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loveyhoneydovey · 3 years

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SFW Alphabet with Joaquín Torres

Note: I've been dying to write something like this so I decided to do it with my baby first. Might do Sam next

All my stories are written with a bisexual reader of colour in mind, but anyone else is more than welcome to read them

Joaquín Torres x GN!Reader

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s a very affectionate partner and especially shows his love through physical affection and acts of service. He wants to feel useful and do his best to make life easier and more enjoyable for you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He’d be the type of best friend that’s not physically there often, due to the nature of his job. However, when you do get a chance to spend it feels like he’s never been gone. He completely focuses on you, asks for updates about your life and checks if you need anything. He’s so chill and he’s got the type of personality that has you at ease. You first met him at a mutual friend’s wedding, you both got a bit tipsy and decided to hang out with each other and that was the start of a beautiful friendship

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES!!! As I previously mentioned, he loves physical touch and cuddling is one of his favourite ways of showing affection. He loves being the small spoon and he’s not ashamed to say it. He says it’s because you make him feel safe and makes him feel like he has a home to go back to after all the shit he sees

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He wants to settle down for sure, eventually. Before meeting you, he thought that would come later, but you definitely made him rethink. I don’t think he’s the best cook, but I think he has a few of recipes of food his mom made him when he was younger. Those are the ones he learned to perfect. As for cleaning, because of how strict his life is at the army, I think he allows himself to be a bit messy at home. Definitely messy and not dirty. You both try to split house chores evenly.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I think he’d be honest and would do it in person. Ending a relationship that played such an important part in his life is definitely heartbreaking, but he thinks he owes it to himself and to you to put an end to it before it gets worse. He’d rather end things on semi good terms than letting it sour and go nowhere.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He always told himself, when it came to relationships, he’d go with the flow and see how he felt about long-term commitment. He’s a m*ilitary boy, so I think he kinda (unintentionally) follows the stereotype and proposes quickly. Although in his case he does it because he’s truly in love with you and doesn’t want to wait longer than he has to make you his. He’d propose after about a year and a half I’d say.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Have you seen him? He’s the gentlest sweetest baby in every way. I think the fact that he sees so much violence and horror during his deployment pushes him to be more gentle in other aspects of his life. More specifically with you and his family. He wants you to feel like you can come to him for anything whether it’s when you’re feeling down or when you’ve cut your finger on a piece of glass. Either way he’ll treat you with kindness, but not like you’re breakable.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

omg he LOVES hugs. Again, due to the nature of his job, he doesn’t get a lot of physical affection, which drives him crazy. So when he’s home, you can expect him to attack you with hugs all day long. Doesn’t matter if you’re washing the dishes or brushing your teeth. He’ll come up from behind and wrap his arms around your waist, while putting his chin on your shoulder. If you’re facing him, he’s going to engulf you and wrap his arms around you. His hugs are warm and comforting and make you feel safe.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

oh real quick, but actually so do you. I actually headcanon that you two say it at the same time by accident. You both were probably nervous because it was after like two months, but end up laughing it off cause you were so in sync.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He understands the root of jealousy is mostly insecurity, so he doesn’t get jealous often, because he’s secure in his relationship with you and is actually pretty confident with himself. Of course, it happens occasionally, he’s only human. However, you both always thought that feeling jealous sometimes wasn’t bad, but what could lead to issues was the way one could act on it. So, whenever he feels jealous he takes a moment to collect his thoughts if he needs to, then you’d both talk about it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are often playful and sweet. He doesn’t like to take himself too seriously and neither do you, so you keep things light and playful, but that doesn’t mean it’s not passionate. On the contrary, you feel his love for you with every kiss he leaves on you skin. His favourite place to kiss you is on the nose, because of the way you scrunch it and giggle after he kisses it. As for where he liked to be kissed, soon after you started dating, you found out he loved being shirtless which allowed you to notice he had a beauty mark on the upper part of his right shoulder. From that moment, you developed a habit of kissing it and it made him melt, so it became his favourite place to be kissed.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Oh the BEST. For some reason he attracts them. You told him it was probably because he was a child himself and he flipped you off. You actually think it’s because he’s so cheerful and happy, and he treats them like they’re his friends. You’ve caught him having full on conversations with your friends’ babies who couldn’t even speak yet. And once you had kids, he did the same thing with them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Whenever possible, you have lazy mornings where you alternate between sleeping, having lazy morning sex and snacking. If it’s a regular morning, he usually has to leave before you, and every time you’d try to distract him and make him stay a bit longer. He’s so used to your “five more minutes, please” that he started waking up five minutes earlier.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

This man has a whole skincare routine before going to sleep. If you also do, then you both complete your routines side by side in front of the bathroom mirror. He might read a bit before bed (and you try to sneakily take a pic of him in his glasses cause you think he looks so cute), or you’d both talk about your day and maybe cuddle a bit before turning off your lamps and getting some sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’d open up slowly, there was no pressure between the two of you and he took his time to share the more difficult parts of his life. Now if you open up to him about something defining or traumatic that happened in your life, he might open up faster to let you know you’re not alone, but also to reciprocate the trust you put in him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s pretty patient most of the time and tries to not let himself get angry over little things, however he’s still human. So depending on the gravity of the situation, he might get angered quickly if he sees something upsetting happening, however, he’s very careful with the way he reacts. He knows something done in anger can lead to regret and guilt, so he thinks before he acts and speaks.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I think he’d remember an important date like your birthday, he knows around what time your anniversary is, but I feel like he would forget which date it is exactly. He’d remember the most random facts about you, like the kind of stuff where you think he was paying attention, but he was listening subconsciously.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Cliché, but it was during your honeymoon. It was the first time you had referred to him as your husband and it made his heart swell with pride. The love you held for him was so obvious when you looked at him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s protective when he needs to be. He’s not overbearing and trusts that you’re capable of taking care of yourself most of the time. He will step in if he feels like a situation is escalating (let’s say if you’re getting physically or verbally harassed) and he will put himself physically between you and whoever’s trying to harm you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Omg listen this baby puts so much effort into making your dates enjoyable. He plans out full picnics with cute cakes and charcuterie boards and that doesn’t stop as your relationship progresses. Any gifts he gives you usually have a meaning behind them, and he doesn’t always buy them, sometimes he makes them himself. As I said, he is a bit messy in his daily life, but you two actually have a chart with who’s supposed to do what and that’s how you share your chores, and he does mostly follow it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has a habit of leaving some important stuff until the last minute. It works out in the end, but it causes him an unnecessary amount of stress.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

… have you seen the amount shirtless selfies Danny takes? I think Torres is the exact same. So, he does like to take care of his looks, especially when he sees the effect it has on you. And he has to stay in shape either way, due to his job

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I think he’d be heartbroken and might feel incomplete for the first few months, but as time goes one, he begins to feel whole again and learns to feel self sufficient.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He wants to learn another language fluently someday. He wants to help people and he thinks there’s no better way than being able to understand their needs in their native language to be able to help

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think he doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes or smoke. He doesn’t mind if his partner’s a smoker, but he probably wouldn’t be around them while they’re smoking.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

This boy sleeps in the weirdest, funniest positions. Like you’d go to sleep in a normal position side by side, or with your back to him, then when you’d wake up you’d find him in a new position every time.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres #tfatws imagine #tfatws

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tillthelandslide · 4 years

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Photographer : Henry Cavill Fake Instagram

Author’s note: Hi everyone. Hope you enjoy another fake instagram post. I really do enjoy making this so keep sending me requests, this one wasn’t a request but my own idea, I’m slowly working my way through some different careers so people can relate more to each one if they see their career being represented. Unfortunately, Tumblr on my phone keeps messing up, I usually like to include emojis here and there because to me it feels more real but it wouldn’t let me.

Anyway hope you enjoy - L

Tagged: @harrysthiccthighss @thereisa8ella @magdelen69 (if you want to be tagged in my post please message me :)

yourname_photography:

yourname_photography had an amazing day shooting with @henrycavill such a pleasure working with you love.

Liked by henrycavill and 1,891,201 others

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fan2 your photography is so good

↳ yourname_photography aw thanks love

↳ fan3 honestly one of the best photographers out there atm

henrycavill thanks for the amazing day, I had such a nice time, you are so talented

↳ yourname_photography oh hush sir, was a joy working with you, you make my job very easy, lets just put it that way

henryfan “love” are they dating or not, we need answers

↳ ynfan she’s british, she calls everyone love, but if they were then we should all be happy for them, they don’t owe us answers

henrycavill:

henrycavill it is always such a joy when I get to work with amazingly talented people like @yourname_photography. So lucky to have you in my life, let alone get the opportunity to work together

Photo by @yourname_photography

Liked by yourname_photography, GQ and 991,892 others

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yourname_photography oh hush, you’re the talented one in this relationship kind sir

↳ henrycavill <3

↳ fan5 relationship? are they dating?

↳ fan6 think they’re just friends but I’m happy for them if they are dating

anyachalotra so talented, these are epic

↳ henrycavill she sure is

↳ yourname_photography thank you Anya

freyaallan:

freyaallan I had such a nice time shooting today with @yourname_photography. Thank you to @henrycavill for making it happen, now I understand why you love her so much. And thank you y/n for making me look so beautiful, think these photos are the best I have ever recieved from a photoshoot.

Photo by @yourname_photography

Liked by yourname_photography, henrycavill and 431,839 others

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fan3 “now I understand why you love her so much” ?? omg they are dating

↳ freyaallan I meant he loves working with her and loves the photos she produces, she is one of his favourite photographers

↳ fan2 good save

yourname_photography you were beautiful all on your own, needed no help from me miss. It was such a joy working with you, for sure have to do it again sometime

↳ freyaallan oh hush! and i’d love that

henrycavill glad you both had such a good time on set, i have always loved y/ns work, she has such a keen eye for this stuff

↳ fan2 this post is basically become them trying to convice us all that y/n and henry aren’t dating when we all know they are. good attempts though

photographydaily these photos are clean af

celebrumourmagazine:

celebrumourmagazine Famous Actor Henry Cavill and the photographer Y/n are now rumoured to be dating. The pair have had many photoshoots together and have a history of confusing fans with their comments on each others posts. But what is really tipping people off is a quote from Freya Allan, Cavill’s co-star in the Netflix show; The Witcher, where she said “I had such a nice time shooting today with @yourname_photography. Thank you to @henrycavill for making it happen, now I understand why you love her so much”. Allan then tried to cover her tracks by commenting on how y/n is one of Henry’s favourite photographers. Cavill too posted “I have always loved Y/ns work, she has such a keen eye for this stuff”. Seems fishy to me, wonder if we will get an explanatio soon. C’mon we deserve it.

Photo by @yourname_photography

Liked by 267,092 people

fan3 the level of disrepect in this post is on a new level. 1. referring to Henry as famous and then not using the same terminology for yn who has worked with so many famous actors, musicians, polticians etc and is renowned for her amazing word. 2. “Cavill’s co-star” she’s her own person sis. 3. “we deserve it” no you don’t, you haven’t done anything to deserve anything from them

↳ yn-hen-fan thats the tea sis

geraltofriviafans ffs leave them alone. there is the little thing people like to have. its called privacy

celebrumourmagazine:

celebrumourmagazine Famous actor Henry Cavill and Photographer caught kissing on a boat whilst on vaccation with friends and family. We knew they were dating!

Liked by 393,209 people

View all 5,092 comments

fan5 annoying that they didn’t say anything we all would have been okay with it

fan3 your comment perfectly shows how you wouldn’t have been okay with it. maybe they just wanted some privacy

fan2 I just found out that this photo amongst a few others were leaked from their phones. Ffs why can’t people respect their privacy y’all wonder why they didn’t say anything; this is why

henrycavill:

henrycavill well the cats out of the bag... not the way we intended to tell you guys which is a shame. We are very sad that this is the way you all had to find out. With both of our jobs being very demanding (we love them nonetheless and are very grateful) we don’t often get to spend time with each other so wanted some time just to ourselves, we wanted to share this amazing relationship with all of our fans when were ready but unfortunately that opportunity was taken from us. We hope you can understand: you all are very important to the both of us and we truly did want to share this with you, but both got a bit too caught up with having each other to ourselves. These photos were taken by one of our mutual friends whilst we were on holiday and were leaked from our phones. I am so shocked that they even managed to do this but I will not let them get anymore attention than that.

To my love @yourname_photography: the last couple of months with you have been bliss, I found myself falling more in love with you everyday. Your dedication to your work is truly inspiring, how deeply you care for and love those around you is second to none, you have taught me so much about so many things but the main thing I will cherish is what you have taught me about myself; you have taught me to truly accept myself and have taught me to see myself the way you see me. I love you more than I can even begin to explain and I can’t wait for what’s to come. Having you to myself has been truly wonderful but sharing how amazing you are not only to me but all those around you is something I am going to enjoy. Everyone should know the amazing things you do not only in your photography career but in other aspects of your life <3

Liked by yourname_photography, anyachalotra, freyallan and 1,203,028 others

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yourname_photography this is too sweet Hen, I love you so much. The past couple of months with you have been absolute perfection and I will cherish them forever. You are by far the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am beyond lucky to have you and have had you to myself but I’m ready to share you and to share us with the world

↳ henrycavill lets do this shit

freyaallan I was worried that I was going to be the one to leak the news and although I’m annoyed it came out like this I’m glad it wasn’t me XD, wish you could have announced it on your own terms though. I’m beyond happy for the both of you

↳ yourname_photography the sweetest girl <3 I thought you recovered quite well in that post XD

anyachalotra the cutest couple of all time... there, i said it

↳ yourname_photography said it you did. we are beyond grateful for you and how supportive you were of us from the get go

↳ henry cavill thank you anya, your support means the world to us

yourname_photograhy:

yourname_photography to my beloved Henry: the love you have shown me was one I didn’t believe in growing up, the kind of love I thought only excited in fairytales, books and movies. Boy oh boy was I wrong. The love you give is the kind of love everyone deserves, the kind where you give yourself to someone else fully without any selfishness or expectations. To most people you are Superman, Geralt, August Walker, Charles Brandon, Napoleon Solo and many others. But to me you are all those things and more. You are the guy that brings me my favourite soup when I’m sick, the guy that sits with me for hours trying to pick which photos from a shoot are the best, the guy that brings home lillies because you know they’re my favourite flower, the guy that sends me care packages when you are away, the guy that sends me goofy selfies of you and Kal, the guy that rubs my back and plays with my hair when I cant sleep, the guy that introduced me to my second family: the Cavill’s, the guy that works his god damn hardest everyday, the guy that puts in so much effort to raise awareness for endangered species and the fight that Durrell do, the guy that does so many amazing things yet expects nothing in return. You are the epic love of my life and I do not deserve you <3, you amazing, beautiful human, never change <3

Liked by henrycavill, anyachalotra, joeybateyofficial and 1,583,039 others

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fan6 HOW CAN ANYBODY NOT LIKE HER? THE WAY SHE TALKS ABOUT HIM, I MEAN UGHH SO FLOOFY

fan4 this post got more likes than henrys bc everyone realised they cant not like her

↳ henrycavill you made me cry ): now come give me kisses

↳ yourname_photography im coming, oops nearly tripped over kal

↳ fan 8 haha she’s commenting as she’s doing it how cute

joeybateyofficial all the haters be like “hmm, fuck” bc they realise there is -9182 reasons to hate you

↳ yourname_photography thanks for bringing the geralt comments here, someone had to do it :)

↳ joeybateyofficial it’s a honour :) happy for both of you... always knew he was a big soft... despite his rock hard abs

↳ yourname_photography spend a lot of time looking at my boyfriends rock hard abs much then? XD

↳ henrycavill not as much as you @yourname_photography, ayeee XD

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softest-cinnamon-roll · 4 years

Note

Okay. Since I have NO CHILL.... But what about a fic where reddie gets together in secret and hides their relationship. But they go away for a weekend after graduation and the losers are already suspicious, but it’s then confirmed when eddie&richie both post a selfie of them kissing in front of like. Idk a sunset or a cute background and is just like “surprise” (but is it really??)

(sorry for the wait Sara but here you go!)

* * * * *

Eddie stepped out of the classroom at the end of sixth period and he headed towards the exit where all the losers met up to walk home. It had become a sort of routine when Mike arrived at the school during Freshman Year. They had decided that since Mike was knew, and thanks to all the bullying, they would be safer in numbers and took turns walking Mike to the Farm to school and then from.

It was during one of these walks that Eddie and Richie merged into EddieandRichie. Since the group had decided to pair up when walking Mike to and from the farm and Ben and Bev had paired up, as well as Bill and Stan, that left Richie and Eddie. Not that the two were complaining, as even before that, they were gravitating towards each other.

Then one winter evening after they dropped Mike off and it was just starting to get dark outside, Richie had laced their fingers together on the path away from the farm. Eddie fought back a smile as his cheeks flushed, hidden by the darkness of the night. By the time they reached Eddie’s house, they were both smiling like idiots and Richie had brought Eddie’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

“G’night, Eds.”

Four months later and they were well into a relationship, even if it was being kept a secret from the other losers. Both Richie and Eddie had agreed, mutually, that they would keep their relationship to themselves and not draw any more attention to them or their friends. According to them, the last thing they needed was everyone staring at them for being gay and in love.

Eddie was just about to step outside when a pair of arms were wrapped around his waist and pulled him into the supply closet. The door was closed behind him and Richie’s lips were on Eddie’s kissing him deep and burying his hands into his hair. “Heya, Eds,” he breathed against his lips.

“Rich, what are you doing?” Eddie asked, pulling away just a little. “The others, they’re waiting for us...we don’t want them to catch us.”

Richie shrugged, keeping his arm around Eddie’s waist, “Wanted to see you before,” he mumbled. “I miss you, I miss not being able to see you and kiss you whenever I want.” He ran his free hand through his hair, “Come away with me this weekend, please? My folks, you know that summer house they have just outside Boston? Come with me and we can...be us, together?”

Eddie paused, looking into Richie’s eyes, “Rich...my mom would never let me, you know that,” he whispered. “She barely lets me stay over at Bills on a Friday night. What makes you think she’ll let me disappear for the whole weekend? With you no less.” After the words left his lips, Eddie realised how awful it sounded. “Rich-”

“It’s fine,” Richie shook his head. “I have a plan just...you trust me right?” He asked. “I have a plan. Meet me at the barrens tonight at seven and you won’t have to worry about the rest of the weekend. Your mother won’t even know your gone.”

Of course, Eddie was wary, but he trusted Richie with his life and sure, it would be great to spend a weekend away with his boyfriend without being scared or hiding. “Okay, I’ll be at the barrens tonight, at seven,” he nodded his head. “We need to go now though, before someone comes looking and they find us.”

Although reluctant, Richie agreed and let Eddie leave the closet first, following behind him and swung an arm over his shoulder. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, as Richie was always touching Eddie in some way or the other. The others were all still waiting for them outside, and Bev raised her eyebrows at them, but didn’t say anything, simply moving into step with Ben as they all made their way towards Mike’s farm, something they did every Friday night as it meant spending more time together.

As soon as Eddie stepped into the house after they all parted ways, he moved into the kitchen to see a note from his mother. It was letting him know she had gone to her sisters for the weekend he was to be on his best behaviour in her absence and she would see him on Sunday evening. A smile broke onto Eddie’s face as he realised this was the reason he wouldn’t have a problem sneaking away with Richie for the weekend.

He rushed up the stairs and pulled out his mini-suitcase, packing some overnight clothes for the weekend before making his way out to the barrens where Richie was already waiting for him, his truck parked to the side and ready to go. Eddie didn’t hesitate in throwing his bag into the backseat and wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck in a hug. “How did you know my mother would be gone for the weekend?”

Richie grinned at him, leaning down to steal a quick kiss before pulling back. “My mom overheard her on the phone at the supermarket. She must have been talking to her sister or something. She gave me the heads up. Mags really is our relationship MVP.”

“Yeah, but that’s because she’s the only one who knows about us. You can’t say that Bev wouldn’t be high on the MVP scale if she knew,” Eddie grinned, stepping back and heading to the passenger side of Richie’s truck. Richie just laughed and followed him around, climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the keys in the ignition.

“I tried to convince dad to give me his car this weekend,” Richie mumbled as he pulled away from the barrens and onto the main road. “He said that no amount of begging would let him trust me with his car, so my truck it is, Eds.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes a little and got comfortable in the seat, “You cleaned the truck up for me, that’s the best I could have asked for to be honest.” They fell into a comfortable silence, the music playing from the stereo that was hooked up to Richie’s phone. “Is this my playlist?” Eddie asked after a few songs, all of which featured on Richie’s playlist that he named ‘Eds’.

He watched a flush appear on his boyfriend’s cheeks, but there was no answer, so Eddie picked up his phone from where it sat, logging in to Spotify. Sure enough, it was his ‘Eds’ playlist, and Eddie couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face. Richie squawked from his seat, “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing!” Eddie defended himself, shaking his head. “I’m impressed that you know me so well to have all my favourite songs on the one playlist.” He continued to flick through the songs that Richie had on his playlist as he had always known it existed, but only now was he getting the chance to actually see.

“You know, I think Bev knows about us,” Richie muttered about half way through the drive. Eddie looked over at him from where he was lost in thought, looking at the scenery outside the window. “I told her I couldn’t hang out on Sunday with her…because of course I’ll be with you and she just gave me this look…as though she knew that I’d be with you.”

Eddie frowned, tilting his head to the side, “Well, it’s almost graduation and we’ll all be leaving for college soon. They are going to find out sooner or later because I have no plans on ending this with you.” He let out a sigh. “I think we should tell them, when we get back. Get all the losers together and just…come clean. Aren’t you tired of hiding from them?”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Richie nodded his head and made a turn in, pulling up to a service stop that was by a lake reservoir. The sight was one to behold, as the sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the water. “Why wait until Sunday?” Richie asked and grabbed his phone. Eddie watching him get out of the car and head over to the edge of the lake.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked as he got out of the car, following him until they were standing side by side. “We’re not going back, Rich. I want to spend this weekend with you.”

Richie nodded, “And we are, I’m not saying we go back. I’m saying we take a really cheesy picture of us kissing in front of the sunset and send it to them in the group chat.” His eyebrows waggled as he pulled up the camera and Eddie relented, nodding his head. Richie grinned and held the phone away from him as he leaned down, catching Eddie’s lips in a kiss as he snapped the picture.

Eddie had to say, he was rather impressed at the turnout of the picture and allowed Richie to send it to all the losers in the chat. Barely five seconds later, both of their phones were blowing up with messages in response.

Bev: I KNEW IT. I FUCKING KNEW IT

Billy: Gross guys, right in front of my salad, really?

Haystack: I’m so happy for you!

Mikey: Congratulations guys!

Stan the Man: You all owe me 5 bucks.

Stan the Man: Congrats.

Both of them just laughed and turned their phones off. They would deal with their friends on Sunday when they got back to Derry. Right now though, they just slipped back into Richie’s truck and continued to the holiday home, happy and in love.

* * * * *

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @that-weird-girls-blog @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @stanleuyris @eduardoandale @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @toziesque @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking @s-onora @atownofeggs @wilding-throught-thehallways @no-she-wasnt-reddie @dadbodrichie @thorn-harvester-ven @eddiekasbpark @sparklingrainbowdragon @ransonelovebot @gloire-celeste @derrylosers @3tothe1 @virgo-luthie @sashadrowned @spirited-marvel @losers-gotta-stick-together @rebecca-the-queen @ultrapaninibred

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #writing tag

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deepdaleducks · 5 years

Text

Spark (Slow Burn 4/Fire Series) - Dele

make sure you’ve read Slow Burn, Flicker and Embers before you read this (or don’t i don’t think it matters here)

-Three years ago-

The room was bustling with people. Everyone dressed in long dress and black suit and ties. Knifes and forks clinking against fine china as everyone dines on their food, light conversation coming from every corner of the room. Your colleagues surround you, everyone abiding by your bosses “no work talk” rule. Stories of childhoods and friends are passed around the table, laughter echoing over the noise of the room. When the meal is finished, your boss thanks everyone for coming to the event, rattling off about how important it is for the company to show its charitable side, not only at functions such as this, but all year round. Everyone lifts their glasses in a toast, and you drain what’s left of your wine. Your phone vibrates in your clutch and you reach to check the text; a reply to the mirror selfie of your outfit you’d sent earlier.

Tom: Looking good, babe! Have a good night x

You type back a quick thank you, wishing him a good weekend. Your best friend from work leans over, spying on your phone.

“Is that Tom, hmm?” She asks as you slip your phone back into your purse. “How’s that going?”

“It’s going okay yeah, nothing too serious yet, but he’s nice,” You reply, mind drifting onto thoughts of the guy you’d been seeing. A month of dating and things had been going well. The two of you had met through a mutual friend and had hit it off really well. You worked in similar industries and had similar interests. Your only disagreements being over the fact that he was an Arsenal fan, and although you didn’t follow football much anymore, your dad had raised you to hate Arsenal. You gossip with your colleague about your love lives, discussing your best and worst dates, every comparison coming back to Tom.

Once the plates had been cleared, people began to move around the room, squeezing in between tables and chairs. The people on your table, mainly your colleagues and their guests began to disperse around the room to greet old friends and network with other attendees. Bidding a quick goodbye, talk to you later to the few remaining people at your table, you stand at head towards the bar in search of a new drink. Your heels now aching under your feet, you’re thankful when you arrive at the bar and have a support to lean on to alleviate some of the pressure from the balls of your feet. The space is cramped, a large group of guys congregating next to you loudly discussing their training sessions this week and how their next game should go. Footballers. There were always footballers at events like these; their team sponsoring the event to show they were “giving back to the community”.

You haven’t even had a chance to order when it happens. In a split second, he’s turning around, two pints of beer in his hands, and bumping into you. Beer flowing out of the glasses and down your dress. Black fabric now covered in liquid, you step back in shock.

“Jesus Christ watch where you’re going,” You yell, grabbing at the cloth that’s immediately being held out in front of you. You begin dabbing at your dress, attempting to soak up some of the moisture, a whole spiel of apologies coming from the figure stood opposite you.

“Shit. Fuck. I am so sorry.” He says, his tone panicked. His hands move about in any attempt to help, but you bat him away. All chances of solving the mess already out of the window, you throw the cloth back on the bar, shaking your head in annoyance. “Is there anything I can do to fix this?” He asks, causing you to look up at him, taking in his perfectly clean suit and tie, eyes looking at you apologetically.

“It’s, ah. It’s fine.” You breathe, “I’m going to go try wash this out in the bathroom.” You say, turning away from the bar and stalking down the corridor, frustration and annoyance flowing through your veins. You hear footsteps following you, dress shoes on wooden tiles. A series of hold on, wait a minutes echoing behind you. Rather than turn back, you push through the door to ladies’ room and lean against the sinks, taking a breath to calm yourself. Dabbing at your dress with a wet cloth, you consider your options. The idea of spending the rest of the night in a beer coated dress seems unpleasant, so you settle for calling it an early night and heading home on the tube, the three glasses of wine you’d consumed making your brain feel a little hazy, far too hazy too drive. Having come straight from work, you had your clothes from earlier in the day in your car parked across the street, so you make a mental note to run across and change back into them before heading for a train home. Pushing back through the door of the bathroom, you almost run into a familiar figure once more.

“Did you sort it?” He asks, stopping you in your tracks on your journey back to your car. You shake your head, noticing his expression sadden.

“No, it’s pretty unsalvageable…” You trail off, “I’m just gonna head back to my car and then go home.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ruined your night. Where’s your car?”

“In the multi-story across the street. Not all of us can afford the valet service.” You joke, trying to crack a smile.

“Excuse me?” He questions, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re a footballer, right? Those guys you were with at the bar, you were all discussing your training and the game next week.” You say, happy to have stumped him a little.

“Oh right, yeah… At least let me walk you back to your car, I can’t have you going in a multi-story car park alone at this time of night,” He pleads, eyes showing a desperation to make this up to you. You smile lightly in agreement, too tired to argue. The two of you walk together side by side, not bothering to make conversation. When you exit the building, the air is a lot colder than it was earlier causing you to shiver slightly and combined with the alcohol in your body, the motion makes you stumble a little; your heels giving way under your feet.

“You sure you’re safe to drive like that?” He asks teasing, an arm reaching out to help steady you and dropping immediately once you’ve regained your balance.

“I’m not. I’m getting the tube.” He looks confused at your response, so you continue not allowing him to ask any more questions. “I have clothes in my car, so I’m going to change and then I’m going to get the tube home.” He just nods, taking in your rambling. You reach your car and grab your clothes out of the boot – jeans and a white t-shirt from a dress down Friday, with an old pair of converse that you always keep in your car. He stands there quietly, only attempting to protest when head into the sketchy bathroom of the parking garage to change. And he’s still there when you return, standing by your car, waiting. Waiting whilst your put the dress out on the backseat, ready to be taken to the dry cleaners in the morning. Waiting whilst you grab your purse and lock up your car. And then he follows you when you head towards the exit in search of the tube, silent all the while.

“Okay so where’s the tube station?” He asks as you descend into the street.

“It’s just down the road,” You say factually, turning to look at him quickly. “You don’t have to come with me, I can do it alone.”

“Look, it’s the least I could do, given the hell I caused.” He jokes slightly in attempt to get you to warm up to him. Once again, rather than protest or agree, you just smile and nod ever so slightly.

The city is still alive, neon lights hanging from the buildings and traffic flying past in a constant stream. Together, you push your way through the small crowds on the street towards the tube station, no attempts to make conversation of the bustle of the crowds.

“Dele.” He yells over the noise of a bus passing by.

“What?” You question, turning to look at him.

“My name. Dele. That’s my name.”

“Oh,” is all you say, before introducing yourself in return, swivelling on your feet to continue your journey.

“Do you wanna maybe go for a drink?” He proposes, walking slightly faster to catch up with you. You hesitate in your response, mind questioning if this was a sensible decision. He speaks again before you can think any further, “It’s not even that late, and I kinda turned your night to shit, so I kinda owe you.” He smiles. “Just one drink, it’s on me.” Before your mind can even begin to object, you’re nodding slowly in confirmation, following him into a pub off the street.

He buys as promised, a beer for himself and a gin and tonic for you. It’s awkward and silent at first until he asks about your job and why you were attending the gala. A conversation begins to form naturally, him sharing what he knows of your industry, and you discussing your brief knowledge of football. He tells you about his childhood and how he got into playing, how much of a dream it is to play for Spurs.

“You’re a spurs player?” You ask, and he nods and grins like a child in response. “My dad would have loved you…”

“He’s a fan?” He says proudly.

“He was, yeah.” His eyes deepen slightly at your use of the past tense, but you continue anyway. “My mum was born in Manchester, so she’s United for life. I was kinda raised on a dual allegiance though. But I haven’t really followed the football in a while…”

“Was?” He asks, ignoring the latter half of your sentence. His word stops your heart for a minute, the panic of this conversation getting way too serious way too quickly.

“He, um, he passed away a few years ago…” You trail off, “it’s why I don’t really follow football anymore. It was always something we did together, yknow.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about this anymore, if you don’t want.” He mutters, apologetically and you smile at him weakly in response. The people at the pool table next to you finish their game so you eye up the free table. Desperate to get your mind on to something other than its current thought track, you suggest playing a game, causing him to give you a competitive smirk.

The game goes by quickly, him breaking and instantly potting a ball, gaining himself a healthy lead. You catch up easily and it comes down to both of you having a single ball left on the table. You line up your shot, taking a breath to steady your hand. Years of practice in your local pub back home paying off when you hit the white at the perfect angle and power to pot your ball and position it perfectly for your final shot. Aligning your queue ready to hit the black, you smirk at him in victory and he looks at you in disbelief. The ball rolls easily into the hole, white sitting just on the edge of the pocket, and you grin at him in triumph.

“I can’t believe you made a comeback like that.” He says in shock, half joking, half amazed.

“I worked in a really small country pub for a few years and we hardly had any customers, so I got to spent most my time playing pool,” You reply, matter-of-factly. “And I’m like really competitive, so I usually win,”

“Being competitive doesn’t mean you just instantly win. It means that you just brag when you do or get annoyed when you don’t.” He states.

“No, I’m serious. I win at like everything, I just do.”

“Care to prove it?” His lips smirk at you as he asks, pointing towards the all-night arcade across the street. Electricity runs through the air between you as you stand on opposite sides of the table. It’s on, is all you say in response, finishing your drink quickly and following him across the street.

You beat him at air hockey and a shoot ‘em up game, but he wins on the basketball machine and table football, a ‘it’s what I do for a living, babe, I was bound to win’ thrown in when he does so. Upon noticing the “mini golf this way sign” you grab his hand in excitement, dragging him in the direction of the arrows, insisting that you were about to thrash him. You wind your way through the arcade machines, grinning like a child. You face only falling when you notice the lack of lighting in the room and a no entry barrier across the door way.

“I can’t believe it’s closed” You say in annoyance. His thumb rubs your hand in comfort and you suddenly become aware that your fingers were still laced together.

“Well maybe I’ll just have to take you another time?” He poses, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah maybe, but who says there will be another time?” You mirror his actions.

“Promise there will be.” Is all he responds before he pulls you closer and dips his head slowly. He breath ghosts your lips before they connect slightly. Your brain instantly sober as you push away, uttering a no, I can’t do this. His hand drops yours, leaving your palm cold and empty.

“What? You got a boyfriend or something?” He says, no bitterness in his voice, only a hint of surprise.

“No boyfriend.” You reply, causing him to look at you confusingly. “I’m sort of seeing someone. It’s still new and there’s no real labels on it yet. But I don’t do the two people at once thing and I don’t wanna be that girl.” You spiel out quickly, hardly pausing to take a breath.

“Oh,” He responds, his eyes disappointed and low.

“But we can be friends, though? I mean you did just promise to take me mini golfing, and you’re one for one on keeping your promises, so you wouldn’t wanna ruin that now, would you?” You say lightly, attempting to regain the happy atmosphere you had established earlier.

He takes your number, insisting that he is a man of his word, also calling you a taxi to take you home, rather than allowing you to take the tube alone. You walk out into the street together, his suit jacket now slung around your shoulders to protect you from the cold night air. He opens the door to the taxi, bidding you a final farewell with a “see you at mini golf.”

Instead, he invites you to the cinema the next Wednesday and brunch the following Sunday. You never even make it to mini golf, a date with your boyfriend getting in the way of the plans you had originally made. He takes the cancellation lightly, saying he’s proud of you for “locking down a man with such a good jaw” but you know it’s a joke, based on something he’d previously overheard your friend saying on the phone. Despite the failed plans and your new relationship, your friendship manages to grow, brunch on Sunday mornings becoming a tradition, Wednesday night movies after work at his house an integral part of your weekly schedule. He reignites your love for football, getting you tickets to his games and even offering to provide one for Tom, which he declines due to his loyalty to Arsenal. You give him advice on his love life, offering to set him up on dates with girls from your work, and you’re happy for him when he says he’s met someone. And you’re happy for him when he calls you at 9:59 on a Sunday morning, cancelling your 10am brunch date because he’s tied up. And even though you eat alone, you’re happy for him.

They’re six weeks in when you finally meet her, in the stands at one of his games, Spurs shirt on your back, Gucci on hers. It’s Eric’s girlfriend who introduces you, the two of them having already met on a double date. It’s awkward and tense and you feel oddly second class. Her lips spend most their time pursed together, hands holding her phone and fingers scrolling through Instagram, your hands in the air, yelling about an incorrectly called foul. He scores a second goal in the 82nd minute, securing spurs the 4-0 win, yourself and Eric’s girlfriend jumping of your seats in celebration. Afterwards, he greets you in the tunnel, running into your arms and spinning your round like a little child, a rambling a chorus of “did you my goals? How insane was that second one though?”

“Yeah, I’m really glad I taught you how to cartwheel,” You reply, referencing his celebration. You congratulate him like always, and it feels normal until her eyes fall on yours from down the corridor, a sour look on her face. Muttering a quiet “You should go say hello to your girlfriend”, you move onto Eric, who’s wrapped up in his girlfriend’s arms.

The months go by and your relationships and friendships all grow. Double dates on weekends, attending fancy dinner parties together. Everything going wonderfully. And it’s not until one and a half years into your relationship that you’re coming home early for a week-long business trip and heading straight to your boyfriend’s house in search of comfort. Except what you find isn’t comfort, it’s an unfamiliar car parked in his drive way and your spare key opening his door to a pair of women’s heels in the hallway. It’s two plates abandoned on the table and a “shit that might be my girlfriend” from upstairs.

You stumble out of the door, fingers fumbling for your phone to find the only contact you want right now, dialling immediately. When he picks up you barely let out a breath, words coming out as stream of “TherewassomeoneelsethereIthinkhe’scheatingthereweretwoplatesandapairofheelsand-” before he stops you, asking you to slow down and explain what was going on. He tells you to get your car off the drive and go to the car park down the road, that he’ll meet you there as soon as he can. Behind the wheel your hands shake, tears already falling down your face, but you try you best to compose yourself, slowing lifting your foot off the clutch and reversing out into the street. Pulling into the car park you turn on the radio loudly in an attempt to drown out your thoughts and its not long before a black car is pulling up and he’s bundling out of it. He opens the driver’s side door and pulls you from your seat, immediately folding you into his arms, a series of hushes whispered into your ear.

He drives you back to his place, tears in your eyes making all the street lights a blur. When you get inside, he leads you into the kitchen before running upstairs to get you a pair of sweats to change into. The way he moves around you signifies how much you’ve learned about each other in the many months of your friendship. Giving you your favourite style of sweats and a pair of long socks to keep your feet warm, making a cup of tea just the way you like it, turning on the classical music your mother raised you on to help calm you down. And he knows that you don’t want to talk about it just yet, so he tells you about training and Eric, about the new coaches at the club, anything to get your mind to run onto a different thought track. His heart aches at the sight of your red eyes and teared stained cheeks.

It’s working – his attempt at distracting you - one of his stories almost causing you to crack a smile. But then you spy the dinner table over his shoulder, two plates full of food now gone cold, two glasses of wine, one untouched, one half empty. The scene confuses you. Why would he have two plates of food set out if he wasn’t doing anything? Surely, he hadn’t been doing anything if he was able to come pick you up? Unless –

“Was she here?” You ask before your brain can even tell you to stop. “Is she still here? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on your evening.” You ramble, rushing out of your seat at the breakfast bar, scurrying to grab your things in preparation to leave.

“No, it’s okay. I told her I had to cancel.” He pauses as you look at him inquisitively. “She was here, yes. But you called and I told her we’d have to take a rain check. So she left.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say in disbelief. In return he protests that he did have to do that. That you’re his best friend, and the he cares about you. That he wasn’t going to leave you crying in a car park. That he loves you.

And the last thing he says sends your heart into overdrive. You know he doesn’t mean it like that. But hearing him say it causes you to think of a life where things had been different. A life where you had kissed him that first night you met. A life that you stopped from happening because of Tom. Tom the boyfriend you thought you loved, Tom the boyfriend you heard in bed with someone else, Tom the boyfriend who had shattered your heart.

But even after you rejected him, Dele is still here in front of you, your best friend. Taking care of you and picking up your broken pieces to help you put yourself back together. Making cream crackers with butter just in case you manage to eat, putting on your favourite tv show, knowing you.

He carries you up to bed after you fall asleep on the couch, careful not to wake you as he places you in the spare bed, a kiss on your forehead as he bids you goodnight.

When you wake in the morning, he’s left a note on the kitchen counter.

I’ve called your work to say you’re too sick to go in. There’s food in the fridge if you manage to eat anything. You’re welcome to stay here all day – movie marathon later? I hope you’re okay, love. Dele x

His hand writing a scribbled mess, you smile at the note. You make breakfast from the items in his fridge, moving around his house easily and comfortably. The day passes by effortlessly, watching tv in his living room and reading in the sun room, taking up any task possible to distract you from the thought of your inevitable break up. The idea of staying here all day comforts you, knowing that his presence later will put you at ease. And you’re passing through the hallway aimlessly when you see it and it stops you for a minute. Her photo on the sideboard. A reminder that he has a girlfriend, and as much as you wanted to spend all your time clinging to him for comfort, his time was not yours to take. So you force yourself to grab your belongings and drive home, leaving him a simple reply to his note, your phone still off in your bag, untouched from last night.

Going home, gonna go talk to him and say my piece while I know what I want to say. Thanks for everything Dele, will call you this weekend x

“So did Ruby tell you we ran into each other in the mall this week?”

“Oh yeah, um, she kinda mentioned she’d seen you,” he says from across the table, your regular brunch orders in front of you in your regular restaurant. Avoiding your eye contact, he concentrates on cutting up his avocado on toast.

“What are you not telling me?” you ask, knowing his tells.

“Nothing. Nothing. She said she saw you and that you still looked like crap from your break up.” His eyes meet yours to see you in shock. “Sorry.” Pause. “And then you know we got on to talking about it…”

“And?” you pry further.

“And then, I don’t know. We sort of got in an argument about it. I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t want to make you feel bad.” He confesses, shifting his eyes again to avoid looking at you.

“Why would you be arguing about me?” You ask, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“She thinks we’re spending too much time together. Maybe she’s jealous, I don’t know. But I explained to her that I’m just helping you out, because you know, you were cheated on and you’re going through a break up. You need people, and I’m your person.” He stops for a second. “I told her she has nothing to worry about. It’s not like you’re in love with me or anything…” He trails off without a light chuckle.

“Yeah. Right. Exactly. But if she has a problem with it, we don’t have to spend as much time together,” your tone is low and sadden. “I like spending time with you and I’m really thankful for all you’ve done lately, but I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship. I don’t want to do anything that could make you sad.”

And so you don’t see him for a few weeks, ignoring his calls and replying to his texts in short, blunt sentences. Forcing yourself to spend all your time with your friends, cocktails after work and shopping trips on Sundays. You even miss Sunday brunch three weeks in a row, throwing out a casual excuse in apology, causing your heart to ache at the thought of purposefully pushing him away. From what you see on Instagram, it appears that his relationship is doing better than ever, and you’re happy for him. The distances seems to be good for the both of you, your heart now slowly feeling from your break up, work going better than ever. That is until he turns up on your door step at 3am one night, eyes red from crying. You let him in without questioning it, knowing something seriously up for him to come here like this, unannounced. He walks himself into the kitchen, head hanging low.

“We got in another fight. About you. Which is so fucking dumb because you’ve been ignoring me for weeks.” He rants, quickly. You try to interject but he continues. “And I come home in a bad mood and she’s also in a pissy mood and she goes ‘well why don’t you go talk to your wife about it’” He mimics in a high-pitched voice.

“Your wife?” You question, asking him to confirm what you were assuming.

“You. She means you.” He pauses to look at you, stopping his head from whirling round the kitchen as he paces. “And I so I said that I haven’t even seen you in ages, she asks why I’m so upset about it so then yet again, we end up having the same stupid fight that we always end up having.”

You take in his words slowly. Brain wracked with thoughts of why was he here? How did the fighting lead him to your door step? If you were in his position, the first place you’d drive after having an argument over a third party would not be directly to that third party’s house.

“Why are you- Why are you here?” You mumble, forcing yourself to get the words out. Forcing yourself to confront what was happening. Forcing yourself to stop everything that could happen.

“I just.” He pauses to breathe, steadying himself. “I just need to know so I can go home and be with her and not having all these thoughts that she keeps putting in my mind.”

“Need to know what?”

“I just need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not in love with me.” Eyes pleading, he makes no attempt to move closer to you. His words form a canyon between the two of you across the kitchen.

“I’m not.” You reply, quietly, hand brushing your hair away from your face so your eyes can look into his fully. “I’m not in love with you.” You lie.

Author’s Note - okay so I switched it up a little and this is basically a prequel showing some snippets from the night they met and as their relationship develops. Idk if you guys are gonna like this so let me know if you did. We’ll be back to our regular scheduled programming very soon, hoping to get SB5 to you within the weekend if I dont put off uni work too much. I didn’t proof read so if you notice and errors/inconsistencies please let me know im lazy and go blind to my own mistakes LOVE YOU ALL THANKS FOR READING X

#slow burn series #slow burn four #sb4 #sb series #dele #dele alli #footballer imagine #yeah im bad with tags

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pearwaldorf · 5 years

Text

That modern Dorian post reminded me I actually did have a modern AU started. It’s never getting finished, but I think it could have gone in a cute direction.

Features: Cullen/Dorian, Dorian & Adaar friendship/snark, the Inquisition as an academic library, a dog I made Patho name because she wanted the story (sorry Patho)

Dorian was pondering how best to rearrange his wine glasses (by likelihood of use? height? a pleasing eclectic mix of both?) when he heard a somewhat frantic knock on his door. He opened it to find his neighbor from across the hall, holding a set of keys and a leash with a very large Mabari at the end of it. Dorian had seen the blond man and the dog out and about, but had never exchanged more than a polite greeting.

“Can I help you?” Dorian wasn’t sure exactly was going on here yet, but from their limited interaction, he didn’t seem like a serial killer. (It certainly didn’t hurt that he was extremely good-looking.)

“I was rather hoping you could.” His neighbor put his hand to the back of his neck, a ridiculous nervous affectation that Dorian found charming, even though he was sure he wasn’t supposed to. “I’m being called away on rather urgent business for work, and I don’t have anybody to look after my apartment or feed my dog.” Here he looked awkward and sheepish, like he couldn’t believe he’d found himself in a situation this ridiculous. “I’m new to the area, and anybody else I would trust to do so is also going to be traveling with me. I understand it’s a great deal to ask from a virtual stranger, but--”

“I’d be happy to. I'm Dorian, by the way.” Dorian smiled, and his neighbor nearly collapsed in relief.

"Dorian, you are a lifesaver. Feed Henry two cans of wet food along with two scoops of dry food twice a day. Make sure he has water at all times. He likes to walk twice a day before mealtimes, but any time you can get him out is fine.” His phone pinged and he handed over the keys and leash to Dorian. “Shit, that’s my cab. I owe you so much for this. Name your favor, and when I get back I swear it will be done.”

“But I don’t even know your name!” Dorian called to the retreating figure running down the hall.

“Cullen! Cullen Rutherford!” He--Cullen--shouted back. Henry whined quietly, looking the direction his master headed. Dorian let Henry sniff his hand and the dog licked it, politely if not affectionately. Dorian tugged on the leash, still a little unsure of how exactly he’d gotten himself into this situation.

“Come on Henry, let’s go for a walk.”

A couple days later, there was a knock on his door, and a courier handed him a slim envelope. It was addressed to “Dorian in Apt 302”, and he wondered once again at the ridiculous circumstances of his life. Opening it, he found a note and some money.

I just realized that I was low on dry food. If I could trouble you to pick some up I would be so grateful. There’s a pet store down the road that sells the special food Henry eats. Here’s my number if you need anything.

Continuing to be in your debt,

Cullen

Sticking the money and note into his pocket, he went to work. He was in the middle of trying to figure out how best to catalog an overblown address to the Magisterium when Adaar sidled up to him. She had a first name, but nobody besides the payroll person actually knew what it was. They’d collaborated on the Koslun project, which was of mutual interest to both of their areas of expertise, and he’d found her to be sharp and thoughtful, as well as one of the few people who had deigned to talk to the Vint about non-work matters when he’d first arrived.

“Sera tells me you got a note from your neighbor.”

“And where did Sera hear that?” Dorian asked as he slipped the transcript back into its protective case. Sera was a tech who somehow managed to have eyes and ears in the most mysterious places.

“Probably from Josie.” Josie was one of the directors, who made it a point to stop and chat with everybody. She cooed over the pictures Dorian took of Henry and seemed thrilled to to hear all about the strange and somehow delightful ridiculousness going on with his neighbor. Adaar smiled, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Are you going to text him?”

“I admit the thought hadn’t occurred to me.” Dorian lied.

“You are so full of shit sometimes, Pavus. I bet you had to stop yourself from tapping one out as soon as you got that note.” It was still strange to him, this staying in one place long enough for people to see through his calculated feints and attempts to keep safe distances. It wasn’t as terrible as he thought.

“You’re wrong. I waited until I got on the bus.” It wasn’t quite a concession, but as much as he’d give. Adaar’s expression softened, something that still looked odd to him for a split second before his thinking brain kicked in. Qunari were painted as fanatical, fearsome beasts in Tevinter, and he’s spent enough time outside the Imperium that he knew a great deal of what he was told growing up is bullshit, but there was only so much one could do with initial conditioning.

“From what you say, he sounds sweet. I think you should do it.” She punched him on the shoulder gently. “You of all people deserve a chance to be happy.”

“But only if I text you about what happens first?”

She laughed, the gilding on her horns catching the light as she shook. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

He took a selfie with Henry and sent it to the number in the note. We’re getting along great! he tapped out. It was an acceptably neutral message, he hoped. He got a reply back almost immediately.

I'm glad to see that. Has he been behaving? We're not usually apart and I worry about him.

He's fine, helicopter dad. Dorian sent. He hesitated before tapping out Are *you* doing all right without him? There was a pause, longer than he thought should have been necessary to reply. Before Dorian could apologize, Cullen responded.

You’re very perceptive. Although given how much I fuss over Henry, it must seem obvious. Dorian chuckled. The phone pinged again.

Which is to say, my obviousness does not negate your perception. Just in case that wasn’t clear. Andraste’s knicker weasels, he shouldn’t have found it anywhere near as charming as he did.

So tell me about your day. He texted. Dorian got a steady string of observations about the Orlesian countryside, mostly long-suffering but wry enough to be amusing. Cullen talked a little about the work he did with the Inquisition: scouting, evaluating locations for a more permanent base of operations. Apparently it was looking to expand its presence in the more remote, underserved areas of Orlais, where its presence would be most welcomed.

And will you be staying away long? Henry will miss you.

Gods, no. Dorian heard back almost immediately. I'm too old for extended time in the field. I miss my bed already. Dorian, already in his, curled up tighter in his blanket in sympathy.

They chatted back and forth for longer than Dorian realized, until he found his eyes growing heavy and his vision blurring. He stifled a yawn.

I have to go to sleep now, or Cassandra will kill me. Dorian’s heart dropped for a moment, before another message popped up. She is a terribly fussy roommate, and always has been.

She sounds formidable. I would not wish to incur her wrath.

The next reply was a single word: Hah. It was then followed by You have no idea. Sleep well.

Pleasant dreams, if I may be so bold. For a moment, Dorian wondered if it was too much. It wasn’t as if they actually knew each other, although they were certainly more familiar than they were two days ago. One last message popped up on his screen. You may. Good night. :) How quaint; he still made his emoticons on the keyboard.

The next thing he knew, his phone was buzzing in his hand, the alarm demanding his wakefulness. He’d been holding it all night.

Upon reflection, Dorian realized it should have been obvious that bringing Henry to meet his cat was not perhaps the wisest idea. Henry was perfectly all right with the idea of sharing space, however temporarily, with another animal, but Livia was of the exact opposite disposition. She growled at them both and fled to the bedroom, where Dorian would have to no doubt spend a great deal of time coaxing her out from under the bed with dried fish flakes and apologies. But that was for later.

He unlocked the door to Cullen’s apartment and let Henry back into familiar surroundings, which he was pleased by, judging by the way he ran around and sniffed contentedly. He fed Henry the specified amount of food and marveled at how dainty a giant dog could be in eating. As he ate, Dorian looked around. The place was sparse, like its occupant was used to living with only essentials, thus making the personal items scattered about much more significant. There were some books, mostly Genitivi’s travelogues and popular nonfiction pertaining to the Chantry, but also a surprising number of mass-market fiction books by Tethras. Dorian noticed there were photographs: a family portrait, two boys, two girls, and parents; the eldest girl and Cullen in front of a chessboard; a picture of a young, serious Cullen in a Templar uniform, posing in front of a large stone tower. It was the most recent picture, and Dorian guessed it was at least ten years old.

Adaar came up to him silently; a not insignificant feat for someone of her size, and just waited until Dorian noticed her. He continued sorting some of the twenty linear feet of archives some windbag magister willed to the university without looking at her.

“We’ve been texting. It hasn’t gone beyond that.” He’d get sporadic updates during the day: a snapshot of a silly Orlesian dog (accompanied by commentary on the difference between them and Ferelden canines), a fancy dessert he grudgingly approved of, and once, a picture of a stern, fearsome-looking woman he assumed was Cassandra, fast asleep.

He did not need to look at her to register the disappointment emanating from her direction. It wasn’t like he could do anything while Cullen was away on business. Well, to be precise, there was video chat, but Dorian had a very strong feeling this was not the way to Cullen’s heart, or his pants. His lack of emoji use notwithstanding, there was something charmingly old-fashioned about him.

#scrap

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waitingfortherightpartner · 6 years

Text

Night Owl

Based on Anonymous Prompt: Hello! I love your writing! I just saw this prompt: "It’s 3 am and you’re blasting off classic rock at full volume and your music taste might be awesome but soME PEOPLE are trying to sLEEP" and I thought it would be perfect for Steve and reader where they are neighbours. Could you write something like this?

A/N: Life’s wild and I’m still making my way through year-old prompts, but all in all, doing great.

Come and get your love

You sigh and finally sit up in bed, eyes darting to the clock. 3:04 a.m.

Hey, hey, what’s the matter with you

You shake your head and jump to the ground, startling your dog, Logan. He jumps up and you scoop him up into your arms, giving him a few reassuring kisses.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” you whisper. “But this ends tonight.”

You throw on a bathrobe, putting Logan down before quickly making your way out the door of your apartment. You glare at your neighbor’s door for a second before marching over and banging on the door.

The music stops and you hear the creak of the floor as the sound of footsteps approaches you. You wait with silence and hear a soft chuckle on the other side of the door, which only pisses you off more.

As you’re about to say something, the door swings open and you bite back your snarky comment. You unconsciously run your tongue over your lips as you take in the appearance of the man standing before you – tousled hair, perfect beard, sparkling blue eyes...

You shake the thoughts out of your head, but by then it’s too late. He’s looking at you with those piercing blue eyes, seeing through your angry facade. His eyebrows quirk upward, his lips curving into a slight smirk and it takes every ounce of your willpower to steel your face back into a composed, angry mask.

“Your music,” you say. “It’s really fucking loud.”

“I’m Steve,” he says and the amusement in his eyes is clear. It’s then that you recognize him, even with that beard. Captain America. On another night, you might care, but you find it hard to muster up a fuck to give.

“(Y/N),” you say shortly. “Can you turn it down?”

“You don’t like my music?” he smiles wryly and you shake your head.

“It’s 3 am,” you say matter of factly.

“And?”

“And it’s 3 am,” you repeat. “It’s 3 am and you’re blasting classic rock at full volume. Don’t get me wrong, your music taste is kind of awesome. But I happen to have a job.”

“I have a job,” he says, mock indignantly and you roll your eyes.

“You fight super villains for a living,” you retort. “I’m gonna guess you don’t exactly work regular hours.”

“Ah, so you do you know who I am,” he says and you fight the urge to roll your eyes again.

“I do,” you say. “Sorry I’m not fawning over you like the rest of the damn country.”

“Gotta say, that is one of the perks,” Steve replies, shrugging. “You’re not the first neighbor to knock on the door, but as soon as I open it, no one seems to mind the music anymore.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you say.

“No, by all means,” he grins. “Someone’s got to put me in my place.” There’s that spark in his eyes again, the one that lets you know he’s probably just teasing, but you’re dead serious and committed to your mission at this point.

“Like, I get that you’re Captain America and I’m grateful that you keep us safe from aliens and space slugs and shit,” you say. “And I guess that being a symbol for this whole stupid country entitles you to some stuff, but it does not entitle you to being a bad neighbor.”

“A symbol of the country?” he smirks and you want to wipe that damn smug smile off his face. Maybe by kissing him. You curse your traitorous mind for betraying you, trying to stay focused.

“Yeah,” you deadpan. “Like a bald eagle, but living next to me and playing music all night long.”

“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve been compared to a bald eagle,” he says.

“A bald eagle would probably be a better neighbor,” you sigh. “I’m honestly surprised. You’d think it would be fantastic living next to Captain America, but I haven’t gotten any sleep for the past few weeks.”

“Well that makes two of us,” he says and there’s something in the edge of his voice that makes you pause. There’s a flash of something painful in his eyes before he masks it, back to that playful, bemused gaze he’s kept up this whole time.

It’s then that you suddenly notice the dark circles under his eyes. And you have to wonder why someone would be blasting music so loud at such a late hour. What he could possibly be trying to drown out.

It’s then that the music changes and you hear the familiar Ooga-Chaka-Ooga-Oogas of one of your favorite songs.

And you know what you have to do.

“I’m coming in,” you say, bursting past him. You beeline for his speakers and reach for the volume knob. You turn it up all the way (there wasn’t much more to go) and turn to face him.

The bemused smile on his face makes it all worth it.

“This is my song,” you shout over the music as you start to wave your arms around like one of those inflatable flailing tube men that are always outside car dealerships. “And I’m not dancing alone.”

Steve grins at you again and begins to sway back and forth. You make a face – it’s barely dancing – but you’ll take it.

“I can’t stop this feeling,” you sing-shout. “Deep inside of me.” You grab a magazine from the coffee table and roll it up, using it like a microphone. “Girl you just don’t realize what you do to me.”

You quirk your eyebrow expectantly at Steve and he reaches his hand out. You hand him the magazine, and he picks up the next lyric.

A few more songs pass, and eventually Steve gets into it, dancing with such ease and relaxation that you can almost forgive his horrific moves. You’re in the middle of your fifth song when there’s a loud knocking on the door that manages to cut through the music.

“Five dollars says it’s one of the neighbors and that you get out of it because you’re Captain America,” you hiss as you turn down the music a tiny bit. “Again.” Steve shakes his head at you, a grin on his face as he goes to answer the door.

“Could you...Captain America,” you hear the neighbor say and you roll your eyes. After the man asks for a selfie and an autograph and fails to mention the noise, Steve closes the door and grabs his wallet off the couch, reaching in to pull out a five dollar bill.

“So here’s the deal,” he says, turning down the music. “I could give you this five dollar bill.”

“You do owe me five dollars,” you say. “So yes, you definitely should do that.”

“Or I could take you out to dinner tomorrow night,” he says and you feel your breath hitch. He’s looking at you with soft eyes and now that the music is finally quieter, you wonder if he can hear the way your heart seems to be beating a million times a minute.

“Or...” you say slowly. “You take me out to dinner tomorrow night, and pay me the five dollars now. Doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive.” Steve laughs and hands you the bill.

“So that’s a yes to dinner?” he asks, taking a step closer.

“Of course,” you smile.

“Good,” he says.

“Maybe then I’ll finally get some sleep,” you joke. “Tire you out so you won’t be awake at 3 am to blast your music.”

“And how exactly do you plan on tiring me out?” he asks, and suddenly you’re aware of how close he’s gotten. Not touching, but close enough that your lips could be on his in seconds.

“That’s not what I meant,” you say quietly, not able to help the smile that creeps across your face as you take a step forward. “Though I’m not entirely opposed.”

The two of you stand like that, staring at each other, close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips. Just as you feel yourself starting to lean towards him, feeling that magnetic pull, you step quickly around him, walking swiftly towards the door.

You open it and stop to turn back.

“I’ll be ready at 7 sharp,” you smirk. “Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Tagging: (as always, it’s been a minute so lemme know if you want to be added/taken off)

@pleasecallmecaptain @mattymattymerduck@writingbarnes @kissofvenom922 @b-orderline@shamvictoria11 @callingmrsbarnes @barnes-and-noble-girl@coley0823 @redstarstan @badassbaker @phoebe-21-blog@marvelgoateecollection @palaiasaurus64 @melconnor2007 @patzammit

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve x reader #captain america #captain america fic #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america imagine #marvel #marvel fic #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

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ua-monoma · 6 years

Text

monoma 1:55 AM

@ua-iida hi.

iida 1:55 AM

Hello.

monoma 1:57 AM

.. how are you

iida 1:58 AM

I'm alright. How about you? How are you feeling right now?

monoma 2:01 AM

pissed off tbh

not at you though

just the... mystery stuff again.

not just that but also everyone else that seems to be jumping on it... I don't know how much you've been following

You're not in the chat a lot anymore.

iida 2:03 AM

I try to stay away from Mystery as much as possible. For my own good.

The chat got too hectic for me to handle. I think the teachers do a better job than I do, anyway...

Plus it isn't exactly welcoming...

monoma 2:03 AM

It's not. It's literally just fighting all the time.

Plus it's bugged anyway.

But it has its uses...

iida 2:04 AM

Bugged?

monoma 2:05 AM

There's "a wolf among us"

Like a traitor, or probably just someone who hacked in and is looking

idk

Kendou 2:06 AM

(from Monoma's phone) Oh c dzfy tgc I am not sure hgfdsxb l of the fffffffffffffffffffffffff shhh y

iida 2:06 AM

....

monoma 2:06 AM

DAMN IT

SORRY

That was Kendou

She's a baby right now.

A baby that's about to get locked in a closet--

iida 2:07 AM

Oh--Did she get hit by the same quirk you were hit with as well?

monoma2:08 AM

I think so. Can't remember anything, she's the same age too.

Lot to handle... kind of fun though.

Anyway,,

... idk. A lot has been happening and I feel like I haven't gotten the chance to see you and

I miss you...

I kind of just felt like saying that

iida 2:10 AM

I miss you as well.

I've been lonely.

monoma 2:10 AM

... I'm sorry

If I'd known that, I would've been there..

I mean, I still can be, obviously...

... After Kendou is back to normal

iida 2:12 AM

Focus on taking care of Kendou-san first. Take a lot of pictures while you can.

...Like I did.

monoma 2:13 AM

[Sends a selfie of himself and Kendou. They're forming a heart together with their joined hands.]

I am.

You never showed me all of the pictures. >:(

iida 2:14 AM

That is absolutely adorable.

monoma 2:15 AM

Ehehehe

iida 2:15 AM

I'd like to keep those pictures for myself!!

monoma 2:15 AM

Wh-WHY

I mean, that's fine...pff

I miss you a lot

iida 2:16 AM

Hopefully when things settle down, we can talk properly.

monoma 2:18 AM

Talk properly or... "talk properly."

That thing we keep not doing.

I'm starting to get afraid we're never gonna get a chance to do that, haha..

iida 2:21 AM

....

monoma 2:21 AM

...sorry

iida 2:21 AM

Well. If even if we don't talk, I suppose that is alright.

There is no immediate need for any clarity anyway.

monoma 2:23 AM

I guess

can i say something

actually two somethings

iida 2:24 AM

Sure.

monoma 2:25 AM

I love you

a lot

and I hate the messages I'm getting... and you're getting

because I looked at them a lil a few minutes ago

and, y'know, I have... bad experience with, uh, messages...and it fucking sucks seeing all these strangers just kind of

ugh

likethe whole obsessing thing and acting like they love you when they don't

iida 2:28 AM

... It is a bit disturbing.

But you do know you are the only one I have my eyes on, right?

monoma 2:32 AM

Yeah...

...

I wasn't worried about that

idk

I do love you and

I know I've been saying this already but

I do wanna get better in showing that

and prove all them wrong... because they are wrong

and it's not like I think you believe them or anything, it just got to me. Because they don't know anything but they act like they do and

I'm rambling idk if any of this makes sense

iida 2:34 AM

It does make sense.

monoma 2:34 AM

I love you

iida 2:35 AM

...It's not necessary to explain yourself to me...

Actions do speak louder than words do, after all.

monoma 2:36 AM

Yeah and I act shitty. Which is why I wanna say it...

iida 2:37 AM

Hmm.

monoma 2:37 AM

...

... I know you believe me. Or I hope so. I guess I'm just afraid of the day you decide you don't anymore

iida 2:38 AM

If the day ever comes, I know you will be alright.

You are very loved, after all.

As you should be.

monoma 2:38 AM

I wouldnt be

iida 2:41 AM

If I may be honest, this road that is laden with uncertainties does not excite me at all. Perhaps this may all be for nothing. Or it could end in both of us going down in flames. No matter how it ends, though, you will always hold a special place in my heart. At the very least, that cannot be taken away from me.

monoma 2:41 AM

... mine too

... that was gonna be the second something

except now i dont wanna say it lol

iida 2:43 AM

I hope you come to understand yourself and your emotions and be happy someday, Monoma-kun. Even if it isn't with me.

monoma 2:45 AM

I don't want to be happy without you

iida 2:47 AM

You may have to learn to do so.

monoma 2:50 AM

I don't want to though.

iida 2:52 AM

You may fall in love with someone else. Someone better. And you will be able to be happy without me. I do not think you needed me to be happy in the first place-- you are whole with or without me by your side.

I want you to remember that.

monoma 2:59 AM

... okay

iida 3:01 AM

Alright.

monoma 3:03 AM

... can i say my second something now

or should i just drop it

iida 3:10 AM

Just say it. If it's that important.

monoma 3:16 AM

[Sends a picture of a sleeping Kendou tucked into her bed.]

I got her to sleep

... Anyway

...

Okay. I'm really, really sorry that it's... been so hard with me. And I'm really trying. I try harder every day and it's really hard

And it.

...I'm really grateful that you're patient with me but

idk I wish you'd lose your patience with me more

or idk,

you tell me stuff is okay and then I believe you and then shit builds up and I can sense that but then you keep saying it's okay and then I fuck up and that's when you tell me anything

but anything between and I don't really know how you're feeling as much and idk, I feel like you're always taking care of me and I'm always trying to take care of myself but I don't get to try and take care of you

And idk if its because you feel like I don't have the right to or if you feel like I honestly cant or

or if it's because I make it too hard to

... idk what I'm saying really. I think I just feel like a burden on you constantly and there's nothing I can do about it

and I want to help you but maybe I just keep trying to look for ways to help you that aren't the ones you asked for

Ugh

I'm sorry

I want to be honest with you

iida 3:52 AM

Monoma-kun, the reason why I try to be as understanding as I can is because I feel like you need that support. People cannot always be at their best and that is alright. I don't expect you to help me in return nor do I think you are obligated to. I help you because I want to. I just need to understand the reasons behind some of your actions. I am alright enough to deal with my own emotions. And while I am still alright, I'd like to help you take steps to being alright, too.

But I cannot do that if you don't communicate with me.

monoma 4:27 AM

... okay

iida 4:39 AM

If there is something you want, I need you to tell me.

What do you want me to do? What do you want us to be?

Because I have been trying to read between these lines you draw but I cannot understand.

monoma 5:40 AM

... Can you list what you don't understand maybe

It'll help

sorry

I wanna answer these questions now but also idk

iida 6:03 AM

... Well.

I don't understand what you want us to be.

We have mutual feelings for each other-- we've established that. But then you go off and kiss one of my best friends before talking to me about anything.

You don't owe me an explanation, we aren't in a relationship, but, it does.. hurt. It confuses me still. And if there weren't other pressing matters I would still be upset.

monoma 6:10 AM

...

it's not like I planned that... He was the one that kissed me first and...

I mean, I assumed he would've told you this by now

And I know it's still largely my fault and I'm sorry about that but like

...idk

I get... swept up... I don't think about it

when it's happening, anyway

And I don't feel anything about it, I mean. I don't feel... anything for Midoriya

Kind of the point sometimes is just not feeling anything at all tbh

I do want... us. though....

(I'd feel weird actually talking about us through text though..)

iida 6:40 AM

Do you want "us" because you legitimately do, or because you are lonely?

Sorry, that is a bit too heavy to ask over text.

I am just.

Wondering.

And I am never brave enough to ask you face to face anyway.

monoma 6:41 AM

Legitimately.

I never really got lonely until after we started spending time together

iida 6:45 AM

Ah.

Alright.

There's still a few things I don't understand, but, I think this is a conversation we should have in person.

Hopefully with no distractions.

monoma 6:47 AM

... Hopefully

iida 6:47 AM

It's very late.. We should get rest.

monoma 6:47 AM

Yeah

This was good I think...haha

iida 6:50 AM

It was.

monoma 6:59 AM

Goodnight then.

iida 7:00 AM

Good night, Monoma-kun. Sleep well.

monoma 7:12 AM

You too

#monoma.log #iida #iimono #fixation.arc #[[ PLEASE read this i am Begging #its why i was up til 8am this morning cuz those are the REAL TIMES we rp'd this #but its also... the real times that they were talking sfdgbsbkg FIVE HOURS STRAIGHT ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS #LOOK AT IT...#i could talk about this convo and their dynamic rn and why Communication Is So Hard For Both Of Them for like ever #just give me the EXCUSE i will d r o p the essay #they're both speaking circles around each other... they dont speak each other's emotional languages At All... im dying sdfhsfjs ]]

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capnjay21 · 6 years

Text

the importance of being idle, 12/12

A/N: aloha! I posted this on AO3 a little while ago, but it has yet to make it onto tumblr. I wanted to say thank you so much to everybody who stuck along for the ride, it wouldn’t have been anymore than a oneshot without you! I’ll ramble a little more at the end, but here it is.

Rating: M

Catch up on: AO3 | tumblr

the importance of being idle get-out-of-my-apartment-(no-really-get-out)-you’re-hot-but-I-got-shit-to-do rock ‘n roll AU. Captain Swan.

Neither the fragrant dispensable hand soap, the superior quality of microwavable goods nor the silent as smoke bathroom door could make living in the Blackbeard’s Revenge tour bus a salvageable experience.

Admittedly, she’d only been there for just over twenty-four hours.

But it still fucking sucked.

After watching the Jolly Rogers drive away, she’d had little else to do except move her camera equipment and her small suitcase onto the other bus. Of course, the only free bunk happened to be right next to Blackbeard’s, but at least she wasn’t ousting any back-line equipment. If she was going to be here for the next month and a half, she would keep her head down and stay out of trouble, collect her money and go.

And try not to think too hard about the band that had driven away.

She spent the entire day in her bunk, alternating between attempting to read and adjusting settings needlessly on her camera, ignoring any offhand remarks sent her way. Blackbeard’s Revenge clearly had their own rhythm, the radio flipped onto some postseason baseball game while they alternated between relaxing and trying to coax a rise out of Emma. There were only so many ‘and how goes our forlorn freelancer, darling?’ she could take before she took a leaf out of Tina and Killian’s book and socked one of them in the jaw, but their every jibe strengthened her resolve. The only small mercy she could think of was the lack of Neal, since he had his own car he’d been using for that leg of the tour.

Eventually, the men dozed off and Emma was left in peace, scrolling idly through her phone. She didn’t text Killian. Her immediate instinct was to wait and see if he texted her first, but remembered too late that they never actually got to a point where they’d exchanged numbers — she only had his because of the note he’d left in her apartment that very first night. Along with his shirt.

(The shirt she had, in a moment of weakness, decided to throw on.

She’d brought it on the tour under the pretext of giving it back to him, and it had sat at the bottom of her suitcase until she could find the right moment — which now, of course, had obviously passed her by. It felt oddly symbolic of her entire relationship with Killian, to her chagrin.)

August had messaged her a string of salsa dancing women emojis, assuring her she’d pull through the other side. In response, she’d merely sent him a tired looking selfie with the book she’d secretly swiped from his bunk; Pinocchio. His reply was scandalised.

I knew there was a reason you said no to my fairytales. ‘Finding your own destiny’ my ass.

<b>that’s not v gentlemanly </b>

They’d bantered for a few minutes before she let the phone lie, a dull ache settling in the centre of her chest. She missed him. She missed all of them.

And before she let the rattling of the bus on the highway lull her into an afternoon nap, she couldn’t stop feeling the phantom scratch of stubble against her temple as a kiss was laid there, a murmur of sweet dreams, Emma, carrying her away.

***

BR had managed to recruit some local band last minute to open for them that night in New York, a city where no shortage of musicians lurked waiting for a chance like that to come along. They’d been okay, the style leaning a little too far into pop-punk for Emma’s liking, but dutifully she took photos and acted much the same as she had on every other night. It was a job, now. Nothing more. Take photos, go to bed. No lingering backstage, no welcome distractions, no banter as the venue was set up — all she cared about was her finger over the shutter release and the thought of getting back to her bunk, Killian’s shirt folded neatly underneath her pillow.

She’d gone back to the bus immediately after the gig. Even with that vestige of him surrounding her, it had been a restless night’s sleep.

They were performing just one more show in New York, and the next morning Emma couldn’t help but let her thoughts stray to the fact that it would be the last time she worked with Neal. If it weren’t for the fact that it left her alone with Blackbeard’s Revenge she would’ve been more relieved, but as it stood Neal was both a buffer and an inconvenience. They both knew it in their unspoken, mutual agreement; this would be the last time they saw each other. There was no use prolonging their association — the past was firmly in the past, Emma had closure. She didn’t know what Neal had, but it sure as fuck wasn’t anything that concerned her, and there was something decidedly liberating about finally setting fire to that chapter of her life, and letting it go up in smoke.

While most of her freedom to decide had been taken from her over the past day, it felt good to still be able to make some choices.

As the hours ticked by into the early afternoon, Emma was flicking through the photos she’d already taken from the last month or so, Blackbeard and Isaac playing cards in the seating area, with Pan listening to music as he lay back in his bunk. Jefferson had disappeared a few hours ago. It was a bitch to get into the city from the parking lot they’d been assigned near Newark, but the bassist seemed to be the only one interested in giving it a try. Emma couldn’t bring herself to give it a go, and it was highly likely the other three had already been before. The precarious peace, however, didn’t last long.

The door at the back of the bus swung open, sunlight beaming through and making Emma blink against the sudden brightness. Assuming it would be Jefferson returning, Emma didn’t spare it a glance — he was easily the most tolerable of the lot of them, but that didn’t make him any less complicit in the reason she was there.

“Ah,” Blackbeard greeted loudly, and Emma reached for her headphones. The least she could do was drown him out. “Jones. You’re late.”

Her head shot up so fast her neck cracked.

To her utter disbelief, Killian Jones stood silhouetted in the doorframe.

It took mere milliseconds for his eyes to find hers, a vivid blue like the glow of a lighthouse scattered on the waves. Although rationally she knew it had scarcely been a day and a half, it felt like far too long since she’d seen him, and she wrenched her gaze away to try and take in the rest of him — somewhat dishevelled in appearance and, if she wasn’t mistaken, wearing the same rumpled clothes as the day before. With his raven hair sticking up at odd angles on the back of his head, he looked as if he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

“Apologies,” Killian was saying to Blackbeard, “this place isn’t exactly convenient to reach.” Blackbeard waved a dismissive hand, before turning back to his game.

Before Emma could even fire off a query about why he was there, Killian cut her off.

“Pack your stuff, Swan,” he said, “we’re going.”

She didn’t move.

“What’re you doing here?”

Killian let out an exaggerated huff. “What does it look like? I’m attempting a dashing rescue.”

“And they say romance is dead,” Isaac hummed in amusement from his spot on the sofa opposite Blackbeard. Emma ignored him.

She didn’t get why everyone was being so goddamn calm.

As if sensing her hesitation, Blackbeard quirked an eyebrow in her direction. “You’re welcome to stay, Miss Swan, if you so desire.” The look he gave her could be described as leery at best. “But he has come all this way, and even I don’t advocate for that sort of cruelty.”

“Time is rather of the essence, love. Cab’s out front.”

Killian was watching her earnestly, and she followed the movement of his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. He was nervous, by now she could read his posture like a map, and something about it suggested to her that his sense of urgency had little to do with a taxi fare.

What the hell was going on?

Cautiously, she reached for her bag, gaze darting between the man in the doorway and those sprawled on the sofas. “You’re saying I’m allowed to just walk out of here?”

Blackbeard spread his hands. “Of course.”

“No invoices in the post?”

“Not even for your pilfering of my vastly expensive soap.”

Emma wasn’t about to wait around for them to change their minds.

She gathered her stuff as quickly as she could, shoving any loose items around the bunk back into her suitcase before carefully disassembling her camera and safely packing away all of the components. After she descended the ladder and made a quick check of the sheets for anything she hadn’t seen, she threw one last look over her shoulder at the three members of Blackbeard’s Revenge. Malcolm was still lying on his bed, eyes closed with his headphones on, not having even acknowledged the turn of events. Isaac and Charles’ attentions had returned to their game.

Emma opened her mouth to try and check one final time that she was in the clear.

“Call,” Charles said mildly, “you really do have the worst luck, Heller.”

“I’m sure my luck will improve once you stop using those two extra aces.”

They weren’t even the slightest bit interested, and she owed them nothing. So, after throwing them the proverbial middle finger, she merely stepped out of the bus and into the early afternoon sun. Killian’s hand was at the small of her back, guiding her to the entrance of the parking lot where two cabs were already waiting. From their brief distance, she could see August, Robin and Smee in one, Tina in the other, with piles of their equipment stuffed in between.

“Killian —?” she started.

“Sorry to press you, love,” he smiled widely at her, before throwing a furtive look back at the bus, “I’m merely eager not to tempt fate.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“You’re going home,” he said firmly, and the heat from his hand just erred on the side of scorching through her sweater. “That’s all that matters.”

“But how —?”

They’d reached the taxis, and all too suddenly the door had swung open to the first and she realised there was an empty seat beside August. Killian brushed a hand over her hip just briefly before he retreated to the other, dropping into the backseat beside Tina. Emma, entirely baffled but not too fond of questioning her good fortune just yet, saw she had no other choice but to buckle in. When she entered the cab it was to a few scattered cheers and August squeezing her hand affectionately.

She may have no goddamn clue what was happening, but it felt good to be back.

***

The Jolly Rogers were going to get signed.

The moment the door to the cab had shut, August, Smee and Robin were practically tripping over each other in order to relay the good news, an energy thrumming through them that she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before. Apparently, they’d had some incredibly busy twenty-four hours.

From Jefferson’s mansion in Connecticut, it had taken around eight hours of straight driving to get them back to Storybrooke, Merida testing the speed limit at any moment she could — it was a race against time, they’d decided, to see if they could make something of the exposure from the national tour before the news that Blackbeard’s Revenge had dropped them hit the press. There was no telling just how Gold Records would spin the news, and just how much of an effect it might have on any potential labels interested in signing them.

As it turned out, somebody had been waiting for them. Eric Triton had never been the bitter sort, he had confessed to them, but if his time with Blackbeard’s Revenge had taught him anything it was that he far favoured the reward that came with nurturing a band who actually cared about music to playing whatever it took to top the charts. After his departure from Blackbeard and company he had turned his attention to producing, eventually partnering up with the Poseidon Music Group after a providential meeting with the CEO’s daughter on a beach, and had made it his business to constantly be scouting for new talent ever since.

Apparently he had attended their gig at Warehouse 4, the one Emma herself had skipped what felt like a hundred years ago, and he was one of the calls that had Smee’s phone vibrating for days afterwards. You could imagine his exasperation when Blackbeard’s Revenge got to them first.

It was why, he’d told them, he almost felt glad that they’d been dropped from the tour — it gave him a second shot. The moment one of his contacts had alerted him to the disagreement at Jefferson’s mansion he had started camping as near as he dared to the town line, predicting correctly that they would be racing back to Storybrooke as soon as possible. He accosted them as they stormed into town, and the next thing they knew they had an invitation to play before Poseidon himself next week. Which was only a formality, of course. The deal was as good as done.

“Have you guys slept at all?” Emma gaped, and the dark rings around their eyes spoke volumes.

All three of them were giddy, exhausted but exhilarated, and constantly iterating just how glad they were that she was able to share in their good news, but not one of them would say a second word on just how they managed to wrangle her out from Blackbeard’s grasp, insisting that it wasn’t their story to tell. Emma had an inkling of just whose it was, but her curiosity only compounded the longer she sat sandwiched between August and the door of the cab.

It was a couple hundred bucks for the fare, something she insisted on covering once her cheque from Blackbeard’s Revenge came through, but mercifully they wouldn’t be paying for all the way back to Maine. The taxis dropped them off in New Haven, at a trucker stop they'd agreed to meet Merida and her coach at. The driver was offering the trip pro bono out of something she denied was affection, but it did mean they had to work around her schedule — hence why they were cramming most of their equipment between them in the taxis.

“We don’t have anywhere to live,” Robin had pointed out, “and we didn’t have time to find a motel. We haven’t stopped moving since we left you!”

It was here that Emma was finally able to approach Killian. While the others milled around outside, perched atop amps and keeping an eye on the flow of traffic for Merida’s coach in the early evening, Emma watched him slip away and head into a diner, not wholly unlike the one they were abandoned at all those weeks before.

A fluorescent green light blinked in and out of life overhead, and a buzzer went off somewhere behind the counter as she entered — loud enough to draw Killian’s gaze instinctively. He had just finished buying sustenance by the look of it, and once his eyes landed on her a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He held out a paper bag towards her.

“Onion ring?”

Emma took one of the proffered items. “I thought you hated onion rings.”

“You don’t,” he pointed out.

For a moment they chewed in silence, her on an onion ring and he on what looked like a carrot stick, before wordlessly moving back outside. Behind them, the neon light from inside the diner shimmered, casting fluorescent shadows against the crunch of gravel underfoot. From twenty or so feet away Emma watched August stand, take ten paces in one direction, then turn and walk back. Everybody was waiting for something, some new start. Anticipation tickled through the air.

“I heard about your record deal,” she found herself saying, “congratulations.” Although a little stilted in its delivery, the sentiment was earnest. She was still wrapping her head around things but she couldn’t be more proud of the Jolly Rogers.

“Well, nothing’s set in stone yet,” Killian demurred, but she could see the pleased flush working its way up from his collar. “We were just lucky to come across the one person in the industry who might hate Blackbeard more than we do.”

Lord knew Eric had every reason, if what Emma had heard was true.

“Still, it’s exciting.”

“It is,” he agreed.

A few pregnant seconds passed, and Emma waited for him to volunteer the information he must know she was eager to find out — just how the hell she was there, and not back in a tiny bunk on Blackbeard’s bus resigned to another evening of ignoring their jibes as best she could.

“Killian…” she began.

“Carrot stick?”

Emma waved the bag away, along with his futile attempt to divert attention. “How is it that I just walked out of there?”

Killian shrugged, making every effort to appear nonchalant. He almost succeeded. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it does,” she insisted. His and the others’ reluctance to discuss it only had her anxiety climbing higher and higher, wondering just what stipulations Blackbeard had latched onto her release. “If you’ve traded your soul to Hades for me then I want to know about it so I can —”

Thank you? Knock the living daylights out of you?

“—make it right.”

The corner of Killian’s mouth quirked upwards, the static light of the diner casting his eyes in an electric blue. Alive, aware. Watching her as closely as he always had. “You’d climb down to hell for me, would you, Swan?”

“If I had to,” she replied neutrally. A fierce truth rang with every word.

“Well, you needn’t worry,” Killian continued brazenly. He finished his final carrot stick as she waited for a response, crumpling up the packet in his palm and letting it drop into the trash can beside them. “My soul is safe and sound. We merely offered to cover the cost of your termination fee and Blackbeard was amenable.”

The declaration caught her off guard; the termination fee was five thousand dollars, that had been non-negotiable. If the Jolly Rogers had that sort of money lying around they would have already offered to foot the bill — she may not have known them long, but she knew that much. They were great people who cared about her wellbeing, and she couldn’t imagine August at the very least permitting the act of driving away from her if they had the means to release her. It was why she spoke her next words with a cautious, amused confidence.

“You guys couldn’t string enough cents for a cardboard box, no less five thousand dollars.”

“That’s the thing about commerce, darling. Money is easy enough to acquire if you have something of value to trade for it.”

He had his guitar, of that she was certain — by the edge of the curb she could see Robin leaning against the familiar case. Killian was avoiding looking at her, reaching a finger behind to scratch at the shell of his ear. Emma’s heart steadily began to beat a rhythm against her ribcage. To her spinning mind, it sounded a lot like Lavender Rose.

“And what was that?”

“Why the Jolly Roger, of course.”

For a moment Emma blinked, lips parted, not entirely sure what he was referring to. For a petrifying fraction of a second she imagined Blackbeard had insisted the band break up for her to be let go, but belatedly shook the thought when she remembered Eric Triton and the record deal that supposedly awaited them in Storybrooke.

His gaze dropped and she followed it, before suddenly realising the silver chain she could usually see peeking through the collar of his shirt had vanished.

This, here, is the Jolly Roger.

His watch.

Killian was still speaking, but her eyes were fixed on the absence of the accessory.

“Did I forget to mention the casing was overlain with sterling silver? An ivory clock face, seventeen jewels — and all natural sapphires, not synthetic, mind. Fetches about eight thousand dollars at retail. One of only fifty novelty Peter Pan watches made in 1955, I believe.”

Emma didn’t care about that, not about sapphires or rubies or silver.

He’d said, he’d told her; that watch was the last thing he owned of his father’s.

“Cruella Feinberg gave me a fair price back in Storybrooke when I went to her. I could’ve probably gotten more if I hadn’t rushed it, but I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to track the BR bus after New York.”

He seemed to notice that she hadn’t so much as murmured a response, and squeaked out the remainder of his explanation. “I, ehm… I was in something of a rush.”

Emma couldn’t wrap her mind around it. This sodding impossible man had found time in between trying to negotiate a deal that would decide the future of his entire career to trade away his most valuable possession, for a girl who had barely been able to tell him that she liked the song he wrote. For her. She was stunned. Fucking mortified. Beyond moved.

Despite your best efforts, Swan, I was utterly charmed by you.

Thank you, she had said, when he’d first shown her the watch. Somehow it didn’t feel like enough now.

She became more aware of the way he was angled towards her, hanging on her every breath. Fuck, she had to say something. She had to say something.

“You sold your watch for me?”

She thought he might turn away, cower from everything she was asking of him — that after all that, she needed to be sure. She needed to hear it, just one more time. She wanted the beat of Lavender Rose thumping through her, the scent of rusted strings on his shirt. He’d already done so much, but she couldn’t let him get away without saying it, not with her heels slammed into the earth the way they were.

Tell me, she begged.

Killian’s vibrant blue gaze met her head on, like he knew — he probably did.

“Aye,” he said.

Emma wasn’t sure which of them moved first — she thought it was her, she hoped it was her — but after several long seconds her hands wound their way around his shoulders and he was dipping his head to meet her. When their lips connected, she sighed; at once familiar, she knew these lips by now. She knew the way he kissed, as he undoubtedly knew hers, she knew the way his hand would curl at her waist to scratch against the leather of her jacket. She knew the way his mouth would part, the way he would breathe unevenly through his nose against the skin of her cheek to avoid breaking away.

She knew his heart.

He would let her pull away, if she wanted to. After everything he would let her let him go.

Not that she would.

Killian’s right hand rose to brush reverently against her cheek and at once they parted. A flicker of what she knew to be trepidation flashed in his eyes, and he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Something inside of her crumpled, and it felt like only really then that she understood just how many times she had let him down. Knowingly and unknowingly both.

I’m sorry, she wanted to say.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she said instead.

Killian’s shoulders lifted in the barest shrug, his finger tracing a line behind her ear to wind its way around her hair.

“I’m done dwelling on the past.”

To his evident delight Emma tugged him back down to her, this time for longer than before. It was only when they broke apart to the whoops and crows of three other, equally delighted, people, that she realised just how not-alone she and Killian were. The other three Jolly Rogers watched from their spot at the side of the road with matching shit-eating grins.

Emma raised an eyebrow at Killian, whose arm had moved around to tuck her closer into his side. “I’ll never be able to get ten minutes alone with you, will I?”

“I could do with a break.” At Emma’s look of disbelief, he shrugged. “What did I say about refraining from kissing me after you’ve had onion rings? I can barely stomach you.”

Merida’s bus pulled into the parking lot to the chorus of Killian’s yelp, with Emma leaving him clutching at his side as she walked back over to the others.

***

"Swan?"

The hoarse whisper hovered just over the low rumbling of the bus, barely loud enough to rouse anybody from sleep —but then, Emma hadn't been sleeping. She had a feeling Killian hadn't been either.

When his face popped up over the edge of her bunk, eyes bright in the dim light, it all but confirmed it. He looked abut as wired as she felt, and she met his gaze warmly. He beamed.

"Mind if I —?" The guitarist gestured to the slim line of space between her and the railing at the edge of the bed, and in response Emma shuffled away to allow him a little more room. As quietly as he could, Killian hauled himself up the ladder and slid in beside her. "Christ," he muttered," these beds weren't made for two — ow." He knocked his head on the tip of the ladder and scowled, while Emma stifled a laugh.

A glance at her watch informed her it was nearly two in the morning. It also made her stomach twist both pleasantly and anxiously all over again when she thought about watches. The accessory had played crucial roles in some of the worst and best moments of her life now.

Killian, meanwhile, had righted himself as best he could, slinging his right arm over her hip and tugging her closer. Emma did not resist, and even nudged her leg between his.

"Hello," Killian murmured, just before their lips met gently.

Emma smoothed her hand up his chest, stopping once it reached the curve of his shoulder. "I'm sorry you sold the watch." She wanted to be a little more articulate than she had been when he'd first told her — it was important to her that he knew that.

"I'm not," Killian replied with the barest shrug. At Emma's disbelieving look he carried on, rubbing a hand down her back. "Honestly, Emma. It was just a piece of jewellery."

"You said it was the last thing you had left of your father."

For a moment he was silent, eyes dropping down to her fingers tracing patterns into the front of his shirt. "My father was not always a decent man," he said finally, although it was clear the words had been difficult for him to get out. "I'm sure he'd be happy to see it go to a deserving cause." Before she could reply he hastened to continue, murmuring her name to cut her off.

As she watched him expectantly, he breathed out an uncertain laugh. "I, erm… forgive me, I have to know. You're not going to get off this bus and change your mind, are you?"

His hand had frozen on her lower back, almost frightful of her response. With his mouth twisted in a wince and his body tensing, he appeared so much like somebody bracing for an impact that she laughed and knocked her forehead into his chest.

She could feel his smile into the crown of her head, but he worked on putting some space between them all the same. "I'm serious," he said, although the mirth in his eyes somewhat belied it, "I'm not sure I could make it through another of your unpredictable tides."

After a moment the laughter subsided, she let herself watch him, truly take him in a way she hadn't done for some time. His eyes appeared a deep navy in the low light, his left eyebrow raised in that barest approximation of hope she had come to see there, lips parted just so like he was waiting for her permission to breathe. Emma touched a hand to his cheek and his eyelids fluttered shut, leaning into the movement. He would let her back away, even now. Even with her in his arms he was offering her that one final chance, and she felt affection surge for him all the more because of it.

"I'm not changing my mind," she promised.

Killian's eyes flew open, watching her carefully.

"I want to see where this thing goes. I'm not saying I'm not terrified, because I am." Like standing at the edge of this unknown precipice, a jump she'd come so close to so many times before with this man — but now she was ready. "I'm petrified."

"I can feel you shaking," he hummed quietly, pressing a kiss to where her neck met her shoulders. "Trust me."

"I do," she murmured. "I want this future with you, and that's what scares me. Does that," she paused, pulling his face back up to meet her eyes, "does that sound crazy?"

Killian shook his head, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, which quickly morphed into something more confident.

"It sounds like music to this pirate's ears."

Emma laughed, a loud, happy thing, and Killian did his best to hush her by drawing her into a kiss. For a few moments they just lay there, chuckling silently and trading affection, the slant of his lips against her own a welcome feeling. It was just as she felt his hand sliding lower across her back, sending a shot of excitement through as his eyes met hers, his intent clear, that she remembered exactly where they were.

And that they weren't entirely alone.

"Guys, that was adorable, but I swear to God if you have sex on this bus I will never forgive you."

Tina's voice pierced the silence like bursting a balloon — Killian instinctively shot back from Emma, which only led to him smacking his head onto the railing behind him at the edge of the bunk. Emma immediately snorted with laughter, which only increased as he rubbed the back of his head and sent a reproachful look in her direction.

"We'll turn you into Merida."

Robin's voice, too, floated down from further up the bus. Emma was grateful for the dark as she felt her face begin to heat up — it was hard enough laying herself bare in front of Killian, let alone his three best friends. Because she was certain, as much as she could be, that August would also be awake. The damn guy didn't miss a thing.

Tina made a noise of agreement. "Merida specifically said she wouldn't tolerate any funny business."

"Yet somehow," Killian bit back, "she tolerates you lot just fine." After a moment he clearly has no interest in ending, he reluctantly sat up on her bunk and shuffled back towards the ladder. Emma's hand on his leg served as her only protest, and Killian lifted it to place a kiss on the back of it. "I guess I'll have to wait to finally show you a good time, Swan," he winked, "and have you remember it."

Bizarrely, she found herself thinking of one of the post-its he had given her in Storybrooke so long ago. She'd very much like to know how it felt to hear him scream.

"I guess you will," she replied, making her intent clear.

She could tell Killian just resisted letting out a low whistle, before dropping down the ladder.

"Much better," Robin assured them. "No 'good times' should be had on the bus. Only terrible, not good times."

"August, stop reading," Tina urged, "I know you're doing it. Nobody can have fun on the bus!"

A barely distinguishable rustle came across from August's bunk. "Don't bring me into this."

As the teasing escalated into a sock skirmish (thus determined, claimed Robin, by August's tendency to use socks as missiles when disturbed) Emma forgot about her embarrassment. They were good at that, the Jolly Rogers. Helping her forget. Making her feel comfortable even when the only place she had ever felt safe was a hundred miles away. They had driven for hours through the night so that they could get to her, had defended her even when her opponent had been one of their closest friends, had cared for her. Without strings. Unashamedly. Wholly.

Mary Margaret would always be her sister, or as close to a sister as Emma would ever get. But these guys?

They were her family. The one she had chosen for herself.

And the one she would continue to choose, every fucking chance she got.

***

"You ready?" She had asked, a week later, as Killian wiped his palm on the edge of his jeans. To try and get rid of the sweat, she knew, it was practically rolling off of him in waves.

"As we'll ever be."

Emma squinted through the viewfinder on her camera, using Tina fiddling with the height of the microphone as her focus point. Beside her, Killian shifted his weight from one foot to the other, anxiety driving from him. At the other end of the room, Poseidon himself, his executive assistant and Eric Triton were just settling themselves into three large chairs. With their high backs and elaborate deorations around the arms, thrones was the first word that popped into Emma's head when she'd seen them. Imposing, powerful. Intimidating as hell.

Part of the reason Killian was reminding himself to breathe in and out.

"You heard what Eric said," she assured him, "this is just a formality. It's practically a done deal."

Killian looked at her sharply. "Not if he doesn't like us."

"He will."

The activity in the room was slowly beginning to wind down, each party slowly running out of ways to delay the inevitable. Emma gave him a gentle shove.

"Now get lost so I can take some decent photos, yeah?"

This time when Killian smiled down at her, she could tell he meant it. It was one of those goofy, wide smiles she had found he couldn't keep back when she was around. It had a somewhat irritating habit of making her stomach drop pleasantly. He smoothed a hand down her back.

"Such glowing words of encouragement," he mused, leaning to brush his lips against hers.

"Why bother?" she smirked once he pulled away. "It's not like my lack of encouragement ever held you back."

In response he patted his hand against her, and gave her one last amused glance over his shoulder before heading over to the others. His strat, perched primly against the wall, was soon lifted and slung over his shoulder, as he exchanged a few quiet words with Tina and August. Robin was settling himself down onto the stool behind his kit, and Tina then hummed a few quiet tests into the microphone.

Emma, meanwhile, took a few preparatory shots. After deciding the look Killian had sent her was altogether too deliberate, she stretched her arm behind her back — true enough, her fingers grazed something stuck there. Tugging it free, she realised it was a post-it. Some things never changed.

Wish me luck.

—K x.

When their eyes met again, she shook her head with a smile. He didn't need luck.

Soon enough, the low murmur of noise in the room slowly sunk into silence, Eric no longer murmuring into Poseidon's ear and the huge man instead surveying the group of musicians in front of him. Despite herself, Emma felt her pulse begin to thump a little bit quicker, glancing between the two sides of the room.

The twang of August's bass lurched from one of the amps, before fizzling out into nothing as he rushed to still the string.

Poseidon shifted in his seat. Emma's finger hovered over the shutter button. Killian cleared his throat.

Robin lifted his drumsticks to eye-level, pausing before clacking them together —

One, two —

Three, four —

The shutter clicked. The room exploded with sound.

And that was it.

And that’s it, folks! An epilogue will follow sometime in the near future because there are a few loose ends I’d like to tie up and I will always love my jolly rogers. almost as much as I love all of you! thank you so so much for your endless support + patience with my gaps between updates, I’ve loved being able to tell this story in the way I always wanted to.I hope you all liked how it ended, and maybe I’ll see you next time on another project!

peace & love / over & out!

-jay x

#jay writes #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs crew #ouat #emma swan #killian jones #cs au #the importance of being idle #complete #here is the finale!#I really hope you guys like it #it's been quite the ride #so for the final time #enjoy!

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sibyl-of-space · 4 years

Text

this is very much a working-through-white-tears vent post so i encourage most of you with better things to do & who dont wanna read that shit to just keep scrolling

I’ve been having a lot of fun experimenting with editing cosplay photos recently. I don’t think this is much of a secret lmao. It stemmed from a combination of a few things - an obsession with a shitty camcorder from 2004 that reminded me of how differently older technology captures and interprets light, a desire to frame my own work in a way that appeals to me rather than the “norms” of the massive cosplay “community”, and an interest in pursuing photography as an additional artistic hobby that will help broaden my understanding of composition, colors, lighting etc. that will hopefully also inform my other artistic outlets.

I’m also very much aware that there is an important, ongoing discussion about editing and photographing Black cosplayers. I’ve seen a lot of fantastic resources on the subject and have wanted to try my hand at this as well, because while I’m having the time of my life editing my own photos, and my girlfriend also gave me some of hers to edit (and I’ve had a blast with all of this), I’m very much aware that me and my girlfriend are both white. My only experience editing folks with even slightly darker skin than mine is some older photos with my roommate back when we cosplayed together. I want to go back and re-edit some of those too, but that’s getting somewhat unrelated to the point I wanted to talk about.

One of my (Black) twitter mutuals recently posted selfies/at-home photos of a cosplay she did recently, and I decided to try my hand at editing one of them taking into account what I had learned from various resources about skin tones etc. but also experimenting with the kind of very extra shit I do with my own photos. (I toned it down a lot because someone else was the subject, lol.)

So, here’s where I fucked up, and I totally acknowledge I fucked up, but I wouldn’t be writing this treatise if I wasn’t still feeling bothered by it because I don’t know how to healthily accept criticism and that is a lifelong issue I still haven’t really managed to tackle...

I sent it to her in DM’s (was definitely not about to post a photo of someone else without their permission, even my ass knows better than THAT) and said that I have been practicing photo editing but only of white subjects and I liked her selfies so I tried my hand at editing one of them. I also said something along the lines of “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable and if this crosses a boundary please let me know I won’t do it again” - and see, that right there is the problem, I clearly had some inkling this could be taken as inappropriate and yet instead of asking her permission FIRST I elected to ask potential forgiveness LATER. Anyway, her response was essentially “hey, I appreciate this and like what you did, but please ask first next time. I would have said yes but it’s always good to ask.”

And I think the reason my reaction to that was so negative, even though she has every right to draw that boundary and I know she has every right to draw that boundary, was because I had considered it almost the same way I would consider drawing fanart of something a friend likes, in the sense of “hey I was practicing my art but I made this one with you in mind”; and so my intentions were to do something thoughtful for someone while also practicing my art. So there is a non-insignificant part of me that was a little hurt that it wasn’t entirely received that way on the other end, that it was perceived as something a little more invasive, because that wasn’t what my intentions were at all; but it was received that way at least in part and for that I definitely felt guilty.

But, and again I acknowledge this RATIONALLY (I’m just posting this here because feelings are not rational), someone else taking a photo of you and re-interpreting it to their own liking, especially on a topic that is racially charged when that other person is white and will never know what racism feels like, is a lot different than just “here is some fanart I drew for you lol.”

And also - I am absolutely calling myself out on my bullshit here - when I edited those photos for Sabrina, I asked her first. So I KNEW that consent was important because I offered that to Sabrina, but didn’t for this Black cosplayer. Part of me defends this decision to myself, in the sense of “I edited the latter a lot more respectfully and kind of went wilder with Sabrina’s,” and “I am infinitely closer to Sabrina so that project was a lot more personal and the other was more of an exercise”, and while these are both true I think it says a lot that I interpreted one of these as an exercise. It makes it clear as day my intentions probably WEREN’T entirely just “doing something nice for someone” and were a lot more about being perceived as a Good And Woke Ally or something. I saw a post about editing Black people and instead of putting that into action via respectful dialogue I just jumped in and did something under my own direction with absolutely no collaboration with the subject.

There is another part of me that doesn’t understand how someone else editing your photos could feel invasive, like “hey I took this thing you made and gave my own spin on it but you don’t have to accept it if you don’t want to” (I’ve had some photos I posted edited by a friend spontaneously, some I liked some I didn’t but it always was cool that they spent the time to do that), but again - there is a racial element here I must acknowledge that I cannot pretend to fully understand what it’s like being on the other end. And my own personal boundaries are not universal.

The good news is I am enough of a reasonable adult to have responded to her with just “of course, I’m sorry for not asking before this time” and nothing else, and taking my big long tantrum Feelings TM elsewhere (here). But I did need to work out all my big long Feelings TM because I needed to really scrutinize where my negative response came from, which elements do have some validity and which - most - are a purely defensive response to real criticism that I can learn from.

This is a big reason I came back to tumblr - being one of the only social media outlets where long form venting works, it’s a healthier outlet to work through messy Emotions than a twitter thread for the world to see that can easily be taken out of context and be seen as performative etc. I also have a journal but typing is a lot faster than writing, so.

A N Y W A Y. . . I will say I’m pretty happy with how the edit came out, and I look forward to photographing and editing more Black subjects in the future but only with their full and informed consent.

Edit to give her boundaries the last say here -- her stance was completely reasonable, in fact she was nicer than she needed to be, and I hope she genuinely did appreciate it despite wishing I had asked her first, and wasn’t just saying that to make me Feel Better because she definitely doesn’t owe me that.

#personal #you know how white people will never fully understand what racism is like and therefore will always make mistakes #but need to NOT burden poc with our feelings when we do make mistakes and get called out #thats what this is about

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0606-hyuck · 7 years

Text

Trespasser // Wen Junhui

Requested: Nope

Pairing: Wen Junhui X Reader

Genre: Collage!AU

Word count: 4k

Description: “I made the mistake of thinking this day couldn’t get any weirder.”

A/N: ok for the sake of this scenario, let’s all pretend jun has a sister!!

Masterlist: Here c:

“No way am I doing that, Jiayin,” you sighed, sipping at your caramel macchiato as you eyed your best friend over the rim of the porcelain coffee cup. You could see a mischievous glint in her eye as she regarded you, soon matching your loud sigh with her own. “Come on, Y/N! You have to do this for me!”

“No, I am not breaking into your brother’s apartment for you!” You screeched, quickly lowering your voice when the middle-aged couple seated at the table beside you scowled.

“But I need my phone,” wailed Jiayin. “It’s been three weeks!” You took another gulp of your coffee, feeling the cool morning breeze on your bare face as you sat outside the café.

“It’s not my fault you left your phone in your brother’s car. What did he say you needed to do to get it back, anyway?”

“Admit he was my parents’ favourite child, which I will not do, ever!” Declared your friend.

“Please just do it, Jia. Your brother is so intimidating. What if he catches me?” You shuddered. Jiayin let out the most unattractive sound in response; a half snort, half choking noise (which you guess was supposed to be a scoff). It was so loud that the couple beside you actually stood up and moved to another table.

“He is not intimidating, trust me. Besides, you took karate when you were younger, right?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You cried. “I took lessons for like a year when I was seven, which, by the way, does not make me at all qualified to rob someone’s house!”

“Please, Y/N, for me?” Jiayin batted her eyes at you, trying to change your mind even though she knew it would prove futile. She just had to break you until you said yes.

“Wen Jiayin, I am NOT breaking in to Jun’s apartment for you, so drop it.”

You pulled the cool jacket on, almost blending into the leather passenger seat of your best friend’s car.

“I cannot believe I am doing this,” you exhaled noisily, running a hand through your hair and adding, you owe me big time, Jiayin. All this for a damn phone?”

Jiayin gave you a bright smile as she watched you from the driver’s seat and said, “I know. Thank you for doing this for me, Y/N.”

You couldn’t resist smiling back. “I still don’t get why you can’t do this yourself, though.”

“You know I’m not allowed in Jun’s apartment since that time I broke the oven, so I’m not going to risk it.”

A grin crept on your face; you couldn’t miss a chance to tease your friend. “Ah, you mean that time you made the oven explode by trying to grill a mince pie?” You poked Jiayin’s side teasingly, causing her to scowl playfully.

“Shh...I’ve told you we don’t speak of that incident!” Jiayin replied, pushing you away from her lightly. Suddenly, she let out a loud gasp. “You’re trying to distract me so you don’t have to go in!”

You giggled before putting on a serious face and giving Jiayin a minute to collect her thoughts again. Well, more precisely, collect her notes. Yes, your friend had gone through the effort to make a list of all the details of your ‘burglary’ - where her brother was supposed to be that afternoon, where she thought her phone would be, and where the keys for the apartment were. You shrugged. At least one of you was prepared.

“So...all the important stuff. Jun’s apartment is on the second floor on the left; apartment 15. There’s two pot plants on either side of the door. One of them has a rock on top of the soil, and underneath that rock should be the spare key you’ll need to get it.” She paused as you scanned the apartment complex in the distance, trying to guess approximately where you were headed.

“Once you’re inside, you’ll see the kitchen and the lounge. Past the lounge you’ll find a little hallway with three doors - the second is Jun’s room where I’m guessing he’s holding my phone hostage. Are you keeping up?” Jiayin asked.

Truthfully, no. You were initially planning to just bust in there and wander around until you found her phone, your only concern being staying unnoticed. But you nodded anyway.

“Good.” Your friend peered at her car’s clock and announced, “it’s 5:47pm right now, so you should have plenty of time. Conveniently for us, Jun and his roommate Minghao go to the city to do karaoke for a few hours, don’t ask me why. Afterwards, Minghao usually goes to this martial arts place and Jun sometimes tags along. Either way, they shouldn’t come back while you’re inside.”

Jiayin grinned and reached across your lap to open your door.

“That’s all I need to know?” You questioned, stepping out of the car slowly.

“Yeah, I’ll be waiting here for you. See you on the flip side!” You rolled your eyes as Jiayin gave you a cheesy salute. And with that, your mission started at the closing of your door.

You sprinted across a small grassed area, empty, save for the abandoned playground in the middle. You were pretty sure that was a major safety hazard, what with the peeling paint, plastic slide with a gaping hole in it, and monkey bars that looked like they would fall apart if you dared touched them. Shortly after, you reached the apartment complex. You were caught by surprise as the housing block seemed to be more like an American motel in the sense that apartments had to be entered from the outside, rather than a small lobby or hallway.

You located the stairs on the outside of the building and took them two at a time, arriving on the second floor in no time. Apartment 15 was easy to find as it was the only door that had two shrubs situated on either side of it.

You took a quick glance at the neighbouring doorways and tried to make as inconspicuous as possible. You spotted a small, flat rock on the nearest potted plant and crouched down beside it, taking a handful of dark soil and letting it run through your fingers. What had you gotten yourself into? What if Jiayin, who was notorious for jumping to conclusions, was wrong and Jun and Minghao were actually inside already? What if someone saw you break into their apartment and you were arrested for trespassing? This was probably the worst idea you’d ever agreed to.

“Are you alright there, doll?” A croaky voice asked from behind you, causing you to jump from your thoughts and shoot up from your position on the ground. An old lady, face creased with wrinkles, gave you a small - albeit slightly frightened - smile. The woman managed to maintain a calm voice as she spoke, although she looked ready to bolt to her apartment if she had to. “What are you doing on the ground?”

You wracked your brain for an answer as you peered at the potted scrub. “I am...the gardener. Yes, I am the gardener. Just testing to see whether this dirt is of the right quality for these beautiful plants!” You let out an awkwardly loud laugh, and that was enough to have the old lady nodding slowly before turning and walking briskly down the corridor to her apartment.

You sighed loudly at your pathetic lie. ‘I am a drama student, what the fuck was that,’ you cursed to yourself, but quickly focused your attention to the task at hand. Once you were 100% certain the corridor was empty and no one would interrupt your, you proceeded to scoop handfuls of soil out from around the stone. You dug and dug, like a mole escaping danger, but you came up empty handed.

“Where the hell-”

Suddenly, you felt cool metal on your fingertips and whipped up quickly, brushing off the dirt and slipping the small silver key into the hole. “Aha!” You cheered as the door popped open with a satisfied click. Stepping inside, you pocketed the key and shut the door behind you. You took a second to peer around the main room of the apartment and crossed down the hallway towards the second door.

You’d been friends with Jiayin since she’d been placed in your class in high school, and despite being friends for four years and graduating together last year, you’d never once met her family. However, you knew exactly who Jia’s brother was: Wen Junhui was two years older than you and you’d frequently heard your female school-mates bragging about their escapades with him; the rumours you’d heard from girls in your class, mutual male friends (namely Kim Mingyu and Yoon Jeounghan), and even Jiayin herself led you to believe Wen Junhui was most certainly your school’s resident fuckboy. And you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had a crush on him at some stage - everyone loved him.

With that being said, you weren’t sure what you expected Jun’s room to look like. You opened the door slowly. Maybe bed sheets everywhere, a couple of condoms on the floor, you get the idea. Well, you certainly did not think it was going to be as tidy as this. The layout was simple - a large bed sat in the middle of the room, a desk to the left and a partially open wardrobe to the right.

To your surprise, you located Jiayin’s phone charging on the bedside table faster than you were bargaining for, so you allowed a quick minute to nosy around the room. Hey, curiosity killed the cat - but satisfaction brought it back.

You were instantly drawn to a collection of framed photos hanging on the wall above a surprisingly organised desk. You let out a loud sigh, however, when you realised the photos were all selfies of Jun (who frames and hangs their own selfies??), but found your mouth dropping open at the sheer attractiveness radiating from the photos; he looked like an angel in every single shot.

You managed to draw yourself away from the photos as you’d spotted a segment of pink shiny paper poking out from under Jun’s bed. You perched on the edge of his bed and reached down, hands coming in contact with the mystery pink object.

“Playboy magazine?”

You frowned at the unfamiliar magazine brand in your grip; the cover was plastered with the body of a young model you did not recognise. Curiously, you noticed some of the pages had been dogeared, so you flicked to one of those pages. You gasped and let the magazine fall from your hands as you were met with images of topless women smirking back at you.

As taken-aback as you were, you felt like you had seriously invaded Jun’s privacy. A hot, uncomfortable blush covered your cheeks as you realised just why he would be hoarding such magazines. “What am I even doing here?” You whispered furiously to yourself as you slipped Jiayin’s phone in your pocket with the spare key.

The faint sound of a door opening somewhere in the apartment made you freeze in fear, some part of you wondering if you’d actually imagined it. You slowly picked up the Playboy magazine as you listened closely for any sign you were no longer alone in the apartment.

“So..mum, dad, this is my home!” A deep voice shattered the silence and caused a loud yelp to escape your lips. “I’ll just go grab a jacket and then we can head off.”

If not for the situation you were in, you would probably assume it was Jiayin speaking - the two voices sounded that similar - but you knew your friend was still outside in her car, which meant Jun had almost certainly just arrived home unannounced and the likelihood he was about to burst through his bedroom door was nearly 100%. And you had approximately five seconds to find somewhere to hide.

You threw the magazine over your head in a panic and scrambled to your feet, scanning the room desperately. When you’d found Jun’s stash of magazines, you’d noticed the gap between the floor and the bottom of the bed couldn’t possibly be more than 5 centimetres, so shimming under the bed was out of the question. The only other place was the wardrobe, where you figured Jun would get his jacket from anyway.

But you had to try.

You’d only just squished in between a couple of dress shirts and a coat and pulled the wardrobe door closed when Jun’s footsteps became audible. You held your breath as he entered the room, seconds seemingly stretching on for hours. You listened intently as Jun hummed quietly to himself before he paused.

“I don’t remember leaving this here, I should probably move it before my parents see.” Jun chuckled lightly to himself and you heard him reach down and pick up the magazine you’d previously discarded. A drawer opened, and you assumed he returned the crude material to a safer place; you sunk further into the sweet smelling shirts as your heart thumped away in your throat.

A moment later, light poured into your hiding spot as Jun raked through his clothes. Luckily, you’d squished to the far end of the wardrobe, where your legs were almost completely covered by the long winter jacket. Plus, Jun seemed to be focusing on items down the opposite end.

After about a minute, Jun let out a frustrated sigh and suddenly sifted through shirts only an arms length away from you; he had started humming again but you could barely hear anything over the sound of your heart hammering away in your chest. Jun reached further into the back of the wardrobe, and then it happened.

As he extended, Jun’s hand collided with your face, causing you to let out a loud “oh fuck” as your ‘attacker’ jumped backwards. A second later you emerged, a smile crossing your face when you caught sight of Jun, who had grabbed a coat hanger and was pointing it as you as if it could pass as a feasible weapon. He gave you a surprised look as you stared each other down, both at a loss for words. Well, almost.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N? In my fucking wardrobe, no less.” Jun’s words were angry, but you didn’t think he intended to sound so mad because he still looked at you quizzically. However, his strong tone mixed with the absolute embarrassment of the whole situation caused you to trip over your words as tears threatened to spill.

“H-how do you know who I am?” You managed.

“You’re Jia’s best friend, right? Of course I knew who you are!” Jun grinned, placing the coat hanger on the bed behind him. At any other time, you would have been flattered your childhood crush knew your name. But not now. “But what I don’t know,” Jun continued, “is why the hell you’re snooping around my room.”

You ran an exasperated hand through your hair, feeling his gaze bore into your features. Once again, any other time Jun looked at you so intensely you would probably be crying with happiness, but right now it just scared you. ‘See, Jiayin, your brother is fucking intimidating!’ You thought.

“Jiayin...I let her convice me breaking into your apartment to steal back her phone would be a good idea.” You hung your head in shame as Jun shook his head and laughed, “that explains the magazine.”

Although you knew he was trying to lighten the mood, his comment simply added to the humiliation you were already plagued with. He didn’t mean it, but his comment further enforced just how out of line you were.

“I’m sorry, I really should not be here.” You gave Jun a half hearted smile before brushing past him, out of his room, down the hallway, into the lounge. You had made it to the front door when you heard a loud gasp from behind you, followed by an incredibly loud, “JUNHUI, YOU DIDN’T TELL US YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND!”

Shit. You’d forgotten about his parents. You turned on your heel to face them, realising you had all but completely walked past them as they sat on the couch. Jun entered the lounge at the same time, swinging the missing leather jacket over his shoulder, looking from his parents to you before laughing loudly. It was unadulterated and shrill, not at all what you were expecting. Why did he find this so funny?

“No no o, I’m not Jun’s girlfriend,” you replied quickly. “It’s nothing like that, trust me.”

With a smile as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s, Jun’s mother cooed, “aww, sweetie, don’t be shy! I know you millennials don’t like labels nowadays, but I think it’s cute! Jun hasn’t had a girlfriend for quite some time now, so we’re both so excited.” She tapped her husband’s knee while Jun let out a low groan.

You managed an awkward laugh. “No, seriously we are not-”

“Jun is actually taking us out for dinner now, we would love it if you came along,” stated his father.

You were growing tired of this now. Why couldn’t Jun step in and explain things?

“Great idea, dad! Why don’t you head out to the car, and Y/N and I will meet you there in a second,” Jun chirped. That wasn’t not what you meant when you wanted him to explain things. That was definitely not explaining things at all.

You smiled warmly at his parents as they passed you by the front door, but turned to Jun with a look of absolute horror on your face. “What the hell are you doing?” You hissed as he casually walked towards you. You face fell as he came closer; you were starting to realise we was serious about this idea.

“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” You gaped.

“Sure, you’re an arts major, right? Drama?”

“How do you know that?” You questioned, before the answer popped into your mind. Jiayin. “Never mind, I’m not doing this. Absolutely not.”

“Trust me.” Jun lowered his face down to your level so your eyes met and said quietly, forcefully, “if you ever want to live down the fact I caught you breaking and entering my apartment, you’ll do this for me.”

You knew there was absolutely no way you could say no.

As you stood next to Jun, you realised the utter hilarity of the whole situation. Here you were, clad from head to toe in black, hair tangled from running your hand through it so often, while Jun looked like a model - leather jacket draped effortlessly over his shoulder, irresistible smirk plastered on his face. The only similarity between you two, you noticed, was that your outfit matched his inky hair. He looked like a masterpiece carved by the gods, and you couldn’t have looked more out of place if you tried.

Jun must have noticed this too because he quickly disappeared, only to return with a comb in one hand and a grey and red Franklin & Marshall sweatshirt in the other. When you turned your nose up at the comb, Jun sighed loudly and muttered, “I don’t have nits,” so you grabbed it from him and started brushing out the knots in your hair.

“Put this on, it’ll give you some colour rather than just black,” he added, throwing the jersey at you, barely giving you enough warning to catch it.

“Charming,” you muttered sarcastically, pulling the sweater on and messing up your hair again. “So, you really don’t have a real girlfriend?” You tried to keep the shock from your voice, but it was hard to imagine that Jun, who’s smile could make girls’ knees weak and their panties wet with just his voice, who was such a player at high school, didn’t have a girlfriend. And he also wasn’t a big fan of one-night-stands either, you guessed, judging by the state of his spotless room.

He shook his head.

“I guess that explains your stash of magazines.” You simpered when Jun’s face was enveloped in red blush. You thought he would reply with something witty and cocky, not shy away in embarrassment. It just goes to prove the assumptions you’d made about him being a womanizer based purely on rumors were wrong. Well, almost.

You were lost in thought when Jun’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his side; your breathing hitched as his fingertips drew innocent circles into your side.

“What are you doing?” You questioned quietly, confused over whether to pull away or lean in closer.

“We’re supposed to be dating, remember? We’ve got to start acting like it,” Jun murmured back.

“But...your parents aren’t even around to see us looking like a couple?”

“Okay then, maybe I just want to hold you.”

You let out a loud groan at his cheesy words and pushed his smirking figure away from you playfully. “I made the mistake of thinking this day couldn’t get any weirder.”

You headed towards the front door and watched as Jun locked it behind you, dropping his keys into his back pocket. You grabbed his free hand with your own; Jun’s gaze shot down to your intertwined fingers, but you reassured him with a smirk. “We’re dating, remember?”

Jun took you and his parents to a nice Korean restaurant, and you all chatted away like you’d known each other for years. Funnily enough, you and Jun worked together well to come up with answers to his parents’ never ending questions (not to mention your drama skills) as you chomped down on bowls of bulgogi. By the end of the dinner, you and Jun had told stories of how you‘d met (You apparently used to live by Jun and one dark night you’d forgot your keys so he kept you company while the the owners of the apartment complex called someone to unlock the door for you - Jun’s idea). You also had a dog called Dodo that lived with you, loved to go hiking and sing karaoke together, and went on dates all the time.

And the best part? Jun’s parents bought every piece of false information you fed them. One thing you’d noticed was that Jun’s hand had found it’s way to your thigh, and his thumb tapped nonsensical rhythms onto the skin there, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you found it rather comforting, knowing that while you’d got yourself into this big mess, Jun was also stuck in it with you.

As the waiter got your bill (which Jun so graciously offered to pay), Mrs Wen stated, “well, you’ve really caught a good one, Junhui! She’s so pretty, your babies will be absolutely beautiful.”

“Mum...” groaned Jun as you laughed at his embarrassment. “But yes, Y/N really is stunning, isn’t she?” He turned to give you a bright, genuine smile, and he opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but the waiter arrived with the bill, stealing his attention.

You linked arms with Jun as you walked your way towards the car in the dark, fully aware you didn’t need to act like an overly-cute couple anymore; you did it because you wanted to. You tugged on his arm and he slowed his pace to match yours, letting his parents walk past you towards the vehicle.

“Were you going to say something back there? Before the waiter came?” You questioned, causing a shy smile to grace Jun’s features.

“Actually, yeah. But it’s too cringey, so I won’t say,” he teased, pulling you along at a quicker pace.

“What? You have to tell me now!”

Jun shrugged. “All I was going to say was I meant what I said. I wasn’t doing it just for show.”

You halted for a second, stunned at his words. However, you had to remind yourself of his philanderer status - although Jun had proved today that he was more that what the rumours said about him.

“You don’t mean that, not really.”

“I do! Seriously, Y/N, I’m a really lucky guy.” Jun wrapped his strong arm around your frame and pulled you closer to his warmth. “That’s why I was wondering if you wanted to go on a real date with me, without my parents sometime?”

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #seventeen #jun seventeen #seventeen jun #jun #junhui #wen junhui #jun imagine #jun scenarios #jun x reader #reader insert #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios

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palpablenotion · 7 years

Text

How to Avoid Spoilers and Spoiler Etiquette for Tagging

Did you miss this weeks episode? Have you missed this season’s episodes in general? But you still intend to watch it and don’t want spoilers?

There are a few things you can do. Most of them means you need something like Tumblr Savior or XKIT. Basically none of this works on mobile.

1- Blacklist the show.

This seems obvious but a lot of people still need to be told to do this. I sometimes will get angry that someone posted something without tagg- ... oh look I forgot to blacklist this tag, nevermind my bad. Seriously. Did it just last night. I was about to be pissed when I realized that the post was tagged. I, for some reason, hadn’t bothered to tag for the show nor the show’s spoiler tags.

Get preemptive with this shit. Most people are reactionary with their tagging. I blacklisted this show because something already got spoiled, but I should have known to blacklist it before.

If you’re just a week behind, you can just blacklist the spoiler tags. For instance, I have “supernatural spoilers” and “spn spoilers” blacklisted all the time, unless I’m 100% up to date and usually the season needs to be over. Right now I’m a season behind so I have “supernatural” and “spn” also blacklisted.

2 - Blacklist your main ships/fav characters.

If you’re like me, you probably end up following a bunch of people that either post exclusively about the show, your ship, or your character, or they at least post some good content along those lines. Well, just to be safe, especially if you don’t want spoilers for those ships/characters specifically, blacklist them until you catch up.

Unfortunately, a lot of people think tagging ships or characters is mutually exclusive from tagging the show. Back to my supernatural example: I follow someone that posts a lot of destiel, but they don’t always tag destiel posts as “spn” or “supernatural.” They do almost always tag those posts as “destiel,” however. So the ship gets blacklisted.

There is also this notion being pushed in a lot of corners of fandom that you shouldn’t tag a ship or character, especially if they’re very, very popular, with the media name because it “floods” the tag. That’s bullshit. A huge reason to tag is to allow for blacklisting. At the very least, tag it with the spoiler tags. This keeps it out of the main show tag (kind of, not really, tumblr is garbage) but still makes it easy to blacklist with one or two tags, instead of needing tags for each character and ship.

3 - Unfollow people.

This is one that works on mobile. It’s also the least favorite one. Some people try to tag for spoilers. Some people just keep forgetting to tag when, for instance, they live blog. Or they’re reblogging and they don’t tag anything. Maybe their on mobile and can’t be bothered to tag/tag “excessively.” Maybe they don’t give a fuck.

I used to follow a lot of people that seemed to have zero regard for other people when it came to spoilers. A huge reveal from the flash was spoiled by some jackass (read: really nice person who didn’t think before posting) that saw gifs of the reveal, felt strong emotions from the reveal, and reblogged without a single fucking tag. At the time, I had everything blacklisted. “the flash,” “the flash spoilers,” “flash,” “flash spoilers,” several ships, a few characters (including the character the reveal was about). But all the blacklisting in the world won’t help if they don’t fucking tag it...

4 - Blacklist the blog.

... unless you blacklist the blog itself.

Sometimes you don’t want to unfollow. Sometimes, you’re emotionally attached to the blog or you want it there for when you catch up. But they don’t tag. They never tag. I follow several blogs that are predominantly shadowhunters material. And let me tell you, very few actually tag the show “shadowhunters.” They don’t tag “malec,” they don’t tag “sh spoilers,” they don’t tag “sh cast.” Which is sooooooooooooo frustrating.

Some blogs have said they don’t need to tag because you’re following them and you should know that’s all they post. I followed a coldflash blog that refused to tag coldflash for just that reason. However, a general trend, when blogs refuse to tag because everything would be tagged that way... they tend not to tag anything actively useful. In my experience, these blogs are less likely to tag for triggers, very rarely tag spoilers, don’t tag for cast posts... If they’re a gen blog, some tag for ships and characters, but if they’re a ship blog, that’s unlikely.

So if you follow a blog that doesn’t respect spoiler rules of etiquette, blacklist them. You aren’t unfollowing them, they’ll be there when you’re ready, but you can now control your experience with them, where previously you were unable to.

NOTE: This can work in other areas too. Is a blog taking a turn in tone? Maybe blacklist them for a while and see if it reverts back later. Is the blogger going through something that makes a lot of their posts upset you? It’s okay to blacklist them and cut yourself off from that, you don’t owe them anything. Do you really like the blogger but suddenly their posts, which you’ve always enjoyed before, are weighing on you or pulling you down? Blacklist them for now. That’s okay.

5 - Take a step back from tumblr.

This also works for mobile /s. I’ve taken a step back from tumblr for a lot of reasons. I left the site for about 6-8 months a year or so ago, because I was becoming obsessed with needing to see every post on my dash. I’ve gone off for a week or so because I got pissed off at spoilers. And sometimes, when I know there’s going to be a lot of content that everyone’s talking about and I can’t avoid, I’ll bunker down.

Bunker down, in this case, refers to remaining on the site but only accessing your own activity page. You can see who interacts with you, directly, but you don’t have to see what everyone is saying independent of your posts. This can be a preemptive form of control on your experience.*

This is sort of like the “abstinence” form of avoiding spoilers, with bunkering down being sort of like the 2nd base of fandom interaction.

You can still message people and reply to asks, with this tactic. The goal is to stay off your dash and out of browsing. Control your input by just interacting with reactions to your posts or direct conversations with bloggers.

* Note: This can work really well if you are being overwhelmed by a trend on your dash/the site, as well. If you’re following discourse blogs, for instance. Sometimes things get to heavy and bunkering down can allow you to temporarily escape that and still feel like you’re involved.

If anyone has any other suggestions, please feel free to message me or send in an ask.

Now let’s get into spoiler etiquette. Here are some suggestions for keeping your blog free of spoilers and making it a safe place for fans that miss episodes.

1 - TAG YOUR POSTS!

I know this seems obvious but I like to think I already demonstrated how blogs fail to tag. If you are a shipper that keeps tagging the ship and not the show, tag the show. Especially if you post during/immediately after new episodes. Your ship might be what the post is about but there can be spoilers for unrelated matters included. The same goes for character posts.

If you’re a blog that is 100% show/character/ship, still, TAG YOUR POSTS. Does it get tedious tagging every post if you’re posting a lot? Sure. But still do it. If you don’t care about the spoiler thing (kind of douchey but whatever), do it for the spreading of your blog, as your posts will not be included in tag searches.

If it’s simply that you don’t feel like tagging every post, get Auto-tagger on XKIT (I don’t know if there are similar features on other extensions). Auto-tagger let’s you set up words/phrases to always tag with. You can control this based on post type, where the post originated, etc. I use this feature to keep the tags from the person I’m reblogging it from - I can erase their specific, commenting tags and keep their pertinent ones without having to type it all in. If you’re a blog that ONLY posts malec, for instance, set it up to tag malec on every post (and “shadowhunters” or “sh”).

If you’re a live blogger, set it up before the episode to tag all your posts with the spoiler tags. Or give your live blogging a specific tag and warn your followers. Be consistent week to week so your followers can block a single tag. Remember that your followers see your last post before the earlier ones, so it’s easy to miss the post where you say what your tag is. Make it well known.

2 - Put things under cuts.

When a huge reveal happens, consider putting posts related to that under a cut, at the very least the night of the airing. This is also considerate of mobile users. If your follower is then curious and opens the post, it’s their own damn fault that it’s been spoiled.

This can also prevent your loyal followers from spoiling things as well. That huge flash spoiler I discussed from earlier? That was from a misc blog. Someone’s personal tumblr that they posted all their fandom shit on, their life stories, their selfies and interesting bugs they found walking to work, etc. They just jump the gun on posting and are inconsistent with tagging, particularly in the frenzy of postings and reblogging after a new episode. Had the big reveal been under a cut, I wouldn’t have cared that they reblogged without tags. I wouldn’t have clicked the keep reading.

3 - Get XKIT.

In case you brushed off #1, because you don’t tag your shit and you don’t want to tag every fucking post, let me be clear.

You can get a plugin on XKIT that auto tags all your posts. All of them. You don’t do anything. You can set it to tag all your picture posts as “pics,” you can set it to tag all your reblogs as “not my shit,” you can set it to tag your posts with the blog names you reblogged from. Whatever. You can do near anything with it.

Not wanting to tag because “it’s too much work�� is you being willfully ignorant that actually it doesn’t have to be.

4 - Tag *in* post.

A lot of people complain that they’re mobile users and so tagging is a lot of work and also they can’t get XKIT, blah blah blah.

Well blacklisting works for shit in the posts too. So hit that post with a taglist at the end: “sh, sh spoilers, shadowhunters, shadowhunters spoilers, liveblogging,” whatever. If you’re posting a lot, copy the tags you should be using. It’ll save you time and it’s not difficult.

5 - Don’t tag with JUST the word “spoiler(s).”

This one always gets me. A blog tries to be courteous. Maybe not all their followers have seen the new episode. So they tag it. But they tag it as “spoiler.”

...

That doesn’t do me any good. If I blacklisted the word “spoiler(s),” then I’d be blacklisting every single post that might be a spoiler. If I specifically don’t want to see spoilers for teen wolf, so I blacklist the term “spoiler” itself, now I don’t get most of the posts about the dceu. About mcu and infinity war. About other shows/movies/books just coming out. About meta specifically about the nature of spoilers (like this).

When something is blacklisted, you can choose to still see posts on a case by case basis, but if they’re just wrapped up in a “spoiler” ribbon, how will I know if it’s one of the safe spoilers (i.e., not specifically the show I was targeting with my blacklist) or the actual spoilers?

If you’re going to tag, thank you. Seriously. Thank you. But please, tag specifically.

6 - Don’t use ambiguous tags/tags used for other things.

Speaking of specific tagging, hey, be specific. Actually make sure your short hand can’t be confused with something else/is used only (or nearly exclusively) by your show.

If you did a search on tumblr right now for “spn,” nearly every post and blog is about the cw show supernatural. However, let’s look at teen wolf and game of thrones.

The traditional shorthand for game of thrones is “got.” See a problem? If I blacklist “got” then I blacklist everything that uses those three letters/that word. Someone says, “I just got the new pokemon!” ... blacklisted.

Then you have teen wolf, which gets referred to as “tw” a lot in conversation. Understandable. However “tw” IS NOT a good tag for tagging the show. I just did a tumblr search on “tw” as a tag. While all of the “related” tags were from the show, of the first six featured blogs, one was about the show teen wolf. Two were about eating disorders, one was about self harm, one was an asian porn blog, and one was actually a supernatural trigger blog. Because supernatural is always relevant.

A good chunk of the posts seem to be about teen wolf. A good chunk are also about eating disorders and self harm. This is because, while “tw” is technically the initials of the show, it is predominantly used on this site to refer to “trigger warnings.” If I blow “tw” then I am blocking absolutely every post marked “tw” for trigger purposes (tw self harm, tw food, tw incest, etc). If I want to block that trigger, I will. There are a lot of triggers that don’t bother me and it’d be annoying having them blocked.

Recently over at @autism-asks we had to switch our referencing and tagging of “special interests” from “si” to “spin.” This is because “si” is widely already used to refer to and tag “self injury.” We want people to be able to tag for what’s relevant to their needs, so we adjusted accordingly and asked our followers to do the same.

So before using short hand, maybe do a tumblr search. It works best if it’s without blocking explicit content. If you decide, for instance, you wish to tag posts about “billy joel” as “bj”... well, you might be surprised at what that actually encompasses on tumblr. There might be words you aren’t familiar with, multiple acronyms might exist, or other communities might already have adopted that tag. “st” can stand for either star trek, stranger things, or numerous other things (I found star wars posts, photography, steven universe, spirit tracks, and porn because there’s always porn).

If you insist on using an abbreviation, consider using a modifier. “tw mtv” or “tw tv” for instance. The flash fandom often tags things “flash cw” and most (considerate) sherlock fans use “bbc sherlock.” This prevents posts about something like adobe flash, flash fic, flash big bangs, etc from being blocked, or from other shows with characters of the same name (sherlock from elementary or the rdj sherlock movies or the original books) from being blocked when you’re only trying to block a single show.

Probably the most effective thing, though, is something only @staff can do. So tumblr @staff, maybe work blacklists into the site itself so everyone can use it. So that blacklists can be tied to the account itself. You know how useless ns/fw tags are if you’re actually using mobile, a public computer, a work computer? I can’t implement XKIT on every public computer I use. The block feature is great, it is, but blacklisting isn’t the same as blocking. Most users don’t want to block every blog they might need to blacklist tags for. So please work that into the site.

#spoiler etiquette #blacklisting #fandom

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