wanted to be saved, and it was Wei Wuxian's stupid horrible charm and habit of interfering where he wasn't wanted that had done it, and like hell had he owed anything, when that person's family had murdered his. (I owe him nothing, he'd told himself once, because Wen Qionglin had been the reason he lost Wei Wuxian.)

Another time, he found himself in both their company and drew apart, letting the Yiling Patriarch and the Ghost General play at being mentors to the youth. Neither of you lived to see twenty-five, he wanted to shout. What do you think you have to teach them?

Even Jin Ling...it made him furious. Furious to glance over and see a corpse's stiff face conveying softness.

Furious to look past the crowd and see Lan Wangji's eyes falling on Wen Qionglin with an unmistakable resentment. And to know that it wasn't the stiff propriety of the Lan Wangji of their youths, objecting to the heresy of that fierce corpse's existence; that it was the look of a petty, jealous man resenting the way Wei Wuxian knocked his shoulder together with the Ghost General's and laughed.

"Where do you get off hating Wen Ning?" he asked the next time he found himself alone with Lan Wangji. It was a stupid thing to ask, but if he let himself think about how they were threshing through the underbrush looking for Wei Wuxian, about the last time they had looked for Wei Wuxian together...

Lan Wangji ignored him.

Jiang Cheng snorted. "Okay. So maybe you don't hate him. But he likes you! He's so deferential it makes me want to puke."

Lan Wangji favored him with the merest hint of a sneer, just enough to show he was listening to Jiang Cheng talk.

"You're disgusting," said Jiang Cheng. "Do you really think he shouldn't have anyone but you in his life? That he's your property?"

Lan Wangji's stride broke. It was a triumph, in a way--Jiang Cheng had never thrown him so badly in all the years they'd known each other.

"Each man judges others by his own heart," said Lan Wangji, thick with contempt, and then he was walking ahead with pointed rapidity, determined to separate from Jiang Cheng, until staying together would have meant chasing after him, and Jiang Cheng turned and went the other way, muttering blackly.

In the end, fittingly, neither of them caught up in time to be of use. Wen Ning, with his homing sense for Wei Wuxian, had shown up out of who the fuck knew where and bailed him out.

Jiang Cheng stumbled upon the haunted spring just in time to see a sodden, bedraggled Wei Wuxian launch himself away from his pet Wen's supportive arm and fling himself against the upright form of Hanguang-jun, which bent around him with a reverent murmur.

Jiang Cheng was already turning away in disgust to head back home, hating that he'd let himself be dragged into this, when he heard Lan Wangji say with careful, solemn deliberation: "Thank you, Wen Qionglin. For taking care of him."

Jiang Cheng glanced back against his will to see the Ghost General saluting deeply, wide-eyed, infinitely humble, his murmur that it was nothing special, Hanguang-jun, nearly drowned out by Wei Wuxian's delighted shouting about how good his Lan Zhan was and how much Wen Ning deserved to be appreciated.

Jiang Cheng walked away.

Wen Qionglin wasn't rude to him. Not in any way you could point at. And he knew full well he'd be making an ass of himself if he tried to pick a verbal fight.

After all, they had killed Wen Qionglin's older sister.

The whole cultivation world had done it, but only Jiang Cheng had done it after Wen Qionglin saved his life. He'd told himself he owed no debt for that, and perhaps he hadn't, but the fact remained: of the two of them, one had been brave and virtuous and earned the loyalty of Wei Wuxian.

And one of them had been pathetic, a coward, a burden.

Jiang Cheng could never look at the man without seeing the look in his dead eyes across the length of Suibian.

Jiang Cheng had never been good at lying to himself, especially if the lie was meant to be comforting. He always tried it anyway. Comforting lies used to sound so true, in Wei Wuxian's mouth; he should never have gotten into the habit of relying on that. To letting that person think Jiang Cheng was someone who needed to be swaddled in falsehoods to give him the strength to bear up under his own duties.

Wen Qionglin was a kind, gentle, courageous dead body, shy and courteous and increasingly appreciated for his virtues, in this strange new world created in the wake of Jin Guanyao's disgrace. And whenever his eyes fell on Jiang Cheng they were cold, hard, flat, contemptuous.

Every time he looked at him Jiang Cheng could nearly hear him thinking, like a cold wind against the back of his neck: I should have left you in that heap of corpses with the rest of your family.

What are you worth, Jiang Wanyin, that so many should be spent in saving you? That Wei Wuxian would drag us all into the shadow of death to make you whole, only for you to turn your face aside when it was me lying there, and let him die for us without lifting a finger?

Selfish, whining coward. If only I had left you there to die.

If only, Jiang Cheng imagined spitting back, anger hot and bracing in his throat. If only! I never asked for any of it! How dare you expect me to repay you!

But Wen Qionglin never spoke any of the words out loud. He only looked, cold dead flat black eyes. A frozen river. Sometimes Jiang Cheng thought that if he lashed out hard enough he would break a hole in the ice, and be devoured whole.

#ask #hoc est meum #ramblebrambleamble #jiang cheng is projecting like a drive-in movie theater here to be clear #like he's not wrong that he is wen ning's least favorite living human being #but wen ning also doesn't generally think this hard about it lmao #or like about him at all if he doesn't have to #mdzs #jiang cheng #wen ning #ask game #reverse tropes #really nice guy who hates only you #this is like the opposite energy from my previous fill for the same prompt alkflkj;#writing #my fic #fanfic #realized these 'mini fics' are long enough to need a cut woop

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arithmonym · 5 months

Note

Pyrrha learns about Dulcie??? 👀

this WIP is only bullet points in a google doc right now, but i want to properly write it out someday!!

the concept:

in the early weeks of living together, pyrrha notices that camilla and palamedes are unusually good at taking care of nona. from the start, they’ve always tried to respect her agency, even though nona can’t reliably communicate with anyone yet. in general, they have so many caregiving skills that you wouldn’t expect a pair of twenty-two-year-olds to have, and they take on these new responsibilities as if they already expected to have them — as if they’d been studying for years in preparation.

pyrrha wants to know what’s up with that.

she starts with camilla first, because camilla is the one in the body for most of the day, and she’s the one who volunteers to help nona in the bath. (it’s an involved task, especially when nona tries to eat the soap. it’s hard to squirm away.)

pyrrha asks camilla if she trained as a nurse or something on top of being a cavalier — you never know with sixth kids; they’re overachievers like that — but camilla deflects, saying that she and the warden both received some medical training, and it started when they were very young.

(camilla refuses to answer any follow-up questions. notably, she frowns when pyrrha asks if she’s an older sister.)

eventually, it’s palamedes who answers. he tells pyrrha about dulcie — the years of correspondence, the efforts to make her more comfortable, the life he wished he and camilla could have had with her, the doomed proposal, the attempt to avenge her, et cetera. wistfulness drips through his speech — palamedes would’ve been honored to care for her in whatever way she let him, and he and camilla wanted to be realistic about what that might entail.

pyrrha recognized camilla for what she was almost immediately. as palamedes speaks, looking old and tired beyond his years, pyrrha realizes with an odd pang in her chest that he’s a landmine person, too.

[wip title ask meme.]

#the locked tomb #tlt #pyrrha dve #camilla hect #palamedes sextus #campalpyrrha #campaldulcie #paldulcie #m asks #ask meme

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porcelana-r0ta · 1 year

Text

The Curse of Sight

[Part 1] Part 2 [Part 3]

Ao3 Link: [Part 2] (Ao3 link is available only to Ao3 users)

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Tim Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.

Wes wasn’t 100% positive about whether or not Tim was joking when he said to get him a coffee on his next coffee run, but he’s nothing if not a (reluctantly) efficient worker. Well, that, and Jade was always looking for any reason to complain about him, so it’s best to not give her a reason.

So when he’s sent on his daily coffee run the next day, he orders one trenta Death Wish coffee. He even remembers to request blond espresso since that kind has more caffeine than dark.

When he makes his way back to WE, he’s able to slip into the elevator after one of the scientists, who pityingly presses the floor button when Wes asks. He thanks her, and is luckily left alone when she gets off twenty floors before him. Blessedly, no one joins after her, and he’s able to get off at Floor 73 in peace.

He’s immediately assaulted by the caffeine-starved workers just like yesterday, and he luckily doesn’t have to worry about figuring out where to drop off Tim’s coffee, because Rebecca Gray, one of the younger employees who actually treats Wes like he’s human, spills some tea to him, and even presents it in such a way that she’s just helping him with his delivery: “Kid, your mom’s in the Grayson Conference Room with the Waynes and some people from the Board. There was a break-in last night. They’re trying to come up with a press plan. You’ll have to take her and Jade’s order in there. Remember to knock.”

See, Wes didn’t need to know all that. He only needed the last two sentences. But Rebecca is a decent human being who gives other human beings basic human respect, even if they are lowly interns that double as unwilling nepo-babies. He appreciates that about Rebecca.

“Thanks,” he tells her, and she doesn’t ask questions about why he has three coffees left instead of two.

“No problem,” she chirps, then rubs her hand roughly through his hair. He has a free hand now, so he swats at her, but she’s already frolicking off to her cubicle. Probably to make memes and then come up with a pitch to his mom on why they should be posted on the Wayne Enterprises official Twitter.

They were good memes. Wes liked them, anyway. But he’s not sure it’d be very PC of a corporation to post a supposedly “joke” Tweet about giving one million dollars to the first person to kill the Joker and provide proof.

Wes walks over to the conference room and knocks on the solid mahogany. A few seconds pass, and then a man’s voice calls out, “Come in.”

Wes opens the door to a group of men and women in suits that are more expensive than any amount of money he will ever have in his bank account at one time surrounding a table that overlooks a flat screen TV. He’s quick to spot his mom and Tim, and unfortunately, quick to spot Jade and Bruce fucking Wayne, who’s, you know, the fucking Batman.

Wes sweeps his gaze away and smiles nervously, hoping he just looks like a dorky intern who is scared to piss off the Actual Big Boss™. “I have coffee,” he offers, raising the coffee holder a bit higher, as if they couldn’t see from where it was.

“Thank you, Wes,” his mom says, and he takes that as his cue to enter in farther, distributing the coffee first to his mom, then Jade (who glares at him, ugh), and finally, Tim, who takes it with a look of surprise that forces his eyebrows up his forehead.

“It’s got every shot of espresso they can legally sell,” he tells him, an anxious smile tugging at his lips a little too hard. He is so stressed right now.

Tim takes a sip, and then says with the expertise of an addict, “This is blond espresso.”

“Blond has more caffeine, so….”

Tim looks at him with wide eyes, “You are a coffee god.”

“Ahaha, I’m just the intern,” he says tightly, feeling Bruce Wayne’s gaze bore holes into him. He wonders if anyone else can feel it when he’s just Brucie, or if he’s only noticing because he knows. “Anyway, I’m just gonna….” He gestures to the door, and as he does so, his eyes catch on the screenshot displayed on the wide flatscreen TV.

It’s clearly been pulled from security cameras, and police have definitely already had a look at it (and the Bats, obviously) if the Waymes are letting the PR team look at it. The camera is surprisingly clear—or maybe not, given the Waynes’ nightlife—and has been zoomed in, so Wes can make out the villain in all their suited up glory, Kevlar(?) and green mask and all, and even their laptop that’s hooked up to some scientist’s desktop computer (if Wes had to wager a guess, anyway). There’s also a shadow behind the villain, indistinct but invariably human. Probably Batman right before interrupting the villain.

Batman’s definitely smart enough to avoid showing a picture of himself in a cape and cowl to his closest coworkers while in his Brucie persona.

Huh. That’s odd: the laptop is covered in distinctive stickers. He can even read one of the stickers that quotes an old but widely known fanfiction: “Why couldn’t Satan have made me less beautiful?”

Well, that’s a stupid move. Why go through the trouble of having a whole entire super villain costume made if you’re just going to pull out your personalized laptop? What a dumbass. If Wes were a villain, he’d at least be smart enough to have two laptops: one for business and one for personal use.

And God, not the My Immortal quote. Embarrassing, really. (And, honestly, a little intimidating. Talk about having no shame!)

Oh, well. It’s not his business. He’s not the super intelligent, super paranoid vigilante. The Bats can figure this one out, thank you very much.

He walks out of the conference room and rushes to Rebecca’s cubicle, throwing his body onto the stool that he’d brought over one day while helping make memes and then never removed.

“Rebecca, guess what.”

Rebecca jumps, choking on her iced latte. “Christ, kid, what?”

“You have to guess!”

“Uh, I dunno, Jade said that she’s sorry for being a bitch?”

“Maybe when the Bats make friends with the Joker,” he says, and she snorts.

“Wow, already picking up on the Gotham lingo,” she compliments.

“I had my first mugging a week ago. I think that counts for me being a Gothamite, right?”

“Maybe after your first big time villain attack, kid.” She shakes her head at him, then asks, “Okay, so what is it?”

“They had some security camera screenshot in the conference room,” he tells her excitedly. “The villain who broke in was on it. They had this laptop to hack some computer, and—God, this is hilarious—they had a My Immortal sticker on their laptop.”

Rebecca’s face flushes in delight and abhorrence all at once, “Holy outdated Internet references, Batman, you’re kidding.”

“I’m absolutely not, Rebecca!” he insists. “I saw it, clear as day! Brucie Wayne doesn’t skimp on his security. It was right there in print: Why couldn’t Satan make me less beautiful?”

“Dear God.” She shakes her head, then asks, “Aren’t you a little young to know the sacred texts?”

“You’re never too young for culture, Rebecca.”

She nods sagely, “You have a point, kid. You have a point.” She clears her throat. “Hey, do you wanna help me with a project?”

“What kind of project?”

“A pitch to your mom to convince her to get Wayne Enterprises an official TikTok account. It’s criminal that we don’t have one yet! Did you know that the New York City branch has one? We’re the headquarters! Why don’t we have one? It doesn’t make any sense!”

It’s Wes’s turn to nod, “Yes, that is a grievous mistake. We need to make social media amends, and quickly. Before someone becomes a social media villain and attacks corporations that don’t have TikToks.”

“You’re being sarcastic—”

“I’m really not—”

“But you shouldn’t joke about that in Gotham because it’ll happen if you speak it.”

Wes wants to laugh that notion off as paranoia, but then he remembers Desiree.

“Okay, you have a point.” He knocks his hand on her head, “Knock on wood.”

“That’s it, brat. You’re fired from my project.” She sticks her tongue out at him.

“Wait, no. I take it back. I take it back!”

Rebecca spins her swivel chair around, leaning back and humming, “Hmmm, maybe…. But it’ll cost you.”

“I wanna right this social media injustice, Rebecca. Please!”

“Okay, you’ve convinced me. But!” She raises a finger when he looks too excited, “You have to agree to be in the first TikTok.”

Well, now he’s wary.

He wrinkles his nose, “I don’t know about that.”

“Then no social media for you.” Her voice is a taunting singsong, and something in Wes breaks.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll do it.”

An evil, smug grin cracks through Rebecca’s face, and Wes’s stomach curdles. What did he just agree to?

“Excellent,” she says. “Then let’s get started.”

An hour into their project, the meeting in the conference room comes to an end. Wes knows this because it’s when Jade decides to butt her head in his business.

“Weston,” she barks as soon as she sees him crouching next to Rebecca while they debate the merits of “Connecting to the Youth” as a topic for just one slide or multiple. “Stop distracting Rebecca from her work. I need you to deliver a file to IT.”

“Wes isn’t distracting me,” Rebecca politely corrects Jade, even though she shouldn’t because Jade doesn’t like her much, either. “I needed a second opinion on—”

“Another meme?” Jade asks spitefully. “That’s a waste of company time, Reb—”

But Jade is interrupted by the grand appearance of Timothy Drake, who waltzes up and asks, “Something wrong, Mrs. Oswald?”

“Nothing, really.” Jade is quick to become all smiles. “Weston here is just interrupting Rebecca’s fine work.”

“I heard something about a meme?” He raises an eyebrow, and Wes has to smother giggles. Red Robin is standing here, asking after a meme.

“Oh, yes,” Rebecca jumps at the chance to discuss her memes, which are only accepted to be posted on the company Twitter about 25% of the time. She deftly switches from the slideshow tab to Canva, where she has a meme ready to go.

Wes is impressed with her resolve.

“As you can see, sir,” she gestures to the computer, where a meme in the Drake format is shown, but with Batman in his place. Instead of the bottom Batman being accepting of the proposal to the right, both images of Batman are grimacing. “I am using a classic format, but stylized to fit our very own vigilantes. As he is the Batman, he doesn’t really smile, so it’s just the same picture of Batman frowning like an angst lord. The top text reads, ‘When the Batburger is out of jokerized fries,’ and the bottom text reads, ‘But their ice cream machine is running.’”

Batburger is Gotham’s “not like other girls” version of McDonald’s, Wes has discovered.

Tim cracks a laugh at the meme in front of him, and the light dies from Jade’s eyes. Wes feels just a little warmer for it, and not guilty at all.

“That’s pretty good,” he compliments. “You think you could photoshop an ice cream cone on the Batman on the bottom?”

Rebecca lets out a gasp of delight, “Genius! That’s why you’re the CEO, sir!”

Tim laughs, his eyes crinkling, and he says, “Photoshop it in, then send it to Ms. Rolland. I want to see it on WE’s Twitter tonight.”

Rebecca gives a two-fingered salute, then swivels back around to face her computer.

“Wes, can I speak with you for a second? I won’t take long.” Tim may make it sound like a request, but he’s the CEO, so it’s more of an order, and Wes stands on uneasy legs as Jade storms off without a word to her boss.

“Yeah, sure,” he agrees, and follows Tim.

Was I obvious? Do they know that I know? Surely not, right? I mean, I’ve been in Gotham for barely three weeks. Who figures out that kind of thing in that kind of time? Who figures out that someone has figured it out in that kind of time?

Wes is about to work himself into a panic attack when Tim stops at the conference room door and holds it open for him. He gulps. Is Bruce Wayne waiting behind the door to question him? Fuuuuuuck me.

He crosses the threshold and has to hold in a sigh of relief, as well as keep from just straight up collapsing to the ground. No Brucie Wayne. No Batman confrontation.

“W-what did you need to talk about?” Wes asks as Tim steps in after him, the door clicking shut.

Tim pauses to collect his thoughts, then says, “I wanted to ask you about Jade Oswald. She seems… aggressive with her coworkers.”

Peace, I knew thee too quickly.

“She’s just intense,” Wes says, even though he’d kind of like to see Jade get some HR hell rained on her. “And stressed. And I kinda got this job through my mom, so she sees me as this kid who doesn’t deserve to be here when she probably had to, like, work for everything, and I’m just, like, here because my mom wants to keep an eye on me so I don’t get mugged. Again.”

Oh, sure. Great idea! Bring up the mugging! Definitely not suspicious at all! Maybe I would be stupid enough to bring a personalized laptop with me on an intelligence heist.

Tim’s face is concerned. Wes would applaud his acting skills if he wasn’t more stressed than a 15th Century serf in Russia. “Mugged? Are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I was rescued by Red Robin. That part was kinda cool, honestly.” Good, good, give him subtle compliments so if he does ever find out, he can remember that you think he’s cool and will hopefully give you pity.

Tim still doesn’t look reassured, and his instinct is to tell him about wacky Amity Park hijinks, like when he joined Fenton’s teen militia to take down Youngblood and save all the adults, but he clamps down on that hard. Don’t talk about Amity to a fucking Bat, you dumbass.

“You’re sure?” His voice is soft and caring, and Wes suddenly feels suffocated.

“U-uh, yeah. I’m sure. I appreciate you asking, though!”

“Of course,” Tim says. “I’ve had my fair share of Gotham scares.”

“I bet,” Wes laughs. This is safer territory. “You grew up here, right? You probably know all the protocol for living here.”

“Ohhh, yeah,” Tim joins him in laughter, his tone fond for the cesspool he knows so well. It’s something only Gothamites have perfected because most people with common sense react with revulsion to this filth they call a city. “Word of advice? Get a gas mask.”

“Mom has that covered, believe me.” Wes scoffs. “Mom went and had mine fitted. I get the concern, but wow.”

“Bruce did the same to me when I first moved in,” Tim says, and Wes doesn’t ask why the Drakes didn’t already have one fitted for him since they were also rich. There’s a reason why Brucie Wayne adopts every black haired child he sees, after all. “That’s just what parents do, I guess.”

The good ones, Wes thinks grimly to himself.

“Haha, yeah. That’s true.” He thinks of Rebecca, then thinks, Well, in for a penny…. “Hey, me and Rebecca were wondering—why doesn’t Wayne Enterprises have a TikTok?”

Tim blinks, caught off guard, then answers, “Well, we don’t really use social media for traditional advertisement, I suppose. Usually, we do social media sponsorships with influencers…. Huh. I guess I never really thought of it? I know the New York branch has an unofficial account that we haven’t shut down since it’s been rather harmless.”

That makes sense. The teenager who spends his nights parkouring across the rooftops of Gotham is too sleep deprived to remember the marketing potential of TikTok.

“Right,” Wes says. “Well, Rebecca is working on a pitch to my mom about it. She’s, like, super into it. She has at least a dozen scripts written for the first TikToks she wants to post, and has a bunch of emails drafted to get some departments in on it. She says it’s important to humanize a company before posting ads so we have an audience who is sympathetic to the company. Which, like. Wow. Kinda messed up. But good business tactics.”

“Huh.” Tim blinks again, and Wes is starkly aware of how wired but tired he must be. “Okay. Have Rebecca go ahead and make the account, but keep it private, and film a first TikTok. Send it to me before posting it. I’ll have filming equipment sent down. Work on it with her, yeah?”

“O-okay! I can do that,” Wes agrees. “Are we sending this through email, or…?”

“Right.” Tim nods, then grabs a sheet of paper from a notepad left behind on the conference table. He pulls a pen out from his suit jacket and scribbles something down, tears the page out, and then hands it to Wes.

It’s his work email. And also his personal phone. And Wes knows it’s Tim’s personal phone number because the number has “personal #” written next to it.

Cool cool cool cool cool. No need to freak out. It isn’t like Tucker would kill him to have this opportunity or anything. It isn’t like he has the personal number of the literal Red Robin superhero or anything.

“Oh, thanks!” is all Wes can squeak out, and Tim sends him a charming smile.

“Today was just luck. Text me next time you’re getting coffee so you know where to meet me.”

“Will do!” Wes agrees, and Tim nods, opening the door for Wes to exit, then follows him through.

They say a quick goodbye, and Wes beelines for Rebecca.

“You were in there for a while,” she comments, not looking up from her screen when he collapses onto his stool. She’s currently manipulating a photo of a Batbucks ice cream cone. “Did you two make out? I won’t rat you out. I may be in my twenties but I’m still cool like a teen.”

“No!” Wes blushes redder than his hair. “And that was, like, the lamest sentence ever. You’re lame. I regret scoring a Wayne Enterprises TikTok account for you now.”

This tidbit of knowledge rips Rebecca from her computer screen. “You’re kidding!”

He grins widely, “Nope! Our CEO says that you can go ahead and make an account, but keep it private. He says that he’ll send filming equipment down, and that he wants to personally approve of the video before posting.”

Rebecca lets out a squeal of excitement, “You’re the best intern ever! Does your mom have to send you back to Illinois in August? Are you sure we can’t keep you?”

“Sorry, but I’m in high demand.”

“Clearly. Ugh, you’re a little genius.” She looks at the meme on her screen. “Wow, this is boring now that I know we’ll be getting a TikTok.”

“Tim wants to see it by the end of the day,” he reminds her.

“Eugh. I knooowww, but still. Boring.” She sighs. “Do you think Batman is more of a vanilla or a chocolate kind of guy?”

Before figuring out that Batman was technically one of his Actual Big Bosses™, Wes might have cracked a joke about someone who dresses up in a BDSM fursuit to fight crime having no chance of being vanilla. With his current knowledge, Wes winces, and says, “Oh, vanilla all the way. He doesn’t have the creativity for anything else. I mean, the Bat Signal? The Batmobile? C’mon.”

Rebecca nods like this is totally rational reasoning, “You’re right, you’re right. Besides, I can’t spend the time on changing the ice cream now. Now, we have a TikTok to plan.”

And suddenly, Wes remembers his promise to be in the very first TikTok that Wayne Enterprises posts.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.”

--------

Tag List:

@blankliferain @amercurio @gin2212 @starscreamlover @hoarder-of-gender

If you want to be added to the Tag List just ask in the replies :)

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #wes weston #wesley weston #batman #dc #this was literally supposed to just be a one shot but here we are #this is probably gonna be wes/tim btw #stalker buddies au #the curse of sight

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cowgurrrl · 11 months

Note

I've been rotting away in bed all weekend recovering from a cold and I made the mistake of rereading some parts of OFTM and I miss them so much 😭 how's our favorite famous duo doing? I can't stop thinking about reader having to defend/support joel for whatever reason, but it's with the vibe of this meme LMAO like that is HER man, how dare people say anything about him

J!!! I love this request!! Thank you for sending it in and I’m sorry it took so long 🩷

Girls on Film

Pairing: rockstar!joel x actress!reader

Summary: this ask

Warnings: unedited because you can’t make me, discussions of toxic behavior, language, Joel being a dilf, June once again not knowing how to properly end a fic, I think that’s it??

Joel is protective of his kids. Sometimes, a little too much, in your opinion but you didn’t marry him because he does things half-way. With each new addition to the family, his papa bear instincts grew and grew. And if you’re being completely honest, his protectiveness and love for his kids is part of the reason why you ended up with five kids to begin with.

When he was giving his interview to People during his Sexiest Man Alive shoot, he was asked what accomplishment of his he’s most proud of. Without missing a beat, he said, “my family.” He went into what little detail you use to talk about the kids in a public setting, even getting a little misty-eyed in the process. The second the crew was out of your house, you nearly jumped his bones right then and there. You found out you were pregnant with the girls about two months later.

So, yeah, he’s a great dad, and it’s super hot. Whatever. It’s universally known within your family that there’s almost nothing he wouldn’t do for his kids. He just loves them with everything he has and wants them to live full and happy lives. Which is fine until he bears his claws in public.

Following a particularly problematic documentary with some of today’s biggest stars, Joel was more than ready to say what had been on his mind when an interviewer stopped him on a red carpet and asked, “are there any people in the music industry you wouldn’t let your daughters date?” The daughters in question were never specified but it’s either between his married thirty-one year old, his lesbian (also married) twenty-eight year old, or his three year old twins. He wasn’t comfortable thinking about any option.

“My kids are free to date anyone they want, but we have a strict no assholes policy in our house.” He said and the interviewer raised her eyebrows. “Like I wouldn’t let ‘em date any of those idiots from that documentary.”

“Why do you say that?” The interviewer asked and Joel shrugged.

“My kids deserve better than some fucker in black eyeliner claimin’ to save rock ‘n roll when all he’s doing is being a sexist pig who makes shitty music.” By the time his words reached your ears, it was too late to stop him. The clip from the interview was making the rounds before you can even get home.

Paul, his poor, poor manager of several years, reaches out to him the next morning to ask if he wants to make a statement, amends, anything to smooth this over. Joel curtly responds to his long email with a short, “no,” and that ends the conversation. What’s even worse if you can’t even argue with him. He’s right. You’ve seen first hand how people in the music industry treat each other and it’s awful. Why should he be the one who gets shit on because he spotlighted other people’s behavior?

You are able to dodge questions, paparazzi, and others wanting to know the inside scoop for weeks until you feel yourself getting just as frustrated as Joel was. Leave it to the press to want the wife to offer explanation for her husband’s actions. It isn’t until you get an offer from Watch What Happens Live with Andy Cohen that you agree to even think about saying anything.

That night, Joel stays home with the kids and watches you walk out on stage with Carolina in a long bell bottoms, platform wedges, and your (Joel’s) favorite vintage band shirt. You and Carolina hug Andy and get some initial questions answered but it doesn’t take long before the subject turns to Joel.

“Now, I know everything’s been very hush, hush but Joel started a lot of discourse online about the music industry. What can you tell us about what he said?” He asks and you nod, smiling and playing with your wedding ring.

“That’s been like the question of the month, hasn’t it?” You joke to break the ice. “Look, I think we all saw the same documentary. We all heard what those men said and to act like we didn’t is, honestly, kind of ridiculous. Joel knows the industry better than I do and he knows that nothing is going to change unless you call out the people making it miserable for younger kids.”

“So, you agree with what he said?”

“One hundred percent. He was right that we have a no assholes policy for our kids but, other than that, we really don’t have rules about their dating lives,” you say. “And I think he was right to call out those guys. It’s not fair that they get protected by their little boys club and that just has to be the way things go. I think it’s bullshit.”

“You seem to feel passionately about this.” Andy says and you nod.

“Well, it’s not just because people are coming after my husband. It’s because we’ve both seen what any toxic environment can do to people which is why he owns his own label now.”

“And it’s doing very well. He just signed one of the biggest breakout stars of the year, didn’t he?”

“He did. And you know why it’s doing so well?” You ask, leaning in like you’re about to tell him a secret. “Because he doesn’t sign assholes. He doesn’t put his name next to theirs. He doesn’t even want to be associated with them because for as much as it’s his name, it’s also my name and our kids’ names. So, people can say whatever they want about what Joel said but I will support him and his mission and when his artists start winning Grammy’s and spots in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, we won’t even remember the names of the people who got fifteen minutes of fame and a shitty sound bite to show for themselves.” You say and somewhere in California, Joel nearly jumps out of his seat with excitement, praising you like you’re there with him.

The second you walk off stage, your phone lights up with Joel’s contact photo and you laugh as you answer it. “Will you marry me?” He asks before you can even say hello.

“I’m assuming you saw the show.”

“Saw it? Baby, I recorded it,” he says. “When are you comin’ home?”

“Tomorrow. You’re supposed to pick me up, remember?” You ask and he groans.

“You ain’t allowed to be that sexy on TV across the country.”

“Keep it your pants, cowboy. I’ll be home soon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sighs dejectedly like a ten-year-old.

When you get back to California the next day, the discourse has been put to rest and Joel is almost giddy when he watches you come down the escalator. The flowers in his hand get crushed when you hug him tight and let him kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Where are my children?” You ask when he finally pulls away and he smirks.

“With Ryan. The kids wanted to have a play date.”

“So, the house is empty?”

“And clean.”

“Joel Miller, will you marry me?” You echo his question from earlier and he laughs.

Then, like a perfect gentleman, he takes your suitcase, opens doors for you, and drive you home to properly fuck the shit out of you. (Author’s note: I want to put <3 right here so mf bad but I won’t because I’m a professional. PS old man rockstar!joel fucks severely. PPS it’s canon because I say so)

#one for the money two for the show #rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader #rockstar!joel miller #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller au #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller

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skz-bella · 1 year

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝘽𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙖 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙮'𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙨' 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙

Taglist: @curly-fr13s @elizalabs3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

⌦ .｡.:*♡ CLIP ONE

During a fansign event, Bella was given a large diamond ring what could fit around her wrist. When it came time for the group to stand up and walk around the stage, she wore the gift on her wrist and turned to Stays.

"Someone gave me this gift but they didn't ask me an important question." She spoke, showing the gift to the Stays and the boys. Everyone screamed and awed at the gift. Jisung came up close and examined the ring and whistled into the mic.

"What didn't they ask you?" Minho asked, playing with a gift he got.

"When someone gives you a ring," Bella began to say. "Aren't you supposed to propose to them?"

This causes fans to scream and and fan who gave her the gift stood up and asked loudly if she could be his girlfriend. Bella laughs happily and is about to answer him when Hyunjin came and wrapped his arms around her waist and moved her away from the crowd, shaking his head.

"No, she's ours." He said while the other members laughed and Stays screamed happily at his words.

⌦ .｡.:*♡ CLIP TWO

It was during the 2nd World Tour and the group was holding a concert in Melbourne as one of their stops. At one point, the group went around the stage to interact with Stays. As Bella was walking around the stage and chatting with fans, she spotted a child.

What was weird however, was that the child was standing by themself and in between where the fans were and the stage; basically where the bodyguards and camera crew were. Moreover, they were standing by themselves, seemingly crying.

Bella wasted no time in jumping of the stage and walking towards the child, ignoring the screams of fans. She knelt down in front of them and the child looked at her.

"Hi," She greeted with a smile. "What's your name?"

The child answered. "D-Do-Young." "Okay, where's your mommy and daddy?" "I don't know." It was clear that the person they came with left the poor child alone. Afraid he was going to get trampled on, she picked him up and began to walk backstage. The surrounding guards immediately followed after her, making sure that the two are not harmed.

"It's okay, we'll find your parents." Bella whispered as she blocked his face from the flashing cameras of Stays while she smiled at them.

Because she was still performing, Bella had to leave him with her manager, telling him to enjoy the show and wait for his parents. It was only twenty minutes later that she was informed through her earpiece that the child's sister had come, and had proved with various photos that she was his sister.

They met during the short break between performances, and Bella saw the young child off with a smile and taking a photo with the older Stay.

⌦ .｡.:*♡ CLIP THREE

Bella was doing an interview with BuzzFeed Celeb, when she was asked what she liked doing in her free time apart from sleeping and exercising.

"I like to chat with Stays, our fans." She replied. "There was a time Chan had to take my phone because Stay and I were debating what was better to wear during the summer season."

"He barged into my room because I had been laughing and Lee Know was complaining that I was loud. I tried to take it back but he said he had to cause it was four o'clock and we had practice in two hours."

She laughed loudly as tears began to roll down her cheeks. "There was also a point I was sending memes in the Stay group chat and everyone would just send them back!!" It was this that made her fall off her chair, laughing her lungs out.

⌦ .｡.:*♡ CLIP FOUR

Bella was lying on her bed when the VLive started. Hyunjin and her happened to have rooms close to each other and rather have a live by himself, he figured why not have you join him. Meanwhile, Bella was busy reading a novel and was too tired to stand up from walking around with Seungmin the whole day so she talked with Stays from her bed.

After a few minutes, she felt some exhaustion fall over her and before she knew it, her eyes closed and she fell asleep. Hyunjin was unaware of this and continued to chat with Stays before he looked back at the bed as he had read the comments that Bella had fallen asleep.

He smiled softly before standing up and walking towards the side of the bed where Bella was sleeping. He gently picked her up before sliding under her, placing Bella on his chest.

The fans went wild as Hyunjin adjusted Bella so that she was comfortable. After a few minutes, Hyunjin could be seen scrolling through the comments as Bella laid on top of him, snoring quietly.

⌦ .｡.:*♡ CLIP FIVE

At one of their concerts, when it was time for the group to just talk with one another, Felix spoke up.

"Uh, before we continue," he began in English, "I want to get something straight."

"You?" Bella asked, immediately laughing as Chan playfully hit her arm while the others looked at her with a smile.

"No," Felix laughed as well. "I want to confirm something with Stay."

"What is it?" Han asked, curious to what he's going to say.

"Stay, Bella may be your girlfriend," Stays began to shout loudly as Bella giggled, hiding her face as she fawned embarrassment. "But...Bella is our," he gestured to the boys, "...our wife."

The shouts and screams became louder as Bella blushed and laughed while the boys all clapped and smiled, agreeing with him.

⌦ .｡.:*♡ CLIP SIX

Bella had read a poster that they should ask the boys questions about herself and if they can't, she can pour water on them. Naturally, being the menace she is, she agreed to this.

First victim: Changbin. "Changbinnie?" He looked at her as she approached him with a mischievous smile. "What's my favourite food to eat when I'm sad?" "Takoyaki or some tteokbokki." Bella looked at him in surprise as he replied immediately. She nodded her head and walked away.

Second victim: Seungmin. "Yah, Kim Seungmin!" "What?" He replied. "What happened on July 8th, 2019?" "You fell down the stairs and twisted your ankle, your cup of coffee fell as soon as you put it, you accidentally deleted Han's song for the next comeback, you hit Mina-sunbaenim on the head by accident and you got the flu. Summary, it was the worst day of the year for you." Bella blinked at him in shock before walking away, giving him a suspicious look.

Final victim: I.N: "Innie?" "Hmm?" The maknae hummed. "What do I like to do when I'm bored?" "Disturb others." The reply was immediate. "Hey!!" "I'm kidding. You like to take walks and take pictures for Stay to see. You also like cuddling into someone while you watch a romance or thriller." Bella smiled and walked away, satisfied with his answer.

In the end, no one was poured for water and the Stay who requested that was more than happy to see her request fulfilled by her idol.

⌦ .｡.:*♡ CLIP SEVEN

"Bella is a thief." Lee Know randomly said during a SKZ CODE episode.

"Excuse me?" She asked in confusion.

"You're excused." Lee Know smirked while Bella gave him a deadpan expression and the others laughed at her face.

"What do you mean I'm a thief?" She asked.

"You stole my heart." This time Han replied. "And also you stole Stay's heart."

The answer made Bella roll her eyes playfully, a smile shown on her face. "Guys, stop-"

"You also like to steal our clothes." She paused at Hyunjin's words and looked at him with an offended look. "I don't steal your clothes."

"Last week I saw you steal my hoodie!" I.N joined the fight. "It was the blue one with the koala!"

"I don't have that!" Bella was now getting flustered.

"I saw you wearing my Jordans five times last month." Changbin spoke up calmly but one could easily see the mischievous look in his eyes. "Now that I know you're lying! You were the ones wearing them!"

Chan, who had been laughing in his seat, stood up and walked towards Bella, stopping when he was right in front of her. "What?" She was annoyed at how the situation had turned out to be hence snapping at Chan.

He, however, smiled calmly before leaning down and grabbing the back of the shirt. He lifted the tag and smiled before looking at the female member. "Isn't this my shirt you're wearing."

The silence that filled the room was loud and it was shuttered in an instant by Han and Hyunjin's laughter while the rest stared in shock. Before Bella could defend herself, he spoke again. "I made sure to tag all my stuff because of you so don't even try to deny it."

The scene cuts to a sulking Bella leaning on Felix's side as he laughed, while the other members comforted her telling her she could steal their clothes any time she wants and that they don't mind.

⌦ .｡.:*♡ CLIP EIGHT

This moment was recorded during a fan interaction. Bella was visiting her relatives in Germany when fans heard that she was visiting. They immediately went to the airport and greeted her, excited to see her. Fortunately fans were considerate and didn't push, not wanting her to dislike their country.

When she was exiting the airport, dozens of bodyguards were lined up to prevent fans from coming close to her. As she waved to fans all around her, she noticed someone standing at the edge of the crowd, wearing nothing but a shirt and shorts. It was during the cold season and the temperatures were quite low, so it worried Bella to see someone wearing something for summer in that weather.

After informing her manager, she went to the person, a young boy who looked no more older that 18. He was holding a blank paper and pen, for an autograph. What made her confused was how he seemed so uninterested yet desperate for her signature.

Bella took of her jacket and hung it around the boy's shoulders. He seemed surprised, but it soon turned into relief as he felt the warmth. Soon, someone came to take the boy to hospital like she had requested. He was surprised and Bella simply gave him a wink and he went.

A few hours later, a report on the child abuse of a young man by their extended family would reach the national news, and the picture of the young boy that Bella had met that day was shown. She would never tell, but she saw bruises when she was covering him up. She was glad that the boy was safe now.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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suzukiblu · 5 months

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May I ask how you got people interested in your works? You have so many people who love your writing (rightfully so bc you're awesome) and I just want to find some people who like my writing like you did

ik that I should be writing for myself and everything, and for the most part I am! I write bc I like writing and it makes me happy! But it's just so so discouraging to see my little silly posts that take me 5 minutes to make do fantastic, meanwhile the works that take me weeks of effort get like 3 notes yk?

How do you do it? Did you ever deal with something similar? Any words of wisdom for the struggling noobs?

(This is a genuine question, I'm not trying to be rude in any way shape or form and I'm very sorry if it came off like that) (Also sorry to bother you)

You’re good, I’m not bothered by questions and I don’t think you’re asking anything rude either! I especially don’t mind the “please explain this thing I don’t know much about to me” type of questions, there’s just some shit you can’t effectively google or things that just make more sense coming from someone with direct experience.

First and foremost: the two cakes meme is law!! No one will ever complain about getting two cakes, no matter if you think someone else already did it better!

Second and second-most: as a newbie, before you read any of my advice at all, remember that you're currently comparing yourself to someone who’s been writing fic for their entire writing experience and has also been in fandom on and off for pretty much all of that time on multiple sites and through at least a couple major migrations of fandom hubs, and that time has been about twenty-five years now. Like, it has very much been a long-term process, me learning how to find a receptive audience for my stuff. Also I am a grown-ass adult who is currently pushing forty and am pretty self-aware of who I am as a person due to a WHOLE lot of personal introspection and therapy and general life experience. Like, I know how I work at this point in my life, if nothing else.

The long-form answer of my personal fandom process will definitely require a cut at this point, though, haha. Like, this got kind of involved, ngl, but since you’re asking I figure it’s reasonable to go into detail.

So anyway, the “how to find your audience” answer is obviously gonna be different for everybody, but PERSONALLY, I've been in fandom for a long-ass time and just about always been pretty prolific and consistently communicative and available during the times I was around. I have a ton of different fandoms and fics in my history and have run into a lot of different people and written a lot of different things over the years, so I've cast a pretty wide net of options for people to find me through. I've got readers who've followed me through multiple fandoms and even deliberately gotten into new ones because of me just because they like how I write and know me well enough from my other writing to trust that I’ll be respectful of certain things (or at least put in a good-faith effort to be). Your kink is not my kink, but I’m not gonna hate on it; your thing is not my thing, but you have fun over there, you DO your thing!

Being prolific is super-helpful, of course, because that gets people in the habit of checking in on you regularly and keeps you fresh in their minds, but one of the most effective ways I’ve gotten people long-term interested in my work is by being very responsive to readers and very open about what I’m currently working on. Taking requests has helped, asking who wants to see more of what has helped, talking to people in general has helped, and definitely playing “yes, and?” with ideas I’ve been offered has helped. Also I had the benefit of LiveJournal being one of my main fandom hubs for a while, where I met a lot of people and got in the habit of talking to them in a way Tumblr does not necessarily intuitively facilitate, so that’s just a habit for me.

I definitely still produce stuff that comparatively flops and get bummed about it, it’s just a thing I’ve gotten used to over the years and so I either kill my darlings and move on to the next thing or I decide “naw, I’m still into this idea, I’mma work on it more anyway”. That’s obviously much easier when at least a couple other people are also into said idea, but still, it’s a thing you just gotta decide for yourself either way. Like I’ve DEFINITELY had stuff I slaved over get just about totally ignored while things I only tossed up on a whim off the top of my head or just intended as jokes people adored and resonated with way more, which is part of why I do so many WIP memes where I’m drip-feeding bits and pieces of content more regularly. One of my recent fics didn’t get near as much of a reception or interest on AO3 as I’d hoped it would, but when I was writing it on Tumblr people DID get excited for and enjoy it during the process, so that helped soothe that particular indignity/frustration for me.

Also, I’ve gotten enough people invested in my writing at this point that it’s much easier for me than it is for some writers, because I can do things like ask “hey what do you guys like/want to see more of?” and I’ll pretty much always get an answer, simply because so many people are in the habit of regularly checking on my blog and talking to me now. Polls are very helpful that way too, because it’s a functionally anonymous way for shyer people or people who are just casually scrolling their dash to give you an idea of what they’re enjoying from you without having to disrupt their flow or psych themselves up or anything like that. Like, it’s low-pressure, you know? I have done a LOT of polls since I found out Tumblr has those now.

I also constantly encourage people to both talk to me about and also play with my interpretations and AUs as they so please, and I deliberately cultivate responsive relationships with as many readers as I can. I don’t always have the spoons to answer every ask, but I always try to answer the majority of them and try not to ignore questions. A significant chunk of people have told me that they read tropes and AUs from me that they hate from other writers because they just trust that I’ll write it in a way that they can enjoy. I will include certain things and a certain level of respect that they just would not be comfortable without, and if I don’t have those things in there or there’s a common trigger, I’ll at least have done my best to tag for it. And I listen to people who tell me when I’m fucking up and I either take reasonable accommodations or change my behavior where appropriate. I tag for common triggers, I don’t use terms I’ve been told are insults or slurs, I try not to associate negative connotations with physical characteristics or things people can’t change about themselves, and when I have a reflexive “squick” reaction, I try not to assume shit and try to examine my biases. Or I just back-button and move on, if it comes to it. I also do my best to assume the best of people until they prove that I should not be. I am very much going to de-escalate when and wherever I can.

I generally consider myself a low-drama blog and a low-drama person to follow, and put in effort to be that as best I can, and at this point I think (or at least hope) people feel relatively confident that they can talk to me without having to worry about immediately getting their head bitten off, which seems to be an increasing fear/concern that some people have in fandom. Therefore, I get people talking to me pretty regularly, because I’ve gone to the effort to be as approachable as I know how to make myself.

Also, yeah: above all else, write what you wanna write! Write your weird and niche dreams! Trust me, somebody out there LOVES your weird and niche dreams and wants all the deets on ‘em. I get the most engagement and interest when I just write what I really wanna see and don’t particularly worry about how goddamn weird I think I’m being. People are actually gonna be EXCITED about how goddamn weird I think I’m being, because a lot of them want it too and they’re not finding it as easily as a lot of the more popular stuff.

So like . . . hope at least some of that was helpful, feel free to ask follow-up questions if you have any, hah.

#anonymous #rintalk

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