#sigh oh how i miss you mean frank tweets | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hanawrites404 · 3 years

Text

Journey

@oc-growth-and-development

(trigger warning : smoking, mention of death)

Another day, another restorative morning, as if nothing else can motivate me enough to finally cut my laze and start the new day already.

I got off my bed and my eyes instinctively gazed out the window beside me at the wall. As usual, there wasn't much outside, just the same trees and lawns you would find in any other neighbourhood, yet I never seem to get tired of looking at them over and over every time I wake up. It was like a part of my everyday morning ritual which I definitely shouldn't miss, and honestly, I was fine with it. I was not the type of person to actively look for spices in my life after all, and even if I start to crave for it someday, I just wait for it to come to me.

Otherwise, everything just gotta be restful, that's all I want, to be honest.

The water was pleasantly chill to bathe in, too, and so was the dawn's sea breeze swishing through the balcony as soon as the curtains were tucked out and the windows were pulled open. If anything warm right now, it was the brisk sun and the brimming cup of steaming café au lait thawing my bare arms and fingers as I stepped out to lean onto the grill of my terrace. My feet were bare as well, touching the cool tiles beneath them as I felt the tingling sensation through my nerves.

I was still in my pyjamas, my hair up in a bun and it was still seven. Other than some elder citizens walking outside to get the minty air rushing and stray cats and dogs yawning and stretching, the scene in front of me was almost deserted.

It all felt quiet, but it wasn't prickly. The birds were still tweeting, the bulk of leaves rustled in a shimmer, and I could even hear my sigh as I blew the hot vapour from my cup, my lips slowly savouring the coffee bit by bit. It was very peaceful, I liked it.

But unfortunately, it wasn't real.

"미스......미스.....일어나 미스!"

I jolted up from the unfamiliar voice presumably calling out for me. So it was all a dream? I wasn't enjoying a utopian morning at my balcony back in Miami?? But it all felt so real....from the taste of coffee to the warmth I felt of the drink. So it was all my imagination? Wow huh....looks like the power of my mind is going to be a mystery to me for a while. I never knew that my brain could fool me into believing that I was relaxing at my home, and not dozing off in a Korean tourist bus.

"Ugghmm...Huh?" Still groggy from my sleep, I blinked twice before looking outside the window of the bus. By the look of it, I think we had come to the final stop. Before letting out anything else from my mouth, I silently turned my gaze onto the one who broke my slumber, namely the bus conductor.

He is looking right at me. Come on, say something....!!

"U-Ummm...." I stumbled, my index slowly moving to point at the complex the bus had stopped near at.

"역???" I cringed as I tried to pronounce the exotic word. Fuck. I didn't expect my voice to crack right in front of the bus conductor. And before anyone raises a question, no. I don't know Korean. I just happened to memorize only the important words I might need to communicate during my journey to Korea. But while I was still at home I felt pretty confident in myself, what happened to me now? It wasn't unusual of me, I am a human after all and I get nervous at times too. Yet it was.... surprising.

Hmm...it must be the anxiety of being in an alien country where everything is different from what I am aware of and what I have experienced so far. Different ambience, different language, and different people. Very strange and foreign, to be frank. But fresh and young, like a bite of a ripe green apple.

Nevertheless, the conductor just laughed at me and patted my shoulder very strongly. Ouch but Woah, now I could see why he was hired as the conductor. Strong arms, sharp eyes, along with a charm of his own to make people at ease. Even to a 'lost' newcomer like me.

"Yes yes! 역! Correct! Wanna come out??" With a grin twinkling on his bright face, he stepped away to let me through. I felt more relaxed than before as soon as I heard English from him, and it was pretty fluent too.

A small relieved smile broke on my lips too as I grab hold of my guitar case and my backpack and get up. My legs had gotten a bit numb inside my boots from not moving them much throughout the ride, and my jacket was almost off my shoulders.

"감사합니다" I quickly muttered before adjusting everything on me and stepping out of the bus. I didn't want to stammer again and, even if I wasn't in a hurry, I still wanted to make sure I reach where I was called to at an early hand.

"Have a safe journey!" The conductor waved at me, and I gladly turned around to return the gesture before entering the lobby. After I had made it inside, I left my belongings at a convenient place and went to the bathroom to fix my face and clothes.

I had been travelling for almost twenty hours; An eighteen-hour flight and a two-hour bus. It was back-to-back, and hardly I had the time to refresh myself properly and smoke a bit, but now was my chance to do so before I carry on to reach my destination.

With the help of the large mirror on the wall, I first removed my contact lenses and then washed my face and combed my hair. It had grown pretty long. But I wasn't planning on cutting them any sooner. I also dusted my jacket and jeans off and straightened my t-shirt inside.

After I was sure everything had been set, I put my lenses back on and vaguely looked around the room, and finding no one except me, I quickly stand near the ventilator above me and light my cigarette. What I was doing right now poses a threat to my health and is illegal, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine. I admit it shamelessly because why not. I have nothing to lose. We all are gonna die one day, so it's better we make the most of our lives and I was just doing that. Nothing more, nothing less.

Just because I said I don't seek adventure vigorously, does not mean I don't have any thrill in my life at all. I do have it. Everyone has it. You just gotta make it interesting in your way, and that's how you gotta roll, champ.

Anyways, after a couple of puffs, I got disposed of the cigar and shooed off the smoke around me. It was only after everything seemed clear that I washed my life hands and dried them, then left the restroom and grabbed my luggage back before I started to stride again, to the reception counter.

After all the formalities were taken care of, I finally breathed the outside air of Korean afternoon. The sun was luminous and overhead, but the heat wasn't as severe as back in Miami. The number of clouds here are much more than there, or was it just for this particular day? I had no idea.

I am not a tourist here. I came here for a business trip, you can say. A man from here, a freelancing musical artist, had personally requested and invited me for a musical collaboration. The deal itself sounded quite intriguing, also with the fact that I'm half-Korean thanks to my father's lineage, yet ironically I have neither ever seen Korea with my own eyes nor I have witnessed its culture. Until today, that is.

So here I am now, strolling in the middle of the bustling city surrounded by college students touring around, laughing and talking with their classmates and munching on unique dishes and snacks I had never seen before. And while I was busy observing them, someone bumped into me, breaking my contact.

"Oh! 실례합니다!" It was a young blond guy, wearing a light blue hoodie with a couple of smiley badges pinned to his chest. He quickly bowed after apologizing and for briefly taking a glance at my face, hastily trots in the opposite direction. I eyed him, judging by his clothes and the books he was carrying in his arms, he looked like a college student. Hmm...no wonder why he was in a hurry. He must be late to class or something.

But anyway, I continued walking. That musical man had told me to wait near the back alley of a coffee shop that was close to the station. Hmm, that would be easy to locate. The coffee shop was right in front of me! Hah, how easy.

And so, without wasting any time, I ambled towards the cafè. It was a cute little shop, in my opinion. The smell of roasted coffee beans and bubbling creamy milk was evident in the atmosphere, and the colour scheme of the shop had pallettes of vanilla and caramel. It was like I had entered not a shop but inside a nestling coffee cup! Pretty cool, especially for someone who loves coffee like me.

Also, a bunch of customers were inside too. This place was not lonely at all. Some couples were on a date, singles who just want peace of mind with a complimentary cup of coffee, and business workers too! To be honest, I liked one of the employee's suits too. It was of a short brunette woman with glasses. She was kind of cute too. And by how she was still typing away rapidly on her phone even while on her break, tells how much of a busy woman she must be. Damn, God forbid that I ever be this much busy in my career.

Working even at breaks. Scary, in my opinion.

Needless to say, that wasn't why I was here for. The city was new to me so naturally, I would be curious, but business comes first in such a case. And in this case, it's my case. So bringing myself back to schedule, I leave to the back alley, waiting for that man so we could finally meet after talking through emails and phone calls.

But......what was that man's name again?

Ah....Zen.....

Hmm, weird name. But as someone who prefers to be called CJ than Catherine Joseph, I am no one to say so. Or even judge so.

Zen......I wonder what kind of person he would be in flesh. Same friendly and confident as the impression of him in my mind? Or just some different personality I never saw coming? Well, only time will tell that. But right now, we wait.

#catjose #mystic messenger oc #mystic messenger cmc #mystic messenger mc #mysme cmc #mysme oc #mysme mc #mysme #mystic messenger #cmc #oc-tober

6 notes · View notes

robinrunsfiction · 4 years

Note

can we get a sequel to the lonely road? maybe the reader deletes their Twitter account and the haters are tweeting how weak they are and such and gee steps in on Twitter and all his socials talking about it and how happy he is and that everyone putting the reader down wasn't truly a fan because they weren't respecting her and how happy she made him? just gee stepping in and defending the reader

The Lonely Road Part 2 - Home Again

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female ReaderRating: Teen (for online bullying)Requested By: Three separate anonsWord Count: ~1,500Author’s Note: Holy smokes guys! Three separate anons all looking for part two of this story?! That make me feel so good as a writer! And the best part is that everyone seemed to have the same idea I did, as I had basically pulled that part out of part one to keep it from getting too long and rambling. Kinda like this note is getting. Ok on to the story!

Gerard flew back to LA later that day and your tour continued on. The next few stops were much better, thanks in part to the refreshing visit with Gerard and a day off that everyone sorely needed, but also Christine getting much more stern with the interviewers about the questions they would be asking.

Having removed the Twitter app from your phone was proving to be incredibly helpful for your mental health, however it wasn’t silencing the constant stream criticism and hate from Gerard’s so-called fans. The longer you maintained your silence, the more vicious the tweets became.

I hope @(YFN)(YLN) bus crashes

Hey @mikeyway is (YN) as aweful as she seems?

can we just cancel her fo existing? #(YN)iscancelledparty

A couple weeks later, the tour was over and you were rolling back into LA. Christine drove you home and debriefed you on what you would be doing in the coming weeks, but most importantly you had a few days off. All you could think of was getting home and meeting up with Gerard, but when you finally arrived, a familiar car was already waiting in the driveway.

“Gee!” You squealed, jumping out of the passenger seat as soon as the car had stopped moving. You ran up to him and jumped in his arms as he spun you both around. “Ugh the last two weeks were the longest yet!”

“I know, I missed you so much,” he said, setting you back down before planting a big kiss on you.

You weren’t aware of how long you had been lost in Gerard’s kiss until you heard Christine clearing her throat behind you.

“Sorry to interrupt this lovely reunion, you two really are the cutest I swear, but (YN) you wanna get your dirty laundry out the back seat of my car?” Christine asked snidely.

You pulled back and rolled your eyes as you went to retrieve your things.

“Thanks again for coordinating everything so I could come out and see (YN),” you heard Gerard say to Christine.

“Happy to help. I’ll get outta here so I’m not interrupting any further,” she said with a wave. “Oh and don’t forget (YN), meeting on Tuesday at 11 AM.”

“Got it,” you said, waving her off as Gerard helped to carry your bags inside the house. “Ugh, finally it’s just you and me again,” you said, draping your arms over Gerard’s shoulders as he put his hands on your waist, kissing you sweetly.

“My favorite place to be,” he smiled. “What do you wanna do first?”

“Honestly? I’m starving, can we order some lunch? And then eat it in bed? And just stay in bed for like the rest of the day?“

“That sounds great,” Gerard laughed.

The next morning Gerard invited you to go along with him to the studio to sit in on My Chem’s recording session.

”(YN)! How was touring?“ Ray greeted you with a warm hug.

"Ugh, it was a real learning opportunity,” you laughed and rolled your eyes.

“Gee told us you were having some trouble with the internet. That’s why I just stay away from it,” Ray shrugged.

“You probably got the right idea,” you replied as Mikey and Frank walked in.

“Hey (YN), welcome back,” Mikey said, exchanging a look with Frank.

“Yea… what was that about?” You replied, narrowing your eyes as you lookied between the two of them.

“Nothin,” Frank replied. “I gotta get in there and get this riff recorded before I lose it,” he said, hurrying into the recording booth. Ray turned his attention to talking to the producer about what Frank was doing, leaving you with the brothers.

“Mikey, what was that look you gave Frank?” Gerard pressed.

“Yea, spill it,” you chimed in.

Mikey sighed. “I went on twitter for the first time in a while and there were all these messages directed at me asking why you weren’t on there, if you were too scared and weak to face the fans, if I liked you dating Gee, if Gee was happy, asking me to break you guys up so Gee and Frank can be together,” he said rolling his eyes.

“For fucks sake,” Gerard muttered, running his hand through his hair.

“Did you reply?” You asked, your voice barely coming out as a squeak. You were so sick of this response when your music career was just barely taking off. What if you achieved the level of success you once dreamed of, what would the criticism be like then? And what if Gerard got sick of dealing with you and the drama that seemed to follow you at every turn.

“Nah, I’m not gonna dignify that shit with a response. But for the record, I love you and Gee together,” he smiled reassuringly.

“Well I’ve fucking had it,” Gerard snapped as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Shutting this down. These people claim to be fans, but can’t show a shred of respect to you, me, Mikey, Frank, Jamia, any of us. It ends today.”

You glanced at Mikey, who shrugged and joined Ray listening to Frank play. Gerard quickly slipped deep into thought as he typed furiously at his phone. You turned your attention to Frank’s playing as well until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Gerard asked.

“Sure,” you replied with a smile as you got up and followed him out of the studio. It was a warm, sunny day, perfect for being outside instead of cooped up in a soundproof, windowless room. Gerard’s hand found yours as you wandered down the street, eventually stopping at a small cafe with big planters of bright flowers surrounding their outdoor seating area.

“This place is so cute,” you commented between sips of your iced coffee when you found a table.

Gerard nodded in agreement, before sliding his chair closer to yours. “I wanna get a photo,” he said, holding up his phone as he leaned in and placed a kiss on your cheek and you laughed with delight. Before you knew it, you and Gerard were practically having a full-on photo shoot, taking photos on your phones of each other, and both of you together. You were laughing and having a wonderful time until two people in business attire shot you a withering glance as they sat down at one of the other tables to begin their meeting.

As Gerard’s laughter died down, he started scrolling through the photos. “This is the one,” he said.

“What?” You asked, looking up from your own collection of photos.

“One sec,” he said, concentrating on his phone for a moment. “Ok, umm, so I want you to read this caption before I post it on instagram. You’re the most important person in the world to me and I love you. I’m so sick of how you’re being treated online, so I hope this shuts it down.”

When you took his phone, you looked at the photo he had selected and edited a little. You were laughing, holding your coffee, the bright flowers behind you providing the perfect backdrop as the sun shone down, but your heart pounded in your chest as you scrolled down and began to read:

It frustrates me that I even have to write this, but it’s overdue. For weeks and months now, I’ve tried to ignore the near constant barrage of hate and vitriol being spewed toward someone who is so important to me. I’ve said before that (YN) brings so much happiness and love to my life, she’s someone that I’ll be with forever if I’m lucky.

But when every day I have to see and hear that people are questioning how much joy she brings me, saying vile things to and about her, it makes me sick. No one deserves that. And the fact that it’s being done in the name of supposedly protecting me is unacceptable. Disrespect is unacceptable and that’s not what being a fan is.

To everyone who has shown (YN) love and support with her new album, or at the very least treated her respectfully, thank you. I appreciate it so much.

To my love (YN), I am so sorry that I didn’t do this sooner. You’re the most talented, beautiful, thoughtful, loving woman I’ve ever met. Never let them steal what makes you wonderful. I’m here for you always.

You glanced up at Gerard, your eyes welling up with tears. “Thank you,” you said softly.

“I mean it, I’m so sorry I didn’t step in sooner. I thought if we ignored it, they’d shut up and go away, not get worse.”

“It’s ok, there was no way of knowing,” you shrugged. “Maybe this will get someone to think twice. And I think we’ll all be better off if we take a break from Twitter. That’s where the worst of it seems to be.”

“You’re right,” Gerard nodded. “I really love you (YN),” he said with a gentle smile.

“I love you too. And thank you for everything you do for me,” you said as you leaned in and sweetly placed a kiss against his lips.

#Anon #gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction

62 notes · View notes

larryfanficwriter98 · 4 years

Text

Chapter Twelve

The top five trends worldwide were of Larry Stylinson and Louis Tomlinson the very next day. Number one trend was "#LarryStylinsonIsForever", the second was "#LouisTomlinSONDATASS" with the videos the girls recorded from last night attached to it. The eight of them had danced their asses off with zero thoughts of their dignity for the next day. Louis was seen in all of them his ass and hips getting wilder the more he drank.

The third trend was "#PartyWithLouis" with the video of Louis drowning shots and high fiving the seven people group as well as yelling out the happy birthday song to the girl who was twenty now. The fourth trend was "#PartyWithLarry" with videos of Louis and videos of Harry from his birthday at a club attached to the posts.

Both lads taking shots in their respective videos and both lads having a good time with their friends. The final trend was of his shirt last night which said "Wine and Dildos" and Louis has never regretted buying a funny shirt until that moment. Even the "vanilla is for ice cream" shirt form Valentine's Day didn't draw as much attention as his shirt from last night was.

Louis sighed as he rolled out of bed to go downstairs where Liam, Zayn, and Niall were eating cereal at the counter.

"I hate every single one of you." Louis told them as he pulled down his coco pops

"Shut it cum stains." Zayn said around his toast making Louis glare at him

"Hey what's with the photos of Harry with that guy yesterday?" Liam asked

"His ex tried to get back with him but Harry shot him down. Nothing to worry about. It was just lunch." Louis said

"Just lunch? The guy was at his concert last night." Louis frowned and looked at Liam, "yeah there's photos of him in the crowd and a video of him going backstage after the show."

"Well I spoke with Harry before his show and he probably didn't know he'd be there them after we were sort of...distracted. Look I'm sure it looks bad-"

"Lou none of us is accusing Harry of anything, we all love him and don't think he'd cheat especially after getting to know the real him. I just thought I'd let you know the guy was there last night." Louis nodded pulling his phone out as he grabbed the milk from the fridge. He hesitated but pressed Harry's number feeling bad that it was only 6 in the morning in Brazil.

"Hey, Lou." Harry said answering almost immediately

"Hey what are you doing up so early?" Louis asked

"Watching the sunrise, thinking of you, writing, and eating fruit. Couldn't sleep after 5 so I got up to start the day." Harry said, "how's the hangover?"

"Horrible, but I'll live." Louis said putting Harry on speaker-phone to set it on the countertop as he stood beside Liam.

"Hey, Harry." The lads greeted

"Hey, guys. How was last night? Saw you made friends."

"Niall has a crush." Liam said

"Oh?"

"Shut up. It's nothing." Niall said shoving waffles into his mouth, "how was the concert?"

"It was fine. Had a girl try to get into my dressing room it was a weird night. I'm tired of South America already. Ready to leave." Harry said

"You sound exhausted. You okay?" Zayn asked

"I am. It was a long night. Management wants publicity around me for the UK leg and so they have brought my ex into the media with me without telling me. So now I'm being painted as a cheater over here even though I haven't done anything. Management gave him a ticket and a backstage passed yesterday without letting me know so now there's that going around the web. Then they have a room under his name in the same hotel I'm staying at. I'm probably going to stay in my tour bus or a different hotel tonight. Tonight is my last concert here so the rest is interviews and photoshoots but if this keeps up I'll leave early. Management and I have been arguing about it since last night." Harry explained

"Is there anything we can do?" Liam asked concerned

"Legally yeah, but honestly it's not worth it. As long as none of you have signed anything with Sony you're legally allowed to talk about anything. That doesn't mean you're safe to do so, however."

"What do you mean?" Louis asked

"If they know it's you then they can sue you for misinformation or slander. However, if you just happen to have an anonymous twitter or Tumblr account that can't be traced by to you by email or phone number and it must happen to tell the world about controlling managements. Well, they can't sue someone if they don't have their names." Harry said Louis looked at the boys who grinned

*************

Harry folded his arms sitting back in his seat frowning at his management team.

"Harry this will bring in a lot of publicity." Frank said, "We think it's for the best."

"Also we think Louis isn't the most...appropriate person to be associated with. The shirts, the jokes, the middle finger." Becca said as she spread out screenshots of Louis' tweets and pictures.

"Our point is Louis isn't someone to keep around when your music is for young girls ages 13 and up. That's your audience."

"It's not happening." Harry said shaking his head

"You signed a contract-"

"A contract you guys are going against." Harry argued glaring at them, "it's not going to happen."

"Yes, it will. You are expected at the beach tomorrow at noon for your date. That's final." Harry stormed out of the room slamming the door closed, he headed to the hotel and contacted his lawyer telling him what was going on. After his lawyer confirmed that it was against the contract Harry made his mind up and spent the next few hours talking to him.

*********

"Hey, lads how was work?" Louis asked walking into the house kicking off his shoes quickly. He frowned when silence met his question and was even more confused when he saw the lads sitting on the couch waiting for him. "What's going on?"

"Has Harry called yet?"

"What do you mean? Is it another stupid ex-boyfriend picture because I swear-"

"Harry's tour is canceled."

"What?" Louis asked stopping in his tracks, "is Harry okay?" Liam turned his laptop around and Louis stared at the picture of Harry with his bags and his eyes filled with tears with his head down as he walked through Manchester airport a few hours ago with the title,

HARRY STYLES CANCELS TOUR UNEXPECTEDLY!

LETS DOWN AND DISAPPOINTS MILLIONS OF FANS!

HARRY STYLES CAREER OVER?!

"What...why?" Louis asked immediately grabbing his phone and saw no missed calls or texts. Frowning he quickly called Harry putting him on speaker but got no answer. He tried two more times, but still no answer. "Alright, I'm going to go check his house. Make sure he's okay." Louis said getting up to pull his shoes back on

"Keep us updated." Liam said getting a nod from Louis who hurried out of the house and back into his car.

He had Harry's address and lock code for the time he had gone to his house to let in Harry's yard worker. Gemma usually did it, but or she had been asked to work so Harry had asked Louis to do it and to just stay there until he was finished. Louis had agreed and stayed there all Sunday watching Netflix on Harry's couch in his living room. Harry was on the other side of Manchester, but Louis didn't care as he out in the lock code watching the gate slide open letting him inside. He got out of his car and headed to the door glad to find it unlocked when he tested the handle.

Closing the door behind him, he ran up the stairs and headed to Harry's room opening the door gently and saw Harry laying on the bed. He walked inside the room and closed the door as he took his shoes off then headed to the bed. Louis sat on the side looking at Harry who had fallen asleep crying according to the tear tracks. He reached his hand out and gently pulled his hair away from his face and ran his fingers through it.

"Harry." Louis spoke soft and gentle, "Haz." Harry slowly opened his eyes and Louis smiled, "what are you doing here Haz? What's wrong? What happened?" Louis asked a few minutes later after he was sure Harry was awake

"Does everyone hate me?"

"The tabloids are having a field day, but I don't think your fans are as angry as you fear. Want me to look?" Harry nodded so Louis pulled his phone out and got on Instagram to see what is going on there and saw the picture of Harry at the airport going around. Each post was of support and wishing everything was okay, "nobody hates you, sweetie. Now, what's wrong?"

"They wanted me to cheat on you on a fucking beach in fucking Brazil. I told them no and they said some shit them by the end of it they told I was going to do it and they were the end of it. I walked out and I called my lawyer and he told me it was against the contract so I packed up and I left on the jet. Canceled the tour on the jet." Harry said, "they went against the contract they made up so unless they want to take it to court it'll be a simple case of getting ownership of my songs and making them refund the last ten concerts. So unless they want what they tried to do out in the open them it'll be over within a few weeks."

"Baby you could have called me and told me the situation. I'd of understood." Louis said gently

"No, you don't get it. First, it'd be cheating then they'd make it impossible for us to talk, then we'd break up and make me into the victim somehow and push hate on to you. They'll ruin your life and besides, I don't cheat. I'd never do that to you no matter who wanted me to do it. Can you just cuddle me?"

"Of course. Scoot over." Louis set his phone and keys beside Harry's phone and laid down beside him snuggling his head against his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too." Harry said

#New Chapter #Larry Stylinson #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #larry fic #archive of our own #Wattpad

8 notes · View notes

x-reader-theater · 5 years

Text

Kouign-Amann [3]

Relationship: Joe Mazzello x Male!Reader

Summary: It’s been six weeks without Joe, and you’ve almost gotten used to it. Almost. But what happens when he comes into your life again. Will is be everything you hope, or will it crash and burn. For some reason, you’re really hoping for the former...

Warnings: Very fluffy, and hopefully a good ending.

Word Count: 3,337

A/N: Hey y’all! I’m so happy you are all enjoying this, and welcome to the end! Well, not really the end, because I really like this reader, and I want to do more, but this is the end of the Kouign-Amann series. I want to write imagines and blurbs for this reader because it’s really cute. He’s become like an OC to me XD Anyways, I hope you like the ending! It’s not as long, but my wife @roger-bang-the-drum helped me again with this, so the tweets are back! Anyways, I hope you like it! Please like and reblog!

Joe Mazzello hasn't been spotted with his husband in 6 weeks! Has Joe finally moved on?

The Bohemian Rhapsody star made waves when it was revealed he was married, and to a man no less! But is their relationship on the rocks? The star has been seen multiple times without his husband, and, some reports claim without his ring! Well, the husband of the man in question hasn't been seen either! Reports from people going to the little cafe say he hasn't been working there recently! Has he sold it? It doesn't really matter, what matters is ladies, Joseph Mazzello is back on the market! Go and grab him before someone else does!

Your new apartment was nice, but not as nice as the one above the shop. You missed it some days, but then you remember the people who used to come to your door, and the reminicing is shattered. You exit your apartment, and walk the few blocks it takes to get to the coffee shop. It was the furthest away you were willing to go. It was awful, having a car in London, so usually you would just walk everywhere, and a couple blocks was all you could manage in the morning.

To be frank, you quite liked your early morning walks. It was quiet, no one was around, and the air was crisp and cold. You could think in the mornings for once, instead of sloughing to work, dragging your feet along, which can be quite dangerous.

But you love your little coffee shop, and it's pastries, and even though you didn't make your favourites for the shop anymore, you would sometimes bring them in for the staff that works there now. You no longer really worked their either. You were more of the manager, hoping to see if everything was going okay, and then going about your daily business. The shop brought in a fair amount of money, especially after the who whole scandal with- well, at least you could than the scandal for one thing. You had to admit, outrage marketing was a legitimate strategy.

You hear about the occasional nutter who comes in asking to see you or Joe, but they usually don't cause a scene. The people who did find your shop quickly became regulars, and you had a lot of repeat customers, which is always nice. They brought in a fair amount of money just by themselves.

You find that in your thinking, you've already turned the corner to the shop, and as you head for it, you see someone leave.

“Hello,” you say to the politely, and when they look up from their coffee to smile at you politely back, you freeze. “What are you doing here?” You didn't mean for it to sound rude, and you didn't expect that to be the first thing out of your mouth when you saw him, but you'd take what you were given.

“I get coffee here every morning, when I'm in London of course,” Joe says, and you just nod. “You really did it huh?” He asks.

“Did what?” You ask confused. You don't understand what he was talking about.

“You left, created an amazing business from something that was given to you on a few months ago. You really are an incredible man,” he says, and you feel your face flushing, from the cold or him, you didn't know. But you had a guess.

“I- uh… thanks,” you manage to mumble out.

You go to turn into the shop, not really wanting to continue on with your day, but Joe stops you.

“Wait! I was, uh…” He clears his throat, and you smile invoulentarily at the dork standing in front of you. “I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner sometime? Just-just the two of us. We could catch up?”

“Okay.” Your voice is faster than your brain, and you almost immediately regret it. You say almost, because the smile that's brought to Joe's face negates any feelings of regret you might have.

“Okay!” He exclaims, and you smile again, just standing there for a moment of awkward silence. “Oh! Uh, meet you here at twelve tomorrow?” He asks, and you nod. “Great! That's… uh… great…” he trails off, and you let out a small laugh.

“Okay Joe. I'll see you tomorrow,” you say, smiling at how adorable he is. You… you missed this…

“Yeah! Okay…” He says, and you turn into the shop as he leaves as well, looking almost as confused as you felt.

“What the hell just happened?” You ask as you walk into the coffee shop. Hadley, Jacob, and the new girl, Della, were all just starting at you, watching.

“I think you have a date with Joe…” Hadley says, and sigh.

“What have I gotten myself into?” You ask, and Jacob walks over, placing a hand on your back, and he steers you away from the entrance into the back.

“Let's not dwell on that. I have the weekly earnings report just waiting for you to look over…” Jacob says, leading you away, still in shock.

You sigh as you shiver in the street, waiting for Joe to come pick you up. You still don't understand why you agreed, but you did, and you wanted to hear him out. You breath into your hands trying to warm them up, and rub them together, gaining a small amount of feeling back into your fingers. Even though it was early March, it was still freezing, though it was always freezing, until, like, June.

You see a car pull around the corner and stop in front of you, and the window rolls down, revealing Joe, sitting in the driver's side.

“Come on,” he says, and you nod, getting into the passenger's side, before he pulls out again. “I figured this would be more comfortable than walking in the freezing cold.” You nod, and pull your coat tighter over you in lew of an answer. Joe looks over at you, and says softly, “Please, you don't have to be nervous. I just want us to catch up.” You nod again, but don't say anything.

You don't know what to say.

Sensing your hesitation, Joe grabs your hand, and you almost pull away, but you don't, relaxing into the touch when he starts to rub your knuckles. The touch is nice, and when he runs his thumb over your ring finger, you shudder at the sensation, suddenly missing your ring.

You stay like that, just holding hands in silence, when Joe finally stops. He lets go of your hand, and suddenly, it feels empty. It's like you've been missing a part of yourself you didn't know you were supposed to be missing.

You get out of the car as well, and Joe walks you through the parking garage, and down onto the street, a street that is very familiar. You turn the corner and see the Sheep's Head, staring back at you.

You gasp, and stop, and Joe has to keep himself from falling over. “You brought us back…” you whisper, and Joe smiles.

“I figured this would be a good place to go back to…” he says, and you nod, smiling.

“This is perfect.”

“Here, we, go!” you exclaim as you set the potatoes on the cooling rack in the middle of your kitchen table. You smile as you sit down across from Joe who just looks starving.

“This is amazing, thank you [Y/N]! I haven't eaten all day…” he says, and you get a sense of deja Vu. Everything about this is familiar, the way you're sitting, what you're eating, everything. It feels like dinner, like you've been doing it every day for the six weeks you haven't been talking. It was weird.

You just smile, and let Joe dig in. You weren't very hungry, the weirdness of it all was making your stomach feel weird.

“God I've missed you cooking,” Joe says, and the smile on your face gets tense. He looks up and his eyes go wide. “No! No, that's not what I meant… uh, well… I-I guess I just, I missed you.”

You sigh, your shoulders slumping forwards. “Joe…” you mumble, not looking at him, but at a particularly interesting spot of your kitchen floor. “Joe, please don't say that…”

“Why?” He asks, sitting back, his plate of food all but untouched.

You shake your head. “Because I don't know if I missed you…” Joe just stares at you, a bit shocked. “I-I just… I feel so much better having moved away… I don't know. I don't know what I think.” You cover your eyes with your hand, but you feel Joe's fingers tugging at it.

You let him take your hand, and he holds it over the table. You keep your eyes closed, and tilt your head back, before opening them, and looking over at Joe. “Take your time. You don't need to know right now. Just… just tell me when you're ready.”

You smile and squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”

You smile to yourself as you make a black coffee, quickly putting the lid on the hot cup, and go to the cash register. The women hands you a five pounds note, and thanks you as she walks off. You were helming the afternoon shift, and decided to make more pastries, and you put freshly baked Croissants out on display, placing the others in the fridge to be reheated if you ran out.

The bell above the door rings, and you see a very familiar blonde man walk through the door. “Ben?” You ask, and he grins as you say his name.

“[Y/N]!” He exclaims, and you laugh.

“I haven't seen you in months!” You say. “Last time I saw you was at the premier!”

You hop the counter and Ben gives you a big hug, picking you up off the ground, and you shriek until he puts you down.

He places his hands on your shoulders and says, “You look good!” You smile and shake your head. “You haven't looked this good since… wait…” He pauses and looks you up and down again. “You're talking to him again, aren't you?” You shrug, a small smile on your face, and he grins. “Well good. You're good for each other.”

You nod, and Ben lets go of your shoulders. “Would you like a coffee? I'm not busy, so I can sit and chat for a bit…” You offer, and Ben nods.

“Yeah, I'd like that,” he says, and you get him a black coffee.

Is [Y/N] [L/N] dating his ex's co star? Scandal!

Just the other day, Joe Mazzello's former husband was spotted getting a little too close for comfort with his co-star, Ben Hardy. The pair were seen hugging and laughing, and talking for hours on end in [Y/N]'s shop over a cup of coffee. They hugged again before Ben left, but it raises the question, did [Y/N] finally move on? And did he move on with his ex-husband's band mate? From what we've seen, we think yes!

You hug Joe as you open the door to your flat, letting him inside. He takes off his coat and his gloves, and you help him hang them up, before you walk by the stairs into the kitchen. “So, I saw you talked to Ben recently,” he says, curious.

You smile and nod. “Yeah. We were just catching up on things, what he's been doing since the premier…”

Joe nods and you pour him a cup of tea you were making before he even arrived. You hand him his mug and grab yours, before you guys go up stairs, and sit across from each other on the couch. You draw your knees up to your chest, and take a sip of your now warm tea, using it to warm your hands.

You just sit in silence with Joe, letting just the feeling of you two being together fill the air. You smile at him as he takes a sip, and he smiles back.

“I missed this,” you admit, quietly, and Joe looks up at you, like he couldn't hear you, but the look in his eyes told you he did.

He sits forwards and places a hand on you leg. “I do too.” You smile, and squeeze his hand. “I'm glad you told me.”

You nod, and take another sip of you tea. The rest if the evening, you spend in relative silence, only speaking when necessary. Joe sleeps on your couch that night. It's nice to wake up to him in the morning.

You and Joe are sitting on a piece of stone that overlooked the Thames, you leaning back into Joe's chest, his arms wrapped around your shoulders. Joe kisses your hair, and puts his chin on your head, and you turn, closing your eyes. You feel sleep tug at your senses, but you don't let it, just enjoying being somewhere with Joe, and no one else. It was a quiet day in London, everyone at work, and no one driving was always so nice.

You open your eyes, and look up at Joe, who just looks down at you. You realize in that moment, you got his hair colour when you first met him. In the artificial light of the coffee shop, his hair look brown, like chocolate, but outside, you could see it was red, bright, and shiny. You reach a hand up, and run it through his soft hair. He smiles, and leans into the touch. You watch as his hair pulls through your fingers, and you smile.

You move, turning, so you're practically face to face with Joe, and you place a hand on his cheek, which he leans into as well. Joe moves a hand down to your lower back, and pushes you closer to him.

You lean forwards, and capture your lips in his. It felt like your first kiss all over again. You were in practically the same spot, same time, same cloudy day. But this time, it was different, more personal. It was perfect, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

You pull away, the kiss quicker than what you wanted, but you knew it was all you wanted. Any more, and it would have been too much. But Joe doesn't look annoyed, he doesn't look like he wants or needs more. He just smiles and pulls you in for a hug, which you return. He really is perfect, and you can't imagine being with someone else.

Joe and Husband spotted! What does this mean for Ben?

Just last week we were reporting on [Y/N] finally moving on and finding someone else, going after Joe Mazzello by talking with and hugging his co-star! But even after all that, it seems like the two have gotten back together and rekindled their romance! Is this the end of Ben? Or is this just the beginning of an even bigger scandal?

You are laying in Joe's lap on your couch when he pops the question. Well, not really the question, but it's definitely a question you were not expecting. It caught you off guard, and you froze, almost as if you hates the question. You didn't hate the question, far from it really, it's a good question, but the way he said it, and when, it just caught you off guard.

“Do you still have your ring?”

You blink at Joe, once twice, and Joe immediately starts to freak out.

“Omg, no, I just, I wanted to know if you even still have it, even after all that, and-”

“Joe,” you say, cutting him off and placing a hand on his cheek. “No, I still have my ring! It's, it's in my room actually…” You smile slightly and shake your head. “I'm sorry, the question kind of came out of nowhere…”

He nods, but you get up before he can say anything, and walk into your room. You grab the ring from your night stand, and bring it out to him. You roll it in your fingers as you look at it, walking over to Joe before sitting on the couch.

“I- uh… I keep it on my bedside table…” You admit, blushing furiously.

Joe just smile and pulls a chain from around his neck, showing you the ring that was looped around it. “I've always kept mine close to my heart.”

You laugh, and he laughs with you. “Go that was so bad!” You exclaim, and you both just laugh harder. It wasn't really that funny, but it felt like the only emotion you could properly convey. With the rings being brought out, you figured laughing hysterically was better that being in hysterics, crying your eyes out.

“Here,” Joe says, and taking your ring from you. He gets off the couch, and gets down on one knee, holding out the ring to you.

“I know I don't have a fancy box like that time, and this isn't your coffee shop, but I love you. I love you whether you're laughing or crying, whether you're happy or sad. I love everything about you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I haven't moved on, I haven't found someone else, because I just want you. I love you [Y/N] [L/N], and I want to try this again. Would you be willing?”

You don't know when you started crying, but you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks as Joe finishes. Your mouth is agape, and you close it as you nod.

Joe grins, and you manage to get out between sobs, “Yes! Yes!”

You at this point are both laughing and crying, and Joe puts your ring on your finger. It slides on, and the familiar weight of it is nice. It reminds you of home. He kisses your hand, and you take his ring, slipping it from the chain. Placing it on his finger, he leans in, and kisses you. You put your fingers in his hair, and tug as he deepens the kiss, moving to fit his lips with yours.

He sits in the couch, and pulls you into his lap, where you just kiss, not moving any further than that. It was nice. There was no pressure to do anything you didn't want to, and you'd don't want to. You just wanted to kiss your husband.

You pull away, out of breath, and you put your forehead against his. “I love you,” you whisper.

He smiles and kisses you again. “I love you too.”

“Alright, I'll see you at home tonight?” Joe asks after grabbing his coffee. You smile and nod, and give him a quick kiss, before he leaves the shop, saying hi to Jacob and Hadley as they walk in for the morning.

Hadley gives you a knowing look, and Jacob raises his eyebrows. “Was that Joe?” Hadley asks, and you look at her for a moment, before grinning and nodding. You bring you hand up, and wiggle your ring finger.

“[Y/N]! That's incredible! I'm so happy for you!” Jacob exclaims, and the two run over, giving you a hug.

You laugh, and hug them back. “Thanks guys. I just, I really love him, and, I dunno… it's hard to put into words.”

Jacob nods. “I get that. My partner and I have been on and off for years, and yet we always find each other.”

You smile and nod, and you all just stare at each other. “Okay, okay, enough gossiping! Let's get to work!”

You rush into the back and pull out a tray of pastries, and bring them back to the front. Setting them on the counter, Hadley and Jacob raise their eyebrows as you put the pastries in the display case. You go to the chalkboard out front, and write on it in bug letters:

TODAY'S SPECIAL!

KOUIGN-AMANN!

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello x you #joe mazzello x male!reader #joe mazzello imagine #queen #queen x reader #ocs #coffee shop au #my work #My writing

60 notes · View notes

keijiwrites · 6 years

Text

Jackson vs. Grace

pairing: jercy

characters: almost all of the seven

rating: G

Word count: 2175

additional tags: volleyball au

Percy never thought he would be playing volleyball in college when he was a swimmer since he was a little boy. He hasn’t stopped swimming, but they had no swimming club in college – a real shocker – so he decided to give volleyball a try. Surprisingly enough, it was his senior year in college and he was captain of the team. In his team were his closest friends Nico and Frank along with a few friends like Connor and Travis Stoll and Will Solace.

Percy had no idea how he became close to his teammates but he was glad about it. They were like his family after all. Percy was the middle blocker of the team while Nico was the libero, Frank was defensive specialist, Connor and Travis were wing spikers and Will was the setter. It was a strange arrangement at first but they managed to work it all out in the end.

Practices were hard and matches even harder so. It went relatively easier when Nico joined. An outstanding libero even when he looked like he could die of boredom in the middle of a game. He was an excellent player, receiving every serve and spike aimed his way. Percy once asked him why he played if he looked like he was about to fall asleep in practice, but Nico gave him a look and walked away. The only person who could get a single reaction out of him was Will. The two have been dancing around each other for a while. Meanwhile everyone is dying in the back because of the dumb pining between the two. Percy wants to smack them but he holds back every time.

They were in the middle of practice when their manager, Annabeth Chase and Percy’s best friend, told them they had a practice match with one of the best teams in college history.

“Wait, isn’t that where Jason Grace is?” Frank asked and of course he had to mention him.

Jason Grace is the best setter anyone has ever seen. Their college had gone to nationals twice and they were aiming for a third time. And it was all because of Jason Grace. Since he joined two years ago they were practically invincible, especially with their ace Leo Valdez at his side. He wasn’t as tall as a regular ace but he could jump and was quick and full of energy to spare.

An unnecessarily loud ‘smack’ was heard and they all turned to Percy who was on the serving line, shoulders tense. Everyone looked at each other and frowned at the ball that was bouncing on the other side of the court.

“Uh, Percy.” Annabeth said softly, her blond princess curls in a ponytail. “What’s wrong?”

Percy blinked his sea green eyes and looked at Annabeth. He had a faraway look on his face. “Nothing. Just, not feeling good.” He gave sheepish smile at everyone. “Thanks for setting it up, Annie.”

“Stop calling me that, Seaweed Brain.” She huffed, flicking his forehead. “I know about your true feelings towards Jason.” She murmured so only he could hear.

Percy’s shoulders tensed as he took a sharp intake of breath.

“You two are – you know. I won’t tell anyone I promise.” She smiled at him and sat down in a corner to watch the practice happen.

“H-How did you know?!” He squeaked out, face flushed red.

Annabeth rolled her grey eyes and said, “I’m not stupid, Percy. I saw his jersey when I went over last week. And shoes. And his sports glasses.”

Percy shook his head and joined his team, where Coach Hedge told them they had to do diving drills. Everyone let out a loud groan but complied.

Percy arrived at his and Jason’s shared apartment where he dropped his bag and walked to the kitchen. He saw his boyfriend slaving over the stove and hugged him from behind. “Hey, Perce.” He murmured and kissed his temple softly.

“Hey.” He muttered out tiredly.

“Someone sounds like they got beat during practice.”

Percy groaned, forehead against Jason’s head. “Coach Hedge beat us to a pulp. But, it’s not just that.” He sighed out, staring at the wall.

“What is it?”

“Annabeth arranged a practice match and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Jason hummed thoughtfully. “And that is because…”

Percy sighed loudly. “Because it’s against your school, Jason.”

*~*~*

Percy did not feel okay for the remainder of the week. He was frowning constantly and was spacing out a lot in class. The conversation with Jason was a little awkward after that. They had gone to bed with frowns on their faces. They had had matches before, but they were always official. Practice matches were to mostly goof around after it and since everyone thought Percy and Jason had a rivalry they decided to keep up the façade. Neither knew how the rumor started but it was probably because Jason had smirked at Percy when the former school won and Percy had shot him a murderous look. What they didn’t know was they had a bet. Who lost had to bottom for a month. Percy wasn’t exactly fond of bottoming. Jason had more of a field month than a field day. He was jumping for joy.

They had known each other since they were children and it came to a surprise to the two when they decided to go to different colleges. Percy was butthurt for a while because he went to the college that was near their neighborhood. Jason chose one where he had to take the subway to get there in time. Yet they came to an agreement where they got an apartment in the middle.

They were sitting in Percy’s room – he lived with Sally before he moved out junior year - after the first week of freshman year when Jason said he had joined the volleyball team. Percy had wide eyes because he was going to tell him he as well had joined the volleyball team because they had no swim club. The two stared at each other before chuckling. Percy had looked at him with a mischievous glint and jokingly said, ‘Guess we now have some rivalry to look forward to’ before kissing Jason.

Now, Percy wasn’t feeling okay. Sure, they had matches before but never a practice match. Those were different because, even if they took is serious, it a lot less personal than an official match. They would usually have a laugh at the end and sometimes even go out for a meal. But this time Percy was sure it wasn’t going to happen. This was Jason’s team. The supposed rivals and ‘former friends’ in a place where they were both sure their teammates were going to make the best of it and make new friends because that was what always happened in practice matches. They would be friends out of the court but rivals in it.

Percy was not mentally prepared for the comments he was sure his teammates would say.

*~*~*

It was the day of the practice match and Percy felt nervous for no apparent reason. Jason had called just before Percy would leave with his team and assured him that everything would be okay but he wasn’t very sure about that. He hated the fact that everyone thought they were in some type of rivalry. They let it slide because when they tried explaining there was nothing going on and they were fine, no one believed them.

Now it was time for the match and Percy was jittery. He and Jason had decided that enough was enough and were going to keep a straight face during the match but at the end they were going to show the rivalry was only a rumor.

Percy went outside of the court when he got a call from Jason and answered it quietly. “Hey, where are you guys? We’re already here.”

Jason sighed on the other end of the line. “Leo’s running late.” He mumbled. “But we’re going over in a few minutes. Our school and we’re the ones running late. The lockers were closed though.”

Percy hummed. “Okay. Well, I’ll see you on the court.”

He knew Jason was grinning. “See on the court Jackson. Get ready to get pulverized.”

Percy scoffed. “In your dreams, Grace.” He hung up and went back inside to put his phone in his bag. He went back to warming up. He spiked the ball and yelped when the ball bounced and hit Jason square on the face. If Jason had his normal glasses, he would’ve knocked them off. Luckily, he had his sports glasses. The court was silent and Percy swallowed. Jason was as still as a lamp post and he had an unreadable expression on his face. He turned his head and glared at Percy, not his usual glare but more of the glares he saw when Percy said or did something stupid. It was mad but full of fondness. “Oh, shit.” Percy muttered with wide eyes.

Someone behind Jason snickered and it was none other than Leo Valdez. His dark skin was a pink color because of the laughter he saw holding back. Jason glared at him and Percy smirked.

“Nice one, jackass.” Nico huffed form behind Percy. “Now we’ll really lose.”

Percy rolled his eyes and said, “Just because he walked in at a wrong time doesn’t mean we’ll lose.”

“You smirked at him. At the captain and the best player they have. What the fuck.”

Percy didn’t say anything and went to the side as Jason’s team went to warm up. Coach Hedge gave them encouraging words as they stood in front of him. “Listen up, Cupcakes. We already went through this. We will beat their little-“

“Please don’t swear.” Annabeth mumbled.

“Butts.” He said instead. “Percy! Keep the rivalry between the two of you to minimum. We don’t need another middle blocker vs. setter game.”

“Yes, Coach.” Percy mumbled.

There was the loud tweet of the whistle and they starting line went to the court after both captains shook hands. They took their positions, Percy and Jason right in front of the other. Percy was smirking while Jason glared at him, face slightly pink from the previous hit.

The game was a blur. Percy blocked as many spikes as it was possible and Nico received the ones missed. Will was the best setter in the team and Percy could not have asked for anyone better. Contrary to popular belief, Percy though Jason’s sets were a little too fast for him and he could not keep up when they would have matches against people in their neighborhood. Jason had to tone it down when they played in the same team. Which wasn’t often. Leo could keep up with Jason’s quicks and Percy couldn’t deny he was amazing.

The game ended 20-25 and 23-25. Jason’s team won. The teams shook hands but Jason and Percy left each other for last purposely. The taller male was smirking in that irritating way Percy hated.

“Asshole.” He muttered as Jason clasped his hand in his.

Jason smirked wider and Percy fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. Everyone – but Annabeth – gasped and were scrambling towards their captains when Jason clasped his hand on the back of Percy’s neck and kissed him. It was only a chaste kiss but everyone was silent.

“Good game, babe.” Jason grinned.

Percy glared at him and mumbled under his breath. “We’ll beat you next time, asshole.”

Jason laughed and slung an arm over Percy’s shoulders, Percy’s arm around his waist. They walked out of the court after grabbing their bags and headed to the locker rooms. Everyone was staring blankly at the door.

“What the fuck just happened?” Leo asked.

“Apparently, they’re… together?” Frank asked more than said, head cocked to the side.

“They did tell you all there was nothing between them.” Nico said with a roll of his eyes. “You guys just never listen.” He took his bag and headed out with Will hot on his heels.

Annabeth grinned. “I’ve known for a while now. Now get changed! We have a trip ahead of us!”

Everyone in the team grumbled but obliged.

Meanwhile, Percy and Jason were showered and dressed, waiting for everyone outside of the locker room to have lunch. “I’m starving.” Percy moaned dramatically as he slumped next to Jason.

The blond laughed and kissed Percy’s temple. “Don’t worry. We’re eating soon. How do you think everyone reacted? Should’ve gotten someone to record it.”

“You guys nearly gave a few panic attacks with your stupid little show.”

“Wise girl! How did everyone react?” Percy was grinning like a child as he stared up at Annabeth.

“They took it fine. Just shocked. Coach wants to talk to you, though. So, I think it would be best if you go now. You see Jason every day. Now hurry up.”

Percy grumbled but followed Annabeth after kissing his boyfriend. He was going to get a long lecture from both Coach Hedge and his teammates.

#jercy au #jercy #jercy fic #jason grace #percy jackson #pjo #hoo

13 notes · View notes

catalogado · 7 years

Link

The Mooch, Anthony Scaramucci, Trump’s latest anus ex machina, is a real gift to the world of politics-as-entertainment. If you wrote him into a novel, the readers would say, “The fuck d’you think you are, Thomas fucking Pynchon?” If into a play, “David fucking Mamet?” But no, fuck that, this slick-headed wisemouth bounded right out of the commedia dell’arte, obviously: Scaramuccia (called Scaramouche in French), whose name literally means ‘little skirmisher’, is a grimacing rapscallion given to braggadocio and pusillanimity. And just as the eternal Scaramouche has carried vulgar behaviour through the ages and between countries, the present Mooch has done a service to international studies of vulgarity, because now we get to see how newspapers in other countries translate fucking paranoid schizophrenic, cock-block, and suck my own cock.

Seriously, when the fuck else have you been able to use simple searches of international newspapers – just type Scaramucci Bannon in the box – to learn how to talk like a New York fuckface in other languages?

So, first of all, how would Scaramuccia, the Italian, say all this shit? (We’ll leave aside the fact that, being Neapolitan, he wouldn’t be speaking standard Italian. Look, the Italian newspapers use an Italian that’s grown out of the Florentine version, OK? That’s just the fucking way it is. Go to Hell and argue with Dante if you don’t like it.) Well, I’ll take the translations from HuffingtonPost.it’s article. Fucking paranoid schizophrenic is “un cazzo di paranoico schizofrenico”: literally ‘a cock of paranoid schizophrenic’. Italian likes cocks in its vulgarity, you see. Where in English we might say What the fuck? in Italian you’d say Che cazzo? ‘What cock?’

So what’s cock-block? It’s fermare e rompere il cazzo: ‘stop and break the cock’. Where the English is “Let me leak the fucking thing and see if I can cock-block these people the way I cock-blocked Scaramucci for six months” the Italian from HuffPo is “Fammelo raccontare ai giornali così vediamo se posso fermarli e rompergli il cazzo così come ho fermato e ho rotto il cazzo a Scaramucci per sei mesi.” (Note that they leave off the vulgar intensifier on raccontare ai giornali, literally ‘tell the newspapers’ but here translating “leak the fucking thing.”)

What’s funny is that when it comes to “I’m not trying to suck my own cock” the Italian doesn’t use cazzo. No, you see, as Costanza Rizzacasa d’Orsogna explained to me (she writes for Corriere della Sera, but I couldn’t find a frank translation of all this on their site), you could translate suck my own cock literally as succhiarmi il cazzo, but Italian has a better expression: fare il pompino, literally ‘do the little pump’, figuratively ‘give a blowjob’. And that’s what HuffPo went with: “Non mi interessa farmi i pompini da solo” – ‘I’m not interested in giving myself solo blowjobs’.

Fine, OK, great, that’s how the Italians say it. As always, speaking lively Italian is like driving a Maserati on a mountain road. But how about German? Do they make it a Porsche or a Mercedes? The answer, it seems, is more of a fucking Audi. I looked on a couple of leading news sites and couldn’t find a translation of cock-block. But Die Welt obliges on the other two: a fucking paradoid schizophrenic is “ein verdammter paranoider Schizophrener” (pardon me for being underwhelmed; I don’t really think verdammt ‘damned’ is very strong, but hey, ich bin kein Berliner) and I’m not trying to suck my own cock is “Ich versuche nicht, meinen eigenen Schwanz zu lutschen,” which is a straightforward translation. Schwanz literally means ‘tail’ but is used like English prick and cock, and lutschen means ‘suck’.

The French can do themselves prouder. Slate.fr should give its translator a bonus for capturing the tone so nicely – not just the idiomatic vivid coarseness but the colloquial grammar too. “I’m not Steve Bannon, I’m not trying to suck my own cock” – so beautifully transcribed by The New Yorker’s Ryan Lizza with a fucking comma splice that would normally get cock-blocked at the copy desk but conveys the tone more smartly than a period, let alone a fucking semicolon – shows up as “Je suis pas Steve Bannon, j’essaie pas de sucer ma propre bite.” If you don’t speak French, you won’t know what’s missing from that. Well, whoever did it up for HuffingtonPost.fr knew, and kept it in: “Je ne suis pas Steve Bannon, je n’essaie pas de sucer ma propre bite.” See it? ‘Not’ in standard French is ne…pas, but in colloquial French the ne is normally dropped. Oh, by the way, bite (pronounced like “beat” in France and “bit” in Québec) doesn’t have anything to do with biting. It means ‘cock’ tout court, nothing else – apparently it comes from an Old Norse word for a wood beam.

I couldn’t find a French news source willing to talk about cock-blocking; I’m not sure if it’s because it’s a killing offence in French culture to cock-block someone. But the vulgar intensifier for paranoid schizophrenic once again shows what the go-to is in the language: “putain de schizophrène paranoïaque“, ‘whore of paranoid schizophrenic’. Yes, French is a language that makes much use of prostitution-related taboo words, especially in France. Quebec has a different angle, famously using liturgical terms, but fuck me if I could find a Québécois news source willing to give me the goods. Even Huffington Post completely sanitized it (to the point of prissiness) for the Québec audiences, which surprised me given how lively of tongue they can be in la belle province.

OK, but how about Spanish? If we’re going to cover European imperial powers, we can’t do without Spain and all the countries that speak Spanish because of it. I gotta tell you, Spanish is what started me on this exploration. Lucía Leal, of the newswire Efe, tweeted:

Scaramucci llama a Priebus “un puto paranoico esquizofrénico” y dice: “No soy como Steve Bannon, no estoy tratando de chupármela a mí mismo”

That covers two of our three phrases right there. The fucking paranoid etcetera is ‘a paranoid schizophrenic whore’ – putting Spanish in the same sex-worker-cussing set as French – and suck my own cock is down as, roughly, ‘suck me it to myself’.

But wait! There is, of course, more than one Spanish-language news source. El Mundo gives a different version: “no estoy tratando de comerme mi propia polla” – ‘I’m not trying to eat my own cock’, except polla is formed not from a word meaning ‘rooster’ but from one meaning ‘pullet’. And they actually give exegeses on the cock-blocking:

Oh, Bill Sine viene. Voy a filtrar la puta cosa (fucking thing) y ver si puedo joder (cock-block, literalmente “bloquear la polla”, una sofisticada metáfora traducible como “impedir que alguien lleve a cabo la penetración”) a esa gente del mismo modo que bloqueé la polla (cock-blocked, pasado de verbo regular) a Scaramucci durante seis meses.

So they translate cock-block directly as joder, which would be translated back as fuck or fuck up, and then explain that it’s literally ‘block the cock’, “a sophisticated metaphor translatable as ‘keep someone from carrying out penetration’.” How very helpful! But before they explain all this, they tell the reader, “A partir de este momento, la presente crónica es para mayores de 18 años.” Which means, roughly, “From this point on, the present article is for readers 18 years of age or older.” This Spanish journalist, Pablo Pardo, is by far the most conscientious of the bunch. He even explains the autofellation: “en lo que Lizza considera una referencia no a las habilidades de Bannon como contorsionista, sino al aparente interés que éste tiene en salir en los medios de comunicación”: ‘which Lizza considers a reference not to Bannon’s ability as a contortionist, but to the apparent interest that he has in his appearance in the media’.

Isn’t translation fun? Truly, if you had not realized, translation is one of the funnest things you can try that are actually technically impossible but you get close enough (making me the right kind of Manhattan being another). All the English retranslations herein are by me, and if they suck, apply for a refund at [email protected]. Or you can give better ones in the comments if you wish.

Let’s keep on with the imperial power languages. How about Portuguese? Brazilian Portuguese is a language for anyone who likes fun things that look easy but will leave you sucking your own – um, tongue. But the trickiest part is the pronunciation, and you’re reading this. From UOL Notícias I get these two: “Reince é um esquizofrênico paranoico de merda” – meaning ‘Reince is a paranoid schizophrenic of shit’, putting Brazilian Portuguese in the coprophilic set – and “Não sou Steve Bannon, não estou tentando chupar meu próprio pau,” which is like the Spanish but uses pau for ‘cock’, which is a word that also literally means ‘stick’. They left out the cock-blocking thing. Sigh.

Well, whatever. Go to European Portuguese and you get what Diário de Notícias gives us, and it’s boring: “Não procuro chupar o meu próprio pénis.” You can see it: they use pénis. ‘I’m not trying to lick my own penis.” Thank god they have wine in Portugal. Especially because they didn’t even try with “Reince é um esquizofrénico paranoico.” Do you see an expletive? Jackshit.

Quick, let’s call in another imperial power of yore to save this. Who? The Dutch, of course. They’re known to be frank. I got a nice hit from de Volkskrant, which opens with three quotations, the first of which gives us “Reince is een fokking paranoïde schizofreen.” If you can’t sort that one out, there’s no fokking hope for you. The next is even sweeter, possibly my favourite out of this whole fucking thing: “Ik ben Steve Bannon niet, ik ben geen zelfpijper.” That means – literally – ‘I’m not Steve Bannon, I’m no self-whistler’ or, of course, using the colloquial sense of pijpen, ‘…I’m no self-cocksucker.’ Isn’t it lovely that Dutch has such a compact way of saying it? Talk about getting to the point. So to speak.

Alas, the third quote wasn’t the cock-blocking one. The article doesn’t give us that. I’m going to have to give a gold star to the Spanish and Italians, who at least attempted the cock-blocking. Translation, I mean. Who else can I turn to?

The Scandinavians, of course. Have a piece of Danish. Denmark’s TV2 sets us up nicely. “Åh, der kommer Bill Shine, lad mig lige fucking lække det og se, om jeg kan sætte en kæp i hjulet på dem, som jeg gjorde mod Scaramucci i seks måneder.” You can see which quote that is. Yes, the cock-blocking! So… how is it rendered? ‘Oh, there comes Bill Shine, let me leak the fucking thing and see if I can put a stick in the wheel on him as I did with Scaramucci for six months.’

Put a stick in the wheel?

OK, my Danish isn’t fluent, but some Dane can tell me if there’s a sexual reference there I’m missing. Dammit. How about the other two? One is down as “Reince er en fucking paranoid skizofren.” Well, that’s straightforward. Fuck do you expect? It’s not that distantly related to English (yes, it’s North Germanic and English is West Germanic, but never forget the massive Danish and Norwegian influence in the Old and Middle English periods due to invasions). How about Bannon? “Jeg er ikke Steve Bannon. Jeg prøver ikke at sutte min egen pik.” Well… it means the same as the English. But now you know. But hey, do you want to know how to write it in Swedish? “Jag är inte Steve Bannon, jag försöker inte suga min egen kuk,” according to Aftonbladet.

There are, obviously, many more languages I could look it up in. Some of them might even have nice translations of it. But I don’t want to wander into ones I have less-than-basic knowledge of. So just let me leave you with one more: Icelandic. I get no cock-blocking from the high cold vikings, but RÚV gives me the other two. It tells Icelanders that the Mooch is not Steve Bannon: “ég er ekki að reyna að totta minn eigin böll,” which translates even more directly than most languages – Icelandic, like English and unlike most other Western European languages, makes common use of a present progressive aspect. Ég er ekki að reyna really means ‘I’m not trying’ and not ‘I don’t try’.

The capper, though, and the one that reminds us of the particular pertinacity of the Icelandic, is this: “Reince er fjandans ofsóknarbrjálaður geðklofasjúklingur.” Icelandic prefers to use Icelandic roots rather than Greek or Latin ones for things when it can, you see, and that sentence there means ‘Reince is a fucking paranoid schizophrenic.’ Except fjandans doesn’t literally refer to anything sexual or scatological at all. It’s used as an expletive like English fucking, but it’s actually a devil reference, cognate with English fiend. And then the rest is… fiendish. It even looks a little bit like sounds you might make while sucking your own cock. With a lot of tongue action.

#traducciones #strong language

0 notes