#Also i wrote this pretty quickly in comparison to some other works so sorry about the writing. hopefully ill rewrite it at some point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Text

just us

Pairing: Jack Daniels (Agent Whiskey) x (f) reader

Wordcount: 1.9k

Warnings: discussion of not wanting children, brief mention of trauma (the accident), brief mentions of sex, generally sweet and cozy

Summary: Jack and you both grow into what you want (and don’t want?) for the future

Notes: Okay so this WILL NOT be everyone’s cup of tea - that’s fine. There’s enough breeding kink in this fandom for everyone else, I just wanted to explore... not wanting kids, definitively, and one way that journey could look. Obviously, this is an incredibly personal topic, and there’s no way this one snapshot could possibly be perfect, so please just keep that in mind!

Years ago, you met Jack volunteering with low-income students after school. Your friend, who was running the program, roped you in, and you were glad to have other helpers.

He was surprisingly good with the kids. They loved his accent and his hat and the silly expressions he made. Still, in-between his ridiculous stories, he always pushed them to do their best and was persistent in pursuing their success. Unlike some of the other volunteers, he didn’t seem to have any agenda and his selflessness was contagious, and you told him so. The bus had just left, and you finally had the chance to talk to him- you couldn’t help but be honest.

He shrugged his broad shoulders, watching the kids wave through the windows, even down the road.

“I just want them to get their chance to succeed, ya know?”

You did. Gently, you reached up and squeezed his shoulder, and his brown eyes met yours for the first time.

“Thank you,” you said before leaving to go clean up. You hoped he could hear the sincerity in your voice.

The next time you volunteered at the same time, he stayed back to help you clean. He was silent at first, but then he began to talk to you, asking real questions and giving you real answers.

The friendship grew fast, one of the ones where you could feel in your bones how close you’d be. You moved from laughing with the kids as you gave him the tiniest portion of snack, to him driving you home sometimes.

And for the first few years, the two of you really were the best of friends. Lemonade and long drives together became game nights and movies with groups. You’d help him text when he got too flustered, he reminded you that all men were giant boys sometimes. He told you about his past, about the accident and wanting to heal from that, and what he was working on. You shared the skeletons in your closet, you fears and hopes and dreams. You became each other’s constant, as you grew, always cheering the other one on and sharing just the right words at the right time.

Then, after a long, terrible day, he drove over to your house with pure, kind-hearted intentions and ended up kissing you.

“The rest, as they say, is history,” you finished.

Jack’s boss was grinning, along with his wife.

“How adorable!” she cooed, squeezing her husband’s hand.

You and Jack had been together for years now, and recently moved to a small town so he could be closer to his mama. This branch of the statesman was a lot more casual, so you were over at their house with some other couples, barbequing in the backyard. In many ways, you loved the little southern community but it was times like these that you felt like you were pulling teeth.

Jack was so high-profile, and bless his heart, he loved to show you off. It was sweet that his boss let him off early sometimes and the local florist knew your date night, but honestly, people in this town were so invested in your relationship it gave you anxiety. Everyone wanted to hear your story, to be in the know, worst of all: ask about it. So it was unpleasant, but not a surprise when the lady continued, asking, “So how many kids are the two of you going to have?”

Her eyes glimmered with expectation, completely unaware at how you were fighting not to grimace at her intrusion.

Jack looked at you, his hand instinctively finding yours. His thumb rubbed your skin softly, as if he was trying to press his support into you. It worked, in it’s own way, and you collected yourself, smiling because you knew she meant well, and because you had practiced.

When you were younger, if and when it came up, you hadn’t been attracted to the idea of children like some others were. You had thought, or maybe trained yourself to say, maybe someday, but not right now. Because for most people, that was enough. You knew logically, that some did change their minds or grow into it. Sometimes you had hoped that would be you.

Now, you didn’t even offer that, just making a joke and guiding the conversation in a different direction. You played your part well, continuing to chat as you ate, being as delightful and adorable as you always were.

Jack knew, of course he did. After that very first night, when he had kissed you, you had been honest with him. motherhood was not your purpose, passion, or dream. He loved you then, and he loved you now, you reminded yourself. He had loved you through the time you’d talked about it again, when he told you that you were his soulmate. Still, before, you had always left it on the table. Maybe someday, in the future.

He watched you closely, watched your eyes when you laughed at the questions, felt you hand in his when you were in the spotlight.

Jack adored you with every fiber of his being. He loved waking up with you in his arms, and falling asleep to the rhythm of your heart. He liked the way your eyes met his and spoke volumes, and how you knew what he was going to say and let him say it anyway. Sometimes he thought he would stop time itself if it would keep you from being hurt.

So now, he shifted closer and closer to you, invading your space until he could share his warmth with you. Your hands left each others so he could wrap his arm around you, and he tried his best to use himself to make a little safe haven for you. He would do anything to create a bubble so you could breathe.

Your eyes found his, and you leaned into his warmth. No words were offered but he knew he had done a good job when he could feel some tension slide off your shoulders.

Still, over the next few days, the conversation haunted you. It felt like a pin, pricking your mind and heart in quiet moments. You ignored it, what else could you do? It was a familiar feeling, and you knew sooner or later, it would go away. After all this time, hadn’t you made your peace with it?

It was almost completely gone, one night, as you lay with Jack, skin to skin under the sheets. He’d be silent for awhile, in what you could only assume was one of his rare, post-sex dazes. He murmured again and again how much he loved you before it faded off and he had settled for holding you close.

“Sweetheart?” he said suddenly, pulling your attention back to him.

“Yeah, Jack?”

“One of our friends from home is pregnant, I forgot to tell you she called yesterday.”

You felt liked the world was spinning. Why was be bring this up right now?

Somewhere far away, you heard yourself make a happy noise and say that was exciting for them.

Your lover’s warm arm pulled you closer, back onto his chest.

“That’s gonna be one helluva cute baby,” he added. You agreed, but had no idea what to do or say.

Was he trying to tell you he was thinking about kids? About babies?! You were full on panicking now.

Had this, plus the questions from before finally pushed him to reconsider?

“I’ve… darlin’, I’ve been thinking a lot about kids lately,” he whispered into your hair. There was something about his tone you didn’t recognize. You were tense, unable to move away, respond, be normal at all. Of course, he noticed.

Jack half sat up, moving you so he could face you, his arms still holding onto you with purpose.

“Wait- shoot, dang it, I should’ve said that differently,” his eyes were boring into yours. The whole time you’d known him, you hadn’t been able to look away from him when he was baring his heart for you like this. This was Jack. He has never, would never hurt you. You trusted him with your whole life.

Several deep breathes and a quick kiss allowed your heart to calm, and you eyes told him it was okay for him to go on.

“I have been, sweetheart, but not like… that, I – well, I,” he seemed to be struggling, the tiny lines between his eyebrows deepening. You waited, hands finding his skin and mimicking the comforting movements he always did on you. All the while you were reminding yourself that listening to him would always be better than interrupting or assuming.

“I just wanted to tell you, the longer we’re together, how much I like it,” he said, finally, words rushing out of him, “How the more I think about it, how much I sort of want it to just stay like that.”

Your heart was racing now for a whole new reason.

“When I think about other people’s kids, they’re cute but… I don’t need one,” he said, and you noticed the more he talked, the more he relaxed, too. “You could be a fantastic mother, I know you could, if you ever want that,” he added, and you smiled, shaking your head just slightly.

“I guess I’m just selfish, love,” he finally seemed to conclude, having pushed and been fully vulnerable with you. He sank down next to you again, saying, “I want you all to myself. I want to take you on adventures and change the world with you and just have you be all mine, all the time.”

You still couldn’t speak. The world wasn’t spinning anymore but it might as well have been upside down. All your fears - that he was hoping you’d just change your mind, that you were holding him back – were wrong. On his own terms, in his own way, and in his own heart Jack Daniels had flipped to the same page as you.

Never in your life had you expected this, even considered this a possible outcome. It was almost too good to be true.

You had to ask, just one more thing.

“Jack, what about…” you swallowed, clinging to him. “What about… before?” You didn’t need to explain. What about her, and his son? Before the accident? What about the time you’d met, and he was pouring into the futures of children?

Jack was still for one heartbeat, two, and three. Then his hand moved from your waist to touch your cheek, his large palm enveloping it. You hadn’t realized there was a tear until he brushed it away with his thumb. There was tenderness in his eyes as he held you.

“Just us,” he whispered, before kissing you, “that’s all I need.” His eyes were honest, and for the first time in your life, you felt fully seen.

“Just us,” you said back, as vulnerable as he was.

The two of you held each other then, basking in the moment of pure, raw love. You allowed yourself to sink fully into the mattress, pressing together like you were just falling for each other for the first time. In some ways, you were. Everyone has a different story, and you two had just written another chapter in yours. Jack laughed then, a beautiful, free, almost giddy sound.

Relief had sunk into your bones, the two of you finding something in each other that you’d never had before. The feeling you’d had when you first met - the one that sunk into your bones - promising you two would be close, came into your mind. You considered it, realizing it was more than right, knowing you both before you even knew yourselves.

Jack kissed your hairline, still letting out small burst of quiet laughter. His voice was filled with joy as he asked, “Can we get a dog, though?” and you laughed too.

“Yeah,” you said, and he was kissing you, smile almost too big.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @0celestialbitch0

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #kingsman #maybe i don't know people #Also i wrote this pretty quickly in comparison to some other works so sorry about the writing. hopefully ill rewrite it at some point #alternative title:#pouring one out for the girls with a different happily ever after

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jaesvelvet · 3 years

Text

jealousy jealousy — kim junkyu

words: 1.7k words

warning: grammartical errors,idk what i write does it make sense? reader being insecure!

pairing: junkyu+fem reader

notes: i want to publish my jihoon's ff but i haven't finish it yet since my school is starting soon😭 anyway this ff inspired by olvia rodrigo's song, jealousy jealousy (remember you're beautiful just like the way you are!!!🤍)

you couldn't help but grinned as you step into the famous YG building. it feels like a dream come true. you used to be a trainee in a small company for 5 months before decided to left, you realized that you didn't have the talent to be an idol, you're just average on everything, that's all. you gasped when you saw a huge screen in front of the escalator playing blackpink's mv on the screen. YG is that rich exactly like the news said.

"y/n!"

you turn, grinning widely at junkyu, who from the convenience store with some snacks on both of his hands. you waved at him and junkyu laugh in response

"i'm sorry for being late," he said, handing some bread to you

"no it's okay i just got here," you said

you and junkyu are best friends since high school, you're the one who supported junkyu's journey to debut, and junkyu was grateful to have a friend like you, junkyu always convince you to audition at YG but you refused since you now want to focus on your studies. but after junkyu accidentally saw a book full of lyrics song at your desk, he forced you to record one of the songs in his studio and release it on soundcloud so junkyu could promote the song to his fans.

of course, you reject the offer saying you can't sing and you don't want any attention in the university. a medical science student releases a song on a soundcloud, out of the blue, and treasure junkyu promoted her music?? no way!

however junkyu being junkyu, he didn't give up and keep encouraging you to record one of your songs, you didn't need to prepare anything just bring the lyrics and yourself, and the rest, he will work on it. after weeks tried to convince the you, you finally agreed with one term; which is junkyu need to buy you food. a lot of food.

"okay so here it's my studio, um it isn't something to brag about since half of the members have their studio," he said, opening the door of his studio showing his messy studio with a big portrait of treasure on the wall.

"you should clean your studio if you want to impress a girl kyu" you joked, getting a whine from junkyu mumbling that he would never see the world again if he brings a 'girlfriend' over.

junkyu pressed something on his keyboard and bass sound came out, making you flinch, the instrument that junkyu creates is mellow and kinda strident? as soon as you heard the instrument you know which lyrics from your lyrics book would go along and make a perfect song

"i have a perfect song for this" you excited, taking out your black notebook and turn to a back page—clearly the lyrics are fresh from the oven.

"okay i'm gonna play it and you sing the lyrics okay?"

you nodded and sing a little bit of the lyrics

"i kinda wanna throw

my phone across the room

'cause all i see are girls

too good to be true"

"woah! it's perfect" junkyu gasped, amazed at how the instrument he made suits perfectly with your lyrics. you smile, you didn't suprised much since you know how much passion junkyu has in music.

"okay now you eat first, i'm gonna rearrange the lyrics to suit with the melody," he said and get a nod from you. you eat the bread that junkyu bought for you, you also eyeing the studio, it's kinda cold in here cause the space not too big and they put a big ass aircond on top of you.

junkyu notice your quiver, he rolled his eye when you only wearing a thin black shirt material, he scoffs before handing you his pink hoodie that he left in the studio yesterday.

"i won't turn off the aircond so you must wear this hoodie, it's been a week since i wash it," he said in a teasing voice, you frown yet you have no choice to wear the pink treasure hoodie or else, you're gonna die in this cold studio.

you sigh in relief when the hoodie warms your cold body, you side-eyeing junkyu who looks so serious rearrange the lyrics, you then click on the instagram icon, you felt blue as you saw haeri post on your feed— haeri is a popular rich girl in your university, you and her once assigned in a group for an assignment and she is very kind and open about her opinions, she also very serious when it comes to study/work and she is pretty, to your eyes she is like a goddess. she is so pretty, kind, and selfless, and you really lying if you didn't jealous of her. she has a perfect life and you still struggling to get a diploma.

you slowly pressed the screen twice, liking a picture of haeri; wearing a beanie and a mask in a cafe without posing too much, getting 2 thousand likes within 1 hour. you wonder how is it to be like a rich popular pretty girl in university? well, damn sure you will get all of the pretty privileges in your life. you sighed as you realized you're comparing yourself again with haeri. you always remind yourself not to compare yourself to anyone since you're beautiful enough but you can't. the funniest thing is you and haeri didn't even know each other, yet you being so jealous of her life. sometimes you just feel small, you want to be like them.

"y/n!" junkyu shakes your body making you slap his hand

"what!?"

"i called you for like thousand times! you didn't hear me?" junkyu said, stroking his hand that got slapped by you

"oh i'm sorry, im zoning out, you're done rearranging?"

junkyu nodded

"you can listen to the instrument and practice your lyric with it," he said

"okay"

an hour passed, you finally get the tempo, beat, and rhythm right, you grin excitedly as junkyu put the headphones on your head and directing the microphone to you

"you ready?" junkyu asked

"yes i am" with that, junkyu clicked on something and you could hear the instrument, you begin to sing the verse of your song choice.

i kinda wanna throw my phone across the room

'cause all i see are girls too good to be true

with paper-white teeth and perfect bodies

wish i didn't care

you stop singing and look at junkyu curiously making junkyu paused the song and look back at you with a confused look

"why?"

"doesn't singer usually stop singing for producers fix their mistakes?" you asked making junkyu giggle

"yes that's true but you didn't have any mistake, you're doing good, i will pause the music if i have something to fix" he explained, getting an 'oh' from you. you continue singing the song.

i know their beauty's not my lack

but it feels like that weight is on my back

and i can't let it go

com-comparison is killin' me slowly

i think i think too much

'bout kids who don't know me

i'm so sick of myself

i'd rather be, rather be

anyone, anyone else

my jealousy, jealousy started followin' me

started followin' me

as you singing the song that you wrote, junkyu couldn't help but wonder who is the person, you dedicated to? or how you inspired to write this song? this song is obviously about your insecurities about some girl, and you don't even know her! junkyu pout when you felt like this, he knew how insecurities could kill you, back then when he was a trainee he felt insecure with all of the trainees that beat him to debut, he felt he doesn't belong in here but with you and his members on his side, he gained confidence and prove to the world that he is himself and nothing can change that.

all your friends are so cool, you go out every night

in your daddy's nice car, yeah, you're livin' the life

got a pretty face, a pretty boyfriend, too

i wanna be you so bad and i don't even know you

all i see is what u should be

happier, prettier, jealousy, jealousy

all i see is what i should be

i'm losin' it, all i get's jealousy, jealousy

you remove the headphone as soon as the instrument stop playing, you handing the headphone without noticing junkyu's face, chaeyul grabbed the water bottle and drink, her throat felt dry after singing a whole song which you have never done in your life, making you wonder how did singer voice so stable when singing live?

"kyu—oh my god why are you looking at me like that?" you take one step back as you saw junkyu looking at you with frowns on his face, you bit her lips was your singing that terrible?

"sit down here" he ordered, you quickly took a seat beside him without saying anything

junkyu grab your hand and rubs it softly while looking at you with his brown eyes.

"what you see is all fake y/n. she living her best life is what you see what you want, but you didn't see her pain, how hard she must through a day in her life, we didn't know if she struggles behind, you also know you can't compare yourself to others right? you're beautiful" he said

"but, i don't know kyu. i couldn't help but felt all jealous of her, i feel like a total loser" you said

“no y/n, you're not a loser! hear me out, you do great, you beautiful and an amazing person, so why do you need to be insecure to a person you never know? everyone is beautiful on their own, you're an original version of yourself and no one else could be you. you are special and unique, you wouldn't know if someone is jealous of your life, a successful medical student who has a great voice. you need to love yourself more, let yourself shine in your spotlight. trust me popular life wouldn't great as you think" he said

you smile at his words

"thank you kyu, honestly, you're right.i didn't appreciate myself enough this past week, hearing you said that making me feel great about myself, i am me, there's nothing anyone could change about me"

junkyu smile and pat your head

"that's my girl"

#treasure imagines #treasure scenario #treasure yg #treasure junkyu #kim junkyu #junkyu imagines #junkyu scenarios #junkyu fluff #junkyu angst #treaure blurbs

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legendofthefireemblem · 2 years

Note

Sorry I just see your Polizeiruf stuff and think of you from time to time, like do you speak any German? How did you get into it?? How are you holding up? Can you read the German fics in Google translate or something at least 😟

Ah, thanks for thinking of me ^^ This is definitely a long story so buckle up.

For context, I speak very little German (beginner level/A1). I've always been keen on learning it but I've never had the time to get farther than A1. Anyways, I saw some German mutuals recently lose their mind over the recent Tatort Saarbrücken episode, so my interest was peaked in German crime shows. Then a Slack conversation popped up about Tatort and Polizeiruf 110, where some funny comparisons were made (Is the Doctor Who of Germany a local old people crime show? apparently yes). The convo mainly focused on Tatort when @papercutdoctor brought up the new Polizeiruf pair: Kommissars Sleep Deprived and Gender Frodo.

After this convo I made two goals:

Get the English subs for Tatort Saarbrücken

Write a crack fic about Gender Frodo throwing the ring into Mount Doom

@papercutdoctor mentioned that she was working on subs from that latest episode, so I thought it would be a good idea to ask for them. Maybe I would get around to watching them after Tatort Saarbrücken. I didn't need them for the crack fic, but it would be nice. I didn't expect them to be done quickly, but ofc, she finished the English subs for Hildes Erbe two days after that convo. I, being my usual procrastinator self, still hadn't even asked for the Tatort subs. It actually took me twelve days to get around to watching it, but hoo boy once I did, there was no going back.

I wrote my fist P110 fic within three days of watching because they did in fact, drive me that insane. I am very unwell (in a good way) because they are definitely one of my favourite dynamic types. However, I will admit I am suffering a little. I've been able to discuss with both papercutdoctor and another friend so I'm not entirely alone, but I am jealous of the Discord that I've heard about. I've been reading fics through Google Translate but I'm very much aware of the failings of GT due to learning other languages in school. Absolutely fascinated by "hätte, hätte, Fahrradkette" but reading it in a GTranslated fic just gets you "would have, would have, bicycle chain" lmao. Either way A1 level German is not that conducive to conducting conversations, reading fic or understanding prior episodes about your blorbos. I've kind of settled for making my own content (the reductress post, second fic) and I've received lovely comments on both, so I'm pretty happy about that :'D

I'd love to discuss with everyone, even if we have to meet in the middle a little heh. I'm always open to messages here on Tumblr (or if you want to use Tumblr to ask for my Discord I'm okay with that too lol). And yes, I still haven't watched Tatort but tbh my brain is so filled to the brim with Adam and Vincent that I don't think there's space for Tatort XD (also there's still no subs for the third ep). I've picked up Nicos Weg and Duolingo again, but with work and other things we'll see how much better I can get at German in time for the next ep ^^

#polizeiruf 110 #this ask really means a lot you're such a dear for asking about me #anyways feel free to come talk to me off anon #that extends to everyone :D

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joy1579 · 3 years

Text

self indulgent

I've been sad. so i wrote a thing to make me less sad. maybe it'll make someone else less sad too or at the very least they can laugh at my “cringe” but either way it did make me less sad so goal accomplished.

Mc and jumin organize a bookshelf jumin asks what neko girls are and MC short circuits his brain for a couple of seconds. no smut just fluff

Moving hadn’t taken long. You had opted to donate your furniture to the local homeless shelter since Jumin’s penthouse was furnished with the highest quality furniture you could dream of. Honestly most of your things paled in comparison to the lavish goods Jumin considered tawdry. Still there were a quite a few boxes you had decided to save, filled mostly with sentimental keepsakes and the few odds and ends that catered to your specific tastes. You were practically finished by noon save the three or four boxes that sat in the main room next to the larger than life bookshelves. Certainly there was plenty of room on them. You never where a fan of negative space on bookshelves but if you were being completely honest that had more to do with how many books you needed to fit in such a finite space. Jumins bookshelves had plenty of room with just enough negative space to look perfectly balanced and while you knew Jumin had told you to do whatever you wished this felt intimate. Bookshelves where holy spaces after all, housing books that change hearts and minds alike that shape the soul and … okay so maybe you just really liked books and that made them seem important to you either way this was definitely something you wanted to do with Jumin. When you heard the door rattle with Jumin homecoming you bolt towards it excited to greet him after work.

“Jumin! Welcome home!” you cried bouncing in place as he made his way inside. You smiled as you saw the creases in his brown flatten and the stress slip from shoulders when he saw you. You waited all of 5 seconds for him to close the door giving you both some privacy from the bodyguards stationed outside before you pounced, leaping upon the business man wrapping your arms around his neck. You delighted in the deep honey of his laughter as he caught your waist in kind and kissed the top of your head gently.

“darling. I’m so glad to be home. How was your day? did you get settled?” Jumin asked as you pulled yourself back slightly giving him room to loosen his tie and set aside his coat.

“everything is in its place except um Jumin there is one thing I need if you don’t mind”

“name it and its yours”

“I wanted to share your bookshelves and I was hoping that maybe you could organize the books with me?” you admitted shyly. It had seemed like such a good idea in the beginning he could show you his favorite books, walk you through his favorite plots and tell you his favorite quotes and you could do the same with him. Yet now as you presented the idea to him you worried. What if he was to tired he had worked all day after all, what if he thought you too needy, or your books to childish. what if he didn’t want your books displayed in the living room because they weren’t very pretty, all of his books where gorgeous leather bound tomes or mint condition hardcovers, yours where second hand at best many where decommissioned library books or garage sale rescues, broken in battered and bruised by years of use. It would make sense to have them put away in a back room where they couldn’t tarnish the pristine collection Jumin had on display. Perhaps you where spiraling, working yourself into a nervous frenzy in the span of a few seconds.

“nothing would make me happier love. We can call the chef to start dinner and begin emptying the shelves for rearranging while he works.” You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face or the giggle that escaped your lips. The surprise on Jumins face was evident if only for a second before it gave way to a warm sort of fondness. “had I known simple redecorating would make you this happy I would have stayed home and done it all with you” he said affectionately running his fingers through your hair.

“it’s not that I just,” you paused face flushing a bit “books are a big deal, ya know? My dad used to tell me that every book you read becomes a part of you and that you can learn more about someone by the books they love than by the words they say so I wanted to share that with you” jumins eyes where so soft and gentle in that moment you felt your breath hitch “I want to know everything about you and, and I want you to know everything about me” suddenly his lips where on yours fervent and full of passion the hand that had been in your hair now on your chin guiding you too him. The kiss was short and when you parted from him he stayed close, just a hairs breath from your face.

Jumin voice was little more than a whisper as he asked “how is it that every day I manage to fall more in love with you?” you couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him again an all too familiar giddiness bubbling its way through your soul. You loved this man more than life itself and you knew that would never change.

“so your ‘Encyclopedia of Fairies’ should go next to the Catherynne M Valente series so we can reference it while reading agreed?” you giggled thrilled that his collection of mythological reference books slotted together with your fae fiction so perfectly. Puzzle pieces connecting to create a masterpiece.

“yes I think that’s perfect. I can’t wait to read her interpretation of such ancient mythos. I also have ‘The World Guide to Gnomes, Fairies, Elves and Other Little People’ if you’d like to add it to that shelf” he said grinning like a child at show and tell.

“oh my goodness yes! That’s perfect and your book on Romanian vampires should be near my ‘Dracula’ and ‘vittorio’ that way that shelf over there can be dedicated to the occult, hauntings, and psychic reference books”

“that sound wonderful and takes care of all the written word but we still haven’t found a place for your comics” Jumin informed glancing toward the woefully large stack of manga you had brought.

“not comic Jumin manga and yeah I think we’re out of space though. I um I didn’t think I had that many books. Sorry” you admitted not meeting his eyes. He tilted your head up to look at him.

“there’s no need to apologize it simply means that tomorrow we can go shopping for another shelf and the next day we can organize those. I’m quite curious about ‘la petite cossette’ you said these where Japanese but that is most certainly a French title.”

“oh I actually think you’d like that one a lot it’s about a man who falls in love with a woman in a cursed portrait its actually pretty tragic in the end.”

“How interesting” he mused retrieving it from the pile of books and skimming through it “the art is truly enchanting and you said that manga has its own subculture?”

“yeah from neko girls to shonen action tropes it has its own vocabulary, history and groups of people its really fun”

“neko girls?” Jumin repeated and your eyes widened at his confusion. This was definitely something he of all people should know about! You jumped up and sprinted to the closet you had filled earlier that day with the few cosplay supplies you had. At the time it had taken nearly half your pay check but if Jumin liked them right now the purchase then would be completely justified. You put on your surprise as quickly as possible before rushing back out to greet Jumin who had just made it to the edge of the living room to come find where you had gone. He froze for a second processing what you were now wearing. White cat ears that moved and twitched fairly believably and just as he was able to cope with that your made paws with your hands and tried your best “nya”. For a moment you feared you may have broken him. He didn’t move his face blank, eyes fixed on you. You tried again hoping to spur some sort of reaction from him “nya?” you said turning to the side slightly to show off the other half of your surprise a white tail complete with pink bow and bell at the base where it attached to your skirt. You tilted your head to look up at him through your lashes trying every trick in your arsenal to look as cute as possible but nothing. He was completely frozen. “Jumin? Hello?” now you were getting worried “darling are you okay?” you asked placing the back of your hand on his forehead to feel for a temperature. The second your hand touched him however his face flushed.

“neko girl.” He muttered “that’s neko as in cat” you could see him trying to calm himself. Fiddling with his shirt sleeves and attempting to stay in control. You smiled standing on your tip toes to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear.

“am I a good little kitten at least?” you couldn’t contain your giggle as you heard him choke slightly before scooping you up bridal style.

“certainly not, in fact I think you’ve been a very bad little kitten.” He said his voice deeper than normal as he carried you back towards the bedroom.

#Jumin #jumin x mc #jumin han #mm jumin #jumin fluff

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fumingspice · 3 years

Text

Seven Wonders

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Reader

Words: 1.7k

Note: Part 1/5

Part | 1 2

And in her eyes you could see the beauty of all the Seven Wonders

It all started with a moving truck that disrupted your music session one night. Until then it had been perfect; soft rain pelted quietly against the windowpane, influencing the way that you tapped your pen against the paper-pad in front of you that was begging to be written on. You could hear the music in everything. Cars drove along the roads nearby your apartment block despite the late hour, the wind and the sound of the tyres on the wet tarmac put your soul at ease. It was amazing.

Your creative juices flowed perfectly at this time of the night as you wrote the first few words in the final verse of your new song; the best part in your opinion- when the song came together with its final message. Perfection. Until an unnecessary-to-your-existence truck honked its horn outside your apartment. The invasive noise startled you so that the pen drew a huge line across the page.

You exhaled hard to stop yourself banging your head on the table.

You ignored the horn, assuming the driver was waiting on someone coming out. Then it went again. Your eyes darted to the alarm clock that resided between your cacti (which you had given names). The little box that read 3am sat closest to Bentlee the Bunny Ears Cactus. 3am? Who in their right mind would be making so much noise outside an apartment block at this time of night? Another honk rang in your ears and you couldn't control the urge to open your window and peer outside any longer.

A woman stood in the car park close to a G-Wagon that you hadn't seen before, assuming that was her own car. She held her suitcase in one hand and held a newspaper over her head to shield her hair from the rain, reminding you of the scene in Rocky Horror Picture Show when Janet did the same thing.

The movie comparison eased your mood so that you wouldn't be yelling the foulest obscenities at her. Not tonight at least.

"Excuse me, miss! It's really late, is there a need for the noise?" you shouted down, attempting not to contribute to the noise. The lady looked up, relieved to know she had caught someone's attention.

"I'm so sorry!" she shouted, waving at you. "Would you be able to let me in, please?"

Ah, yes, you thought. The door had often proved a nuisance to newcomers as you had to either have someone buzz you in from the other side of the door, or have your own key. You signalled a yes to her and walked quickly down the corridors and staircases, skipping two at the time the way you did when you were younger when your mother threatened to break your neck if you didn't do it yourself when you walked like this.

"Thank you so much," she ushered when she got in, smacking the rainwater off her newspaper which was now completely sodden. "I asked the moving guy to come back tomorrow because I didn't realise how much noise we would have to make. I'm so sorry for waking you, Ms-," she stuck her hand out to shake yours, which you kindly obliged to. Her hands were freezing, wet from the rain but so soft under yours.

"Y/N," you tell her, she grins.

"Y/N," she repeats, biting her tongue between her teeth as if tasting each syllable of your name as she examined the details of your face.

"Don't worry, I was up working anyway. Uhm- sorry. Your name is?"

The lady nodded, her golden locks bobbing around her shoulders. "Howard," she said "Billie-Dean Howard." You smiled back at Billie. Her lips followed the movements of your own.

"Do I know your name from somewhere, Ms. Howard?" you ask.

"Call me Billie, sweetheart. And yes, I have a TV show back in the States- I'm a medium to the stars. It hasn't really caught on in the UK or Ireland yet but I'm doing a new series on Celtic spirits, myths and legends so I'm hoping that-" she looked you up and down, her dark brown eyes met yours, lowered and stopped, then darted to your still connected hands, "- I can provoke your interests." She uttered the last three words with a seemingly different meaning as you took your hand back. Being a medium- or a psychic or whatever she was she could probably sense your slight discomfort, so she changed the subject quickly.

"Would you be able to tell me where someone called Siobhan is?" she asked, completely butchering the correcting pronunciation of the name.

"I'm sorry, Siobhan's office hours closed about six hours ago and she doesn't open up again until ten o'clock, so," you pursed your lips, unsure of what to do. You couldn't leave her here for the next seven hours, that was something- but you also didn't know or trust her. You attempted to reason yourself for the next few seconds. It wasn't like a goddamn TV personality was gonna try and steal your Ikea silverware anyway, not unless she was also a secret spoon thief.

Billie looked like she was about to give up hope and lie down on the grate to sleep when you offered her night in your apartment. "Wait, really?" she asked, her big brown eyes lit up like two golden compasses. "You're not afraid I would steal your silverware?" Her chuckle came out like a fine four-note melody. You rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head.

As the pair of you walked to the elevator you chatted quietly, asking her questions about her show, what she would be doing and where she would be shooting. "I heard about a place on a peninsula not far out from here- supposed to be one of the most haunted places in Europe and it hasn't really been a spot of interest for other American mediums so I thought that maybe I should check it out." You got more of the specifics in the elevator, where she told you that she would be staying here for three months before moving on to mainland Britain. "After that," she said, "I'm gonna head on into Europe and I'll see where the wind takes me from there. I've never filmed in Asia so that's where I'll go next, maybe." Billie's words invented images of brilliance in your mind, exotic destinations, you could almost feel the warmth of the sun against your skin.

"That sounds amazing," you tell her as you glide the key into the keyhole and turn it with a flick of your wrist, Billie watching your every move. The smell of coffee and incense collided with your nose and replaced the stale smell of the apartment corridor as you stepped into your dark apartment and out of the bright corridor lights. "Wow," Billie uttered to herself, she wondered in behind you and observed the apartment carefully; taking note of the scents and the decorations. "You really like plants that you don't don't need to water." You chuckled at the comment.

"You wouldn't need to be a psychic to figure that out, Billie-Dean," you chuckled, shifting the angle of Fanta the mammillaria.

She observed you with a light smile, "they're personal to you. You've named them, haven't you?"

You turn around and nod, slightly embarrassed. Billie chuckled her adorable chuckle. "Why don't you introduce me?" she suggested.

"Well, this is Fanta, this is her brother Neptune and I bought them in Next. This is Bentlee, Tesla, Mitshubishi, Vauxwagon, Martha and Veronica. Those guys over there are all named Deborah but they have a number after their names to tell them apart- and the vines are called Mocha," you explained, blissfully unaware in the moment of how insane you probably sounded in front of the woman.

She nodded with wonder in her eyes. "Amazing."

After a few moments of silence whilst she continued to observe, you pulled out the couch and made a quick bed up for yourself; you were going to be up a while longer anyway so you would allow her to sleep in your own bed. After all, it was she who had just travelled god knows how many hours to get here.

"You're a musician?" you heard her ask from the living room while you tidied away some of your things to make it a little less messy for you.

"Jesus, you are a good medium," you admitted, walking in with your favourite pillow and dropping it on the couch. "I have to admit I was a little sceptical at first but you seem pretty-" you stopped talking when you saw her face in the softer light. The shadows illuminated her jawline and cheekbones, defining them as if someone had drawn over them to make them appear more prominent, and she stood in the reflection of the lamp so that a strip fell over her eyes, turning them a brilliant golden copper. The image of her took your breath away, it was an unusual feeling for someone to appear so utterly ethereal to you that it almost made you stop breathing for a moment. Her grin and raised eyebrow snapped you out of it. "-pretty. Uhm, pretty intuitive."

Billie didn't stop smiling, she clearly knew you were astounded by her without intending to be. "You have three bass guitars on the wall and Fleetwood Mac vinyls everywhere, I'd be concerned if a regular person could come in and not tell," she said, her cheeks blushed slightly at the attention, stretching when she yawned.

"My bedroom's in there, I'm not done working just yet and you should get some rest." you pointed to your door which you had left slightly ajar and she smiled at you thankfully. You moved out of her way so she could walk to your room, however, she stopped when she was just inches from you.

"Y/N," the touch of her fingertips grazing your forearm tingled. "Let me take you out to breakfast, or lunch or drinks tomorrow, hm? A room for a meal?" she suggested. Her eyes twinkled in a way that you had never seen before when you nodded carefully, finding it hard to refuse the offer. When she was satisfied, she shook your hand goodnight, whispered a thank you and slipped into her room for the night.

And boy did you know your search history would be full of her for the next hour.

#ahs #american horror story #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #sarah paulson #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia goode #wilhemina venebal #wilhemina venable x reader #sally mckenna x reader

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years

Text

lion primary + badger secondary (bird model)

ie A HOUSE MATCH !!

Hellooo, I’m sorry for bothering you but I’ve found this blog and I absolutely love your character analysis and overall thought about the SHC system, and I could use some help?

I’ve known the system for a while now, since the old SHC tumblr times, and while understanding my current primary situation has been quite easy, I’m having A LOT of trouble with my secondary and it’s becoming a bit of a issue for me because the more I think about it, the more confused I become, to the point where it’s upsetting me a bit.

First thing first, my Primary is a very “standard” Lion, the whole “you feel if something is right or not and if you do something that’s not right to you you feel bad/ill/it’s wrong” is extremely me. I had some doubts about a Badger model, but I think it’s just that my personal ideals and values align a lot with a Badger worldview, since I grew in a very Badger society and family (very leftist, a lot of emphasis on equality and valuing and creating communities). Reading various description/interpretations of primary Lion always feels right, while reading primary Badger always makes me think “yeah, this is all good and nice, BUT…” so this was quite easy to sort out (no pun intended).

Are you me? So far... I could have written this. It’s possible I *might* be biased going forward.

When it comes to secondaries, I see a lot of myself in Bird descriptions: I make spreadsheets for everything.

Pretty Bird.

I am a crafter with an apparently endless supply of books and tutorials and supplies ready, and the enthusiasm to share them.

That sounds more Badger.

I am the mom friend

Badger.

who always has what’s needed in their bag.

Bird.

I am that one person you can count on knowing a funny or interesting anecdote about almost any topic, from the mundane to the truly obscure. Learning new things, about any topic, is literally one of my biggest pleasures in life.

Bird [model?] Whichever one isn’t your secondary is a model you clearly love.

I take pride in all these things, but I honestly have trouble understanding if I like using them as tools because they help me with my ADHD and so I received a very strong positive enforcement using them and I kept the ones I like, or if I started doing them because they are what I like doing and coincidentally they help me managing my symptoms or better navigate the world in my day to day life.

Could be either, but modeling Bird because you’re neurodivergent is very much a thing.

Also, while I love planning, when it comes to making decisions I tend to gather all information and summarize it in a way that makes sense to me so I can visualize the issue in my mind as complete and detailed as possible, but the final decision tends to feel a bit… impulsive, to me?, there’s always A LOT of gut feeling involved, and when I don’t follow it usually it ends up being a wrong or subpar decision. I do need to gather all the available information about the issue/situation/item/people, but rather than making my decision by comparison, I use the information to make sure that I’m “seeing” the truth (or as close to it as it is possible) and then once I feel safe that I’m not overlooking anything important I just KNOW what is the correct decision.

That’s a Lion primary making a call.

Could this simply be a very strong primary interfering with the decision-making, even when it’s not about ideals but more mundane things?

Decision making is always a primary thing. Mundane stuff included. Mundane stuff is important.

On the other hand, I am an extremely hard working person (I am changing jobs right now because I feel like my old bosses are making more and more difficult for me to just do my job properly and without needing to cut corners, and it just feels wrong to me).

Oh good lord. I am ready to sort you as a Badger secondary solely on the basis of THAT.

People tell me I’m a very good listener and that I am especially good at helping others unravel their thoughts when they’re all confused and tangled because I ask the right questions. I seem to gain other people’s trust easily and often I get told gossip or secrets before others.

Badger. Also DAMN but that’s relatable. I think you might house-match me.

I got told several times by previous bosses that I should look into becoming a team leader because people like me and I make them get along better.

Sounds like a Lion/Badger combo.

People get attached to me very quickly and when I have problems the stream of folks asking if they can help or just checking in is always way more than I expect.

Isn’t it weird how that happens?

This all sounds like Badger stuff, from the descriptions I read, but many of them are not things I actively enjoy doing, I just.. do them because it would be weird to do otherwise? Or it feels like they happen to me with no effort on my part.

Because they’re just you. It’s just who you are.

I think they might be simply a result of me growing up in a society that values hard work and being kind to others, or just me being a likeable person

Not everyone finds this easy. Not even close. I have read so many testimonials written by people in Badger secondary households killing themselves trying to fit into this model. Wanting isn’t enough. Having examples around you isn’t enough.

or maybe coping mechanisms I had to learn in order to “pass” as neurotypical but as I wrote the more think and read about Birds and Badgers and their differences, the more I get confused and frustrated.

Now I know I’m projecting, but all my neurotypical coping mechanisms come out of the Bird secondary toolbox.

But it would make sense since I burned out badly in my teens from trying to always try to be perfect for my family, my friends, my teachers, society

That sounds like a young Badger secondary, more than a young Bird secondary.

and when I finally found who I really wanted to be I resolved to never let anyone define what or how I should be ever again (hello there, Lion primary!)

I hear that.

After a lifetime of beating myself up for not living up to the absurdly high expectations I set up for myself, I have decided that the only way to stay sane for me is to do the groundwork, be as prepared as I can

Bird

put in the work I should

Badger

but once I’m in the thick of it just… ride the wave. And now I got to the point where I have the confidence that I am smart enough to learn the basics of a new skill on the fly, if needed.

To me, this is so fundamentally, so spiritually Badger secondary. You don’t have tools. You are a tool. You made yourself into one. And that moment where you can just trust yourself to catch the world, absorb it into yourself, and become whatever it needs you to be... it’s ecstasy.

I’d say that lack of time is my worst enemy, but due/thanks to the ADHD that’s not true most of the time, since lack of time is what enables me to get past the executive dysfunction in the first place, so I’ll say I have a love-hate relationship with it. Doing things just before a deadline is it’s own kind of high, after all (I’m not saying it’s healthy).

At the base of your soul, you’re not really a Bird prepper/planner.

A practical example: I usually don’t like platforming games much, but I am LOVING Immortals: Fenyx Rising because in most situations, there is a “best” way to do things but you can also get creative by using different skills, using specific items, finding loopholes, or a combination of all of them.

Sounds like a Bird secondary having fun. [a fun model?]

When I fail a level/combat I don’t get frustrated because I know that I just have to try a few more times until I find the solution that feels right FOR ME, even if it’s not the most efficient ones. And when I do it feels great, even if I look a at guide afterwards and there’s a waaay easier solution! I usually feel a bit silly for not “seeing it” but also think something like “well, I think MY way is more fun!”

Oh yeah, a Bird secondary would not have that reaction. That is the sacred Badger consistency of method. How you do something matters equally as much as the final product.

When I cook, I usually find a recipe I like and try it as written, then I make small adjustments to improve it, see how it turns out, and so on until I have a recipe that is MY recipe, one I really like and that I know well enough to use as a basis to be changed if needed, knowing exactly how the change will affect the end result. I think this is why I prefer baking to other kinds of cooking, since it’s much more akin to chemistry I feel like I have more control over what a change will do.

On it’s own this could be a description of rapid-fire Bird. And you clearly have Bird, you have a lot of it. You love it.

So I guess that what really matters to me is being able to do things my way so that I can enjoy the process and live up to my standards instead of external ones?

But then you say something like this... it’s about the process... it’s about the method... it’s about something coming up to your own personal standards. And that’s so Badger.

This ended up being very lengthy… I’ve tried shortening it but English isn’t my first language and I was afraid I might come across not clearly.

Your English is perfect, and insanely clear. You’re clearer than I am.

Thank you again for the blog, I especially like your DS9 characters’ analysis and I am low-key hoping for more :)

I’m particularly proud of those ones. I’d love to do more, but before that I would have to go back and re-watch the show, or at least key character episodes. I’m not going to sort from memory. That would be doing a show I love, and a number of extremely complex characters a disservice. And it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.

(it’s that whole Badger integrity-of-method thing, you know how it goes.)

#sortinghatchats #sortme #wisteria sorts #lion primary #badger secondary #bird model #my lion badger #adhd #submission

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globophobicligyrophobiccontent · 3 years

Text

New Year, New Us

A Deltarune fanfiction

By Sannaturek

- 31 of December, 202X

Again, Noelle is alone at home in New Years Eve.

Her mother is working in the city getting ready everything for the midnight. Her sister, Dess, couldn't come home this year. And her father, in the hospital, and she didn't want to bother them until tomorrow, since the hospital is working with closed doors on the holidays.

The big house at the northwest of the town is cold, almost all the lights are out. The only light visible comes from Noelle's room. She's writing with a pretty calligraphy in her diary, usually she doesn't have time from school or helping her father, but now it's a good time for her to let out some feelings:

*Dear diary: Now, another New Year Eve, it's the worst tome of the year again. Since the start of December, everyone is getting festive, I just don't see a lot of appealing, maybe some candies and the pretty lights are okay, but everything else it's a mess! It's embarrassing going under a mistletoe just to someone to kiss or hug you. Santa is so scary! Imagine a big old man going down the fireplace in the middle of the night! And if you are a bad person you get coal? No thanks. Also, since everyone is coming back for this time of the year, there's more people on the streets, I hope there's a way to say hi to everyone without having to talk... Oh yeah, Christmas cards, I forgot the exist hehehe... Talking about, we send our cards this year, but it was an old photo from two years ago, since dad is on the hospital, Dess is at college and mom is working, we didn't have time to take a new one. Dess, I wish you were here, you were the one of the few who calmed me at midnight. Thanks for all those New Years that you helped me staying safe and sound during the fireworks. Ugh, yeah, fireworks, as always I don't like them a lot, they are so noisy and scary, I just can't stand them. From home I can't hear them as much, but mom always ask us to go to the town for the countdown and the fireworks display. Usually I stand in the back with dad and Dess, but I don't know what I will do now, but I guess I can always count with some special people like my friends, even after everything, Kris is always there and listen to me, I'm so thankful for that... But hey, don't be sad now Noelle, it's New Year Eve, a time to let the sadness go away and make a new you! I guess... This was a great year! I made a new friend, Susie finally is more open to me and Kriss! I can't believe this is actually happening! Yaaaay! After that dream I had some months back in the library, everything started to go better with my new friends. Susie, Kris and I went to the Town Carnival, it was so much fun! We ride the ferris wheel at the Carnival. It was such a pretty view, and with Susie by my side, I didn't feel scared. Also, Kris invited me a couple time to his house, Miss Toriel make the best of the Butterscotch Cinnamon Pies, and she also taught me how to make them, isn't that great! Mom says I don't have to be so modest, and now, I am so proud of how much I improved myself this year. But I hope I can do it tonight, the fireworks on my dream that time looked better...*

As she wrote this last words, she hear a distant firework, scaring her a little. She saw the clock, 8pm, it's time to go to the town New Year festival.

There will be a lot of people, and if they see me, they will notice I'm scared of the fireworks, and that will just scare and embarrassed me more!" Noelle thinks "But it would be worse if I stay at home, and it's scary since I'm alone here, better be on the way now..." She thinks as she takes her bag, and a scarf since it was cold outside.

Now in the town, she saw some familiar faces, of course Susie and Kris would be here, good thing since it's better with friends.

"Hello guys, happy N-new Year Eve! G-good thing to see you two here!" Says Noelle.

As soon as Susie can she starts "Hello Noelle, how's everything going? You seem cold. But anyways, I hope you're fine, since this year you're here alone, we saw your mom working over there and everything it's going fine and(...)"

At this point, Noelle is just distracted at how good Susie was dressed tonight in comparison to an everyday look, boots, black pants, and a black and white sweater with a scarf, looking very warm, since she's a cold blood creature (Pun intended). She could evade and blush like a tomato.

"... Because Kris and me were about to eat some of... Are you ok? You are red! Are you cold? Please don't freeze, let's go to a place where the wind isn't that strong!"

Without letting them say a word, Susie took both of them by the hand and started running to a warmer place, near some food stands. Noelle couldn't believe it, happening again!

After that, they eat and go around the festival, the time is passing, but they are having so much fun Noelle doesn't notice it.

It's almost midnight, and the group of friends sit in a bench, they are full and tired for the night. They ate everything on the fair and had fun, now it's better because they are friends now, so much that Noelle forgot about the fireworks.

"Oh geez, it's almost midnight Kris! You know what that means!", Susie says. *Oh no, it's right, just some minutes and then...* (BOOM!), some fireworks slowly start to blow up.

Noelle starts hyperventilating, one explosion behind another. "Look Noelle, Kris! The fireworks are starting, yeah! " Susie and Kris seen to enjoy them but Noelle it's at her limit. So she steps up from the bench and goes "I'm-I'm sorry, I have t-to go now, thanks for-for everything guys(Boom) (Eek!)H-happy new y-year" Noelle says and quickly goes on the way to her house.

"Noelle wait! Where and why are you going!?" Susie says "Kriss let's go find her" so the two friends try to go behind Noelle.

Afters a little time, of looking for her, they find her in a Street near her house, sitting down a tree, shaking, sobbing and with her little reindeer ears down, in the back some fireworks keep exploiting in the back.

"Oh geez, Noelle, are you! We were worried for you..!" Says Susie as she crouches down to catch up with Noelle "Hey, are you okay? Kris what we should do? Noelle are you hurt? " Susie seems more worried for Noelle that herself. "Oh, I see, thanks Kris..." She says as Kris give her a napkin for Noelle "Here Noelle, take this and clean you face first, so, I guess you should breath slowly first, or that's what Ralsei said? I don't remember, Kris do you remember what Ralsei said about that" Redundantly, Noelle took the napkin, but could barely form words "N-no, I j-just w-wanna go ho-home, t-thanks-s (Eek!)"

As she keeps shaking, Kris carefully approaches with care not to scare her, gives a look at her and goes "She's having a panic attack, talk to her" Susie looks confused but at the same time used to a scared Noelle "Soo, it's anything you need to say?" With help of Susie, she stands up again, and little by little, talk again "I-I don't, r-really like fi-fireworks that much. (Eek!) Come on! Laugh at me, it's ok..."

Susie looks at the sky, shining with fireworks "Ooooh so that's it. What? I'm not gonna make fun of you, we are friends? Why I would...?"

As she says that, a big row of fireworks started exploiting, Kris take a look at his phone, it's midnight. Noelle starts shaking again, crying a little.

"Ok ok Noelle, first of all, Happy New Year, second, I need you yo look at me, don't look at the fireworks, look at me, we can figure it out, just give me a second..."

In a flash attack of nerves, Noelle doesn't think about it and kiss Susie in the mouth.

Noelle still shaking, so Susie understand something of it, so she hugs at her. After some second, they stop for a moment, and they look at each other, Noelle and her are shocked, but at least she isn't crying anymore.

After the commotion, they sit down on the cold sidewalk, Susie makes an improvised protection for Noelle with her scarf. Noelle jumps and let a little sound out of her mouth every time a fireworks goes off, but now she's ok because Susie (and Kris) she feels safe again.

Every time she gets scared, Susie hugs her a little more, and give her a little kiss on her fluffy cheek.

Maybe this will be a good year after all.

#deltarune #ligyrophobia #fear of loud noises #scared of loud noises #afraid of loud noises #phonophobia #fear of fireworks #scared of fireworks #afraid of fireworks #susie x noelle #susie deltarune #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #noelle #noelle holiday #noelle deltarune #fanfic #deltarune fanfiction

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yourfinalbow · 3 years

Text

Ack anon I'm sorry. Tumblr ate your ask and I'm 🔪 But I saved your ask to put on the Google Doc so don't fret! I have it!

“Hi Ghastie Ghast, I wanted to share a prompt with you lol. I decided to go more holiday theme’d because it’s never too early to get into the holiday spirit.

“Your favorite winter drink was back on the menu, so I decided to surprise you with it.”

Please enjoy this prompt lmao”

The nickname made me -_- but hi Little Gray Circle Dude With Sunglasses! Thank you for sending me this! I had fun writing it. I'm assuming you wanted a Destiel fic, so that's what I wrote! (Also bonus points for Saileen as a background ship?) I sort of strayed a little from the prompt and the tone gets heavier as it goes on… 👀 I also accidentally wrote more than intended, so you can read it on Ao3 if that's easier. (And maybe give it a kudos because you’re the best?)

Title: Black Coffee Derangement Syndrome

Ship(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy.

(Basic) Tags: Fluff, Slight Angst, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker, Established Dean/Cas, Established Sam/Eileen, Using black coffee as a metaphor for hypermasculinity, With a whip cream style topping of internalized homophobia. *Finger guns.*

Warnings: Coffee gatekeeping and small sections of fluff that are as sweet as Cas’s Starbucks order. Also I’ve been to Starbucks once. Maybe twice? (Also a single mention of a drug that's commonly found as white powder, the non-descriptive comparison of Sam’s stupid health stuff with emesis, and use of the name that the figurehead for Germany in WW2 bore, just to be safe.)

Rating: T? Maybe? For language?

Word Count: 9k+

Quick thanks to my awesome beta @walksinstarllight! They are a poet and a writing sorcerer (wizard without a hat), and the only reason this fic even makes sense so please go shower them in kudos. (You can find their work here.)

Another thanks to @internetintroverts, who described a peppermint mocha to me in like 300 words because I drink black coffee and know nothing of anything ever. You can find their work here! (There's an Easter egg of one of their fics in this one hehe.)

The first thing Dean did when Cas got back from the Empty was give him coffee.

Okay no.

The first thing he did was fall into Cas’s arms and grip that stupid trenchcoat until his knuckles turned white. Shaking and laughing with hot tears streaming out of his eyes, he told him he was an asshole for leaving him like that. And to never, ever do it again. With blurry eyes and all other thoughts hazy, he told Cas he could have it, he could have what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. He told Cas he loved him too.

But then the next thing was coffee.

Caffeine is a hunter’s number one best friend, and since Cas was human again, Dean knew Sam was going to come at him with his stupid green health drinks and herbal tea. As Cas’s knight in shining armour, (a title used by Dean and Dean only), it was his duty to protect him from the disgustingly liquified rabbit food.

Now he expected Cas to like black coffee, you know, like a normal person.

But no, oh no. Apparently, he was dating a heathen.

Dean had to actually rub his eyes the first time he watched Cas fix his own coffee. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mouth agape.

Cas was leaning on the counter, humming some song that Dean could neither recognize, nor would he approve of, thank-you-very-much.

(Ok it was Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift and it's entirely possible he's listened to it once or twice but he still doesn't approve of it, thank-you-very-much.)

He held his yellow and black striped, bee-themed ceramic mug Eileen had bought him in one hand, and the entire five-pound bag of cane sugar in the other. And there he stood, happy as can be, pouring it directly into his mug.

Dean rubbed his eyes again.

And not even like, a normal amount either.

He just kept pouring, and pouring, and Oh my god he’s still pouring. Dean thought. It would honestly be more believable if it wasn’t sugar at all, and instead was in fact Cas’s secret stash of cocaine.

Dean might actually have to put sugar on the grocery list after he was finished.

His thoughts traveled back to Ishim doing the same thing with his coffee, in the tiny little diner Cas had set up as a meeting place. Dean had barged in that day, not thinking of his brother mocking him, or the possibility of danger inside. His vision was as tunneled as his thoughts focused only on Cas, not caring about anything else.

By that time the following day, Dean thought they were both going to die. The bloody and uneven sigil on the wall, Cas no more than ten feet away. Not quite within a comforting reach. The room was spinning from the blow to his head, and he could barely make out the words being spat from Ishim’s mouth.

“You blast me away, you’ll blast away every angel in the room. I’ll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he’s hurt. He might live, or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall.”

He almost lost Cas that day.

The blood rushed to his ears as his instincts sought out the mark on the wall. Ishim had told him to roll the dice, but in his head he couldn’t look past the chance of rolling a one. Watching the acrylic cube bounce until it decided Cas’s fate. There was no dilemma, there wasn’t even a decision to be made. He would always choose Cas over himself. Silent acts of care he could never vocalize.

An inability to speak formed from fear and cowardice. Like a lion in his stomach scratching at the words until they fell back down his throat.

And it was that inability to speak that led Cas to think he was nothing more than a tool for the Winchester’s to use.

He almost let Cas believe he meant nothing to him.

Dean cleared his throat. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”

Cas set down the bag of sugar and picked up the pot, the glass making a small clink as it hit the top of the coffee maker. “Goodmorning Dean. Would you like any coffee?” He greeted cheerfully, turning around like he hadn't just put enough sugar to make a pound cake in his coffee.

“Uh.” Dean was still caught off-guard by Willie Wonka over there. “Sure Cas.” He took the coffee pot from his hand and muttered a thank you.

“So,” Cas started while Dean reached into the cabinet for his own mug. “What ingredient do you suggest I put in my coffee this morning?”

“Uh...I don't know man. I drink my coffee black.”

“Yes I know you’re boring Dean, but you can still help me not be.”

“Black coffee isn't boring it's-”

“Dean, if you say ‘manly,’ I will sit you down and make you eat only spinach and kale for a week.” Sam said, walking into the kitchen, hair still spiked up from sleep. He used one hand to sign the words, his other one occupied by Eileen, who was sleepily shuffling closely behind.

Dean looked aghast. “I would starve.” He attempted to sign his indignant response, hands moving sloppily while holding both his mug and the coffee pot.

“I think that's the point.” Eileen said, laughing. She looked at Cas. “Is Dean gatekeeping your coffee aspirations again?”

“Yes.” He answered, ignoring Sam’s laugh and Dean’s huff of exaggerated outrage.

“Have you tried cinnamon?” Sam suggested. “You like Dean’s apple pie, and that has cinnamon in it.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Sam. Dean told me not to ever take cooking advice from you.“

“And I stand by that.” Dean interjected suddenly.

“I can cook!”

“Ehhh…” Eileen’s comment bought her a look of betrayal. “Though Sam may be right on this one, you might like it.” She shrugged.

“See.”

Cas pondered the thought for a moment. “Perhaps I will then.”

“Do we have nutmeg?” Eileen said, breaking away from Sam’s grip to check one of the cabinets. He walked to the other side of the kitchen, intending to look through the spice rack, knowing exactly what his girlfriend was getting at.

“You better not mess up my damn kitchen.” He said quickly. “Or you're organising them all next time.”

Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well Dean would never let him organise the kitchen. Eileen looked through them, carefully turning the bottles around until the labels faced her. She pulled out the cinnamon and clove while she was looking for the nutmeg.

“Found it.” Sam called from the other side of the kitchen, walking over and putting a hand on Eileen’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” She said with a smile, grabbing the plastic spice jars.

She individually tossed each one to Cas. “Use these, it will taste like a pumpkin spice latte.”

“And don't forget the milk.” Sam added.

Cas scrambled to catch the spices, successfully grabbing two of them out of the air, the third one intercepted by Dean.

“What’s a pumpkin spice latte?” He looked at Eileen before snatching the bottle of cinnamon from Dean.

“It's a famous drink you can get at Starbucks.” Sam answered.

Cas tilted his head to the side and squinted at him. “What's a Starbucks?”

“You know, the coffee shop Alex and Patience drag Jody to all the time.” Dean said.

“I’m pretty sure Donna drags her there too.” Sam added. “Something about girl’s date night out.”

“The one Claire says is for ‘basic bitches’?” He lifted his hands, forming air quotes as he spoke.

“Yeah.” Dean answered, quietly laughing. “That's the one. She’s probably right, too.”

Cas carefully put the different spices in his coffee, eyeing the mug warily. His light brown coffee now had specs of...stuff in it.

(And unbeknownst to him, there was also a small pile of sugar at the bottom, the coffee so saturated it wouldn't dissolve any more.)

Eileen laughed at the look on his face. “It's good, I promise.”

Sam turned to look at her. “How would you know? Most of the time you get hot chocolate and spike it with bourbon.”

“You’re the one who gets a Pink Drink.”

Dean choked on his coffee. “What?”

“It's strawberry and coconut milk, and it's delicious.”

“Sure it is Sam.” Eileen jabbed.

“So what I'm getting here is that not only have you two been to Starbucks often enough to have a regular order, but Sam gets something called a ‘Pink Drink’?”

“No…” Sam started, trying to find a way to defend them. “Sometimes we…”

“...Make our own drinks.” Eileen snapped her fingers as she finished for him, attempting to save them from the endless stream of good-natured insults Dean would throw at them otherwise.

“Well you two are a real Martha Stewart, aren't you?”

“Yeah, except she's a convicted criminal.” Sam attempted to snark back.

“So are you!”

Before either of them could respond, Cas shoved his mug into Dean's face. “You have to try this, Dean. It tastes like pumpkin pie.”

Dean carefully grabbed the hot mug from Cas and took a sip. He was right, it did taste kinda like pumpkin pie. He took another sip, letting the pleasant flavor sit on his tongue. The different spices mixed perfectly together.

“I mean it's… okay.” He lied.

Dean contemplated his pumpkin themed food options. “Though I would rather just have pumpkin pie.”

Cas took his mug back. “Fine. More for me.” He said with a smirk, mimicking the look Dean gives him every time Cas says he doesn't want anymore bacon, before taking another sip of the makeshift pumpkin spice coffee.

Dean smiled at him, setting his own mug down and moving Cas’s out of the way to pull him into a kiss. He could smell the nutmeg almost as much as he could taste the cinnamon on his lips.

“Mmm we should bake pumpkin pie tonight.” He said, pulling away just enough so he could talk.

“I would like that.” Cas answered. “All four of us could make pie. According to the 'mom blogs', as you call them, it would be a good family bonding exercise.”

“That’s right. And if they want any pie, they gotta help make it. That means more for us if they refuse.” He grinned.

“A win-win situation, really.” Cas smiled before tugging Dean close so their lips met again.

“I love you.” Dean muttered.

“I love you too.” Cas said softly.

Behind their backs Sam and Eileen were fake-gagging at their sickly sweet interaction, but secretly just glad the two of them had finally gotten over their stubborn (and oblivious) selves.

Sam was honestly overjoyed to see his brother finally happy. He would even go as far as saying finally willing to be himself, too. (Not that he would ever say this outloud. Sam can practically see Dean’s eyes roll farther back into his head than should be possible at the words.) All four of them had gone through more shit in the last few months than any normal person would in their entire life. They were all just lucky to be alive, and with that, learning how to savour the little moments of overly sweet normalcy.

(And the pumpkin spice-life Dean had secretly been longing for since they were little kids.)

So of course they were going to help bake pie.

---

“I want to try Starbucks.” Cas said the next morning, both of them still in bed.

Dean groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can I ask why, or is this one of those, 'I'll tell you later’ disasters like with the slime ingredients?”

“I want to try all the human things that I didn't get to try last time.” He said offhandedly.

Dean pictured Cas’s hurt face when he had told him he couldn’t stay, smile broken as Dean’s own heart shattered from the look the newly-human angel was giving him.

He wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, that Cas himself wasn’t the reason, but the lion in his stomach clawed the words down faster than even the thought of ruining Sam’s chances at survival could.

With a pang of guilt from the memory, Dean pulled himself closer to Cas and rested his head on the other man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to preserve as much warmth and comfort as he could until they had to inevitably get out of bed. “Only if you let me sleep like this for thirty more minutes.”

Cas smiled. “Oh, are we making deals now?”

“I’d sell my soul for you.” Dean said cheekily, which earned a glare from Cas. “Believe me, I know.”

After a beat he went on. “Fine, you have a deal.” Before Dean could celebrate by tugging the covers over their bodies, Cas added another clause to their agreement. “But... in true Crowley fashion, you have to seal the deal with a kiss.”

Dean lazily threw his arms into the air. “Victory.”

He turned over, pulling himself upwards until he was just inches from Cas. Cradling the angel-turned-Winchester’s head in his hands, Dean placed his lips on Cas’s, melting into the touch as he felt the other man’s arms wrap around his torso.

When he broke away from the kiss, Dean found himself face to face with the most beautiful smile he had ever laid eyes on, one born from adoration and love. Cas’s eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, but for once it wasn’t a sign of confusion when met with some obscure eighties rock reference. It was a tiny expression of care, and it was one that was truly Cas. Not Jimmy’s, not even one Cas had picked up from him or Sam. It was completely and wholly Cas, and a completely and wholly human thing to do.

He realized Cas had been doing that long before the Empty stole his grace.

Dean smiled back at him, relaxed. Like taking in a deep breath after being under murky water for forty years. He brushed a loose strand of soft, brown hair into its place, before falling back into his spot and closing his eyes. “Crowley would be proud.” He whispered with a soft laugh, smile deepening as Cas joined him.

When their quiet laughter died out, there was a pause, air stagnant and in its own sleepy haze

“Oh and Dean?”

“Hm?” Dean turned his head to look at him, eyes not failing to glow with their unusually bright, green pigment. He took a deep breath, the lids of his eyes already started to slowly fall back down again.

“The slime wasn't a disaster. You enjoyed it.”

“I did.” He muttered sleepily, a loose smile forming on his lips as he drifted off to sleep. Cas laid there, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, contentment and admiration showing itself in every feature on his face.

This was more than he could have ever wanted.

---

“Dean. Dean wake up.” Cas was excitedly whisper-shouting in his ear like a kid on Christmas morning. It was exactly thirty minutes later, (he had counted), and Cas was ready to get moving.

“No.” He answered back, mimicking Cas’s tone.

“But you’re like a cat.” He teased. “You're on me and I can't get up.”

Dean sighed. “I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”

“It didn't take much convincing.”

Dean rolled over to give Cas a playful glare, but was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, completely throwing him off his guard.

“I'm going to kill Sam for teaching you that.”

Cas just continued to give him that look.

“Fine.” Dean relented, sitting up with a yawn and thinking about how he will now never be able to win another argument.

“Get dressed.” Cas said excitedly. “We're going to Starbucks.”

“Hooray.” He gave a sarcastic laugh, but a smile creeped on his lips.

They walked out of their room together, heading towards the bunker’s library. Dean slid in one of the chairs, turning Sam’s still-open laptop around and waking it up.

Cas, meanwhile, turned to a random page of the lore book resting on the table and started reading in an attempt to pass the time.

The sound of Dean typing filled the air. “So, I just looked it up, and do we have to go to Starbucks?”

“Yes.” Cas said simply, not looking up from the book.

Dean groaned. “Cas there isn't one in the county, let alone Lebanon. That's probably why Sam and Eileen make their own.”

“Where's the closest one?” Cas asked, his blinding, blue eyes glaring at the back of Sam’s computer like he was trying to will the coffee shop to be near.

“I thought it was across state lines and in Nebraska at first, but it looks like there's a small one in a town called Washington. It's about 80 miles from here.”

“Let's go!” Cas excitedly straightened his trenchcoat and headed towards the door.

“Or, we could leave Starbucks to the fourteen year old girls.”

Cas turned back around and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure their entire demographic is fourteen year old girls, staff included.”

Alright, smartass. Dean thought, struggling to hide a smile.

Cas walked out the door, expecting Dean to follow.

“It takes an hour to get there, our coffee’s going to be cold by the time we get home, and it's freezing outside.” Dean muttered under his breath, but he grabbed his keys off the table and stood up, willing to follow Cas to the ends of the earth if it meant he would stay with him.

Not that he was going to enjoy this trip. In fact, he was currently doing the opposite of enjoying, and they hadn’t even gotten into the car yet. Starbucks. Starbucks. Really, Cas? Of all the places he wanted to go, it had to be Starbucks. He couldn’t want to explore humanity through Target or something?

Even Claire wouldn’t be caught dead in that place, with all the frou-frou toppings, elaborate drink mixes, and colourful, drizzled syrup. The people who go to Starbucks are the kind of people who like coffee that doesn’t taste like coffee. Teenage girls who might as well just be drinking whip cream, and that was without considering the seasonal drinks they fawn over.

Seasonal drinks that shouldn’t legally be allowed to be referred to as coffee.

Dean couldn’t believe he ever agreed to this, but still, he begrudgingly followed.

---

Using the GPS on Cas’s phone, (Dean said his insane directional skills helped out too), they found the Starbucks relatively easily once they were in the little town.

They parked the Impala, and Dean looked at the modern building. The green lettering contrasted with the tan plaster walls, spelling “Starbucks.”

He heard Cas get out, his feet making a crunching noise as they hit the gravel, and watched from across the top of the car as he started towards the coffee shop. Dean looked at the building warily, reluctance painted on his face.

Cas was telling him some random fact about a bird he saw, but Dean could only think about his reputation that was about to shatter like a vase dropping on tile floor.

Reputation with who? He didn't know.

Well, he had a vague idea, but chose not to let his thoughts wander that far.

It was okay. This was fine. He could swallow his pride and-

“Ooh. The peppermint mocha looks good.” Cas was reading the limited edition drinks on the drive-thru menu as they traveled across the parking lot.

Dean was going to barf.

They walked into the building, immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of excessive amounts of flavoured syrup indoused coffee. Dean glanced around the well-lit building, taking note of the many different people there.

(He wasn’t about to have any black-eyed minions reporting his Starbucks order to a very judgmental Queen of Hell.)

Cas pushed Dean’s protesting body into the line, looking pleased with the many different options written on the menu overhead.

He enjoyed the small touch of Cas’s hands on his back, moving him forwards to the line, but was grateful Cas was careful not to let them linger there too long.

He was still wary about doing… this, in public.

He knew Cas was patiently waiting for him to be ready, so he didn't know how to tell him that he might never be.

The teenager working the cash register interrupted his train of thought. “What will it be for ya?”

“I would like a peppermint mocha please.”

“Alrighty. And you?”

“I'll take just a black coffee.”

The barista looked unimpressed. “And your names?”

Dean grinned. “John and John.”

“No relation.” Cas added.

The barista just sighed. “How do you want me to differentiate the two of ‘em then?”

“Oh you can put ‘John Bonham’ on mine.” Dean replied.

“Comin’ right up.” Their tone didn't change, still just full of apathy that could only be perfected by the work of a burnt-out teenager.

Dean and Cas walked down to the end of the counter and towards the pickup section. “Now tell me, Castiel.” He stressed his partner’s name. “Who’s John Bonham?”

Cas sighed, but the corner of his mouth upturned in a grin. “John Henry Bohnham, affectionately referred to as ‘Bonzo’, born in 1948 and was most well known for being the drummer of the rock band ‘Led Zeppelin’.”

“Mmm very close, but unfortunately you forgot the word ‘best’ in front of ‘rock band.’” Dean smirked before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

“You should have said I was ‘John Bon Jovi.’” Cas said, smiling.

“Why? Because you’re only good at this sometimes?” Dean closed the gap between them.

As soon as their lips met, Dean pulled away instinctively, realization hitting him like a hunter with a bat as his eyes widened in terror. “I-I'm sorry, I didn’t...” His words faltered as he looked around at the people sitting in the coffee shop, all of which were paying no mind to them.

He felt sick, guilt gnawing at him from a pit in his stomach.

“Hey, it's okay Dean. You know I'm perfectly fine with public displays of affection, and no one else even saw us. There's no need to apologize.”

“Yeah-h.” He said shakily. Before he could figure out who he was apologizing to, a voice from behind the counter called.

“I have an order for a mister ‘John’ and ‘John Bonham’.”

“That's us.” Dean spat the words out quickly, turning around to take them from the barista’s hand. He rushed out of the door, the small tinkling sound of the welcome bell and the blood rushing to his ears drowning out the sound of Cas’s call from behind.

He sat in the front seat of Baby, knowing he was being childish. Dean took a shaky breath and tried not to think about it.

About what the hell he was thinking, kissing Cas out in public like that. The judgemental eyes- black or not- that were watching. He thought about what his father would say, mind instantly going back to a moment in his childhood he has tried to forget since it happened, wondering where he went wrong.

About the time John had caught him and Lee, ignoring the weak excuses Dean was stuttering out. Skipping town faster than they had done in years.

About how the left side of his face had been a yellow-ish purple for weeks following, and the sore spot on his arm from where he caught the pavement as he flew towards it.

About how he had told Sam he just fell on a hunt. “Don't worry kid, you should have seen the vamp when I was done with him.” He swung his fist around in slow motion, pretending to punch an invisible enemy as his little brother giggled in childish bliss.

About how John never looked at him the same. The disgust in his eyes, harsh words on his lips.

About how he vowed to never disappoint his father like that again, and their joint hatred for that part of him. Sometimes it felt like the only thing they could agree on.

About how somewhere, somehow, he had decided Cas was different. That he somehow didn’t count, and that losing him hurt so much, was such an egregious pain, he wanted as much of Cas as he was allowed to have. And how that was something insurmountable stronger than the twisted, sick feeling John had placed in his gut.

He remembered something Cas had told him once: “Hatred isn’t a natural trait, Dean, it’s a learned one. A baby isn’t born with the ability to hate, it’s passed on from one broken soul to another. Love, love however. That’s something different altogether.”

Cas’s hand on his shoulder pulled Dean out of his thoughts. “Hey.” He said softly.

“Hey Cas.”

“I love you.” He got in the passenger's seat, taking his coffee from Dean’s still frozen hand.

“I love you too.” He whispered absentmindedly, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but thoughts from the past. His mind fighting an internal battle, logic telling him that what he had with Cas wasn’t wrong, and even though everything from fate to God had tried to wedge itself between them, it was still the most right thing he had. And he knew that, but his dad’s drunken, booming voice echoed throughout his head, telling him that he was dirty. Telling him the Winchester men had no place for someone like him.

“You better stop that now, boy. Bad things happen to you when you’re weak.”

At the time he had taken that as a warning, rather than a threat. But now Dean wasn’t so sure.

It’s not even that his Dad was particularly religious. He wasn’t told that it was a sin, or that he was going to Hell. Though it’s not like that particular statement would have been wrong. He thought with a bitter laugh.

While the thoughts in his head were screaming mercilessly, the drive home was in a simple silence. The only noise being Cas’s occasional sip, and the sound of soft fabric rubbing against skin as Cas moved his hand in small, comforting motions against Dean's back.

When they got to the bunker, Cas, who was genuinely impressed that Dean managed to drive them home without crashing into a tree, pulled Dean out of the car and gently shook him out of his self-imposed stupor.

“Your coffee's cold.” Cas said with a laugh.

Dean blinked a couple times, clearing the fog from his mind, before laughing along with him. “And who’s fault is that? You were the one who insisted on traveling across the state to get it.”

“Do you want some of mine?” Cas asked. “There's a little bit left, and I held it next to the heater. It should still be lukewarm.”

“No thanks, Cas. I can go make some in the kitchen.”

“But what if I want you to try it?” Dean glared at him. “Don't make me do Sam’s ‘puppy dog eyes’ again.”

“Okay, okay. You win.” He put his hands up, mimicking a surrender. “I'll try some of your stupid, Christmas cookie, candy-cane flavoured coffee thing or whatever.” They started walking towards the entrance to the bunker.

“Peppermint mocha?”

“That's the one.”

Cas laughed at him.

“Oh just, give it here.” Dean said. He took a long sip from the disposable cup. He could taste a vague hint of whipped cream mixed in with the coffee, its light fluffy texture sticking to the last swallow of smooth liquid in the bottom of the cup. The chocolate and espresso rested on his tongue, and the peppermint was strong and refreshing. He took another sip.

“Does that face mean you like it?”

Dean looked at him guiltily. “No.” He opened the bunker’s door and started walking down the metal stairs.

“Yes you do.”

“No, I don't.”

“You took a second sip.”

Dean reached the bottom of the stairs first, and walked over to the War Room table to set both coffee cups and his keys down.

“So? I was trying to make sure I properly understood the flavour. Since when is that a crime?”

“You wanted to properly understand a flavour you didn't like?” Cas walked up to Dean and pulled the nearest chair out to sit down.

“What are you two arguing about this time?” Eileen asked from the library.

Cas clenched both of his hands into fists, putting the right one on top of the other. He made small, circular, stirring motions with his right hand. “Coffee.” He signed swiftly, movements fluid.

“Ah. That makes sense.” She spoke the words.

“What makes sense?” Sam asked, walking in from one of the hallways, making sure Eileen could see his lips before speaking.

“They're arguing over coffee again.”

Sam glanced at both of them, before his eyes reached the two cups on the War Room table.

“Wait a second… Dean?” He looked at his brother, before turning to face his best friend. “Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” Cas answered.

“Did you two go to Starbucks?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” Dean grumbled.

“Yes, we did!” Cas sounded way too excited to be referring to coffee. “I got a peppermint mocha, and Dean tried some and liked it.”

“I did not.”

“I don't care what coffee you like, Dean. What I do care about is that you went all the way to Starbucks, and didn't bother to ask if we wanted to come.”

“Not cool Dean.” Eileen walked in, shaking her head and hiding a smile.

“I might have thought about buying you two drinks, but there was no way I was ordering yours with a straight face.” He looked at Sam. “And it's an hour away, they wouldn't have been hot or cold or whatever they're supposed to be by the time we got here.”

“Well then we'll just have to go back, all four of us.” Eileen put simply.

“It's an hour away.”

“We know.” Sam added.

“Let me say that again, in case you weren’t listening. It's an hour away. For coffee. That isn't even that good.”

“I beg to differ, Dean.” Cas said.

“Yeah I'm definitely with Cas on this one.” Eileen agreed while Sam nodded along.

“No. There's no way I'm getting back in Baby to drive all the way to Starbucks again.”

“Fine. We’ll go get our own.”

“With what car?” Dean said, very sure of himself.

Sam snatched Baby’s keys off the war room table, which in hindsight was probably something Dean should have expected.

“Let's hope Sam doesn't have too many shots of espresso.” Eileen said, faking concern. “I would hate for your baby to pay the price.”

“Fine. I'll drive you.” Dean grumbled while Eileen double fist-pumped her win.

Cas looked very pleased with the thought of getting to try more coffee.

---

They left shortly after, the drive over painful for everyone except Dean, who listened to the same four songs on repeat the entire hour.

(It’s their own fault, really.)

---

“Can we please listen to something other than Bob Seger on the trip home?” Sam complained as he slammed shut the door to Baby’s backseat.

“You’re just mad you didn’t get shotgun.” Dean said, closing his own door. “Besides, driver picks the music, everyone else shuts their cakehole.” Sam mouthed the words along with Dean, having heard the speech a million times before.

Eileen and Cas got out, neither one of them had any desire to input on their squabble, and were instead engaged in their own, quieter discussion.

Both brothers continued to argue until they walked into the Starbucks.

“Ah. There's the scent of overpriced coffee I missed.” Eileen joked as she took her first breath inside the building, using her hand to waft the smell towards her.

“What are you getting?” Cas asked Sam.

“I want my usual, and Eileen, what are you having?”

“Hot chocolate with espresso shots please. This place doesn't sell liquor.” She shook her head sadly and Sam laughed. “Good thing I brought my own.” She winked at them, opening her jacket just enough so they could see the inside pocket and showing off her flask.

“Oh, now that would be a Starbucks I would go to.” Dean said.

“You two wait in line.” Sam pointed to Cas and Dean. “We’ll save a table.”

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but they walked away before he had the chance. Cas leaned over towards him. “Don't worry. I'll order Sam’s.” He very conspicuously winked.

Dean smiled at his attempts of regular human interaction, before over-the-top winking himself.

“Can you order for us? I need to talk to Sam about something.”

“Sure thing…” Cas had to think before finishing his sentence. “...buckaroo.”

Dean outwardly cringed. “Keep trying, you'll get there eventually.” He patted Cas on the back, which was slightly moving in a chuckle.

It was good to see Cas filled with so much simple joy. Face creased from laughter rather than stress, he seemed so much lighter. Happier. It was only a small sliver of what he deserved, but it was something. Maybe he could live with driving an hour to get what he assumed was half-decent coffee.

“What would you like?” Cas asked him, eyes still filled with a sparkle that only comes from gaining something you thought you lost.

“Uh.” He thought about it for a moment, almost considering branching out into the unexplored terrain that was the dark green menu with small, white text, before shuddering at the thought.

“I think I'll take that expensive black coffee I didn't get earlier.”

Dean was not going to turn into one of those people, if he had any say about it.

Cas walked into the line, leaving Dean to scan the room, furiously waving Sam over when his eyes found their booth.

“Sam.” He sounded like he was trying to whisper, but his volume raised far higher than that. The patron closest to Dean gave him a look before turning back to their work.

“Sam, come here, it's urgent.” His brother turned to look at him, rolling his eyes before getting out of the booth.

“What do you want?” He said once he reached Dean.

“Sam. Help. What do I do?”

“About what?”

“About what kind of coffee Cas is having.”

“Oh god, Dean let it go. He's not going to only ever drink black coffee. Contrary to popular belief, former angels do actually have souls.”

Dean ignored the implications that he didn't have a soul, too distracted by Cas. “But look.” He motioned his head towards where Cas was standing, next in line to order. “He’s eyeing the weird fruity drinks.”

“Dean. It's Cas. The man’s favorite food is PB&J. What did you expect him to have, taste?”

“Alright that's rich coming from mister Pinkity Drinkity or whatever the fuck.”

“You walked into a Starbucks and ordered black coffee, I don't think I'm the wrong one here.”

“Wait, wait. Shut up. Quiet.” He hit Sam on the shoulder in a childish attempt at getting him to stop talking so he could listen.

“Ow. That hurt.” Sam muttered, before turning to watch Cas, which Dean was already doing.

“I would like to try a…” Cas methodically scanned the menu again. “A ‘Passion Tango Iced Tea,’ please.” The barista took no mind to the excessive air quotes.

“It's not even coffee.” Dean said to Sam, clearly distraught. He turned to look back at Cas.

“And your name sir?”

“Lizzo.”

Dean threw his arms up into the air. “I can't believe this is the man I love.” His voice cracked like he was holding in tears of anguish from listening to Cas order.

Sam just rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Right, and he’s the dramatic one.

“Aw. You're in love.” Sam held his hands up, forming a heart and mocking his brother.

“Oh shut up. What are you, seven?”

“Is Cas your gay thing?”

“You shut your mo-”

“What are we gossiping about?” Eileen whispered, cutting Dean off and causing them both to jump.

“We're not gossiping.” Sam said indignantly.

“Sam started it.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“This is where I call you two ‘asshats’, right?”

“It's ‘assbutt.’” Cas said, walking up to them and catching the tail end of their conversation. “And that's my line.”

Cas handed them each their drinks, before excitedly trying his own. He put the plastic cup up to his mouth, almost missing the straw. When he swallowed the cranberry-colored liquid, his face relaxed in pleasure.

“I know this one isn't coffee, but it's really good.”

“We didn't get coffee either.” Eileen said. “So don't worry, Dean's the odd man out here.”

Dean glared at her before trying his own coffee, and well, it was coffee. The point of buying expensive caffeine still went straight over his head.

The four of them went over to their thankfully-still-available booth and sat down. Dean and Cas sat on one side, both instinctively choosing the side that faced the door, with Sam and Eileen sliding into the seats directly across from them. They sat there, talking about nothing in particular, and certainly nothing of importance, before falling into the natural art of storytelling.

Aside from killing monsters, that’s what hunters did best. Sitting around and sharing stories. As tiring and dangerous as their lives were, some hunts were worth sharing exaggerated and hyperbolic versions of, especially over drinks.

Sam’s favourite story to tell changed every time, and one would almost be inclined to believe that most of it wasn't real, but the wildest parts also caused the most merriment. (Dean pretended he hadn’t witnessed the whole thing, sparing Sam by not telling the other two how it actually went down.)

Eileen shared of her time in Ireland. “Foreign country, foreign monsters.” She said with a wink, telling of creatures neither Sam nor Dean had even read about.

Dean’s favourite story to tell, aside from the fact that he killed Hitler, was the time he got to solve a mystery with everyone’s favorite talking dog. And yeah, all three of the people that sat at the table had heard both many times before, but that didn't matter, it was still enrapturing to hear them again.

Cas had millenniums to choose from, but always found the most interesting hunts to be the ones with the Winchesters. He also had many hilarious stories about his adventures with Crowley, but he was less fond of those.

“I remember once, Dean went on a hunt with Dad.” Sam started. “Nasty vampire, it got a hit or two on Dean. I think you guys went with another hunter. Young. About your age, actually. Uh…”

He snapped his fingers, trying to recall the name. “Lee. That's it.” Dean looked up from the coffee right as Sam said it. “Do you remember him?”

Something flashed in Dean’s eyes, but his brother didn't seem to notice.

Cas, who was used to admiring every minute detail of Dean's expression and posture, didn't miss the ever so slight, yet sharp, inhale. Or the way he swallowed before speaking, trying to clear the small lump from his throat.

Dean noticed too, internally rolling his eyes at his own reaction.

“Yeah it's been a while, but I remember him.” Dean was blatantly ignoring Cas’s burning stare from beside him, and the fact that he had stabbed Lee through the chest just last year.

Cas made sure no one was watching before gently placing a hand on Dean’s thigh. Knowing it would comfort him from both intuition and experience. Dean stiffened under the touch, but after realizing no one could see where Cas’s hand was, he visibly relaxed.

“What happened to him?” Eileen asked innocently.

“Oh uh, a hunt I think. Most of us go that way, I assume he was no different.” Technically Dean dealt the final blow, but it was the entrancing call of the monster, greed, and the life Lee and Dean had both secretly wanted, that caused his former-friend’s downfall in the end.

“Yeah.” Sam said solemnly, suddenly lost in his own thoughts, most of which were riddled with grief.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of their many losses wash over them like a tidal wave.

One made of espresso and milk rather than the rough waters of the sea.

---

The ride back was more manageable, Dean allowing them one song choice each, complete with a warning to pick wisely.

(They all very cheekily chose the songs they knew would bother Dean the most.)

---

Full on coffee, cookies Dean bought for them at Starbucks, and brimming with contentment, (as well as the fact that they spent half the day in the car), Cas suggested to Dean that they “hit the hay” as they stepped back into the bunker.

They laid there in silence, breathing in scents of comfort, coffee, and each other, until Cas eventually drifted off to sleep.

Dean, however, continued to lay there. Thinking.

He remembered the first solo case John sent him on.

Something curled inside his gut.

They had been two nuns, their fate a product of hate crime. Put to death for simply being themselves.

Dean didn't blame them for coming back as ghosts.

He remembered the words - ones he would soon learn were slurs - that John would spit out like acid.

Or offhandedly toss like they didn't bear enough weight to shatter the window of a person's self-image.

It had taken him almost forty years to realize that very same window inside of him was in sharp, jagged pieces. Cutting anyone and everyone who came near.

It had taken Cas dying to start picking them up again.

He turned to look at the man next to him, relaxed and blissfully sleeping. His chest moved up and down rhythmically, and Dean slowed his breath to match until he fell into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.

---

When Dean woke up, the other side of his bed was cold.

He didn't panic, knowing full well that Cas probably ran to the bathroom, or was pouring another mountain of sugar in his coffee.

Losing Cas again to the Empty had ripped him apart, but months of spending every night with his partner left him with less nightmares and waking in cold sweats then he had since before Hell.

Dean also learned that his own presence was enough to fight off the demons of solid, black goo that plagued Cas’s head at night.

He was finally starting to understand why life seemed to lose all meaning when Cas was gone, and from there he could slowly start to rebuild both of them.

Dean heard soft padding noises as socked feet walked down the hall, and there was a knock on the bedroom door. "S'your room too, Cas. You don't have to knock." He laughed, words slightly slurred from just waking up

Cas walked in, wielding two mugs of coffee and a proud look shining in his eyes. “I made us coffee.” He said triumphantly, handing one of the mugs to Dean.

“I put chocolate and peppermint in your coffee.”

Dean fake-gasped. “You monster. Ruining the integrity of my drink like that.”

“I'm a human, you ass.” Cas responded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, I know you liked mine yesterday.”

“I did not.” He said, discontentedly crossing his arms. “I only drink coffee that's as black as my soul. Darker than the night sky. Hotter than the bunker’s computer when it overheats. As manly as-”

“Oh, just drink your damn coffee.”

“Fine.” He groused. “But I'm not enjoying it.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at him, before setting his mug on the bedside table and sitting down behind Dean. The bed creaked underneath him as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “Is this why you and Sam never use umbrellas?” He joked.

Dean laughed.

Cas rested his head on the crook of Dean’s neck and whispered. “You know you don't have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?” Dean asked softly.

“You know.”

“That I don’t like flavoured coffee?” He said with a snort.

“Sort of.” Cas hugged him tighter. “No one’s going to think any less of you Dean. You’re allowed to like the things you like.”

“I know.” He resigned.

“John isn't here anymore.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” The words barely came out as a whisper, hot tears betraying Dean’s eyes as they silently leaked out and ran down his cheeks.

He tried to wipe the tears away, hearing his Dad’s voice in his head and knowing he was being stupid.

Dean couldn't help but think of himself as a small, living-room window, from an old, dilapidated house. Stained yellow with age. Cracking from wear.

He let the drumming of his Dad’s words in his head be drowned out by Cas’s voice.

He couldn't unwrap the fuzz from around him, so he didn't know what Cas was saying, ears seemingly filled with cotton. It was just the knowledge alone that he was there. That he was holding him and whispering comforting words into his ear. That even as a human he could heal Dean at his lowest points, and still see him as the brightest, strongest, soul.

You don't really know what a picture is going to be until it's done.

Maybe that window is a beautiful stained-glass portrait.

“Uh.” Dean cleared his throat. “What-what do you have?” He indicated Cas’s coffee by angling his head towards where it sat on the nightstand.

“I made iced coffee.”

Dean just looked at him, astounded, eyes widening. “You mean it’s not hot?”

“Yes, that's where the ‘iced’ in ‘iced coffee’ comes from.” He said very seriously.

They both sat in silence for the next hour, peacefully drinking their coffee and enjoying the presence of one another.

---

When they got out of bed and ventured into the rest of the bunker, they found Sam and Eileen in the library.

They were sitting in adjacent chairs, with Eileen laying her head on Sam’s shoulder and reaching for her water bottle on the table. They were reading a book together, but Eileen shook Sam indicating she had seen them walk in.

“Goodmorning.” She greeted cheerfully.

“Mornin’.” Dean pulled up a chair across from them, and watched as Cas did the same.

“What are you two reading?” Cas asked.

“The Men of Letters’s Bestiary.” Sam said.

Dean snorted. “Ah. Doing a little light reading are we?”

“We're thinking about filling in some of the pages.” Eileen added.

“Yeah, for all of the stuff they have here, it's surprisingly empty.” Sam continued flipping through some of the pages, most of which were blank.

“Heh. I should put you in that thing, Cas.”

Cas let out a laugh. “Right. Because I’m a good example of an angel.” The sarcasm was masking something else in his voice.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve always been my favourite angel.” Dean only realised how sappy he sounded after it came out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rest of them are dicks.” Eileen added.

Cas smiled at that, seemingly back to normal.

“Right, well you three can do that, I'm off to the Dean Cave.”

“Or…” Sam started.

“We could go back to Starbucks.” Cas finished, nodding his head enthusiastically.

“Yeah... that's not where I was going with that, but I like where your head’s at, Cas. We should definitely go back.”

“Eileen?” He asked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Dean?”

Dean pressed his mouth into a thin line and glared at him. “Yes, sure, fine. But we're not making this a daily thing.”

“That's fair.” Cas agreed. “It's probably not very healthy.”

He went to grab his wallet and keys before Sam could start his speech on the nutritional value of green things, and Eileen snatched her water bottle off the library table as they all got up to leave.

---

Dean gave up on letting them choose the music after snickering and requesting “Friday” by Rebecca Black for the third time in a row.

(It wasn't even Friday?)

---

Dean stepped out and closed Baby’s door in the parking lot of Starbucks an hour later, kicking the loose pieces of gravel on the asphalt for the third time in two days.

“We might as well just live here.” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I wouldn't make that offer if I were you, Cas looks like he’d be totally on board.” Sam laughed.

Cas went and stood beside Dean as they started walking towards the building, smiling.

“What?” Dean asked, question genuine and free of all malice.

“Nothing.” Cas answered, smile not faltering.

His eyes revealed nothing but pure devotion for the man he was staring at. A silent promise, one without pressure, that he would be standing there, and Dean could take the leap anytime he wanted.

Dean was slowly inching towards the end of the diving board.

---

“I think I'll just drink my water.”

“Oh that's exciting.” Sam joked. “If I got you a lemon to go with it, would you be able to handle that?”

“Don't talk to me about my drink, when yours is a vivid green puke colour.”

“Hey, at least it actually has a colour. And a flavour at that.”

Dean couldn’t believe those words were coming from the same man who drinks exactly a hundred and one ounces of water a day. (Which, according to Sam, is the recommended amount for males, as stated by the Institute of Medicine.)

(Dean didn’t care.)

“Fine then.” She turned to look at Dean. “Get me the strongest thing on the menu.”

Dean laughed before turning to Cas. “Let's just go get in line before we suffer at the hands of the Leahy like Sam.”

Sam and Eileen went to look for a place where they could all sit again, playfully bickering the entire way.

While he was standing in line with Cas, Dean looked over at his brother, and found him and Eileen sitting at a small table in the corner.

Cas was still helping him learn ASL, so he caught parts of their conversation.

“If Jack is in every drop of rain, do you think he's in your water?” Sam signed, trying to contain his laughter.

Eileen pushed her water away with a look of disgust. “You’re lucky I love you.” She answered back.

“I know I am.”

He watched her silently laugh before turning back to look at Cas.

They really did have it good, didn't they?

“What are you ordering, Dean?”

Dean stood there silently, contemplating. He internally weighed his pros and cons, mind leaving the menu entirely. While there was still a lot of shit he had to work through, (shit he had been actively not working out his entire life), there wasn’t much of a decision to be made.

He would always choose Cas.

“You know what?” He reached out and grasped Cas’s hand firmly. “I was thinking about being less boring. What ingredients do you suggest I try?”

Cas smiled warmly, reaching the crinkled corners of his eyes. “They have a cinnamon flavoured one. That’ll be almost like apple pie.”

“Will it really?” Dean’s tone was dismissive, but there was a smile on his face.

“Yes, Sam told me.“

“Not that I trust Sam’s judgment, but okay, I think I’ll take one of those.”

“I'm going to have a real pumpkin spice latte this time.” Cas seemed very pleased with the aspect of buying something they could make it home, but Dean wasn't going to fault him for it.

The patron in front of them finished ordering, clearing the way for Cas and Dean. The barista from the first time they went caught sight of them and made a face. “Wait a minute. I think I know you two.”

“Yes, we came here yesterday.” Cas helped. “Well, we actually visited twice, but you weren't working the second time.”

“Right... John and John, how could I forget?”

“This time we're ordering for four though.”

“I would like a…” Dean squinted at the menu, looking for the cinnamon flavoured coffee. “‘Cinnamon Dolce Latte.’ And my devilishly handsome friend here will take the pumpkin spice version.”

“And what are the other two drinks and names?”

Dean whispered something in Cas’s ear. “I'll drink the coffee, but I won't budge on this one.”

“That's okay Dean, you’ll get there eventually.” He whispered back.

The barista looked unimpressed with them. Again.

Dean cleared his throat. “Ahem, sorry. The tall one with the stupidly long hair,” he pointed towards Sam, “is getting…” he trailed off before looking to Cas for help.

“I don't know, man. It was something sickly looking. Cold? Green? Possibly tea?”

“And Iced Green Tea Latte?” The barista suggested.

“That's the one. His name is Jimmy.”

“And the lovely lady sitting next to him would like the strongest drink you have. Her name is Robert.”

“Her name is Robert…?” He slowly pointed towards Eileen, sounding unsure of himself.

Or them.

“Yup.” Cas said.

Eileen gave a little wave from across the room.

He gritted his teeth in a very clearly fake smile. “Coming right up.”

They paid for their coffee and picked it up, taking the travel cups across the room and towards Sam and Eileen.

Cas took a sip from his pumpkin spice latte, gleefully smiling. “As much as I like trying different drinks, I think I might start just getting this one. It's my favourite.”

Sam leaned over to Dean, neither one taking their eyes off of Cas. “Should we tell him the drink is seasonal?” He glanced at Sam, before staring back at his partner, whose face was beaming like a literal ray of sunshine.

Dean’s face softened. “Nah. Let’s not ruin his moment.” He took a sip of his cinnamon coffee and damn, it was delicious.

Nothing at all like apple pie, but still delicious.

Cas walked over to him, making eye contact in a silent question. Dean nodded with a small smile, and Cas took his hand.

“I love you.” Cas whispered.

“I love you too.” He whispered back.

They didn’t whisper to hide, and it wasn't because he was ashamed. It was because that exchange was just for them.

Dean leaned in and softly kissed Cas.

Now that was to tell everyone in the shop that his devilishly handsome friend was spoken for.

Slowly, the sun would come out and shine through the stained-glass window, shadow portraying the picture of an angel.

And alright, fine, Dean could admit that he enjoyed the peppermint mocha.

He thought about it for a moment, before giving a light chuckle, realising something.

“What?” Cas asked, turning to look at him with a soft smile resting on his face.

“Nothing.” Dean whispered, squeezing Cas’s hand in his. He took a sip from his coffee, relishing in the warm and cozy flavour enrapturing his tongue.

He was only thinking that maybe, just maybe,

Cas had changed him too.

---

Bonus Epilogue:

Dean held the glass door open for the other three, and they all walked out onto the asphalt, laughing, and making their way towards Baby.

The street lamp overhead flickered, and all four of them froze.

“Did anyone happen to get the salted caramel macchiato?” Dean whispered.

---

-This fic on Ao3 (Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.)

-Writing Tag

-Ao3

-Request fics/drabbles/ficlets. (Please)

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years

Note

Fandom racism anon here and yeah absolutely (I didn't realise I had anon on lol)

Because while LOTR has problems within its themes (ie the orcs can be seen as to be coded as people of colour, especially since they ride elephants) the explicit message of the book is evil bad

Because the only people who work for sauron are evil. There are no morally grey people, they aren't misguided or tricked they just are evil and want to take over the world

And yeah I totally agree that this is more of a literal take on like empirical war (is that the word) and that makes total sense considering Tolkiens history

Whereas I would say that the allegories in shaowhunters is way more based on racial conflict within a country itself especially slavery, I can't remember if this is show Canon but is it that they have the warlock tropheys? I remember that in the books magnus talks about shadowhunters hanging warlock marks on their walls? (sorry to bring the books up)

Idk it's very hollow to me, unlike with LOTR though it's a different allegory it's totally irritating to show many of these supremecists as morally misled. LOTR says bad guys are bad guys, shadowhunters says well yeah they did follow a guy which thinks that downworlders are subhuman and should be eradicated but they just made a mistake

I want to compare this to tfatws which while it isn't really fantasy I just feel like it shows how the priorities of the writer can impact the message of the show so powerfully (I know u aren't up to date so I'm gonna be pretty vague)

There's a scene in tfatws where the new white perfect captain America does something bad and doesn't pay for the consequences - done to comment on white privelege and how America condones white supremacy and how Sam is in comparison to that

Mayrse and Robert revealed to be part of the circle! And paid no consequences Shock horror my parents were the bad guys (even rho they were either implicitly or explicitly extremely racist the entire time) also I haven't finished the seires but do the lightwoods ever try to get their parents to face the consequences?)

Only one actual really critiques the situation and the reality behind it whereas the other one is just to centre the white characters once again and present them in a further sympathetic light

AND ANOTHER THING! I was mostly talking about show Canon here and I'm sorry to bring up the books but I literally can't believe I hadn't picked up in this before.

So like downworlders = people of colour, Simon is a vampire so is coded as a person of colour. However in the books in the last one he stops being a vampire and becomes a shadowhunters instead, coincidentally that's also when he starts dating Izzy HOW IS THIS ABLE TO HAPPEN!!????

I mean I know cassandra clare is lazy right? The original seires is by far the worst of all her writings but come ON!!!!! By the allegory has he become the white man!????? These books made no fuckin sense when I read them at 15 and they make no sense now I'm digressing anyways

I don't know man I wrote this ask because I was trying to find some fantasy book recommendations on booktube and SO MANY of them were about slavery or general ly extrême préjudice with à White protagonist to save this 'poor souls'.

Also I was watching guardians of the galexy the other day and realised nearly every movie set in space is just bigger stakes imperialism - planets instead of countries. Literally star wars, star trek, guardians of the galexy 2, avengers infinity war - all are facing genocidal imperialistic villains without actually paying much, if any attention to those effected

Just writing this ask made me exhausted I'm so tired of lazy writing and exploiting other people's struggle. I'm white and I'm trying to be more critical about the movies, shows and books I watch and read but let me know if I said something off here❤️❤️ you gotta get up to date with tfatws man, Sambucky nation is THRIVING!!!!

i'm not sure i agree that the whole "the evil people are evil" thing is a good thing, because i feel like more often than not making the bad characters just like... unidimensionally evil just means that the reader will be like "lol i could NEVER be that guy" and when it comes to racism that is a dangerous road to take because white people already believe that racism is something that Only The Most Evil People, Ergo, Not Me, Can Do, which makes discussions of stuff like subconscious racial bias and active antiracist work become more difficult because people don't believe they CAN be racist unless they're like, Lord Voldemort

which is not to say that racism should be treated as morally ambiguous, just that the workings of racism should be represented as something that is not done only by the Most Hardcore And Evil, but rather as a part of a system of oppression that affects the way everyone sees the world and interacts with it and lives in it

yes the warlock trophies are mentioned in the show, albeit very quickly (there is a circle member who tells magnus that his cat eyes will make "a nice addition to his collection" and then it's never mentioned again because this is sh and we love using racism for shock value but then not actually treating it as a serious plot point or something that affects oppressed ppl). and you are absolutely right, shadowhunters (and hp, and most fantasy books) has genocide as its core conflict and treats it, like you said, in a very hollow way, treating racism as both not a big deal and not something that is part of a system of oppression, but really the actions of a few Very Bad People. it's almost impressive how they manage to do both at the same time tbh

i think you hit the nail right on the head with this comment, actually. for most of these works, racism is SHOCK VALUE. it's just like "lol isn't it bad that this bad guy wants to kill a gazillion people just because they are muggles? now that is fucked up" but it's not actually an issue. in fact, when this guy is defeated, the whole problem is over! racism is not something that is embedded into that world, it's not a systemic issue, it's not even actually part of what drives the plot. the things that led to this person not only existing but rising to power and gathering enough followers to be a real threat to the whole world are never mentioned. it's like racists are born out of thin air, which is dangerously close to implying that racism is just a natural part of life, tbh

anyway my point is, it is never supposed to be questioned, it is never part of a deeper plot or story, its implications are barely addressed except for a few fleeting comments them and there; so, it's not a critique, it's shock value, even though it is frequently disguised as a critique (which is always empty and shallow anyway. like what is the REAL critique in works like hp or sh/tsc other than "genocide is bad"? wow such a groundbreaking take evelyn)

about simon and the book thing: i actually knew about this and the weird thing about this is that, like... simon is jewish, and he's implied to be ashkenazi (calls his grandma bubbe which is yiddish, which is a language spoken by the ashkenazi ppl), and it seems like cc is always toeing the line between him being accepted by shadowhunters and then not accepted by them, which sounds a lot like antisemitic tropes and history of swinging between (ashkenazi) jewish ppl being seen as the model minority myth and thus used as an example by white christians, and being hated and persecuted. i'm not super qualified to talk about this since i'm not jewish and i'm still learning about/unlearning antisemitism and its tropes, and i don't really have a fully formed thought on that, tbh; it just reminds me of the whole "model minority" swinging, where one second simon is part of the majority, the other he's not, but always he is supposed to give up a part of himself and his identity in other to be "assimilated" by shadowhunter culture. this article (link) covers a book on jewish people and assimilationism into USan culture, this article (link) covers british jews' relationship with being considered an ethnic group, and this article (link) talks a bit about the model minority myth from the perspective of an asian jewish woman

it just really calls to my attention that cc chose to make her ashkenazi jewish character start off as a downworlder and then become a shadowhunter. i don't think she made that decision as a conscious nod to this history, because it would require being informed on antisemitism lol but it's incredible how you can always see bigoted stereotypes shining through her narrative choices completely by accident. it just really shows how ingrained it is in our collective minds and culture

and anyway, making a character go from the oppressed group to just suddenly become the oppressor is just. wtf. not how oppression works, but most of all, really disrespectful, especially because she clearly treats it as an "upgrade"/"glowup" that earns him the Love Of His Life

also, out of curiosity, are you french? it seems like your autocorrect changed a few words and i'm pretty sure extrême and préjudice are the french versions of these words, and since u said ur white, that's where my money would be lol

#anti cc #anti tsc #anti tmi #anti sh #racism tw #antisemitism tw #reference #ask #residenthottiesamwilson

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friendofspidermannedleeds · 3 years

Text

2020 overview: writing edition

Tagged by the loveliest and kindest of friends, @momentofmemory.

I’m not tagging anyone because I’ve not been around and am sure most have done this by now, but if you’re reading this and you’ve not been tagged and would like to participate please say I tagged you! <3

1. List of works published this year

The Kid Really is Smitten (Peter & Happy, Peter/MJ. 233) Nightmares and New Beginnings (May & Peter. 733) Normal Teenager Stuff (May & Peter. 5+1, 1.8k) Breaking a Promise (May & Peter, May & Tony. 3.3k) Carry Me (Morgan & Happy. 1.2k)

Fictober 2020 Series * Works around 1k+ include: Somebody to Talk To (May & Karen. 1.8k) Fireproof (Happy & Peter. 904) Flight Conversation (MJ & Peter. 967) Incalculable Worth (Ben & Peter. 2.8k) Regrets (May & Peter. 1.2k) A Nice Peaceful Afternoon (Mr. Harrington and the AcaDec kids. 3k)

Knowing (Peter/MJ, May & MJ. 2.5k) Forever Ours (May & Peter, May/Ben. 3.8k) 2. Work you are most proud of (and why)

I think it would have to be Incalculable Worth from my Fictober series. I’m forever disappointed in the Ben Parker erasure of the MCU and had been wanting to give him the respect he deserves. Most of this fic came to me much more quickly than my typical writing inspo (that Fictober deadline magic!), and even though I still have things I might change about the final product, I’ve never been so pleased with a fic’s result and reception. Several lovely people stumbled across this fic on Ao3 and left kind comments about how moved they were, which makes me think that I did what I set out to do!

3. Work you are least proud of (and why)

This would be Nightmares and New Beginnings. I just think it’s weird. I was so new to fic when I wrote it and was feeling experimental one night. I normally write quite slowly and edit a lot, but the idea for this one came to me after midnight and I published the fic before 2am. I hated it when I woke up and nearly deleted it. Two months later, as I was beginning to post Fictober on Ao3, I almost deleted it once again. The words of one extremely kind commenter saved it from destruction, however, so it’s still there!

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing

This is going to be hard for me because I don’t actually enjoy my writing for its composition! I like the concepts and character interactions a lot but I’m not terribly proud of my actual writing ability yet. 😬

My favorite thing I’ve written lately is the ending to Forever Ours, my new fic about May and Ben adopting Peter, but I don’t want to put it here because it might be a very minor spoiler.

So here’s a little section of Trust, my last Fictober ficlet. I liked it because May’s inner turmoil over Peter’s Spider-Man life is one of my absolute favorite things to write about.

What troubles her most is this: whatever is out there, whoever he’s fighting—they won’t know he is fifteen. That he’s a child. That he loves Legos, and Star Wars, and science puns, and Mathletes. But what can she say?

He’s not asking for permission. He’ll do this no matter what she says, and they both know it.

He is asking for her blessing.

5. Share or describe a favourite review you received

This review meant so much to me! This lovely commenter read multiple May and Ben Parker fics and it was so nice to find that I’m not the only one who wants more of the Parker family than what we get in the MCU. It made me feel like my niche writing wasn’t of interest to me and me alone after all. :)

6. A time when writing was really, really hard

Halfway through Fictober, I lost one of the most important people in my life. It was devastating. Writing was nice about 90% of the time, and actually a nice distraction that helped me take a break from the grief. But sometimes it wasn’t, sometimes it felt impossible, and that was when I’d just skip writing or posting and wait until it would serve me again. (So I finished Fictober a little later than I wanted to, but I have 0 regrets about that.)

7. A scene of characters you wrote that surprised you

I only wrote one thing that wasn’t an MCU Spidey fic, and that was Carry Me with Morgan and Happy. I wasn’t expecting to write it at all, and it’s not one of my favorite finished fics, but I really enjoyed the process.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year

I grew by writing fic for the first time! My job for the majority of this year involved a lot of nonfiction copywriting, so I’m an experienced writer, but I had no idea what writing would be like outside my “professional life.” I’m glad I tried it!

9. How do you hope to grow next year

I’m hoping to finish and publish a longer (for me) fic! I’m currently working on Penance, a fic about MCU Spidey’s origins and Uncle Ben’s influence. It should be at least 6-7k by the time I’m finished. I know that is actually short, but I haven’t even cracked 4k yet 😂 Longer fics stress me out because I don’t feel confident enough in my ability to tie together so many words, and I also can’t come up with plots to save my life. So this will be a stretch for me and I am looking forward to it!

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta of cheerleader or muse etc. etc.)

This is, without question, @momentofmemory. For so many reasons. (Sorry in advance for how rambly this will get, my friend.)

Mem’s writing (particularly this May fic that is perfection and no I will never stop rec’ing it til the day I die thank you) is to blame/thank for getting me into fic in the first place. I’d been here in the Spidey fandom on Tumblr but I didn’t trust fanfic because I’d seen my most beloved characters shoved to the side/killed off in too many stories. I began 2020 hating all fanfic tbh. But then I read Mem’s captivating masterpieces (like this, the greatest one-shot!) and opened my heart to fic that celebrates the worlds I love!

Mem is the kindest human ever. She read ALL of my Fictober works and left the kindest comments that made my heart soar. Knowing that my favorite author had taken the time to read all of that motivated me to write more than anything else has this year!

Sometimes, when I was trying to write fic but felt burned out or uninspired, I’d go and read Mem’s writing. Her prose is divine, her dialogue is realistic, her characters and their relationships are so well thought-out--her work inspires me! I’d read it and feel excited by the ways that we can use our words to create beautiful things, and though I’m not anywhere near her level, I do think that reading her work has made me a better writer.

Bonus positive influence: @i-lovethatforme! Jess, thank you for being the world’s best cheerleader, for being endlessly kind and supportive, and for being my first ever beta in November. I go back and read your wonderful comments whenever I’m doubting myself. You’re an absolute gem and ilysm ❤

11. Anything from real life show up in your writing this year?

Yep. Regrets is about grief, and I was grieving pretty heavily when I wrote it. Peter’s regrets didn’t necessarily mirror mine, but writing it was still a cathartic experience.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers

Write what you want to write! Since I don’t do IronDad or smut, I wasn’t sure if anyone in the MCU Spidey fandom would be interested in my work. I thought briefly about trying to write based on what I thought people would read, but I decided against it. I enjoy writing platonic friendships and family fic more than anything else, so that’s what I publish most. I write what I want to write, and it’s made me so happy!

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year?

I have a few things I’m excited about! I’ve got some Spideychelle ficlets that might be a series. They’ll focus on Peter and MJ after coming back from The Blip, featuring MJ trying to ignore her crush and Peter developing a crush. The other is Penance, the MCU Spidey origins/Ben Parker story.

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year

I think I’d say Knowing, my fic about Peter/MJ that’s more about MJ & May bonding. I just love these two women with all my heart, and I’m proud of the way this one turned out because I think it honors both of them pretty solidly.

15. End of Year word count

36,625 words! It’s not a lot in comparison to other writers but it’s a huge accomplishment for me!

#love u mem #thanks for the tag #<3 #tag games #tag game #my fic #2020 recap

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jasmine2042003 · 4 years

Text

Beware the Spirits of the Vengeful ~ pt 2

So the reception of the first chapter was pretty good so I started writing the second part! I am hoping to drag this out as long as I can, hopefully making it a ten to twenty part series... Anyway, I hope you enjoy! xxx

part 1 /

_________________________

Ten Years Ago~

3rd Person pov

Happy giggles filled the garden as (y/n) sat watching the birds and the squirrels, smiling widely as they ran up to her and dropped nuts and berries on her lap. Creatures seemed to do this often with (y/n), as well as her mother (m/n). Residents of Beacon Hills would often see the pair walking around town or the park with big smiles on their faces, hands intertwined and a trail of woodland critters scuttling behind them.

Of course, it had been months since anyone had seen the two, (y/n) being taken out of public school early and (m/n) stuck in a hospital bed. “(y/n),” A calm voice was heard from inside the house, the little girl turned around, continuing to giggle as there was a sparrow nesting in her hair. “Lunch is ready sweetheart!” The (h/c) girl lifted her hand as the sparrow fluttered onto her finger, lifting her hand further, the bird then fluttered from her finger to the birdhouse before she ran into the house for lunch.

“Hi, Lissa!” (y/n) practically shouted as she rushed into the kitchen and into the arms of the awaiting Melissa McCall. The woman smiled and hoisted the girl into her arms. (y/n) was rewarded with a kiss on the forehead and a sandwich and the two of them watched as (y/n)’s father came through the front door, a grim look on his face.

“Dad!” The young girl cried, running up to her father and circling his legs. Her father tried to smile and looked over at Melissa with an even darker look. The woman covered her mouth in shock and realisation of the event that had transpired. Tears began to fill her eyes as she grabbed her purse, stroked the girl’s hair, hugged the distraught widower and swiftly left the now broken household.

“Hi pumpkin,” (d/n) began shakily, holding his daughter close to his chest, “Come sit down darling, I need to tell you something.” He said, tears filling his eyes as he looked at his precious baby who looked so similar to his precious wife. His precious (m/n) who was due to be added to the (l/n) mausoleum in a week.

Present day~

3rd Person pov

The Library of Beacon Hills High School was quiet, for the most part. Other than the crowd of teenage boys trying to get a look at the new girl, the tall teen werewolf and said new girl and the two boys following her. Whilst (y/n) and Isaac huddled close in front of a textbook as he tutored her, Scott and Stiles were hiding behind nearby bookshelves trying to get a peek at the girl and compare her to some pictures they’d found.

“So, from the research I did,” Stiles began, trying his hardest to keep his voice from jumping in volume in his excitement, “Her mom died when she was five or six and then a few months later, her babysitter reported her missing. You’ll never guess who her babysitter was Scott.” The mentioned Beta was staring at the girl, wondering if she seemed familiar, he was also trying to ignore the odd anger bubbling inside him as he saw Isaac inching closer to her. Stiles sighed and finished, “Melissa McCall.”

“What?” Scott asked, rather loudly, causing a few students, including (y/n) to turn and look at them. The boys barely managed to hide behind the shelves. The attention eventually went away and Scott continued, “Why was my mom babysitting her? Why have I never heard of her?” He asked. Stiles jumped a bit and showed his friend the police report from his bag.

“Yeah, see here,” He said, pointing at some typed text, “Your mom was recorded and they took her statement as the last person to see her and the person who reported her missing, for a while, the cops actually thought it was her that did it.” Scott couldn’t believe it. His mother, his loving, caring mother, was a suspect in potential child abduction.

Ten Years Ago~

Sheriff’s Office

The young mother sat sobbing in a rigid chair, her knees were shaking and her son was sat in the waiting room, playing with Stiles and a few toys. “Melissa, you need to calm down,” The Sheriff told her, pressing record on a tape recorder. “I need you to calm down and talk to me, okay?” He asked, the terrified woman nodded and breathed slowly. “Okay, can you tell me exactly what you are reporting?” He asked.

“A m-missing child,” Melissa sputtered, “Maybe an ab-abduction.” She whispered.

The Sheriff wrote everything down in an official report, “Alright, were you the last one that saw her?” He asked.

Melissa continued shaking and began, “I-I’m not sure. I think so. Her dad was at work and I was watching (y/n). We watched television, had some dinner, read some books and then I put her to bed. Her dad came home so I went back to my house with Scott, who I had brought with me.” Her voice began to waver again as she looked out at her son, sat happily without a care in the world, the same way (y/n) had been not twelve hours ago.

The Sheriff nodded and asked, “So, other than Mister (l/n), you were the last to see the victim?” The weeping woman nodded, “Alright, did you see anything strange between (y/n) and her father? Or her father in general?” He asked, offering Melissa a box of tissues.

Melissa wiped her tears and, through sniffles and hiccups, tried to relay what she had seen recently. “Well, when (m/n) p-passed away, (y/n) became a bit quieter, she didn’t smile as much but was still... well (y/n). (d/n) was destroyed when his wife died, he became really secluded, he stopped going to work and locked himself in his office for days at a time, leaving (y/n) with me.”

Sheriff Stilinski continued noting everything down, thoughts running through his head, ‘I have a feeling I know who did this and it wasn’t sweet Melissa McCall.’ He thought. Melissa’s whimpers brought back his attention.

“I know that (d/n) went back and forth between the house and visiting (m/n) in the mausoleum, he’s refusing to take (y/n) with him though, saying it would hurt and confuse her. I’m sorry but can we finish this now,” She continued, looking over at Scott and Stiles, “I feel awful enough already.” Melissa looked down into her lap.

The Sheriff nodded and stood to open the door for her, watching as she and Scott left the station, leaving Stiles to play on his own. ‘He’s going to wind up getting bored and bugging me so I best finish this quick.’ He thought, walking back to his desk and continuing the recording.

“I think it is safe to say that Melissa McCall had nothing to do with this, she had a strong relationship with (y/n), there are many people who can testify for her. The top suspect needing to be questioned now is her father (d/n) (l/n). It struck many people as odd that he wasn’t the first to report his daughter missing, unless of course, he knows where she is.” He finished, pressing stop on the recorder, taking the tape and adding it to the evidence.

Present Day~

3rd Person pov

“Dude,” Scott said, after reading the transcript of what was recorded that day. He was shocked that his mother was so close to the girl, that he was supposed to remember her too, but he didn’t. Why couldn’t he remember her? He looked back over at the girl, holding her picture up to see the comparisons.

Their face shape was the same, same nose, eyes, smile. That gorgeous, bright smile. Scott shook his head, ‘I have a girlfriend!’ He thought, thinking about Allison. Allison, the girl he hadn’t been able to see in public because of who her family is. Her family could kill him. In fact, they wanted to and tried to. They could turn on him in the snap of a finger. He saw a side of Allison at the Hale house that he had never wanted to see. She was going to kill Derek. Derek might be an ass but he was still a living being.

Then there was this, new girl. She seemed to be something special, something... inhuman. He couldn’t quite figure out what she was, something he would talk to Derek about, but whatever she was, it was incredible. Allison, well she was just human. He still liked her, but he wasn’t sure if he still loved her.

(y/n) pov

“What?” I heard, looking up from the textbook to see the two boys from my first class duck behind some bookshelves. I raised a brow before looking back at the textbook I was sharing with Isaac. Being so close to him was driving me crazy. I knew he had some sort of connection to the Alpha, but Isaac was just a Beta, a Beta that had Derek Hale’s scent vaguely on him. I could smell Hale from the mausoleum that night. I needed to find him.

Anyway, I tuned back in to my study session with Isaac as he began running through things, “I still can’t believe you’ve never read Romeo and Juliet!” He chuckled, oh that laugh, that smile. “It’s a classic, basically, two families in the city of Verona Italy, they each have one child, Romeo and Juliet, they meet, fall in love and wind up in a forbidden romance.” He told me in a purposefully deep voice to be funny.

I laughed as he made kissy faces at me, “Well, I never really went to school, I was home-schooled.” I told him, a lie yes, but I doubt he could tell. As far as I know, he hasn’t been turned for that long, this may even be his first full moon tonight. I was excited to see what would happen, I knew what happened to me in the full moon, I grew more powerful because more people called upon my kind.

We quickly finished out study session, after getting some dirty looks from the librarian about being noisy. We packed our books away and stood to leave, “Hey,” Isaac began, suddenly switching from his impish grin to a bashful smile. How is he this cute!? “I have Lacrosse practice now, but would you maybe wanna come watch? Cheer me on?” He asked, hopeful. I smiled, maybe it would be nice to take a break from the plan right now.

If I’m lucky, Derek might be there and I can speak to him, he knows the feeling of being betrayed by family. I looked into deep blue eyes and smiled, “Yeah I’d love to!” I told him, wishing him luck with a peck on the cheek and walked off to my locker, leaving the poor boy smiling a goofy smile in the middle of the hall.

Ten Years Ago~

3rd Person pov

(d/n) held his daughter’s hand as they walked slowly to the cemetery, “Let’s go visit your mama,” He said to her, watching as her smile lit up the room. Tears began to drip down his face as he slipped his other hand into his pocket and clenched his fist around the mausoleum key, contemplating his next moves.

He sat in front of the mausoleum for a while, watching as (y/n) picked flowers to give to (m/n), she insisted that she would love them, he knew deep down that whilst she would love the flowers, she wouldn’t like what he was about to do.

He watched his little girl smiling as she picked daisies and dandelions, watched her (e/c) eyes sparkle, her eyes. He watched as her cheeks turned a rosy hue as she thought of her mother, her rosy cheeks. Watched as her smile faded when he took her hand and brought her into the mausoleum when she hadn’t finished picking flowers, her smile.

He listened as her precious little voice shrieked when the door shut behind her, her dad no where to be found as he was locking the mausoleum from outside. “Dad!” She cried, her father blinking tears down his sallow face as she kicked and scratched the doors.

“Papa!” She screamed even louder, her eyes becoming used to the darkness to see the coffins surrounding her. She shook her head rapidly, refusing to believe what had just happened. Her dad would never do this, he’ll be back for her. Tears streamed down her now pale cheeks as she cried harder and louder until her throat hurt.

“Dad!!!”

________________

I hope you guys liked this instalment! Exciting news, when I was writing this chapter, I got my first re-blog! Thank you so much to @originalwitchsworld for re-blogging!

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tickletastic · 4 years

Text

Four Discoveries And A Weapon

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Ship: Non-explicit Scisaac

Summary: The pack discovers things about Isaac, but Isaac discovers things about them too. (AKA four Isaac discoveries, and one time they’re used against him.)

Notes: I accidentally wrote a really long fic and couldn’t think of an adequate title but here’s this. I ended up loving teen wolf so much that I immediately started rewatching it once I finished, so prepare for some teen wolf fics

-1-

Isaac is cute. He would never admit it, but he is. Don’t get me wrong, he’s hot too- but mostly cute, in a puppy kind of way.

He despised being complimented in general, but he always got especially uncomfortable when the girls would coo over him like some child saying its first words or taking its first steps. Allison had seen through Isaac’s exterior quickly compared to the others, he was full of bravado and dark humour, but she could see the fear and desire for companionship within him.

Isaac lost his mother, and then he lost his brother, and that’s hard enough for a kid to go through. But then he lost his father too. Isaac has never had a family, but he’s not opposed to the idea. In fact, although he’d never say so, he would love to be part of a family.

Allison was the quickest of the bunch to realize, cuing Lydia in on the situation. Lydia was the one to realize that although he would flinch away at first, if the touch lingered, Isaac would lean into it. Isaac couldn’t fight his instinct to flinch away or protect himself, but he could show his appreciation for affection wordlessly through his actions once the panic subsided.

The way that Isaac would lean into pats on the shoulder and head scratches was really, really cute.

And a lot like a puppy.

Dinner and a movie at the Hale loft had become a weekly tradition for the pack. Every week they would find themselves strewn in random places across the loft waiting for someone to cook them dinner, before they would binge watch some cheesy series or some Pixar film.

Derek had become increasingly domestic lately in his attempts to be a better alpha. For Stiles and Scott, it was super bizarre, but Boyd, Lydia, and Allison found it kind of endearing. Erica would’ve probably found it endearing too… If she were capable of feeling anything but annoyance (unless it was towards Boyd, of course).

As a part of Derek’s initiative, he had finally caved in and purchased some ‘homey’ furniture. The pack was lying anywhere comfortable, taking in the scent of the pasta Derek was cooking. Lydia, Stiles, Scott, and Isaac were arguing over which Disney movie was the best, and which they should watch first.

Isaac hadn’t seen many Disney movies since Camden died, but he knew his definite favourite. “Why would we watch Wall-E when we could be watching Meet The Robinsons? Don’t be a sucker, Stiles.”

“I am not! I can just appreciate a good romance between two lonely robots. Are cute robots in a dystopian future too much to ask for?”

“All I’m saying is The Princess And The Frog was a cultural reset, that movie is amazing and Tiana’s totally badass!” Lydia responded, seemingly disgusted at the mere notion that anyone would find any other movie the best.

When dinner was finally ready, they ended up settling on Aladdin, because Scott, Lydia, and Boyd all wanted to watch a Disney princess movie, but they couldn’t come to a consensus on which one. (Scott, of course, wanted Beauty And The Beast, while Boyd wanted to watch The Little Mermaid. And who knew that Derek wasn’t impartial to Disney Channel Originals?)

Isaac had remembered bits and pieces of the film from when he was younger, but not too much. He did remember that he was attracted to both Jasmine and Aladdin, which was his first of many strange awakenings as a little kid.

Almost like a formula, by the time A Whole New World was blaring from the TV’s speakers, Isaac was laying on the couch and receiving as much physical contact as possible. His head was in Allison’s lap and his feet and legs were draped over Lydia, who was also lying down but not nearly as horizontally and as comfortably as Isaac.

He seemed pretty relaxed despite the fact that he had managed this position by slowly inching closer and closer to the both of them until Allison gently pushed his head down into her lap. She began to scratch his head, Isaac responding by pushing his head further into Allison’s hand, melting into the touch.

Lydia cooed softly, not loud enough for the others to hear her, but loud enough for Isaac’s cheeks to dust pink, even in the low light.

Allison just smiled fondly, scratching a little harder and receiving a quiet, pleased groan in response. Isaac was trying to fight the tiredness that hit him the second Allison had began her calming touch, but it was becoming increasingly hard to fight the closing of his eyes.

Allison started to stray closer to Isaac’s skin, and when she started to scratch behind his ears she believed that his gasp was out of pleasure… It was, but that wasn’t all. When she continued Isaac started to giggle softly, his nose scrunching up at the sensation.

“A little ticklish?” Allison teased when she realized the reason for the giggles. She scratched a little softer, and Isaac started hiccuping softly, a small grin on his face while his eyes remained closed. “Do you want me to stop?”

“‘S good,” Isaac moaned tiredly through his giggles in response, “feels nice.”

Allison laughed as Lydia started her own, ever-so-light tracing over Isaac’s shins.

“You’re such a puppy.”

Isaac fell asleep giggling softly. He didn’t worry about the pictures that Scott and Stiles would take of him sleeping, curled up with Lydia and Allison as he snored lightly. That was a problem for tomorrow, and oh yes, it is a problem.

Discovery One: Isaac is a lot like a puppy.

-2-

Scott’s eyes shot open, immediately trying to figure out what sound had woken him up. He heard it again, a mix of whimpering, panting, and screaming, and it took him a second to realize where it was coming from. He bolted up from his bed, opening his bedroom door and seeing his mom walk down the hall.

“It’s alright, I’ve got it, Mom,” Scott assured her, waving her off. She smiled out of gratitude, it’s not that she doesn’t want to help her surrogate son, she just knew that Scott was always much better at the job.

Isaac was covered in sweat, his hair matted to his forehead, his hands balled into fists, holding his blanket as tight as he possibly could, white-knuckled. He was in the fetal position, his back to the wall.

Scott sat down on the edge of the bed slowly, reaching out and rubbing circles over Isaac’s back. “Hey, Isaac? Isaac, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Isaac continued to shake, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he started to form words through his dream. “N-no, please. I’m sorry. I d-don’t w-want to go in, p-please.”

Scott knew what Isaac was afraid of, and he was suddenly wishing that he could take away mental pain instead of physical. He shook the taller boy harder, until his eyes shot open and he recoiled into the corner of his bed.

Isaac was breathing hard, panic written on every feature of his face, trying to figure out what was going on.

Scott looked at him sympathetically, slowly reaching back towards Isaac to put his hand on the boy’s arm. “Hey, you’re alright Isaac, everything’s okay, you’re safe.”

Isaac’s eyes turned to Scott, but they were distant, he wasn’t really looking. Scott brought both of his hands up to cup Isaac’s face.

“It’s okay, I promise you’re safe.”

Isaac’s breathing was still laboured, but he brought his hands up and placed them over Scott’s, gripping on as if his life depended on it. “Th-the freezer?”

“You’re not going in there ever again, Isaac, I promise.”

When Scott saw the realization on Isaac’s face, he pulled him into a hug, one hand across Isaac’s back and the other cradling his head.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Scott cradling Isaac and whispering words of assurance while Isaac allowed himself to calm down and breathe.

Wordlessly, Scott ended up getting Isaac to move forward, and Scott slipped himself between Isaac and the wall, holding him close to his chest while they spooned.

Scott had one hand draped over Isaac’s chest while the fingers of his other hand were running through Isaac’s hair. Isaac smiled at the sudden warmth, cuddling into Scott as much as he could. Trying to further soothe him, Scott started to draw shapes with his dull fingernails over Isaac’s hipbone.

Isaac twitched before bringing his hands to his face, a deep chuckle slipping from his lips. Confused, Scott furrowed his brow, craning his head at the taller boy.

Isaac was still covering his face, but he could feel Scott’s eyes on him. “Stohop thahat.”

“Stop what? This?” Scott started moving his fingers quicker and Isaac flinched hard against Scott’s chest, unable to stop the frantic laughter that spilled from him. “Is someone a little ticklish?”

“Nohoho! I’m trying tohoho slehehep! Cut it ohohout!” Isaac snapped back, trying to pry Scott’s hand away from his hips.

Scott smiled, he always loved the sound of Isaac’s laughter, but it was so rare. This laughter was everything in comparison to the ironic, dry laugh that Isaac would let out after he said something sarcastic. Scott stopped, even though he would love to hear the music of Isaac’s laughter for as long as he possibly could. He would have to investigate further another time, but for now, he was content with falling asleep holding Isaac, listening to soft giggles that escaped him as he drifted off too.

Discovery Two: It’s going to take a while for Isaac to be okay, but Scott is more than willing to stay by his side the whole time. The rest of the pack is completely willing too.

-3-

With Scott being much busier and all, Melissa had grown to miss spending time with her loud, hyperactive teenager every evening after work. Since Isaac had moved in, he had been spending a lot more time at home after school than Scott.

Although Isaac was very different from Scott, Melissa enjoyed spending time with Isaac when he was home. The longer Isaac lived with the McCalls, the more like family Isaac became, and Melissa certainly wasn’t complaining. She definitely had enough love in her heart for a new addition to the family.

Isaac was quiet compared to Scott’s usual crowd. Allison and Lydia have always spoken their minds freely, and Stiles was.. well Stiles is Stiles. Isaac was different. He was timid, and he always called her Ms. McCall no matter how many times she would tell him that Melissa was fine.

Melissa found the manners and timidness cute at first, until Scott had told her about everything Isaac had been to. Now, she tried with every interaction to bring out Isaac’s childish side, the kid deserved a family, and he deserved to act like a kid sometimes too.

Today, Melissa had come home from a shift to find Isaac cutting up vegetables at the kitchen counter.

“Hey Isaac, what are you doing?” Melissa greeted, placing a hand on his shoulder. Isaac flinched slightly, looking, as usual, like a deer in the headlights.

“Hi Ms. McCall, I- uh- I was just making dinner because I knew you were working late and I thought you would probably be hungry s-so I decided to make dinner, b-but I started too late so it’s not finished yet. I’m sorry, I swear it sh-should be finished s-soon I just h-have to-”

“Isaac, Isaac it’s alright. It was really nice of you to make dinner, I’m sure it’ll be amazing,” Melissa should’ve stopped him sooner, instead of letting him ramble on and apologize unnecessarily, but she guessed it was better late than never.

She sat in one of the barstools at the counter, watching Isaac as he tried to cut some carrots in his hand. His hands were shaking and he wasn’t making any progress on the veggies, and Melissa couldn’t let it go on any longer.

Melissa reached out, holding Isaac’s shaking hands in her own after setting the knife aside. Isaac looked up, he looked fearful, scared that Melissa was going to yell, and she could feel her eyes going soft. She started to softly rub circles over his knuckles, watching slight confusion flash on his face.

“Isaac, hun, you don’t have to apologize for anything. You haven’t done anything wrong, and even if you had made a mistake, which you didn’t, I wouldn’t hurt you. People make mistakes, and the worst punishment you’d ever expect under the McCall roof is a weekend grounding and a talk. You’re safe, you’re okay Isaac.”

Isaac looked up from their hands, relief in his eyes and a small smile on his face. “Th-thanks Ms. McCall.”

“I’m still fine with you just calling me Melissa,” She got up and walked behind the counter, “now, can I help?”

She had tasered Isaac in his side to get him to scoot over, and he recoiled with a giggle. Melissa recalled fond memories of tickling Scott absolutely silly, something she would do to him up until only recently, when he was about fifteen or sixteen. The memory triggered her maternal instinct, and she started spidering her fingers up and down his sides, going from his hips to the top of his ribs.

“Mihihiss McCahahall!” Isaac doubled over, he was trying not to fight back so that he wouldn’t hurt her, but his instincts weren’t always easy to fight. Instead of trying to bat her hands away or grab her wrists, he sunk to the floor, ending up with his back against the cupboard and his knees up, Melissa still hovering over him and poking him wherever she could reach. “Plehehehease, it tihihickles!”

“I’d sure hope so!” Melissa teased, but she let up, offering Isaac her hand so he could stand up. She ruffled his hair before passing him the knife he had been using to cut the veggies, grabbing one for herself. “I’ll do the onions, Scott always complains about how they hurt his eyes.”

Discovery Three: Isaac deserved kindness, he just didn’t know it yet, and Melissa would be damned if she didn’t help him realize.

-4-

Allison, Lydia, and Melissa weren’t the only people to realize that Isaac desired a family, the entire pack had caught on eventually. Derek was a little late to the revelation, but better late than never.

As a shock to both himself and the rest of the pack, Derek stepped up to a parental role rather quickly. He had already had the cooking, cleaning, and pack hugs down, but now he found himself fussing over Isaac like a mother would. Derek was over-protective, caring, and understanding. It was everything that Isaac hadn’t realized he needed, even though he wouldn't admit it.

Whenever Isaac was hurt, he immediately had Allison, Lydia, and Derek fussing over him like a child who had fallen off of his bike. It made him blush beyond compare, and he would always try to bat them away, but time and time again they would still rush to his side despite his quick healing.

Derek had started attending every lacrosse game. He wasn’t vocal like Melissa or the sheriff, but his eager thumbs up and the big smile he would plaster on his face every time Isaac looked over were enough to fuel a lifetime’s worth of embarrassment.

Isaac was killing it this game, and paired with Stiles and Scott, the team was definitely winning.

Afterwards, they had ran into the changing rooms, but something told Isaac that he should be listening to the parents outside.

“The boys were amazing today, it’s crazy how much they’ve improved since the start of the season,” Melissa said.

“Yeah, they were great, I’m so proud of my boy,” the Sheriff seemed to agree.

At this point, Scott had noticed Isaac’s preoccupation, and he decided to listen for himself.

“It was a great game, I’m proud of Isaac and how far he’s come to trust his team.”

It wasn’t much, Derek had always been a man of few words, but it was enough to have Isaac cover his face, blushing up to the tips of his ears.

Scott smiled, moving closer to ruffle Isaac’s hair. “Aww, Derek’s proud of his favourite puppy.”

“Shut up!” Isaac groaned, packing all of his stuff into his bag.

“You’re definitely getting a ‘Daddy’s Favourite’ shirt for Christmas,” Stiles joked, following suit with Isaac and packing his things.

The three of them walked out, greeted by their guardians awaiting them.

“Good job, guys, that was a great game!” Ms. McCall praised them, putting her arm around Scott’s shoulder. The sheriff hummed in agreement, while Derek gave Isaac a small smile.

“If it’s okay with you two, I’d like to take the boys out for some food,” Derek spoke, looking at Ms. McCall and Sheriff Stilinski for approval.

“Totally fine by me, I have a night shift to be getting to,” Sheriff Stilinski approved, giving Stiles a pat on his shoulder and saying goodbye.

“Totally fine by me too,” Melissa nodded, eyes Scott and Isaac, “I will see you two later, don’t get into too much trouble.”

Derek smiled at the three teens before asking them where they wanted to go, Stiles and Scott branching off into an argument of Olive Garden vs TGIFridays. Isaac just got physically closer to Derek, walking next to him instead of behind like Stiles and Scott were.

“You played really well that game, Isaac. You’ve really improved,” Derek praised him and Isaac was back at his furious blushing. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking down.

Isaac looked awkward, but Derek knew he liked the compliments. Derek could smell it on him.

Derek brought a hand up and tried to swat Isaac’s hand from his neck, but Isaac gasped and twitched away.

“No way,” Derek had a mischievous smile on his face, Isaac just let out a long groan in response. “Well, if you won’t take my compliments, I might have to use my discovery and take some drastic measures. Next game, I’m gonna make a sign, it’ll say ‘I’m Isaac’s #1 fan’.”

Discovery Four: Isaac liked compliments, he just didn’t know how to take them

-And 1-

“Just- lay still!” Stiles grunted, pulling the tweezers away from Isaac’s neck. Stiles had snuck up on Lydia and Lydia had screamed, shattering every glass within a 5 metre radius.

Isaac, sadly, was in that radius, and he had been bringing his glass up to his mouth when it shattered. Most of the glass ended up piercing through his shirt, some small shards lodged in his chest, but others had ended up in his neck.

Stiles was trying to take the glass out, but Isaac’s wiggling was a little too much.

“I have like four left, Isacc, can you just stop wiggling?”

“I’ll stop wiggling if you stop touching me.”

Stiles sighed, watching as Isaac’s cuts practically healed instantly. He had gotten all of the shards out, but Stiles still wanted to have some fun.

“Hey, Scott? Could you come hold Isaac while I try to get the rest of this glass?”

“Sure thing, Stiles,” Scott had clued in on the situation as soon as Stiles had started speaking, the familiar glint of mischief in his voice.

Isaac had bolted upright, getting up to run, walking straight into Derek instead.

“What’s wrong, Isaac? A little… sensitive?” Stiles paused for dramatic effect as Derek stopped Isaac from leaving.

“He is, actually! You should try his ears,” Allison piped up.

“Or his legs.”

“His hips are pretty bad.”

“Yeah, his ribs are too.”

All the werewolves in the room had perked up, Isaac’s pulse had skyrocketed when Stiles had mentioned his ribs. Scott hadn’t even realized that a heart could beat that fast considering Isaac had already been on edge when his sensitivity was mentioned.

Isaac wasn’t one for negotiating, or begging, really, so instead he just turned to run, getting as far as a grand total of two feet before Scott came barreling into him, knocking him to the ground. They rolled for a bit until Scott inevitably got the upper hand, pinning Isaac’s arms to his sides.

“Any last words?”

Isaac had opened his mouth to respond, but ended up interrupting himself with a bouquet of giggles as someone dragged a finger up his sole.

“I’m sorry, were you planning on saying something? My bad,” Stiles taunted.

Scott chuckled at his best friend’s antics before tracing his fingers over Isaac’s collarbones. Isaac started to chuckle, shaking his head frantically in an attempt to shake the fingers off.

Allison and Lydia had gotten closer to the three of them, but didn’t dare join in in case Isaac got overwhelmed by all the touch. They did, however, share a look as they both mutually agreed to play a game that they often used to tease Isaac. The goal was to see who could make him blush the most for the longest, and it was far more entertaining than any movie or tv show ever is.

“Aww, is the whittle puppy ticklish? The puppy can’t take a little belly rub?” Lydia teased, leaning in to quickly scratch over Isaac’s belly once. Isaac snorted, throwing his head back.

“Is the big, bad beta giggling? Is a little tickling too much to handle? Maybe you’re gonna need a little extra protection against those hunters, what if they found out about your little secret?” Allison hadn’t expected for her comments to embarrass Isaac so much, but he desperately tried to hide his violently red face anywhere that he could.

Stiles was growing bored, and he had started to trace upwards, scratching over Isaac’s thighs. Isaac tried to kick away, but Stiles wasn’t sitting in any position that could lead to himself getting hurt.

“C’mon Derek, aren’t you gonna join?” Scott asked, tracing his fingers over the shells of Isaac’s ears and appreciating the lazy, adorable laughter that it produced. He was gonna have to catalogue that for future cuddling.

Derek considered the offer before finally leaning over the beta, rapidly tasering Isaac’s ribs as Isaac began to flail and flop like a fish out of water, screaming out protests.

“Oh Gohohod!” Isaac squealed, desperately trying to retrieve his wrists from Scott’s grasp. Scott finally did let go, but Isaac’s brain had gone into overdrive as his laughter entered a territory of silence. Isaac couldn’t even begin to think of an effective use of his hands, let alone instruct them to follow through.

“Ple- Pleehehe-” Isaac wasn’t one for negotiating, or begging, but now he was certainly wishing that he had the ability to do either. His words kept dying in his streams of laughter, which were only interrupted by snorts, hiccups, and gasps.

Isaac was radiating joy, the werewolves in the room could smell it stronger than anything else, but the kid needed to breathe too.

“Alright, that’s enough bullying for one day, kids,” Derek swatted Stiles and Scott off of his beta and Isaac suddenly wished he had the ability to express his gratefulness, but instead he curled in on himself, still laughing hysterically against his own will.

“Now that,” Stiles began, flopping himself on the couch, “is a useful discovery.”

“Oh really, Stiles? If it’s so interesting then I guess you’d be okay with being next, huh Stiles?” Derek responded, partially to embarrass Stiles and partially to take some embarrassment away from his favourite puppy.

“Don’t you dare- Derek, no don’t even think about it! Stop!”

#teen wolf #ticklish!Isaac #isaac lahey #derek hale #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #lydia martin #allison argent #vernon boyd #erica reyes #melissa mccall #noah stilinski #sheriff stilinski #scisaac #a lil bit

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haledamage · 4 years

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Sunshine and Starlight

my first @shepherds-of-haven fic!

I have been blindsided by Iorwen/Chase as a pairing. I adore Chase, but I thought these two wouldn’t work romantically. I literally made a second girl with the intention of romancing Chase, but Iorwen had other plans and called dibs. This scene appeared in my mind so suddenly and vividly that I knew it wouldn’t let me have any peace until I wrote it :) I don’t mind because it turns out they’re adorable together! who’d’ve known

takes place sometime between returning from the Reach and leaving for the next mission, but there aren’t really any mentioned spoilers, so if you don’t have access to the alpha it won’t be a problem

----

Late at night, the skies above Haven were endless.

Even with the light pollution from the lanterns below, the stars were bright and abundant, twinkling merrily in the clear winter night. They weren’t much different from the stars Iorwen grew up with, that she used to watch with her mother a lifetime ago.

She sat on the corner of the battlements around the Shepherd’s compound, far enough out that the guard patrols couldn't disturb her. The dingy white city stretched out below her, the dark abyss of stars flowing above, and she let the peace of the night settle around her like an old friend.

The night sky wasn’t the only thing to join her on the wall. After a while, she became aware of a presence at her side. Though she hadn’t heard anyone approach, she knew who it was as soon as she realized he was there. “Hello, Chase.”

“Good evening, sunshine,” he said jovially. His boots tap-tap-tapped a rhythm as he kicked absentmindedly at the wall beneath them, a sudden wealth of noise and energy where just moments ago he’d been completely silent. “Thought I’d find you up here.”

She turned her gaze away from the sky to meet the bright green eyes of the man at her side. “You did?”

“No.” He shrugged. “But I looked everywhere else.”

“Well, here I am.” She gestured to herself with a little flourish. “Why were you looking for me?”

“Oh, you know. This and that,” Chase said vaguely. He studied her face in silence for a moment, though Iorwen had no idea what he might be looking for. In a surprisingly soft voice, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” At his doubtful look, she added, “Really. I’m just… thinking.” She pulled her knees up to her chest as if it would help force the words past the knot in her throat. It had been a long time since she’d talked to anyone about her past, but these days it seemed to be all she talked about. “About my mother. Today would have been her birthday. She died when I was ten.”

He was quiet for a long time, either because he didn't know what to say or because he was waiting to see if she was done. Probably the latter; she'd never known Chase to be at loss for words. Finally he just said, "I’m sorry."

She shook her head. "Thanks, but it was a long time ago." Iorwen's eyes were drawn back heavensward. "I wonder what she would think of my being here. Being a Shepherd. She used to tell me I was meant for greatness." She pitched her voice lower, imitating her mother's voice, accent dropping back into the one she'd had as a child. "‘Someday, starlight, you’re gonna change the world. The gods themselves are gonna see how bright you shine.’"

"Starlight?"

"Yep," she said fondly. "Mom loved her celestial-themed pet names. Had a whole collection of them."

"Like ‘sunshine’?" There was something in his voice almost like jealousy. Like he'd never considered that his nickname for her might not be original.

She found his possessiveness strangely charming; she liked that he wanted them to have something that was just theirs. "No. More moon-and-star themed, mostly. ‘Sunshine’ is all yours." Iorwen bit her lip and added, a little hesitantly, "Though what you said when I asked you about it… may have hit a little close to home."

"In a bad way?"

"No."

She could feel Chase's eyes on her, but she kept hers resolutely pointed at the stars. She knew she would say something dumb and probably overly sentimental if she looked his way.

He caught the dropped conversation before it could fall, not giving the quiet a chance to wedge its way between them. "Well, my opinion may not be worth much--"

"It is to me," she interrupted quietly. Apparently keeping her eyes to herself wasn't enough to keep the affectionate comments at bay.

His breath hitched the slightest bit, only audible in the otherwise silent night, but he kept talking like she hadn't said anything. "--but I think she’d be proud of you. I don’t see how she couldn’t be."

She wanted to hug him, but didn't want to risk making him uncomfortable, so instead she settled for nudging his shoulder with her own. He leaned into the contact immediately, pressing his side to hers.

She was fairly certain she's blushing. Probably, it was too dark for him to see it. Part of her wished it wasn't; she liked the sly grin he gave her when he made her blush. "I think she would have liked you."

"Of course she would. I'm very likeable." It's flippant, almost dismissive, cutting off any potential compliment she may have given him before she had a chance to give it. He's deflecting, she knew he was, putting up walls before she could sneak any closer. Maybe he'd already let her closer than he meant to.

She was used to it. Everyone in the Shepherds seemed to have walls of their own. Some, like Blade, built fortresses of steel and ice to guard their secrets; others, like Trouble, it was more like a hedgerow, meant to disguise from prying eyes but not to keep away visitors.

With Chase, it was more like tinted glass, concealed but still tantalizingly transparent. He gave her just enough of a glimpse past the wall to draw her closer, to leave her wanting more.

Iorwen didn't let it get to her. She was a patient woman. She didn't push.

Instead, she gave him the subject change he wanted. "You never did say why you were looking for me."

“Yes! I almost forgot,” he said, so clearly a lie that even she could hear it, “I brought you something.”

With an overly dramatic flourish, he pulled a small box out of some hidden pocket and presented it to her. She took it gingerly, unsure what to expect. It was a very fancy wooden box painted with what must be thousands of tiny, pale blue and lavender flowers. It was light enough that it could be empty, but she knew he wasn’t the kind of man to give empty boxes as presents, even very pretty empty boxes, so she carefully opened the lid.

Inside was a neat row of small, white paper bags. Iorwen knew what it was even before the scent of apricot hit her nose, before Chase said, voice sweet and more than a little smug, “I found some more of that tea you like. Heard you telling Tallys you were out.”

‘Out’ was something of an understatement. Some scarcity issues in the west meant even Riel had been having trouble getting ahold of it for less than a small fortune. “Where did you find this?” she asked, awed, but remembered who she was talking to and quickly added, “No, nevermind. I don’t need to know. You didn’t have to--”

“I know I didn’t.” He ruffled her hair affectionately, his hand lingering on the crown of her head. “Happy birthday.”

She closed the box and slipped it into one of her pockets, not wanting to risk dropping it from this height. “It’s not my birthday.”

“I know. It was a couple of sennights ago, right? I know it’s kind of a touchy subject,” he waved a hand as if to clear away the pain that she associated with her birthday before it could land, “so I figured I’d wait.”

Iorwen finally gave in to that hug she’d wanted to give him earlier. He hugged her back without hesitation, arms tight around her as if to stop her from pulling away too soon - as if she had any intention of doing so. “Thank you, Chase,” she whispered in his ear.

“Anytime, sunshine,” he murmured back. “Anytime.”

It would be dangerously easy to get lost in the warmth of him, even more dangerous because she knew he’d let her. His amber and leather scent was equal parts comforting and enticing, and she realized abruptly that the soft fabric she pressed her face into was the scarf she’d given him for his birthday. It still carried a hint of honeysuckle from the oils she used in her hair. She wondered if he ever noticed, if it made him think of her; she bit the inside of her cheek to stop from asking.

Iorwen pulled away before her mind could continue wandering down that path. Chase let her go easily enough, though she could feel the slightest tension in his arms that said maybe he didn’t want to. She tried not to be smug about it.

He didn’t give her time to be. Without another word, he hopped off the wall and turned to offer her an elbow, like he was some fancy nobleman wanting to take her for a walk in the garden. “We should head back inside. I don’t fancy being lectured for letting you catch a cold. C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink.”

She slid down from the wall next to him, feeling graceless and clumsy in comparison though she knew she was neither. “I don’t drink.”

“And?”

“And neither do you.” She tried to keep her voice serious, but couldn’t stop the playful smile spreading across her face. “Also this is technically my house.”

Chase shrugged. “Semantics. We’ll improvise. Unless you’re not interested…?” There was a subtle challenge in his words and a much less subtle one in the quirk of his eyebrow and the tilt of his lips. They both knew just how interested she was; he wanted to see if she’d admit it.

“I didn’t say that.” She laced her arm through his and was rewarded with a bright grin. “Lead the way.”

It was a short walk down from the battlements into the compound itself, but on some unspoken agreement they turned and took the long way. And if they both walked a little slower than they normally would have, well, that was between them and the stars.

#iorwen emroth #shepherds of haven #shoh #iorwen/chase #I'll reblog this at a more reasonable hour but I wanted to get it posted while tumblr will let me do so #they're so CUTE y'all #iorwen is completely inexperienced with romance and anything related to it and she's still got chased wrapped around her finger :3 #I hope I got chase's voice right I'm not entirely confident in it but that's just the impostor syndrome talking #I haven't written for a month so my mind is trying to tell me I've forgotten how

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betweenthetimeandsound · 3 years

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Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#180-171)

#180: Fernando Tordo -- Tourada (Portugal 1973)

“Entram guizos, chocas e capotes, E mantilhas pretas, Entram espadas, chifres e derrotes, E alguns poetas, Entram bravos, cravos e dichotes, Porque tudo mais são tretas,”

“Bells, cowbells and capes are coming in, And black mantillas Swords, big horns and defeats are coming in And some poets Brave people, carnations and swear words are coming in Because it's a wheeze at most”

Despite the title ("tourada" translates to bullfight in Portuguese), it's actually a portrait of a revolution in the making. The lyrics were so clever that the censors at the RTP didn’t notice these lyrics were reflecting the current regime.

That’s enough for a 250 appearance for me, but there’s more that makes the song so memorable.

The build with the brass and percussion sets the stage for something important to happen. Sometimes, I do forget I like this song, but listening to it like right now is an experience, like one entering the battlefield.

The last line, "And the intelligent man says that songs are over..." still amuses me, though it's quite cynical in that the intellectuals would eventually not believe in the movement.

Personal ranking: 5th/17 Actual ranking: 10th/17 in Luxembourg

#179: France Gall -- Poupée de cire, poupée de son (Luxembourg 1965)

“Suis-je meilleure, suis-je pire qu’une poupée de salon? Je vois la vie en rose bonbon Poupée de cire, poupée de son”

“Am I better, am I worse than a fashion doll? I see life through bright rosy-tinted glasses Wax doll, sawdust doll”

One of the game-changing songs of Eurovision, in that the general mood shifts from slow-tempo songs to a little bit of pop. The first ten contests had their share of good songs, but seem to blur into each other at points. Afterwards, the song quality rose, and they were better suited to the times.

Beyond the happy orchestral sound is something quite sad—a pretty girl who sings songs without experiencing what they mean. Gainsbourg was quite the songwriter, but it led to a falling out between him and France later on, because of the double meanings of the songs he wrote for her.

The drama related to France Gall and the contest didn't stop there. Kathy Kirby, the runner-up that year, slapped France when she won. Then her boyfriend broke up with her shortly after, and wrote a song that would be the basis of "My Way".

Quite interesting I must say, though I don’t come back to this song often.

Personal and actual ranking: 1st/18 in Naples

#178: Ajda Pekkan -- Petr'oil (Turkey 1980)

"Öyle gururlusun gidemem yanına Girmişsin kim bilir kaç aşığın kanına Dolardan, marktan başka laf çıkmaz dilinden Neler, neler çekiyorum senin elinden"

"You are so proud, I can’t come close to you I wonder who else suffers from your love You speak of nothing but dollars and marks I am so suffering because of you"

My 1980 winner is not only quite groovy and seductive, but also clever.

The 1970s had two major oil crises--one in 1973, and another in 1979. The first one was when OPEC withheld their oil from countries who supported Israel during the Yom Kippur, and the second one when oil production stopped during the Iranian Revolution, resulting in higher prices per barrel. Both resulted in low supply and increased gas prices in the United States; those who grew up during the era were less likely to drive as a result.

Petr'oil takes this issue and anthromorphizes it, as Ajda sings about the troubles of relying oil as a resource and as a partner. The belly-dance music also emphasizes the tension. combined with the percussion and strings on this piece.

While Ajda has since distanced herself from the song, I embrace it in all its charms. Plus it was heavily underrated in its year.

Personal ranking: 1st/19 Actual ranking: 15th/19 in Den Haag

Final Impressions on 1980: This year stands out a bit, for it had a number of songs dealing with a huge number of topics (including Belgium's "Euro-Vision", which made the contest go meta, haha). Alongside it, the production was a bit bare-bones, because of the Netherlands hosting it four years earlier, but it featured quirks such as a representative announcing their country's song, Morocco competing for the only time, and a steel band for the interval!

#177: The Allisons -- Are you sure? (United Kingdom 1961)

“Are you sure you won’t be sorry? Comes tomorrow, you won’t want me Back again to hold you tightly?”

The lyrics are quite smug, in that the Allisons warn the girl who plans to break up with them she might be sorry and alone. Not unlike with "If I Were Sorry", though there's a bit more charm and teasing towards their soon-to-be ex-, whereas the latter feels a bit more arrogant.

That said, it’s upbeat and almost lines up to the musical scene at the time (comparisons to Buddy Holly are not uncommon), and the musical run time just goes by so quickly (in comparison to other entries of the same era)! It's just a breeze.

Personal ranking: 1st/16 Actual ranking: 2nd/16 in Cannes

#176: Vicky Leandros: L'amour est bleu (Luxembourg 1967)

“Bleu, bleu, l'amour est bleu, Berce mon cœur, mon cœur amoureux, Bleu, bleu, l'amour est bleu, Bleu comme le ciel qui joue dans tes yeux.”

“Blue, blue, love is blue, Cradle my heart, my loving heart Blue, blue, love is blue Blue like the sky which play in your eyes."”

I think I first heard this in the intro to Eurovision 2006's semi-final. While the harp motif stood out, I didn't know where it came from. It was until when I watched the contest this song was in, which is strange because it was notable for having a Paul Mauriat cover which became a hit.

One of many classics which featured in 1960s contests, I like the innocence shown through the lyrics, which uses color and imagery to tell about the different cycles of love. The orchestration along the bridge was especially spectacular, as it provided a cinematic feel towards . Vicky’s accent sometimes gets in the way, but she sings this well and should’ve gotten a podium position.

Personal ranking: 2nd/17 Actual ranking: 4th/17 in Vienna

#175: Kaija -- Ullu joy Hullu yö (Finland 1991)

"En edes halunnut sua omistaa En edes leikisti rakastaa Kaksi kulkijaa yhteen osuttiin Yksi yhteinen hetki jaettiin"

"I didn’t even want to own you I didn’t even want to love you We two travellers came across each other Shared one common moment together"

While I was watching Eurovision 1991, I liked the mysterious verses of Hullu yo, but I found the chorus a bit off, because it was punchier and more energetic. It also had that "minor-verse/major chorus" thing going on, which also made me uneasy with the song. With a few listens, I grew to like a bit more, because of its unique sound. It definitely sounds better with the studio cut versus the live, which shows off the failures of RAI's orchestra.

Another thing about the song, beyond its lyrics about a one-night-stand turned into longing feelings, was the choice choreography. Playing out the turmoiled relationship, it's funny to see how provocative it is, and that's after Toto's hilarious pronunciation of the song.

Elements of the live performance aside, it's still a jam which deserved better. Maybe it would've done so in the televote era.

Personal ranking: 7th/22 Actual ranking: 20th/22 in Rome

#174: Francoise Hardy -- L'amour s'en va (Monaco 1963)

“Si ce n’est toi Ce sera moi qui m’en irai L’amour s’en va Et nous n’y pourrons rien changer"

"If it isn’t you It will be me who will go away Love goes away And we can’t change anything about that"

I was happily surprised hearing this for the first time. It was very melancholic, with an interesting structure between the verses and the chorus. The percussion also helps with the latter, and adds a bit of character to the song.

The fact Francoise wrote this classic gem also warmed me up more to the song, especially because she was from the ye-ye generation of singers (which are known for being young and upbeat). Yet she stands and sings her own composition in a serious, almost bored tone, without taking the substance of the song away

(That being said, I really need to listen to more of her songs; I've found a couple a month ago, though there's obviously more...)

Personal ranking: 2nd/16 Actual ranking: 5th/16 in London

#173: ABBA -- Waterloo (Sweden 1974)

“The history book on the shelf is always repeating itself...”

You don’t need me to tell about this, do you? It’s fun and timeless pop, with some cool costumes to boot.

For more interesting stuff for both, the song Waterloo was an actual risk for the contest--they actually had another song for consideration, the folk-influenced Hasta Manana, but turned to this instead. And it worked, of course!

For the clothes, ABBA apparently chose these glam-rock inspired costumes because in Sweden, one wouldn't have to pay additional fees if the costumes won't be used for normal wear. Both Anni-frid and Agnetha look great, nevertheless.

And as of the moment, my favorite ABBA song is "Knowing Me, Knowing You". Despite the poppy tone, it has a moody vibe throughout, and one knows the relationship is going to end on a bad note.

Personal ranking: 2nd/17 Actual ranking: 1st/17 in Brighton

#172: Gigliola Cinquetti -- Si (Italy 1974)

“Sì, dolcemente dissi sì, Per provare un'emozione, Che non ho avuto mai,”

“Yes, I softly said yes, To feel an emotion That I've never had before”

My friend told me an interesting story about the lyrics—whereas the song Gigliola won with tells of a girl waiting to grow older to find true love, Si talks of the girl growing up and taking the plunge. So she interprets Si as a sequel of sorts.

So why does this beat Waterloo, in my opinion?

I like how the song starts—quietly, but with an interesting guitar part. The instrumentation builds well towards the "Si...", at which it gently but certainly blooms towards Gigliola's certainty on going with the man she loves.

The interesting part of it was how the song was censored in Italy because it was seen as "subliminal messaging" for a campaign on a divorce referendum that May. "Si" sounds like an endorsement for the "no" campaign, as it embraces being in love, even if it requires the death of another relationship.

Personal ranking: 1st/17 Actual ranking: 2nd/17 in Brighton

Final Impressions on 1974: Definitely one of the most memorable years in the contest, if only for who won. The rest was a tale of two halves, with the first half being particularly good, and the other half bad (except for Si, as you can tell). And there were Wombles in the interval act, hehe.

#171: Eugent Bushpepa -- Mall (Albania 2018)

“Lot i patharë ndriçojë këtë natë Sonte kumbo prej shpirtit pa fjalë Vetëm një çast dhimbja të më ndalë”

“Lingering tear, light up this night Find your way out, to soothe my soul Just for one day make this pain subside”

Aren’t the lyrics to this so beautiful? They convey Eugent’s desire to be with his loved one so well, in both its pain and beauty.

The music really helps too--while the pre-vamped version was a whole minute longer, it also has a rockier edge to it. The revamped version cuts it down and cleans up the production, but it's still maintains the overall feel throughout.

Eugent is also a talented talented singer, which proved initial odds wrong and got Albania one of its best results! The bridge between the second verse and chorus has a great chord progression (which was given more space in the revamp), and he deserved qualification for that alone. And those high notes.

(Also, he's probably the best dressed guy of his year...good job Eugent, good job.)

Personal ranking: 7th/43 Actual ranking: 11th/26 GF in Lisbon

#eurovision song contest #esc 250 #esc top 250 #esc portugal #esc luxembourg #esc turkey #esc united kingdom #esc finland #esc monaco #esc sweden #esc italy #esc albania #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

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whats-the-story-tc · 4 years

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9th of October, 2020

"The One with the Cards Laid Bare"

[INCREDIBLY LONG, SORRY FOR CLOGGING THE TAG]

There were very tense energies in our classroom before V's double class. We already knew she'd cried today, we knew where she'd be working from other classes, so we all knew what would come, and it still was bad. One of the boys said he heard that she hopes we're not all angry at her and that we won't hate her for her decision. There was not an inch of anger or hatred in any of us, just heartbreak. We knew how much we'd cry seeing her leave. We were afraid of this goodbye. But it had to come eventually. The last class she'll ever teach. The last two lessons she'll ever have.

She was late. Only a couple minutes, but seeing she's always on time, or even a bit early, it was worrying. I walked outside to find her, and when I did, I saw her, coming up the stairs with two boys from the class, fresh back from lunch. Immediately as she saw me, she raised her index finger and said: "No." I didn't really understand it, until she continued: "I'm not gonna cry. I'm trying to go at least two minutes without crying." My heart was in shambles, and nothing even happened yet.

She started by telling us an e-mail is not how she wanted us to find out. She wanted to tell us herself, but not until today, probably not until the end of class, even though she's known for quite a long time she wanted to leave. She didn't tell us, because she wanted these last days not to be chaotic, so we could still focus and do our best in class. There were signs, though. And I should have known. There's one in basically every post I wrote this year. Funny thing is, when I told you about how she was with the girl from the other class and I thought something was up, it was only my gut feeling. She hadn't told them yet. Only in the last 20 minutes of that double class.

She also told us who will be replacing her, just to get the professional part quickly over with. V said she expects us to treat them fairly, even if she won't be here to check on us. We keep this promise. Most of the time, it works.

Being a teacher doesn't pay well, and here, in our country, the profession itself is not respected the way it should be. 10 years of experience in the field means nothing, she said. The new education system is horrible, unbearable, and she's had enough of feeling like she's in a toxic relationship. Not with us, with teaching. She said she used to feel very anxious when she got here, and by now I know what she hadn't told us in that moment, that she still doesn't feel good thinking about school. She has to leave for her own sake, even though she feels incredibly guilty about it. Even though she'll miss us.

She said, through tears, constantly stopping to take a deep breath and gather her thoughts, that teaching is something she was planning to do her whole life long, but she has to step back now. Even though she has "the seniors, standing before their graduation exams, [us], whom [she's] bonded with", she can't do it anymore. And when one of the girls asked her if she really did love us, she said: "Would I have stayed so long if I didn't?"

We spent long minutes in class discussing the education system, and when I said I didn't know about something that supposedly came from the weaker one of the theatre universities here at home, V was surprised that I hadn't read it. She called me a nickname again, a new one. I've been babygirl and I've been fairy bug before, but not once have I been the name that translates to "my life". Spanish speakers, it's like when you guys say mi vida to someone you love. That's what V called me. I don't remember her ever having called someone that in class.

Between classes, Bandana Friend, who was sick, joined us via video call to speak to V, as she really wanted to say goodbye, at least like this. I stood right beside V as they spoke, out of the camera's sight, unlike my classmates, constantly goofing off in the background, making both V and my friend laugh a little. As I stood there, I couldn't help but marvel at V's eyes from up close, in the light. I don't think I've ever seen a more enchanting eye colour before, and I find nearly every pair of eyes I see pretty. Seriously, I wasn't overexaggerating in any of my posts. If you once catch her eye, you won't know when to stop looking.

After a while, though, my classmates got a bit much, still during the call, and there I was, gathering bravery and doing something I've never done before. I stroked V's arm for a second or two, like I've wanted to so many times before, to show sympathy. She didn't even look at me, didn't even flinch, she probably knew who was touching her. And, seeing how unresponsive, how calm she was about it, I couldn't help but think: "Is this something I could've done this whole time?"

Before the second class with her started, Debate Friend called her a derivative of her first name (though she made sure to say Miss with it), and V just told her not to be rude. Hours pass, and V lets her (and us all, indirectly) call her by her first name, which is something we're still adapting to, but I'm rushing too far ahead, let's slow down a little.

The second class went well, she wasn't crying anymore, on the contrary. We laughed a lot, she told us her honest opinion on a lot of us, who asked her what she thinks of them, and gave advice if needed. I didn't ask. I figured that if she wants to tell me something, she will. Then a very crazy chain of events happened.

She looked like she was gonna tear up again, and I couldn't sit and watch anymore. I stood up and walked right in front of her, not daring to ask for a hug, but hoping she'll get the message with arm gestures. It took her a bit, but when she did, she couldn't help but yell something that I would translate to: "[Specs] is jumping me!". The word she used here is something usually used in a romantic or flirty context. (Translation was never my forte.) You can probably imagine the laughter, and also my face as I realise that not even on her last day could she go without sassing me at least once.

But then. Oh, then. The next thing I hear as I turn towards her is as she says: "C'mere, Little Me." and before I know it, I find myself sobbing in her arms again, and thinking about how this happened. She seemed taken aback by or uncomfortable with the comparison the last time we spoke about it in March, before the quarantine. When did she accept it, or how? Now as I re-read that post, as I'm writing this one... could the turning point have been me calling her my sister? I had so many questions, but all I could do was cry.

Class was nearing the end when I finally managed to stop sobbing and ask her one thing I've been meaning to for ages: what her tattoos mean. "How much should I go into detail?" she asked with sparkling eyes. She wasn't even surprised I knew about the two on her shoulder blades — but I was, when she motioned with her fingers she actually had three. Before telling me about them, she jokingly said something along the lines of "I'm not gonna strip for you" (as all 3 are covered by clothes), and me being me, I immediately threw my hands up, face probably red, and said: "Nononononono, obviously [not]!"

Funny thing is, the two on her shoulder blades are actually quotes from the last book she had us read, the last thing we discussed with her in class on Wednesday. So this is what she meant when she said she had personal connections to it! After she told me which parts they're from, she jokingly added "Very English teacher [of me]...", to which I just laughed and responded "Yeah, very."

By the time I'm writing this, I already had to listen to the headmaster, one of V's replacements, as he bragged about knowing of these two tattoos. Heh. That's cute. It's still 2-1 to me, sir. Not only have I seen them partially before, which you said you haven't, but I also know about the one she most definitely never told you about. And the one I'm most definitely not gonna tell you guys about. Sorry. Some things just have to stay between V and I.

"Also, no one noticed that this is the first time since I came here that I've worn a band T-shirt!" she complains to me jokingly. "Well, I was used to your graphic shirts, so I didn't think much of it," I reply. She's very enthusiastic in telling me what exactly is on it, without me even asking. This woman put on a shirt that essentially disses Christianity — in a religious school. Unbelievable. I love her.

Somewhere around that time, I asked her to let me walk with her to the teacher's lounge, Bookworm Friend convinced her to take a photo with our squad (which had basically everyone I know, my own father included, telling me we look identical), I stroked her arm again (I no longer remember what the reason was, but she still must've felt it pretty natural, seeing she didn't react), and like 3/4 of the class came to hug V goodbye. Meanwhile, another girl I've been classmates with for ages, but never particularly liked, hugged me to try and comfort me. It caught me off-guard, but I've never felt more like our class is a community.

People from other classes came to talk as she walked outside, but I waited until she was alone, and most probably so was she. She promised, likely knowing that I wanted to talk privately, so we didn't leave until it was just the two of us left.

"Come, Little Me," she said again, as we got going. She liked this phrase so much that she repeated it in English. "Mini Me." Then I found out why the English. Turns out, her native English speaker boyfriend, who she name-dropped like it's second nature, as if she's telling a story to a friend (she's so whipped for him, it's adorable), knows all about this comparison, and had a good laugh at it. He knows who I am. I was important enough to mention at home to her boyfriend, something I always wondered about but never dared to ask her. Tears.

No, really, actual tears. I've told you before, I don't support confessing love to your teachers while you're still their student (I'd wait a year after graduation if I were you), and especially if you're underage, and I myself wouldn't do it either. And I didn't. My confession was a little different. My voice breaking from tears, I told her the one thing I wanted her to know most. "This is not how I wanted to tell you, but I've never got more (in life) from anyone..." The answer? The old classic. "Come on."

"[Specs], you really need to get more self-confidence" she tells me, as that's about the only thing I still need to get me where I want to be. "I have to," I reply. And I do. I'm trying. Funny thing, self-confidence. It comes up in both the first and the last conversation we have as student and teacher.

We get up, stand at the top of the stairs. Soon it's time to go. The memories get a bit hazy here, but I'll try my best.

She tells me she expected me to react this way, and was afraid of it, seeing what happened in January. I immediately corrected her. In January, I cried because seeing my classmates hurting and my teachers clueless and lost hurt me, whereas this time, it's personal. She doesn't say anything. I think she understands. I ask her if she'll be happy in this new situation, and she says she hopes so. Only time will tell.

"I probably won't be available at a moment's notice all the time, but if you ever need me, you'll find me," she reassures me.

My English (language) teacher walks outside in that moment, and starts talking to V like I'm not even there. V and I are both a bit uncomfortable with the interruption, but the teacher seems pretty fine with it. Fucking hell, woman, insensitivity much?

Anyway. When she's gone is probably the moment we realise this is it. That this is where it's over.

She reaches out, both verbally and physically, and there we are, hugging again, both of us stroking the other's back in an effort to try and comfort the other. "You always have your friends," she tells me. "Get a good rest," she adds somewhere during that moment. Then we pull away.

I don't reach out, I don't dare to. As soon as I step out of her arms, it's her, who takes a hold of my hand. Not clinging, just a gentle, meaningful hold. I have no idea what she was saying, as I focused on the fact that we were only bloody holding hands in plain sight — and another thing.

V's eyes were red, and full of tears.

She hadn't shed a single tear for the past 20 minutes or so. Yet there she stands before me, physically still holding on to me, and crying. That was all me. And all of a sudden, I understand everything. I no longer have the guts to deny that she loved me all this time.

That's where it ends. No grandiose confessions, nothing loud, nothing overly passionate. Just a scene of two women standing hand-in-hand, showing their true colours and not holding anything back for the first time since they've met, before Miss V, the teacher, forever disappears behind a glass door.

These two women, mentioned above, are the ones who laid the foundation for two friends, two equals to meet anew. They are just getting to know each other all over again as we speak, setting the tone for something to start that could possibly last a long time. And I don't think there's anything that could feel better than that.

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

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bangtan-madi · 4 years

Text

546 Days Without You — Eight: Day 225

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader, platonic!Namjoon x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 4.4k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 8 / 15

Warnings — minor language

A/N — Taglist is open! Comment or submit an ask if you want to be added :)

Previous — Next

Once Bang PD gives his blessing on the next Tour, everyone at the company hits the group running. Choreography is created, photography and promotional material are completed, tour dates and locations are worked out, and the final details are worked out for the album. Everything is coming together beautifully, and about time, too! The release of Map of the Soul: Dream is less than six weeks away, and the excitement is only growing.

All of this is over your pay-grade, and gratefully so. You've spent most of the past month gawking over the wild success that your song Silhouette has been on Soundcloud. You had millions of plays by the end of the first day, let alone the impressive amount you have thirty-five days later. Your pride and joy has been in the news, on tons of fansites, and all across social media. No one expected the youngest Min sibling to do anything solo; you've taken the world by storm, rivaled only by the boys themselves. The overwhelming consensus is that you blew it out of the park.

"It's actually worked out perfectly from a marketing standpoint," Bang PD said at a meeting recently. "Your fame is only going to fuel the fire of the comeback since we've been radio silent since December. Thanks to you, we've been given a little push that we needed. But you know what would be even better?"

You knew what he was going to suggest, and you scoffed when he said it aloud.

"Put your song on the album as a feature and tour with the boys. People will lose their damn minds, I know it."

"The only person who's lost his mind is you, PD-nim."

While you'd teased him at the meeting with the boys, the idea has pricked your interest. While the thought of performing in front of tens of thousands of people terrifies you in a way you can't explain, it also gave you a sense of excitement. Your anxieties are holding you back, you know it, but what can you do against your own dread?

"That must be a pretty interesting batch of ochazuke."

You smirk and turn towards the leader of the group, lifting the bowl of green tea on rice. Or, as it's called in Japan, ochazuke. "Made enough for two. Want some?"

Namjoon's dimples deepen as he sneaks around the corner with a giddy grin. "You're the best. Jin and Yoongi's cooking skills have rubbed off on you."

Due to the busy schedule, you've temporarily moved back into the dorms to be closer to the madness. You've done similar things in previous comebacks, and the boys always loved having you around 24/7. This is never more true than around mealtime. With the two oldest members gone, aka the only ones that are qualified to operate anything in the kitchen, there have been weeks at a time where takeout is the only thing the group consumes. As your workload has lessened due to the nature of being a music producer, and their's has gotten heavier, you've taken it upon yourself to make home life a little more normal.

"I asked Yoongi to send me the recipe last time I wrote," you reply, pouring a serving of green tea over Namjoon's portion of the fish and rice. "I got it yesterday with his letter. Figured it would be a nice pick-me-up."

The member agrees and takes the dish with a slight and grateful bow. "Eat with me? I have to run back to the studio after, but the summer day is gorgeous, and I feel like we haven't had alone time in a while. Just you and me?"

You grip your lunch between your hands and nod eagerly, allowing Namjoon to lead the way to the expansive balcony of the dormitories. Being several floors off the ground and in the heart of Seoul, the area around you is gorgeous. The buildings stretch tall and imposing, casting shadows across the space as the mid-day sun streams through the light cloud cover.

He's right. The day is as close to perfect as you can imagine.

Once you both settle into the chairs in the corner of the balcony, under the wood and vine-woven covering that shades a little of the harsh sun out, you start to dig into the meal. While it doesn't taste exactly like when Yoongi makes it, you're elated to have a piece of him back.

"If you ever get tired of producing, you can always open a restaurant," Namjoon chimes, clearly enjoying himself as he scarfs down the dish.

You chuckle, replying, "Thanks, but I think I'll leave that to Mom. Music is my life. I can't imagine doing anything else. Ever."

"Actually...I wanted to pick your brain about something related to that. You mind?"

Taking another big bite, you shake your head. There are very few times you're not excited to have an in-depth conversation with Namjoon, about everything or anything. "Shoot."

Namjoon leans back in his chair, resting the bowl against his thigh as he chews lightly on the inside of his cheek, a nervous habit. "With the comeback and album release just around the corner, I've been thinking..." He turns to face you. "I'm not sure if Bang PD was kidding or serious when he offered to put you on the album that first time, but I talked to him about it after you shot him down...and I think it would be a really cool idea."

Your stomach does flip-flops at the thought. Instantly, you're shaking your head fervently and placing your bowl on the side table. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"'Cause."

Namjoon gives a disappointed scowl. "Not good enough, [Y/n]."

"I just don't want to, Namjoon," you retort, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "If my song goes on 'Dream,' then it has to be performed. By me. On tour. In front of fifty-thousand people. I'm...I'm just not ready. I put out one song to exercise a creative outlet, not to get famous or perform life or anything like that. It's like 'Mono.' I never intended it to get this much attention."

"If I had the chance to perform 'Mono' on stage with the members, I would fucking take it," he replies wholeheartedly.

"That's you, Joonie. That's not me."

Breathing a soft sigh, Namjoon takes another bite of his lunch. "Look, I've told you all this before. So have all the other members. We're not here to force you to sing in public or do anything you don't want to do. I just wanna be sure that you're not hiding behind your fear."

It takes every fiber of self-control not to roll your eyes. "Of course, I'm afraid."

"Of what? Not living up to BTS? Your brother or boyfriend?"

"Maybe at one point that was it, but no. It's not that anymore."

"Then what is it?"

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you hug them tightly as you try to vocalize your fears. "You guys know me. The real me. I'm sarcastic and snarky. I make inappropriate jokes and I use humor to mask my pain. I'm a little on the abrasive side and I like to pretend I'm the toughest person in the room. But when I'm in front of crowds or around people I don't know, I shut down. I get quiet. My inner lioness quiets and turns into a mouse. I just...Thinking about getting on that stage to sing and rap in front of thousands? That's probably my biggest fear."

Namjoon listens patiently, just as he always has. He's never rushed you or interrupted you; it's one of the many things you adore about him. As dorky and destructive and silly as he can be, above all else, Namjoon is the one person in the world you can go to about anything. This includes your brother boyfriend, best friend or childhood friend. Namjoon will give you the facts, an outside perspective, and a logical solution. He tries to be as objective as possible and not let emotions get in the way, all while being a gentle and caring soul.

"So, stage fright?" You nod a wordless reply. "That's completely normal, [Y/n]. We all started like that, and we all still get nervous when shows begin. And this isn't me trying to convince you, but I hope you realize that those anxieties are an outdated form of self-preservation. Those fears you have about being in front of crowds, it's leftover from a time when humans had to hide. Your brain is trying to keep you safe, but you can reprogram it. You don't have to live in that place of irrational fear forever. You don't have to let your mind keep you there. You can be stronger."

You crack a smile at his comparisons. "Of course you'd look at it that way."

"Well, it's true." He shrugs his shoulders. "Again, not trying to convince you otherwise. I just...Don't live in fear of others for the rest of your life, [Y/n]. Our time is short, and the time we have together—in front of the spotlight—that's even shorter. You have a chance. If you take it, you know you have all of our support. And if you don't want that, for a reason other than fear, you have it then, too."

Both of your phone's buzz. As you look at yours, you see an unknown number pop up on the screen. Figuring it's probably a spam call or journalist or someone else you really don't want to talk to, you ignore it.

Namjoon groans lightly at the text he's received. "Someone mixed up the names of the songs for the final version of the album. I gotta go fix this before they send it off. That's the last thing I need." As he stands, he gives you a grateful smile. "Thanks for the lunch and conversation. Always can count on both of those to be good with you. Sorry to leave so quickly."

You return the expression, waving your hand nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it. Go take care of business, boss."

The leader rolls his eyes and heads towards the door. He turns and points at you, still walking backwards, and says, "I meant what I said! If you want to include Silhouette, let me know. I send off the final version later tonight, say eight. Let me know before then? Just give me a call, and you're on."

"What would you do?" you shout after him, fingers playing absentmindedly with each other. "If you were in my shoes?"

Namjoon stops in mid-step, grip on the doorknob and eyes settling somewhere on the Seoul skyline. He takes a moment to think, then turns back to you with the response, "I'd go for it. What do you have to lose but the chance of a lifetime?"

Sometime after Namjoon leaves for the studio, you're sitting alone in Genius Lab, a pad of music sheets in one hand, a pencil in the other. Your mind continuously shifts back and forth between a wholehearted yes and a horrified no. Every possible angle replays over and over in your mind, including your conversation with the true middle member from earlier.

Glancing at the clock, you see the minute hand tick past the twelve. You've been here for hours, trying to bury your mind in writing another melody, but nothing is coming to you. You even went through Yoongi's unpublished works to see if anything your brilliant brother came up with would spark something. To no avail, the time has ticked past seven.

"Another hour," you murmur. "Gotta make up this damn indecisive mind."

Knowing you're not going to get anything else done tonight, you set the writing materials aside, stretch your legs, and make your way to the door. Tugging the hoodie over your hair, you shuffle back towards the balcony with the intention of getting some fresh air. The sun has yet to set, and the majestic hues that cascade across the tall buildings remind you of the first date you had with Seokjin all those years ago.

It brings a smile to your face, and you settle your front against the edge. Arms resting against the solid railing, your eyes focus upward. The moon is full and shining, and ever since the last album, it's a constant reminder of the man you love most.

Your phone rings again in your pocket. Retrieving it, you see the same number as before. It had called you again earlier in the afternoon after Namjoon had left, and you'd ignored it again.

Huffing an annoyed breath, you swipe the answer key and place the phone against your ear. "Okay, what the hell? How did you get this number and why don't you give up on trying to sell me shit I don't want, nor need, and I'll have you know that I—"

Obnoxious, hiccupy, overly familiar laughter comes through as clear as day. It cuts you to your core, stunning you enough to spur you into a sputtering silence.

"Holy hell, Jagiya, that's some way to answer the phone!"

Your knees buckle, and you have to trip the railing to stay upright. Lower lip quivering, body trembling, eyes watering, you slide onto the ground and pull your legs to your chest. The free hand cups over your mouth as you try to hide the whimpers that escape.

"Jagi?" he murmurs, his voice softer than before. "Hey, are you okay, [Y/n]?"

You swallow hard and close your eyes, allowing the tears to fall. God, his voice sounds just as calming and perfect and lovely as ever. Despite the eight months of separation, it's the one thing that can bring you back to the last time you heard it—on that training field right before you said goodbye.

"S—Seokjin...is that...you?"

The love of your life gives a small, breathy chuckle. "I told you I'd see you soon, Jagiya. Have you ever known me to be a liar?"

A laugh slips out, tumbling past your weak sobs, and you finally allow him to hear your emotions. "God, yes! You lied about that horrid dress I wore to the MAMAs that one year. I looked terrible, and you looked like a King. You lie all the time, you big oaf."

"Excuse me, I thought you looked like a Queen!" Seokjin scoffs. "That's the last time I try to compliment you."

The lightness in his voice brings a smile to your face. Wiping the tears away with the sleeve of your hoodie, you ask, "Wait, how can you call me? I thought they didn't allow cell phones for Privates."

"They don't, not for Second Class at least. Guess who got a promotion and some special perks along with it?"

You gasp and wiggle in your seat from excitement. "You're First Class now? That's amazing, Jinnie! I'm so damn proud of you."

"I was hoping you'd get all excited," Seokjin says, elated at your response, "but I was starting to think you'd moved on after you wouldn't pick up."

"I didn't know the number, idiot! You know how many scammy calls we all get. Trust me, the last thing I felt like dealing with today was a journalist prying into my love life or asking about my future as an artist."

Your boyfriend makes a sound of understanding, then shifts the conversation. "I know I've written to you before about your song, but I have to tell you now. Jagi, I'm completely serious when I say I've never heard you so excited about anything. Or more passionate. Or sounding more beautiful. Silhouette is a masterpiece. I'm so proud of you." After saying such sweet words, he tosses in a playful scoff. "Although, I have to admit I'm a little pissed I didn't get to hear the process of you making it. And I'll have to ignore the fact that Taehyung-ah got to do that with you. Should've been me!"

You lean your head back against the railing, flashing an infamous smirk. "I know, I know. Believe me, when you get back, we'll compose plenty of music together."

"About damn time!"

There's a lull in the conversation as you stifle your laughter and Seokjin brings his voice down to a normal volume. "So, these phone privileges, how long do you have?"

"A half-hour or so," he replies. "I have my own phone for work at the base. To communicate with my team, that kinda thing, but we're allowed a half-hour a day after shifts to talk to our families. I knew my first call had to be to you."

"Not even your mother? I'm honored."

"Yeaaah, I'll hear about it when I call her tomorrow, trust me."

Sentimentality tugs at your heart strings at his confession. "I appreciate it, Jinnie. I could use a pick-me-up."

"That reminds me..." He pauses, and there's shuffling on the other line, as if he's getting comfortable and settling in for a long talk. "How have you been, [Y/n]? I know we talk through letters all the time, but..."

"Just not the same?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "Exactly."

You bite your lower lip in anticipation. Half of you wants to tell him everything that's going on. The other half is fighting so hard against it. You just got him back after over half a year. Do you really want your first conversation to be about you? There are so many things you want to hear from him, about his life in the military. Even just to hear his voice would be a relief. Who knows how regular these talks can be.

But the things floating around in your mind have to settle soon, otherwise you might regret inaction.

"So...this can be a regular thing?"

"As regular as every day, if you want it. When I get a new phone, one maybe not made by the military, we can even facetime. How does that sound?"

An immense wave of relief washes over you, causing your to sigh, "God, Seokjin, that—that sounds absolutely perfect. I've missed you."

There's a smile in his voice; even over the phone, you've always been able to tell. "I've missed you, too, [Y/n]-ah. So, tell me. How's life been? How's the album coming, and tour? The boys? Anything on your mind?"

"Awww, but I was going to ask you the same thing. I wanna hear about the military and your work with your new team and how things are going."

"Next time," he laughs. "Promise. I've been dying to hear about the outside world, more than just bits and pieces through letters and word-of-mouth. Tell me what's on your mind; that'll make me so damn happy, you have no idea. And you sound a little pre-occupied. Is there something on your mind?"

Taking his words at face-value, you decide to relent and bring up the subject that's been occupying your mind all afternoon. "Well...if this is going to be a regular thing, I could actually use your advice right now."

"About what?"

"I'm torn, and I've talked to Namjoon, but there's still so much I need clarity on. If you're up for listening, I'd love you a million times more."

"A million times more than infinity? How can I resist such a pretty lady's request?"

You tell him everything. All your fears, all your dreams, all your reservations and wishes, everything you discussed with Namjoon, and your own thoughts. Seokjin listens intently for the next few minutes, drinking in your words as if they're the last he'll ever hear.

Even with nearly eight months of separation, with nothing but letters to connect you, you pick up on caring for each other as if no time has passed at all.

When you finish your explanation, you wrap up with, "I just—I'm so torn. Like I said, I think deep down I want to do it. I wanna have Silhouette on 'Dream.' I wanna tour with our boys. I wanna live that secret dream and show the world my creativity and work and eight years' worth of effort. I'm just...I'm so terrified, Jinnie. It makes my skin crawl thinking about the stage, the audience, the crowds..."

As you trail off, Seokjin speaks up for the first time in nearly ten minutes. "I know how you feel, better than anyone I think, but I think you're underestimating just how much you've grown and changed. Even, and especially, since December. You've become a lot bolder, a lot more sure of yourself and your music, and a lot more willing to share. This time last year, would you even have thought about releasing your own song? Let along contemplating its addition to our next album?"

"No," you reply, stifling a laugh at the idea of your former self. "Definitely not."

"See? That's exactly what I mean. You've changed, Jagi, in all the best ways. I've seen it. The boys see it. Clearly Bang PD sees it, too. Why else would he ask you several times to join them on tour? It's just been a gradual change, so slow and sneaky you didn't notice it yourself. But look back on the last year. You've come such a long way. I bet, if you wanted to give it a go, you'd find tour invigorating."

"You live for tour, though."

"I didn't at first," he admits. "I was just good at hiding it. As the oldest, I felt it was my job to put on a brave face for the other members." Seokjin groans a little bit at the confession. "You know me. You know how introverted and private I am. I have come to love performing, but there were shows where I almost died of fright. I had to grow and change, just like you are now. It's growing pains, but it will only do you good in the end."

"You really think so?"

"I do." There a hint of pride and warmth in his voice, one you've surely missed. "You asked Namjoon what he would do if he were you. He's as honest as they come, and I have to agree. If I were you—because at one time, I was you—I would take the leap of faith. What's that quote you love so much? 'Take the leap of faith. Aim for the moon. Even if you miss'—"

"—'You'll land among the stars," you grin, mumbling the remaining portion of the saying.

Seokjin gives a deep and amused chuckle. "That's my girl." A beat of silence fills the space. "What're you thinking about, Jagi?"

"That it's been too many damn days without you," you admit, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. "I've counted every one."

"We're on Day 225," your boyfriend agrees. "Don't worry. I've been keeping count as well."

"Only 321 more to go. Didn't think I'd survive 546 days without you, but we're halfway there, so there's hope I suppose."

"You know, that's what I wanted our song to be called originally, but I chickened out and forgot to give it an actual name."

Your eyes open. Staring up at the sky overhead, you see the stars start to twinkle, the moon rise over the buildings, and the sky shift from warm hues to cool tones. "Our song?"

"The one I left you, the one Namjoon gave you. I know we agreed to put it on 'Dream,' but don't you think it should have a proper name?"

"I agree. What was it? '546 Days Without You'?"

Seokjin scoffs at the English phrasing. "Or the Hangul equivalent."

You burst into laughter, hearing him laugh right along with you. "You're such a hopeless romantic."

"Only for you."

"That's a damn lie, Kim Seokjin."

"Okay, okay, Min [Y/n]," he confesses, and you can almost see him lifting his hands in defense. "Caught me in a lie. But I do love you, and that's not a lie."

Your tone softens at his adoring words. "I love you, too."

"So, when do you have to let Namjoon-ah know of your decision?"

"Um..." You pull away from the phone, looking down at he digital clock. It reads just after seven-thirty. "Like, right now? Shit."

"No worries, Jagi," Seokjin says with casual ease. "I'm at my daily limit anyway. I'll text you from this number tomorrow, okay? You'll have to let me know what you decide. Just know, whatever you choose, you have me in your corner."

You pull yourself up from the ground, brushing off your pants and pulling yourself together. "I adore you, you know that?"

"I do," he laughs. "Goodnight, [Y/n]."

"Goodnight, Jinnie. Sweet dreams."

The call ends, and you lower the device from your ear. Your heart is at ease for the first time in what feels like months. The conversation you so desperately needed to have with the person you yearned for most has settled your soul. The restlessness you felt today has subsided, and in its place is certainty and resolve.

Quickly calling Namjoon, you get him on the second ring. "Put it on." It comes barreling out of you like an instinct. Because of that, you know you've made the right decision. "Add Silhouette to 'Map of the Soul: Dream.'"

Namjoon hesitates before asking, "Are you sure? I mean, I'm thrilled! But don't let anything I said pressure you."

"I'm sure," you nod, even if he can't see it. "More sure than I've been in a while."

"All right," he relents, sounding more excited than anything else. "Track thirteen is all yours! Gotta say, cutting it a bit close."

"I know, I know. I'll explain when you get home." You push back into the dorms, leaving the balcony and your fears behind. "Also, is it too late to change a track name?"

"Um...technically no? Which song, and to what? And while I'm at it, why?"

You huff out a sigh, having too much energy to stay home any longer. "Screw it." Grabbing your scarf, you dance towards the door. "I'm coming down there. Give me five."

"Um...okay, but [Y/n]—[Y/n], are you still there? Helloooo? You didn't tell me why we're changing it? What the hell, did I break the connect—"

Taglist — @joyful-jimin, @gracehiii, @live-2-fangirl, @rjsmochii

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