#a book I...somehow still do not own? I have had opportunities to buy it but

[televinita]

A very random note, but I am delighted to learn that my library not only still has A Great and Terrible Beauty in stock -- twenty years after its release! M*I*R*A*C*L*E-- they have two copies, plus an audiobook on CD, and A BRAND NEW COPY THAT JUST ARRIVED IN CATALOGING. Like a copy either got lost or wore out and instead of going "natural lifespan reached," they decided to replace it. A 20-year-old book that has not, to my knowledge, retained mega-popular status, but something about it must be working!

(And yet. While they also still have Rebel Angels, they do not have the third book in the trilogy anymore. Punk-ass book jockeys...)

[liskantope]

I've mentioned a bunch of times in this space that I used to be really into lucid dreaming as an early teenager (peaking when I was 13-to-14) and was pretty good at it too; then I gradually lost something (interest? or opportune circumstances/lifestyle?) and had mostly stopped doing it by the time I became an adult, and I often wish I could get back what I lost.

I was rereading a bit of one of my old lucid dreaming books (the copy of Exploring the World of Lucid Dreaming, by Stephen LaBerge, which I got when I was 14) and it was describing the DreamLight mask (cutting-edge technology of ~1990 to detect REM sleep and flash lights that will stimulate the user to realize they're dreaming) and began to remember how I'd always been curious about these devices, and also about lucid dreaming retreats in (I think) Hawaii that I knew of at the time, and other things which I couldn't imagine having the money to buy. And now that I do have enough money that I could at least consider buying a new toy like one of these DreamLight-like devices and surely technology will have improved since 25-30 years ago, I wondered if I could find a place that was still selling stuff like that. And of course, I found out that the DreamLight and the NovaDreamer and most other such products have been off the market for many years. Somehow I'm not shocked by this at all.

I can't say that there has ever been any kind of widespread interest in lucid dreaming as a cultural phenomenon at any point in history, but I can't help feeling that there somehow was stronger collective interest in it between 20 and 30 years ago than there ever has been since. A good bit of my vivid recollections of the first-half-of-the-00's internet comes from memories of lurking on a lucid dreaming forum that was connected to the Lucidity Institute -- some years later, the Lucidity Institute lost funding and was shut down. I don't think they're doing those retreats anymore either. Stephen LaBerge (the foremost founding scientific expert on lucid dreaming) is still alive AFAIK but well past retirement age now and maybe no longer active. I don't know of a place where many people talk about it (okay, I checked and there is an active Reddit page which doesn't look to be great quality so far, but as far as I know there is no Lucid Dreaming Tumblr). The topic of lucid dreaming has just fallen long past its peak in our collective pool of cultural interests. There is no "market" for it any more, either in the literal sense of production of lucid dream -stimulating technology or funding for scientific research or in a more metaphorical sense.

The funny thing about it is that this parallels pretty well my own intense interest and engagement with lucid dreaming: peaking around 2000-2002 and then diminishing gradually until it had reached near-oblivion by the end of the '00's and then I haven't quite been able to revive it since. (Of course it's not a precise parallel: I imagine there was a lot of collective activity around the 80's and 90's, which is for instance when LaBerge's seminal books on it came out and the Lucidity Institute was at the height of its powers. But that was pretty much before my time.)

It makes me think of my own personal interest in atheism and related topics, which peaked only slightly after my interest in lucid dreaming (2003-2006-ish) before lagging slightly and then dropping sharply in the early 2010's. (One of my other main sources of memories of the first-half-of-the-'00's internet, even more vivid, is of hanging around atheism-related forums!) And this almost precisely lines up with the New Atheism movement and prevalence of atheism as part of the culture wars (I consider this era to have begun around 2003 and ended definitively in 2011). Now obviously this isn't a coincidence: the fact that everyone was arguing about atheism a lot circa 2005 clearly contributed to my continuing to think about it a lot. But it still feels like kind of an individualistic personal journey for me: my mid-teenage self was ripe for sinking my teeth into this particular kind of social and philosophical question, getting really indignant about it, eventually finding hours to discuss it with semi-strangers as a college campus (an environment very conducive for that!), then eventually feel like I was "growing out of it", had burned myself out mulling and discoursing over something that was never quite going to be resolved across large groups of people (I do feel like my side -- the pro-secular side -- by and large won those culture wars though), and... meh. That arguably sort of is what happened on the broad society-wide scale, in fact: a bunch of people got obsessed by atheism and then kind of collectively "grew out of it", but it feels like something that could only happen to me at those particular ages which makes it feel like a significant coincidence that the particular ages coincided with society's arc here.

[atranswomansdiary]

Day 47

July 22, 2020

I am not a man… And I don’t think I ever was.

This is ridiculous and preposterous, I know, but it is not as stupid as it reads, I promise.

I was born a man because I was born with a penis. I don’t think there’s anything deeper than that. I don’t believe doctors actually examine your DNA and make sure your chromosomes match your sex—unless there are problems, of course. But, I think we can all agree, even if they did, a human being is not only whatever sexual genetic material their cells contain, aren’t they?

From then on, no one ever asked me if I wanted to be man. Of course they wouldn’t! I was too young to understand the concept, wasn’t I? So, because I was too young to process what was going on, the logical thing was just to assume I was a man. You’re born with a penis? You’re a man.

The problem, however, is that not everyone born with a penis is a man.

As far as I know, people whose gender doesn’t align with their sex—or, in the simplest words, people who have penises but aren’t men or have vaginas but aren’t women—are a minority, yes. And yet any reasonable person, I think, would agree that having that possibility alone should mean that parents, families, and society in general should be open about this and inform their children about it, right? Just to let them know that the possibility exists and that, if it is so in their case, that there are alternatives—reasonable, scientifically-proven ways—of remedying any feelings of inadequacy or general discomfort with their own bodies. After all, they’re only children. They supposedly don’t know better, but adults do. The same way we explain them every other fucking thing in the universe, from atoms to praying to an invisible bearded white man in the sky.

FUCK!

So, you grow up and, at least in my case, I never had any information about this little thing that I’ve come to know as gender dysphoria. My parents were progressive enough to talk to me about sex and relationships, but not about this. I studied in one of the most prestigious schools in the country I grew up in—and I specialized in sciences in high school, so I had the best possible education(?) on the matter—and no one ever fucking even mentioned the existence of trans people. I went to university and studied a bunch of shit, met and saw lots of people, and never in my godsdamned life had even the opportunity to learn about this. I didn’t get to have internet at home reliably until I was 24, but I was still able to teach myself a language, learn about a shit ton of things, buy books on the most diverse of topics—and in various languages—but this specific, vital knowledge was never accessible for me. And I’ve never been a slouch when it comes to research for fuck’s sake! I read (a not very good translation of) Kant’s Kritik der reinen Vernunft when I was 17 years old because I was able to borrow a copy from my school’s library. And yet, somehow, someway, I was never taught about trans people.

The closest I ever got in whole life before I was 30 were a) cross-dressers (what the people around me called "transvestites") and b) the notion of intersexual people.

How can it be possible that a decently informed human being, one who read newspapers since they were able (and could afford) to do so never learned about gender dysphoria and/or trans people?

At the top I said that human beings are not only whatever their DNA says they are. So, it follows, I think, that there must another dimension, non-biological—at least in that sense of the word—that determines them.

That is what people in the biz call “psychology”, I’m told.

So: if being born with a penis is not sufficient reason to be a man, then there must other aspects that complete this definition. Psychological, social, political, philosophical, and even ontological, perhaps? This is not something new or revolutionary and, if you don’t want this messy version of the idea that I’m putting forward, I can’t recommend you Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (1990) enough. Butler is orders of magnitude more intelligent than I am and writes way better than I ever could on the subject.

So, my poor (wo)man’s version of the issue of gender—as it pertains to me, at least—is as follows. Biologically I am man—AKA I have a penis—but, in almost all other areas of manhood (so to speak), I’m a total and absolute failure, both by my own and other people’s admission. But this isn’t really about “manhood performance”, no. My focus is, instead, on level of comfort/identification with it.

And this is the one area where my dysphoria has been most evident and I can actually trace it back the longest. I never identified as a man, in a manner. I knew that’s who I was supposed to be, on a very subconscious and obligatory level—similar to my reluctant acceptance that my family was my family, whether I liked it or not—but feeling like, happy about it? Nope. Never. Maybe a couple of times during my Conan-esque months, but at that point even I was able to discern that it was more of a pose or an attitude than really something deep and meaningful. It was something that came from the outside in, instead of the other way around.

So that’s why I say that I’m not a man and I probably never was. I was born a human male, that is the truth, but a man? Nope. I don’t think I ever felt comfortable nor identified with that gender label. What’s worse, I didn’t have the language to express my discomfort, anxiety, and sometimes erratic behavior. I was always a “dissident man”, internally, emotionally, psychologically, and affectively long before I discovered that I was also a dissident on a social and even political level.

The tragedy, of course, are the 34 years of my life that took me to realize this. To put these feelings and ideas into words. It’s my whole fucking life we’re talking about! And what’s worse, of course, is that I fear it may be too late. What chances do I have at 34? My body has already been deformed by years of mistreatment, male hormones, and general decay. What hopes and dreams can I foster? I’ve been researching and most people transition when they’re in their late adolescence, early adulthood. I’m ancient, in comparison.

Biologically, I can’t believe that my body will be malleable enough. Psychologically, I don’t think I have the strength of mind necessary to withstand the abuse most trans people undergo every day. Imagining losing my mother’s love, my father’s hard-earned approval, and my siblings’ affection terrifies me. And what about the rest of society? How would I deal with all the nazis that want trans people dead or worse? I don’t think I could. And what about my new job? I like it so much—it’s pretty much perfect, especially since I feel most of the people I get to work with like me well enough—but I don’t think a single one of those persons would accept me if I changed.

I’m not even sure if my lifelong friends or newlymet ones would, to be honest.

So, this is nice and all, but it doesn’t change a single damn thing. I’m still where I started. I’m trapped. No way out. I may now know “the truth about myself”—if there is such a thing—but it doesn’t change a fucking thing. Nice thoughts and feelings, but they’ll have to remain that. They must remain that.

Maybe one day I’ll find someone I feel confident enough to share this secret with. And maybe in sharing that secret I’ll be free, at least for that brief moment. An island of relief amidst a sea of sorrow.

Until then, with love,

ZZ

[neetily]

꣑୧ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── MATCHUP EVENT: Date #10

♡ cupid's victim number ten!! ♡

yippeee!!! i had a lot of fun with this matchup, so i really hope you enjoy it too, even if it's not who you'd expect!!

─ you have one new message from...

Elliott . . .

love, would you perhaps like to continue yesterdays date in proper privacy this time? you know that my cabin is open all hours to you, so please— come visit when you can, okay?

Why? introverted besties turned lovers, i think! you did mentioned that elliott would be one of your fav picks, and i can see why! you both match energies so well, the quiet introspective types, i think. in my HC, elliott loves going for coffee and writing in cute cafes, which provides you ample opportunity for dates with him! he'd encourage you to try as many drinks as you please, taking notes on your favourite ones, just so that he can better appease you in future too! a man of note taking, he's always remembering those little details about you, which i think you'd appreciate! he'd love for you to site and brush his hair while he relaxes, maybe even braid it for him, test out new and pretty hairstyles on him; anything so long as he's spending time with you! and, of course, you both share a love of reading! im imagining you both having your very own private book club of two, swapping notes and questions and theories over shared stories together, taking turns on who gets to pick the next shared read, excitedly waiting for the other to catch up on chapters.

you both just give off this air of sophistication, i feel. something that would help you both get along well! oh, and i also think he would go CRAZY over having a flat chested partner, like it's his preference. thinks you're just sooooo cute ugh <3

Book Nook . . .

this was a bad idea.

not solely due to the public setting, stowed away in a relatively private booth at a corner cafe, big comfy seats providing ample support as he sits with your weight in his lap, doing his best to look as casual as possible when sipping away at his coffee; but he can't focus properly. even if he knows that no one is looking at how hard his hand trembles on the bland cup, or how he's not even glancing at his open book at the moment, he can't help but to stay vigilant.

only because he doesn't want anyone else to see you right now, so vulnerable and cute for him. a protective arm coming up to wrap around your tummy, pausing for a brief second as he checks his surroundings before coming up to squeeze at your flat chest once or twice. he smiles to himself at the short gasp you let out in response to his perversion.

it's not a bad idea simply because he can barely stand to sit still, not with the way you consistently squirm and shiver on his cock, warm wet little cunt just begging for him to give in, to offer her some movement. an intended stern "princess..." escaping his tense lips, but it comes out more like a whine as opposed to anything else. a plead for more himself, tapping the cafe table idly as if doing so would somehow help calm him down from this little hidden sex game, lessen the heat radiating his cheeks, allow his cock to fuck so deep into you that you're left gasping for air in the middle of everybody's daily lives.

but it's a bad idea because of how addictive it is, from the get go too. to claim you so publicly, his pretty princess, sitting on her rightful throne. cock buried balls deep in you as you pretend to read with him, a squirmy little mess on his lap— it feels sooooo good to have his arms wrapped around you too, huffing in your scent against your neck; surely it just looks like a big hug, right? the way your skirt flows over him, hiding the degenerate secret behind layers of fabric.

he never knew cockwarming could be so exciting, honestly. but as per usual, you always seem to surprise him. perhaps later, when he's decided he's had enough of idle sitting and instead wishes to give you want you deserve, he'll let you wobble on over to the cash register to buy yourself a nice little sweet treat. one for him too, to take home.

then, he's rushing you to the nearest private spot. nursing an erection for however long it takes, just so that he can show you exactly how much he loves and appreciates you.

— you like to... do something creative when alone! here is a moodboard that i think fits your matchup!

[golden--doodler]

This post was long overdue! I can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner, but here’s part two of the very first post I made on this lovely site, random Bob’s Burgers facts that no one asked for but I’m sharing/reminding everyone of because I can:

—Apparently, when Gene was a toddler, Bob had to watch him, and he somehow managed to eat a fern under Bob’s watch. Where did this fern come from? Who knows?  ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯  Bob was very worried and thought Gene would die or get really sick, but he was fine. Gene has an iron stomach for real. This tidbit is as mentioned in Season 3, Episode 15, O.T. The Outside Toilet.

—Gene is the only Belcher with visible ears, and they’re adorable 🥰 I still don’t know how Bob’s hair manages to completely cover his, but it does.

—Real life fact, but 9/3 is not only Bob and Linda’s anniversary, but also Loren Bouchard and his wife’s anniversary! That’s where he got the date from. How adorable.

—Linda’s birthday is June 3, making her a Gemini. Tina’s birthday is March 30, making her an Aries. Gene is a Sagittarius, making his birthday sometime in either late November or December. I like to say his birthday is December 19, because that’s one of my friend’s birthdays :3

—Linda’s high school was called Cardinal Genarro High School, and one time, there was a pumpkin carving contest. Linda didn’t want Gayle to feel bad for losing to Linda’s amazing pumpkin, so she tried smashing her own pumpkin. Gayle followed her, though, and because of a series of events, they ended up destroying the entire table, which they swore to keep secret until well into adulthood (Season 12, Episode 3, The Pumpkinening).

—Linda’s hometown is a made-up town called Hunkawtaway.

—Linda once had Jury Duty on St. Patrick’s Day and wore a green blazer to court.

—Tina’s favorite flowers are Gardenias, as revealed in Season 5, Episode 11, Can’t Buy Me Math.

—Tina owns cat pajamas as seen in Season 4, Episode 9, Slumber Party, and that’s very important to me.

—Gene has brown eyes, which he most likely inherited from Bob. In the comics, Tina’s eye color is revealed to be blue, which she might have inherited from Linda.

—According to Gene in Season 11, Episode 2, Worms of In-Rear-Ment, Louise has always wanted to see Machu Pichu.

—Louise has apparently seen “Game of Thrones”. I wonder what she thought of it. Funnily enough, in the Season 4 Wharf Horse two-part season finale, Bob mourned the fact that he’d never find out how the show ended.

—As seen in Season 11, Episode 14, Mr. Lonely Farts, Gene normally hates being alone and thrives off the energy of other people. My poor boy had a whole panic attack when he was accidentally left home alone. However, he ends up using the opportunity to do a rave in Louise’s room with all of her toys, which she usually tells him not to do. It’s also revealed in that episode that Linda has a secret cracker stash, which he infiltrates.

—According to Season 13, Episode 18, Gift Card or Buy Trying, Gene might not like himself a whole lot. He rants about his former friend, Mitchell, saying that he’s loud, can’t really play music, and has no idea how annoying he is, and then comes to a realization, saying they’re exactly the same, so those things might be how he views himself.

—In Season 13, Episode 21, Mother Author Laser Pointer, it’s shown that Bob and Linda used to read Snail & Newt books to the kids when they were young, which is based off the real life Frog & Toad series. It’s so sweet they did this T_T

—Teddy’s favorite color is yellow! Mine is too :D This was revealed in Season 4, Episode 16, I Get Psy-Chic Out of You.

—Teddy’s full name might be Theodore J. McGillicuddy.

—Jimmy Pesto called Jimmy Jr. “Pepper” as a nickname in Season 1, Episode 10, Burger War, a nickname that’s not been repeated since.

—According to Season 3, Episode 20, The Kids Run the Restaurant, Mr. Fischoeder was married for a week. He had a real Grunkle Stan moment.

—As seen in Season 9, Episode 19, Long Time Listener, First Time Bob, Bob loved listening to a radio station with a DJ named Clem when he and Linda first started getting the restaurant off the ground. I think Bob listening to the radio at night and jamming out is very endearing. The same episode also revealed Bob’s hatred for Sweet Potato Fries.

—In Season 9, Episode 16, Roamin’ Bob-Iday, it’s revealed Bob occasionally succumbs to severe burnout from working at the restaurant, but despite that, cooking will always be his favorite thing to do.

—As revealed in Season 7, Episode 7, The Last Gingerbread House on the Left, Bob used to build gingerbread houses with his late mother, Lily. In the same episode, he made mini gingerbread versions of his family, which is the cutest thing ever. He’s the best dad for real.

[lemonhemlock]

https://twitter.com/itadorimaid/status/1618940932812083200?t=fbHXYyIphhYCxL5CDQ_1Og&s=19

Greetings , any thoughts on this? I do think there are some contradictions in Daemon's actions so you could argue either side.

Another old ask and I'm gonna try and answer this as indulgently as possible for the sake of old man GRRM who really wants us to like Daemon. So there's a lot of (insufferable) narrative bias with which GRRM surrounds Daemon, while insisting that he is equal parts light and dark and whatever. IMO that may be true for the Daemon that lives inside GRRM's head, but when it comes to what he actually wrote on the page, things get a lot murkier.

Nevertheless, I do not think there was authorial intent into making Daemon an absolute monster, a sociopath, a sadist, a villain and a devil, like ChatGPT would say if you were to piss it off. But, in that vein, it would be a fair assessment to assert Daemon is a schemer. A plot hatcher. He can reasonably construct plans for the short and medium term. However, they are often foiled in some way. So he regroups and tries again. He can't get out of his first marriage, tries to take a second wife, is denied, so he kills Rhea and frees himself. He can't get Rhaenyra for his wife, so he marries Laena, the next best thing. He is denied as heir, so he marries Rhaenyra, the heir. If you listen to Ryan Condal, he can't be with his brother, so he gets together with his niece instead, etc.

However, I don't think Daemon is the best at long-term planning. He is not a Littlefinger/Varys type of character to sit pen-in-hand and painstakingly plan out an entire plot spanning years and years, carefully moving each piece on the board at the opportune moment, constantly calculating several scenarios playing out. He truly is an agent of chaos. He's more come-as-you-are, take-it-as-it-goes, more of an improviser.

It's also important to note that in the books, Daemon is linked to 4 ? different murders: Rhea, the son of the Sealord of Braavos, Harwin and Laenor. They had him outright murder Rhea in the show, but I hear people contesting this for the books. I wouldn't bet all my money on it. Yes, he is fighting in the Stepstones when Rhea dies, but that doesn't mean he couldn't have hired an assassin. I say this because he is fighting in a literal war, his own war, and he drops everything to rush to the Vale to claim Rhea's inheritance, an act so outright rude that Lady Jeyne has to literally kick him out of the Vale. Now, this is a woman he deeply dislikes, whom he hasn't seen in ages. I am not buying this whole idea that he came to Runestone to arrange her funeral. Rhea has her own family for that, she doesn't need Daemon. News also doesn't travel instantly in Westeros, so somehow Daemon got to the Vale just in time for Lady Jeyne to still be settling the Royce succession. It's at least a little fishy.

The son of the Sealord of Braavos he openly kills in a duel for Laena's hand. With Harwin and Laenor's deaths he is linked. Now, I'm not even saying the author necessarily intended for Daemon to be responsible for all of these people's deaths, but it's very suspicious that all these events are so convenient for Daemon and he profits so much off them. So, I definitely think it was authorial intent for us to become aware this is a dangerous person, an ambitious character, and most likely even a ruthless one, who will go all the way if he needs to. I really, really don't think we were supposed to look at this context and conclude Daemon is a poor misunderstood malewife, done dirty by historians.

Perhaps Daemon's PR image in the fandom would have been different had he outright killed Laenor, instead of becoming the most unlikely gay rights activist. But his stans' insistence that Jace, Luke and Joffrey would be 100% safe in Daemon's hands and not even take this possibility into account is absurd.

I'm not of the belief that Daemon was plotting to have them murdered since they were babes at Rhaenyra's breast or even ever since he married her. But does he really have to? I do believe that he does love Rhaenyra as much as he understands love and wouldn't outright do something as awful until he absolutely had to or at least he would try to postpone it. A lot of things can happen until Rhaenyra ascends, that he might not even have to get his hands dirty in the first place. Her bastards might get outed somehow. They might die somehow, without Daemon's intervention. Rhaenyra herself might die in childbed or by disease. Daemon might die, in which case he doesn't have to worry himself further. Maybe Daemon and Rhaenyra only have girl children, etc. As it happened, the war killed off the Strong boys and Daemon didn't even have to do anything.

However, if Rhaenyra were crowned and they came to the problem of her heir - I think this is the time Daemon might start plotting. They've had their honeymoon holiday period, but I very much doubt Daemon would sit idle while a bastard takes the throne away from his firstborn, who just so happens to be Rhaenyra's actual legal heir. Now, I think murder would be a last resort for Daemon, but I don't think he'd shy away from it, though I could see him trying to subversively work behind the scenes to create unrest at the idea of the Strong boys being in the line of succession as obvious bastards. Rhaenyra could somehow be forced by the political situation to disinherit them and name Aegon the Younger heir. Problem solved. If not, well, accidents can happen. Assassins can be hired. Luke, for example, would be in Driftmark surrounded by Velaryon "cousins" who have every reason to hate his guts. Maybe he falls down the stairs one day. Maybe a combination of all of these things.

This doesn't preclude Daemon for feeling regret for his actions, but he has already done many things he would regret later (like his fights with Viserys, his many exiles), but still went through with them because, in his head, he believed he was doing the right thing. And putting a pure, legitimate Targaryen prince on the throne would definitely feel like doing the right thing to Daemon.

Also? He could still kill those three and feel sorry afterwards! Those things are not mutually exclusive. And it would fall into the whole conflict of the human heart, because he would be doing it for his own son. The motive is there and it's very alluring.

There's also the argument that he wouldn't need to, because his blood would already be on the throne, with Baela as Queen. But being the Queen's father isn't the same as being the King's father. And!! He could be both! What's to say he couldn't marry Baela to Aegon III? Baela was born in 116 AC and Aegon in 120 AC - there's a 4 year age difference between them in the books.

So to address the points in that tweet:

"brother legitimize lucerys claim to the driftmark throne" - It would look mighty strange if, at that point in time, he wouldn't be supporting his own wife in hiding her sons' illegitimacy from the world. 🤷‍♀️ Luke is, honestly, the easiest target. By all means, let him rule over Driftmark and let his Velaryon "relatives" assassinate him themselves. Daemon doesn't even have to lift a finger for this one.

"an eye for an eye, a son for a son. lucerys shall be avenged." + k words toddlers for lucerys - This honestly feeds into Daemon's disposition towards cruelty more than anything. If he were truly seeking retributive justice, he would have targeted Aemond, Luke's actual killer. Anything else is not justice, regardless of how Daemon tries to paint it. Not to mention that the actual retribution was way disproportionate to the crime.

k words aemond - But Aemond wasn't killed for Luke, that's the whole point, that's what makes B&C so atrocious and evil. By that time, Aemond was a military threat for the blacks that Daemon was neutralizing. To think that Daemon went to God's Eye set on avenging Luke yet again (even though he had already done that once, inordinately, too?) is a spurious reading.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

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🦇 The View From the Top Book Review 🦇

❓ #QOTD What's the last risk you took OR have you ever gone hiking? ❓ 🦇 Emily Janssen prefers playing it safe, still working at the inn her grandmothers own while dreaming of a day she can fully support herself with her art. Ambitious Diana Devlin is ready to take over as CEO of her family’s hotel chain when her father retires. Everything is going to plan until an unexpected run-in with an alluring artist on a mountainside throws Diana off course, resulting in one of the hottest nights either she or Emily have ever experienced. When Diana's plan goes off the rails, leading her to start her own company and buy Emily's grandmother's beloved inn, neither can forget their memorable—and steamy—night together, even when they're forced to play it professional. Will the view from the top be worth the climb, or will they both have farther to fall?

💜 Rachel Lacey always develops such well-balanced sapphic ships and realistic female protagonists. Emily and Diana are no exception. While Emily has fallen into a comfort zone (unknowingly allowing fears to take lead), Diana pushes past fear, allowing her goal-oriented mindset to take lead. While Emily has built a found family for herself, despite the lack of blood relatives, Diana is surrounded by blood yet still feels alone. Lacey also excels at creating queer found families in her novels. The Adventurers group is sweet, supportive, and gives Lacey the opportunity to expand this single story into a series for each member of their queer rainbow. Diana's relationship with her nephew is heartwarming and precious (hopefully he gets his own story in the future). I especially adored the contrast between Diana's ambitious mindset and anxiety, proving that we never really know how much a person is struggling (especially when they're so good at hiding it). The fall festival chapters make this a comforting read for autumn--I could have lived in those chapters (with a mug full of cider) forever.

💙 Crescent Falls, Vermont seems like the perfect setting for a small-town romance, and it IS. Unfortunately, we don't get to fall into the setting through descriptive language as much as I'd hoped. Even when Emily is painting the rich scenery around her or Diana is immersing herself in this new, charming town, the prose fails to draw us in so we're walking alongside them. That lackluster word choice fails to create the emotional entanglements and tension Rachel Lacey excels at in Stars Collide. Given that the author was sick with COVID and took a break while writing this, it's understandable. That emotion-based writing usually builds and builds until the FMCs can't contain themselves; until NOT touching is torturous. Unfortunately, there's a long stretch where the two FMCs are apart, which causes the story to stall. There's some longing, yes, but it doesn't grow to the point of impatience. I'm also a little disappointed that the characters didn't see the solution to their long-distance relationship sooner, though I do agree it presents a perfect ending. Also, the epilogue gave me total Schitt's Creek vibes, which I LOVED for them!

🦇 Recommended for fans of Alexandria Bellefleur and Ashley Herring Blake.

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🍁 Forced Proximity Small-Town Romance ⛰ Queer Community 🪴 Found Family 🩷 Sapphic Romance 🎨 Mental Health Rep ⛰ Lesbian & Bisexual FMCs 🍁 Third Act Breakup?

🦇 Major thanks to the author @rachelslacey and publisher for providing an ARC of this book. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book. #TheViewFromtheTop

💬 Quotes ❝ Somehow she managed to look as sweet as the flowers she painted while simultaneously being one of the sexiest women Diana had ever seen. ❞ ❝ I’m damn good at wish fulfillment. ❞ ❝ “Feel the fear and do it anyway.” ❞ ❝ She was trying so damn hard to keep her attraction under wraps, and if she got tipsy and stumbled around a darkened pumpkin patch with Emily… well, she’d probably either end up kissing her or having a panic attack. ❞ ❝ "I see you weren’t only admiring my flannel for sapphic reasons." ❞ ❝ "Take a risk. Aim big. Fuck fear. What do you say?” ❞ ❝ Maybe she’d stood in one place for so long, she’d become rooted to the ground. She was terrified of what might happen if she set herself free. ❞ ❝ "Yesterday, I wanted someone to pick me for once. I wanted you to pick me." ❞ ❝ "You’re the first person to show me that I can let my guard down, I can be vulnerable, and you won’t take advantage. You let me be myself and appreciate me for exactly who I am— flaws and all— and I… I didn’t know how much I needed that until I found it.” ❞

[z45capp]

July 27 - Taidong; Rice County School, Green Tunnel, National Museum of Prehistory

A rough start to the day. When I turned the lights off last night, I also turned off the air conditioning, they are all connected somehow. But because of this the room got really hot, so we tried to turn it on again, but to no avail. We ended up going to the front desk and the attendant was really nice and came up to the room to fix it for us. I’m pretty sure I pressed the same button he did to turn it on, but I guess I didn’t press it hard enough or correctly. Finally at around 1 in the morning we went to bed. Despite this, I did sleep pretty well, I didn’t wake up until my alarm went off and it was a mostly deep sleep. 

Today was so rainy and wet. Not a fan of the rain, I probably would have enjoyed our excursions a lot more. Our first stop was to the Rice County School. There wasn’t too much to do at the Museum, I walked around a little bit but did not learn too much, I probably should have translated the exhibits to learn more, but after a 1.5 hour bus ride, there’s only so much I can do. Our next stop was to the Green Tunnel, an outside canopy of trees over a roadway. Not too much to see besides the foliage but still a very pretty photo opportunity. 

We then headed for lunch and got hot pot! We each had our own separate hot pot and I got ma la broth. It was so good and just the right amount of spicy. The food was good too, the beef I ordered came already cooked, and the taste reminded me of the frozen beef and onion bowls I used to get. The rest of the veggies and udon were really good too. I was wearing a white shirt and was doing so well until the end of the meal when I got a little bit of soup on my shirt. But it’s ok, I’ll wash it later tonight and hopefully it will come out. 

We then went to the National Museum of Prehistory. The Museum had exhibits about Taiwan Prehistory, Taiwan Natural History and Austronesian history. With our time, I was able to walk around the whole Museum and look at many of the exhibits. My eyes were hurting a bit, though, so I didn’t stop too much on my walkthrough. The exhibits were interesting and did showcase the history I had read about in the readings. We then tried to go to our next stop, the Music Village, but it was closed due to the rain. So we just drove by and saw the stalls and pavilion. Next we made a few more stops to a bakery, a pharmacy (people have been/are getting sick), and 7-11 for dinner again. After buying two pairs of earrings at the Museum, coupled with already having dinner for tonight in my room, I refrained from buying anything on our multiple stops. I am not sick yet (fingers crossed I don’t get sick) and already have a supply of Vitamin C and DayQuil, so I’ll hold out on medicine for now. 

I also tried to plan a visit to TSMC Museum of Innovation, the Museum I had been planning to visit earlier. But they only take reservations and the day I was planning to go is fully booked. I will talk to 葉老師 and see if anything can be arranged. If not, Iris, Austin, and I will find somewhere in Gaoxiong related to semiconductors. If not, my backup at least is to find something related to Taiwanese exports and imports. And my backup backup is to review Step30 International Ministries, a Taiwanese based organization dedicated to helping people in sub-Saharan Africa. 

Academic Reflection

The readings gave a very comprehensive overview of Taiwanese rice culture and economy. Since I didn’t learn too much at the Rice County School, the readings really helped to fill in the gaps. The reading starts with the history of rice in Taiwan. During the Japanese colonial period, Japonica rice became the norm as opposed to the once standard Indica rice. At the School, I saw examples of both types of rice. You can really see the difference in grain size between the long grain Indica and short grain Japonica. The article continued to talk about different businesses combating the decrease in consumption of rice in Taiwan, a topic not seen at the museum, but talked about by our tour guide, Peter. 

Peter mentioned three things about Taiwanese rice/rice culture today, one of which was new information, and two that the readings also talked about. The first is that Taiwan is food self-sufficient. Previously, I had not known this about the island, but after seeing all the farms, rice paddies, mango groves, I can easily believe that this could be the case. It makes sense too that an area as small as Taiwan would want to be self-sufficient, especially to promote the domestic economy and support local farmers. The second fact Peter told us is that the diet of younger generations of Taiwanese people is changing. Instead of eating rice, more people are eating bread or pasta. This is hard on the economy since Taiwan can not grow its own wheat, it has to import it. The reading also mentioned this and said that a way rice farmers are trying to combat this is by growing rice for specific purposes and making sure people understand the rice they are buying. I’m not too sure I have seen this first hand too much, but I have definitely had really good pasta in Taiwan before. The final thing Peter mentioned is that Taiwanese rice is very high quality. The readings didn’t explicitly say this, but they said that the rice farmers who are trying to make rice a staple again are working hard to produce very good quality rice through overseeing the entire process of planting, growing, harvesting, and processing. I think I saw a little bit of this at the Rice County School, but without visiting a rice farm or granary, it would be harder to experience in person. 

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

Blog Spotlight

Hello everyone! since i don’t have a ton of time to work on fics and stuff like i used to, i figured i’d use this opportunity to share around some other creators 🥰 i want to be able to show this community more love and support and so i’m going to try and make this a weekly thing! all of the content creators deserve to be shown love and support and if anyone has any creators they’d like me to mention in one of these id love to check out their work and mention them!

the very first creator i’ll be mentioning is my lovely friend @wheels-of-despair

they’re someone that i’ve been mutuals with for a while and i’m so glad that they’re the very first person i’m using for my blog recs!

They write for a variety of Joseph Quinn’s characters and honestly i love to see how much of a genuine fan they are of his characters. She always makes sure to do her research too! For her more historic fics she will always make sure everything is very true to the time period.

They also have their own specific universes for their fics which i love! You’re able to see the difference in personalities when it comes to interacting with the characters.

They collectively have 50+ fanfics already posted for her characters and that’s not including all the other extras 👀

Because they’ve written so much i’ve decided to pick my favorite fic for each of the characters they write for 🥰

Eddie: Wake-Up Call

I’m an absolute sucker for lazy mornings 😂 absolutely adorable and his mannerisms were captured so well! though it’s a shorter fic you’re able to get all the perfect parts in one little package 🥰

Billy: The Little Plant That Could

So sweet! It’s so simple and yet so touching, even if it is just bringing an adorable little plant back to life, i actually got excited to see Billy’s reaction at the end c:

Ralph: Worth It Chapter 5

Picking out just one was a bit tough 😅 but i do love that these fics are written in a way where they can be somewhat read as one-offs as well :) this is the one fic that actually made me shed a tear as i read it, Ralph is just his sweet self as always and it’s hard to not love that!

Tom: The Boyfriend Cure

Though this is their only fic for Tom it was one that i loved nonetheless! Very short and very sweet, i love smaller fics like this, especially when they’re this comforting!

They were also kind enough to let me give them a little interview to help you guys get to know them better 🥰

what got you into writing?

Insanity? 😂 The Brainrot had me in such a chokehold, I had to let it out somehow. I was driving my normal friends crazy. So I came to tumblr last fall, after I'd read almost everything on AO3, and conned eddiemunsonsmum into being my friend. (She wrote a series I read and loved last the summer, when I was still suffering through The Brainrot in silence.) She's the one who convinced me to start writing. So really, this is all her fault. 🥰

do you write anything else other than fanfiction?

I do some writing for work, but it's not that creative.

how many followers do you have?

Closing in on 400. 😳

other than writing, what other interests do you have?

Watching the same things over and over again, and buying things I don't need at thrift stores. 😂 My favorite things to collect are DVDs and old kids' books. I have no place to put either, but if a movie has someone I like in it or a book with cool illustrations was printed before the 70s... yeah, that's probably coming home with me. 😍

if anyone has any of their favorite blogs they’d like me to recommend to everyone i’d be more than happy to check out their work and give them a shoutout 🥰

[ticklemejoy]

They say that the best way to move away from your misery is to physically move away from your misery.

I think I'll go to Boston, I think that I was tired I think I need a new town to leave this all behind I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of a sunset I hear it's nice in the summer, some snow would be nice, oh-yeah

And quite literally, I did.

The ghosts that used to haunt me come calling once in a while but they don't break me. I think about them like an after thought. Like the rain that pours here. Over in five seconds and the sky is back to blue. Not sunny and beautiful, just blue.

Yet the ones that truly haunt us are the one that lingers quite subtly, almost insignificantly. The ones we choose to keep with us willingly because they neither hurt nor prove unworthy for keepsake.

One day, I sat watching Past Lives and I found myself in tears at the end. Granted, I get influenced emotionally all the time. Cry easily when someone in the show cries. Still, this felt close to home. The worst part was I could not quite figure out what it was that made me emotional. Who did I lose that made me relate to the story so well?

My brain tried to connect the dots, I think. I recalled the movie Love, Rosie. I know its significance but I forgot how I felt about it then. I was reminded of the email exchanges but I lost the account. And slowly, they piece themselves together into a dream I had last night.

The story of if:

I asked you, was it a no because of me or was it a no because of the time and season in your life? If it is a no because of time, I would not accept it. If your work and your family commitment makes you want to say no, I would not accept it. And if you assumed a certain level of commitment is required for me, I don't. I'm curious as hell about what happens with this if it's not me that you hate and it's not you that I hate. I'm curious enough yet not burdened enough to want it to become something of much value. And if that's the case, we should give it a shot. Explore this but without committing to anything. We will only give it up if we realised it's because of who we are or if we meet someone that we know for sure we are going to commit to.

Your usual gentleness pursues. You did not say yes but neither did you say no. That's something I would have to think about, you responded.

Somehow, I've garnered enough courage and balls to ask the following, though on hindsight perhaps this was the reason why we never moved forward and all this became a dream of what if and a narrative exercise for possible book ideas, I followed up, Okay, let's grab supper one day.

And for the next few weeks, we asked to meet each other on our immediate availability like the evening of the day itself or during our lunch breaks but never in advance for fear that our cowardice or sudden morality accumulated enough tenacity to stop us from continuing. The meet ups, no they were not dates, were almost at random but intentional. We asked about our families, about rumours that we heard about each other over the years. We let no one know about our meet ups because we never wanted anyone to question what we were. A question we were not ready to answer. Our mutual friends organised gatherings about their own life events. We were both present. We talked about going prior to the gathering but we mention not about arriving or leaving together, buying a gift together or anything to suggest a hint of togetherness. At the events, we laughed at jokes made by others. Played board games, competitively, interacting only when required by the game or by our ambitious nature to take a potential enemy down. Took glimpses occasionally at each other to find out what the other was doing. When one of us suggests to our hosts that we are leaving, the other, along with the rest of the visitors hopped on the same opportunity to leave altogether. We make departures known not to leave traces for the other to follow along like a rendezvous, no, all out of mere natural mannerisms of guests and socializing in a group. We continue to chat with others on our way to the station, never once suggesting that we had conversations outside of the ones we have right now in public.

Y: "Oh, I drove here actually and I parked somewhere past the station."

Others: "Oh I guess we are parting ways here then. We'll meet at the next big thing. What's coming up next?"

M: "Oh, was it J and D's send off? The one next month?"

Others: "Oh yeah, that should be the one coming up."

Y: "Oh yes, that one. Yeap, I think I'll be there. See you guys there then."

Others: "Yes man, see you there. So, who else is going to the station?"

M: "Oh, I'm taking the bus. I'm headed that way. See you guys at the send off."

Others: "Oh okay! See you guys then"

And we walked away from the group. Them not suspecting a single bit how we were both headed the same way. We do not mention how we somehow agreed to walk in the direction of your car. You asked, not because you were wondering why I was walking beside you, but rather if we are continuing our decided status, Are you taking the car?

I decisively nodded, Yeap, and hopped on the passenger seat. The familiar scent of leather from the past few drives home after our meet ups. We continued our usual candour and pace. We talked about the gathering, about how we thought everyone's moving at a incredible speed in life. Talked about work for a bit. How we are still up to our sleeves about the things we want to change.

Beneath my block, you pulled the car to a slow stop. We sit in silence for a bit. Undoubtedly questioning how the night took its turn but once again reminding each other of the decision we made. Exploring but not committing. You break the deafening silence, What will be the end of this? One of us hurt and...

Before you could complete your sentence, I interrupted with certainty, Only when either of us are sick of the other. Not the circumstances, not the assumptions that one would take advantage of the other. At our pace, how we want it to be, what we want to know.

I paused, wondering if my forthcoming was too intrusive, But, I don't find myself sick of you today. What about you? I asked confidently, knowing you are just as certain as I was about our feelings for each other.

Yes, it was a pleasant evening. I enjoyed the talks we had in the weeks before too, you agreed, with a gentle hesitant smile.

Before the scene plays out completely, I woke up from the dream built of what ifs. One without any promises of joy that might have been ours or pain that possibly lay if we went too far. I laid in bed wondering, where would it go from there? In reality, I had not been that brave, neither have you been that agreeable when pushed in a certain direction. Yet, neither of us said yes or no to how we felt. We were almost certain that we would let ying yuan lead us to where we should be, together or apart.

At the summation of it all, I figured, this was what made me tear up watching Past Lives. That after all, I kept everything I had about you. I enjoyed every bit of what you shared then. Your favourite singer, your favourite city, your favourite tv series, your favourite club, your favourite car and well of course, your favourite tumblr. I kept them all, not in memory of you but rather, I truly enjoyed every single one of them as my own. Like I said in my dream, it is not because of you that I hate or me that you hate but time and circumstances. And both time and circumstances, we were not brave enough to challenge in reality.

Perhaps ying yuan will find us somewhere down the road. Perhaps ying yuan will leave splatters of sparkles and abundance of blank spaces to fill with what ifs for the rest of our lives. Either ways, I am satisfied with all that is. Are you?

[mahdithemagician]

Mahdi Becomes The Magician

I WAS BORN WITHOUT HANDS OR FEET.

There was no medical reason or explanation for this but I believe there was a purpose. A purpose that would take me many years to discover and unfold. Growing up I felt like everything was impossible for me. There were a lot of dreams I had for my life but whenever I expressed my hopes and dreams they would be rejected. I would receive explanations for why the things I wanted for my life were not for me.

THE ANSWER WAS ALWAYS THE SAME,

NO,

AND THAT WHAT I WANTED COULD NOT BE DONE.

Often I was told that I needed to be realistic but instead of following that I would withdraw into myself and dream. Dream of finding a way to make life better for myself and living my dreams. I had no idea how I was going to do it and in a very real sense I still don’t but I still believe. Maybe I’m crazy but I believe that somehow, someway, in the end,

I WIN.

Being so different made me an easy target to be bullied. I felt alone and I withdrew into myself. Overwhelmed with anxiety I developed a language disorder and I spoke less and less. I expressed myself less and less and cut myself off from the world. It’s a crazy feeling to feel so helpless and out of control of your life. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me and wondered if anything at all was possible for me in my life.

Then, when I was in school I heard some kids talking about David Blaine’s magic. He had just released a TV magic special and everyone was talking about it nonstop. I didn’t have a TV where I could see it so I would just listen to people describing the magic and I would close my eyes and imagine it. The visions that appeared to me when I closed my eyes became a dream and then transformed into a blueprint. If everything I wanted was impossible for me then I would become a magician because a magician can do anything. That’s who magicians are; people who can do the impossible. I was too young to understand how things work, I had the faith of a child, which I now know is all you ever need. You don’t need to know how things work with a big brain, you only need a big heart and to believe.

THAT IS THE SECRET.

THIS HAS BEEN MY SUCCESS.

Wisdom I forget too easily as I wander through life foolishly replacing what I know in my heart for what I know in my head. An unintended consequence of experience of which I have become aware and guard myself from. For what good is all the thinking, planning, and scheming in the world if you don’t believe? What good are all the skills, talent, resources, opportunities, and connections if you have no faith and no will?

All of it is worth nothing. Less than nothing. You can have everything in the world and not be able to do anything with it. You can be given everything and not be able to do a single good thing for yourself or others. I have seen it with my own eyes and I know it to be true. The inverse is also true; you can have nothing and do everything if you believe.

BELIEVE.

BELIEVE AS IF YOUR LIFE COUNTS ON IT.

LIVE ON YOUR FAITH.

DEPEND ON IT.

RELY ON IT.

I didn’t know how I was going to become a magician. I had no plan and no idea. I didn’t hope to become one or simply desire it, somehow, someway, I knew I would be one. Even before I knew the first secret or held a deck of cards I knew. I had faith. I had the will.

Where there is a will there is a way and my way was long. I didn’t have any money to buy magic or even a deck of cards and even if I did there was no path for me as every single book in magic is written for magicians with hands. There was no clear way for me so I had to find a way, or make one.

Eventually I would have the opportunity to watch David Blaine on the internet and discover many magicians and their magic. Watching magic initiated me into the art, I would watch performances over and over and think deeply about what I had seen, and slowly I would gain some understanding about the art. As I learnt more about magic I slowly realized how impossible the road ahead of me would be, no matter how I approached it. I had no hands to manipulate objects and even if I somehow got past that, I couldn’t speak properly to present magic.

If faced with an overwhelming obstacle such as this,

what would you do?

WOULD YOU GIVE UP?

OR

WOULD YOU PUSH THROUGH?

One day I stumbled across a video of a psychological illusionist named Derren Brown. Everything, he claimed, was accomplished through suggestion, misdirection, psychology, hypnosis, and memory. Derren suggested books on these subjects where you could study and learn what he did in his shows. Where there had been no way before I suddenly saw a way for me to pursue magic. I read and studied all I could on these subjects and slowly started to create demonstrations of my new abilities. Through studying the mind, autosuggestion and self-hypnosis I was able to reprogram myself, which allowed me to overcome my language disorder.

WHERE THERE IS A WILL

THERE IS A WAY.

FIND A WAY OR MAKE ONE.

Mahdi The Teenage Magician

At school I would perform some of the demonstrations I prepared. Some were presented as memory stunts while others were unexplainable and mysterious. At first I was very shy and would only perform one on one but soon crowds would form. Many wonderful and magical moments and legends were made in those days and those early performances changed my life. Word of my abilities spread and a classmate gave me the title I use today,

MAHDI THE MAGICIAN.

These experiences changed my life, formed me in my formative years and transformed what I believed was impossible for me. The complete story would fill many volumes and will be revealed for the first time in my upcoming book, Before Magic: Living The Impossible.

[olderthannetfic]

I've read up about sensitivity readers as a service but something about it still feels off pouring to me? I get the concept and I guess on paper it's a noble cause, but idk if stories should be striving for "sensitivity" on the basis of a single reader/editor. Do you have any particular feelings or insight on the practice?

--

Sensitivity readers have been around for a while. When operating as intended, the practice is both good and not a big deal. They're just a cultural knowledge beta with a more inflammatory title.

The version that exists within a thousand miles of YA twitter and its ilk is a hot mess.

--

See, in the ideal circumstance, what these people should be is a paid editor who does a read for specific cultural gaffes.

They'd be working alongside the main editor who'd hopefully have time for developmental notes (okay, they never do this now, but ideally), copy editors, etc. A bunch of people are taking a look at this book before it goes out into the world. The sensitivity reader is merely more familiar with some particular area, probably their own cultural background, so they can spot things the rest of the editors and the author might miss.

It's just the more professional version of some dude writer being like "Hey, female friend, would you mind reading my manuscript and telling me what you think of the female characters?"

--

Now, near the cesspit of groupthink and intellectual incuriousity that is YA twitter and in other places like that, people have come to behave as though one sensitivity reader can read for everything, not just their own personal background. They talk as though there is one objective standard for whether something is offensive and as though causing offense is the worst crime in the world.

This attitude is poison, and it's how you get assholes passing themselves off as authorities on all ethnic strife ever, then writing cartoonish villains the minute they include a setting outside of the US.

(As a sidebar, it is deeply unsurprising to find that this jackass complained about women profiting off of m/m. Beware the people who think they personally are the unique arbiter of everything. It always devolves somehow into "Buy my book, not theirs".)

A lot of loudmouths desperately wish to do this work, always talking about it as though it's a beautiful opportunity to browbeat others for a lack of wokeness. It's always the biggest clowns too. (Mardoll, for example, while whining about the attack helicopter story.)

--

And yet, sensitivity readers exist outside of the toxic waste dump that is book twitter. I can see why the idea puts your back up, but it's time to unclench.

Yeah, one member of a minority is not the ultimate arbiter of what is Objectively Offensive Forever, but that's not actually a sensitivity reader's job. They're one set of feedback among various. There's no guarantee a copy editor will catch absolutely every typo either. If you had time for 5 sensitivity readers, maybe that would be useful, but it's probably more useful to pick someone you trust. Evaluating and paring down all the feedback you get is one of the major jobs of an author after all.

It's really no different than having a cop read over your crime procedural for silly Hollywood nonsense you didn't realize was false and a cliche.

We do this kind of double-checking over less fraught topics all the time without a problem. Writers just get very tense when they hear the term 'sensitivity reader' because it makes them think of mobs of wokescolds and of their book being secretly irredeemably racist. In reality, a good quality sensitivity reader might tell you that a joke doesn't land because of some cultural detail you missed. They're not there to harass you. They're a professional you hired to help with your book.

Sensitivity readers are fine as long as we treat them as what they are—cultural betas—and not as an official guarantee of Not Problematic And Can Never Offend Anyone.

[lubdubsworld]

GIFT .

Genre : Brother-in-law Jungkook x OC!

Warnings : Yandere Jungkook! Non Consent. Manipulative behaviour. Explicit Sexual Content, Violence, Murder

Author's Note : I love reading Yandere fics so I just wanted to write one!! Its very different from what I usually write... So proceed with caution.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time I met Jungkook , it was five years into my relationship with Namjoon.

Namjoon had told me all about his baby brother, a final year student in SNU. Jungkook majored in Business , training to take over the company business . Namjoon often mentioned that it was Jungkook's offer to switch majors that had helped him pursue his own dream of being a music producer.

So when he told me that Jungkook was on a break from university and his parents were looking forward to having a proper family dinner with all of us, I was excited to meet the boy , I'd heard so much about. Namjoon was endlessly fond of his little brother and I wanted him to like me just as much.

Namjoon and I had met seven years earlier in the University Library and had become fast friends. We were both quiet, intellectually driven individuals, preferring to spend our time in the library as opposed to partying with our friends. And yet, in a twist , against our family’s wishes, we had chosen not to pursue an academically driven career either. I’d always felt out of place in my own friend group, most of my friend from Journalism being extroverted and fun loving. Namjoon for his part had only two very close friends, Yoongi and Hoseok and preferred spending time by himself as well.

So it was only natural that we fell in with each other with ease. His beautiful dimpled smile tugged on my gut, even as his gentle nature and gorgeous mind made my heart pound. I fell in love with him, between the late night laughter in the library and the soft secrets whispered against my skin, in the privacy of his bed.

“Nervous?” His voice drew me to the present, fingers inking with mine as he lightly knocked his shoulders against mine, staring down at me with a dimpled smile. I shook my head quickly, squeezing his hand gently.

“Of course not. I just want him to like me.” I whispered and Namjoon chuckled.

“Jungkookie isn’t very expressive so don’t worry if he isn’t very vocal in his affections. He’s very shy with new people but I’m sure, he’ll love you.” Namjoon reached out and lightly, brushed the hair off my face before leaning down and giving me a quick kiss.

I gripped his waist, pressing in closer, lips parting instinctively  , eager to chase the taste of him. He groaned and gripped my elbow, pulling me around to press up against the tall , lean strength of his body and this was it, this endless need to touch him even after seven whole years of being together. I moaned when he bit down on my lips, my back arching a bit to press into him.

“Hyung?”

We parted, surprised and I felt my face flame, lips slicked wet and no doubt red from where Joon’s teeth had sunk in.

What a first impression.

“Ahh… Jungkook-ah… You came out?” Namjoon looked a little flustered, dimples peeking out in an abashed smile as he laughed embarrassedly I found myself smiling at Jungkook, who looked nothing like I’d imagined.

I’d been expecting someone cute and friendly.

Jungkook was dressed in all black, tall and intimidating. He was also almost surreally beautiful, gaze piercing and steady as he stared at me. I felt an instinctive urge to hide, not missing the way his gaze trailed up and down my body, lips parting gently to reveal a pair of bunny teeth that looked jarringly adorable on a face that was , quite simply put, arrestingly gorgeous.  

He hummed, still standing in the doorway, eyes trained on me and I swallowed when he smiled , wide and open. His tongue darted out, lightly licking his lower lip .

“Hi, Hana.” He said softly and I startled.

“Hana? I’m sure you mean noona…..” I laughed nervously and even Namjoon looked surprised and Jungkook merely smiled, shrugging.

“You don’t feel like a noona.” He said casually.

I merely stared at him, not sure what he meant. Namjoon laughed a little as well, moving over to lightly hug his brother.

“Yah! You’ve just met her. Isn’t it too soon to start being a brat?” He ruffled his hair playfully before turning to me.

“Come on, Hana. Come say hi to my parents.” Namjoon walked in and I rushed to follow him, pausing when I reached the doorway. I smiled at Jungkook, holding a hand out slowly.

“I’ve heard so much about you Jungkook, I hope we can be friends…” I said sincerely and he stared at my hand, not taking it. Instead he gave me another soft smile. Before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the back of my hand, making me jump .

“You don’t feel like a friend either.” He said with a shrug , before moving away, leaving me stunned on the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two years later :

“Seven months? Namjoon we’re getting married in seven months! How am I supposed to plan a whole wedding , with you away from the country?” I asked desperately, watching as Namjoon sat with his head in his hands. He looked stricken, regretful and pained and I felt terrible for being unreasonable but it was impossible not to feel hurt.

“I know..  I know hana, I’m so fucking sorry. But this is such a huge opportunity and its not just me : Hoseok and Yoongi depend on me. I can’t screw things up for them too.” He whispered and I exhaled.

Namjoon had been offered a chance to produce for a very high end recording label based out of the US and they wanted him to stay there for a minimum of seven months. The offer had been a complete surprise, out of the blue and the timing couldn’t have been worse. I’d been accepted into an internship at a popular magazine and it would be impossible for me to go with him. And I was so desperate to go.

We’d never been apart for more than a few days, in the entirety of our relationship and the thought of not seeing him for months made me want to throw up.

“I’ve spoken to Jungkook. He’ll help you with all the things that have to be done. And I swear that I’ll be back at least a month before the date, alright? No matter what happens.” Namjoon said firmly. I swallowed, nodding nervously.

It was true that I didn’t like the idea of being away from Namjoon. But the thought of keeping him away from a dream that he had worked so hard for, was almost unfathomable.

Besides, Jungkook was reliable and sweet. The perfect gentleman. Especially now that he’d taken over as his father’s Executive Assistant, Jungkook was incredibly good at organizing and planning things out.

With his help, I could plan out our wedding to perfection.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next five months were spent in a haze of appointments and fittings and bookings. Jungkook had arranged for a shift in my internship hours, so he and I could spend a solid four hours every day, visiting different vendors, picking out the perfect floral arrangements, napkins, brocade and what not. And for once, I found myself completely enthralled by the idea of spending money of frivolously pretty things. Whether it was the florists or the patisserie, the dress fitting or the invitations, I felt my excitement bubbling over , amazed because marrying into Namjoon’s family meant an unlimited budget and for once, I didn’t mind being extravagant.

What was more, I didn’t miss Namjoon nearly as much as I thought I would. Because deep down , I knew that he wouldn’t have enjoyed this all that much. And I would have felt guilty , dragging him everywhere.

And Jungkook was the one to thank for all of it. He picked me up everyday for an early breakfast , followed by hours of combing the streets for ideas and appointments. He was funny and enthusiastic, eager to help me in every way and I was so grateful that I couldn’t thank him enough.

“I owe you so much, Kookie. You’ve been a life saver.” I groaned, collapsing on the couch and dropping my head back against the backrest. Jungkook chuckled, sitting down on one of the Turkish ottomans and lightly grabbing my ankle, pulling my foot onto his lap. I flushed a little, still not used to how touchy he was.

Jungkook liked wrapping his arms around my waist when we were out and about, fingers fluttering up my sides or brushing hair off my face with easy familiarity. I didn’t mind. He reminded me of my little brother back in Ilsan.

Most of the people we met assumed he was the groom and Jungkook told me it would be better to keep up the ruse because wedding planners were more comfortable when couples came together and I’d agreed, albeit a little reluctantly. I missed Namjoon and I wondered if he would mind. But when I mentioned it in passing to him during one of our daily video calls, he’d merely laughed it off.

“You’re so tense, Hana. You should relax. Everything is going to be okay.” Jungkook said softly, soft fingers digging into the curve of heel before brushing the arch of my foot. I smiled when he tugged my foot close, placing it down on the firmness of his thigh.

I gazed down at him, feeling uncomfortably nervous. This whole thing seemed oddly intimate somehow and I felt the first tendrils of guilt begin to curl around my gut. I swallowed, hating myself for tainting something that was no doubt innocent. I ought to be grateful that my future brother in law was this kind to me.

“I know. Thank you. I just miss him sometimes.” I said softly. The fingers stilled on my foot.

“Only sometimes?” He teased, eyes narrowed and tone just a little colder and I hesitated.

“I don’t miss him when you keep me company. You help me forget that I’m doing all of this by myself.” I said honestly. Jungkook inhaled sharply, his gaze flicking to mine, holding mine with an intensity that made me balk a little.

“You mean, that?” He asked quietly and I laughed at how serious he looked.

“Of course I do.  I was so sure this whole thing would be me being miserably lonely but you’ve kept me laughing and happy. I’m going to ask Namjoon to buy you something expensive and amazing when he comes back.”

“He already has something amazing. It’s the only thing I really want.” Jungkook said quietly, fingers stroking up, gently massaging my foot all the way up my calf. I groaned at how good it felt.

“Really what is it?” I asked curious.

Jungkook squeezed my knee before carefully placing my foot down , reaching for the other one.

“You’ll know soon, Hana.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True to his word, Namjoon called me exactly a month before our wedding date.

“Guess who’s leaving the God forsaken place this weekend?”

I felt warmth flood my insides, heart racing with pure joy, tears brimming over because I’d honestly resigned myself to the fact that he wouldn’t be able to make it back on time.

“Monday i, I’ll be there. Can’t wait to kiss you, my love.” He whispered and I nodded, laughing.

Finally, Everything would be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon’s flight was due to arrive late night ,somewhere between twelve and one in the morning. I’d taken a nap in the afternoon, so I could be up to welcome him back. Jungkook arrived at around seven with Takeout and flowers.

He didn’t ring the doorbell, letting himself in with the spare key I’d given him for emergencies. I found myself scrambling for my robe because I’d taken a nice long shower and slipped on a silk negligee, short and ending just over my knees . I could feel his eyes on me as I hastily tied the sash together, flustered. The robe wasn’t long either and I felt absolutely exposed, even worse than when he’d stepped into the dressing room during my fitting, offering to help me with the zipper.

“ Jungkook, what are you doing here?” I asked nervously and he shrugged, eyes still trailing over my legs, the skin bare. I felt his gaze like a caress and some instinct told me I was in danger. I shook my head to clear it. How ridiculous.

This was Jungkook. Sweet, wonderful Jungkookie. My best friend these past few months. There was no one else I could be safer with.

“I knew you’d be excited, what with hyung coming back and all. So, I thought I’d drop by and at least make sure you’re well fed.” He grinned, holding the tae out up. I smiled and nodded, moving to get plates and glasses from the kitchen.

I heard Jungkook moving around in the living room and when I went back in , I found that he had two glasses of wine ready on the table, an expensive bottle of merlot opened nearby. I smiled a bit, shaking my head.

“What are we celebrating?” I asked curiously and he shrugged.

“Namjoon hyung is coming back right? It means I’ll be getting my amazing gift tonight.” He said softly, picking his glass up and taking a sip and I rolled my eyes.

“You’re such a child. You can’t wait for a day to get your gift?”

Jungkook hummed. He looked ethereal in the dim golden light of the apartment. Like something out of a fairytale. All dark ebony hair and porcelain skin. I wondered, again….why he never dated. He was easily one of the most beautiful humans I’d ever seen in my life. And that voice.

The voice of an angel.

“I’ve been waiting for years, Hana. I’m sick and tired of waiting.” He said softly, voice low and eyes somehow dark and I tried to hold my smile.

“Well, I hope you enjoy it.” I grinned and he smiled, all teeth.

“Oh, I intend to. Thoroughly.”

I took my own glass and took a deep sip , before holding it against his.

“To no longer waiting and finally getting what we want.” I said cheerfully, thinking of the long months without Namjoon and the few hours till he would be back in my arms. Jungkook chuckled and clinked his glass against mine.

“To you, Hana.” He said simply and I blushed, surprised and flattered.

We ate the take out but just a few bites in, I felt my eyes getting heavy which was so unfair. It was barely eight. And I’d slept in the afternoon. What was wrong with me? I was supposed to be up till Namjoon came home.

“You alright, love?” Jungkook asked sweetly , getting out of his chair and making his way over when I almost knocked the glass of water over, fingers trembling. I pouted, even as his fingers curled over my shoulders, gripping lightly.

“Why am I so drowsy?” I whined in desperation and he leaned down, lightly resting his chin on my shoulder.

“You need to rest, hana. Come on, let’s get you to bed…. “

Eyes heavy and limbs turning to jelly, I could barely blink as he reached down and scooped me into his arms , carrying me into the bedroom. I felt his fingers tug on the sash of my robe, a protest building up at the action but he shushed me gently.

“I’m just helping you out of this, Hana. Rest now… Namjoon hyung will be here soon and we have a long night ahead of us, you and I.”

I could feel my mind churn at that, confusion warring with apprehension because why was Jungkook inserting himself in tonight? What did he have to do with Namjoon and I ?

Sleep beckoned and I found myself slipping into the darkness before I could fully ponder on his words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up sweaty and damp , body overheated and my head foggy. I made to move and felt my heart pound when I realized my hands were tied up to the headboard. I blinked, only to be met with darkness because there was something tied around my eye as well.

“Jungkook?!” I called out panicking and there was a low chuckle.

And then a very familiar scent.

Namjoon.

I sagged in relief.

“Joon…it’s you….” I breathed out . “ Come on, do we really have to do this right away? I wanna see you…” I whispered desperately.

Fingers brushed over my ankle and I jumped.

“Namjoon?” I whispered . The bed dipped next to me, and I felt the brush of his shirt against my bare arm. It was soft and silky , familiar because I’d bought it for him for his birthday and he’d sent me a pic of him wearing it, from the airport today.

“Okay… I’ll play.” I laughed softly. “ Just untie me… I wanna touch you..”

“Sshhh…..” A finger pressed against my lip and I startled. Throat dry, I gulped.

But I didn’t say anything, biting my lips nervously as I felt him climb over me, one knee on either side of mine, fingers curling on my thighs, lips pressing against my cheek. I sighed, relishing the soft press of his lips, up and down my neck, the damp wetness of his tongue as he licked the skin right after, teeth nipping gently and then with more force.

I trembled as soft fingers tugged on my negligee tugging the fabric up and away from my body, raising it up till it pooled near my chest. I felt the tug on my panties, yanking the fabric off and then the weight of him went away, a breathy exhale that sounded both calm and somehow desperate, his body moving down to lightly hold my knees, parting my legs.

I bent my knees, spreading my thighs the way he clearly wanted me to, hearing him groan in return. He used his thumbs to gently part the damp folds of my centre and I felt my entire body shudder at the press of his tongues against the most intimate parts of me.

Choking, I could only lay there and take it, his tongue licking the slick folds, over and over again with an almost curious insistence, like he was tasting me for the first time and I could feel his body trembling on the bed as he did. I felt his teeth tug on the hardened nub, bruising hard and yet somehow almost playful and cheeky and I found myself squirming in pleasure, wetness seeping out of me .

The tip of his finger found my slit, running up and done the length of it in a slow, gentle caress, gathering the moisture there and I trembled when he reached my clit, gently rubbing circles on the little bundle before moving back down to trace my entrance. I was so wet, getting wetter by the second and I’d never wanted to be fucked so bad.

“Please…..baby… I want you ….in me…” I choked out and he chuckled, a little mischievous and unlike him.

The finger dipped in, shallow and barely in and I whimpered in desperation.

“More.. Please…. I want more.. Want you… Its been so long…”

I felt him move back at that and then he was there, right between my legs. I felt the clink of metal as he unbuckled himself, the sound of his zipper and the rustle of fabric as he pushed his trousers off. I could feel the hard muscles of his thigh against the back of mine as he scooted closer, felt the brush of his hard length against my center, the head dipping in just lightly.

He pushed forward, driving in with so much force that my entire body shuddered in shock. And in just that second, I knew, with dawning horror…….

This was not Namjoon.

I screamed, so loud my own ears rang and  a palm pressed down into my mouth, forceful and unrelenting. And terrifyingly unfamiliar.

“Hana…” Jungkook’s voice near my ear made me choke on my tears, my mind splintering in shock and betrayal, body going rigid in terror as he pulled out , only to slide back in.

“Knew it would be worth it, keeping myself pure for you….” He crooned against my skin and I whimpered, wetness spilling over my eyelashes as I tried to squirm away, my mind body and soul only screaming for the man I loved.

“Don’t worry about anything ….Hyung’s in a better place now. “ Jungkook chuckled deeply and I felt my skin go ice cold at the implication. He moved his hand away and I coughed, choking.

“Jungkook….”

The blind fold came off and he kept pumping into me, hips moving erratically, no rhythm or grace and it was obvious he’d never done this before, obvious in the way he looked : blissed out and feral, eyes unfocused as he stared down at me. I felt him tremble and shake, before going still . I felt warm wetness flood my insides and bile rose, nausea making breathing difficult. He stayed on me and inside me, his body so large and immovable, heavy and suffocating over my own.

“what are you doing Jungkookie?” I sobbed out in disbelief and he glared at me.

“What does it fucking look like I’m doing? I’m taking what I fucking deserve….” He snarled. “ Two fucking years…. He doesn’t deserve you. Spends all his days and nights holed up in that studio of his with his friends….leaves you to fend for yourself. You deserve to be waited on, hand and foot… you deserve the world, hana…and he wouldn’t let you experience any of it. Fucking bastard….

“No… No.. God …no..” I choked out. It was the shirt.

He was wearing Namjoon’s shirt. And his cologne. The shirt I knew my boyfriend had been wearing today. How did he get it??

Jungkook brushed his fingers on my cheeks .

“What’s wrong baby? Are you worried about him? Wondering where he is…” He chuckled. “ I told you..he’s in a better place right now..”

“No… you’re lying..you wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t I? You know me that well , hana?” He teased.

No. No I didn’t I didn’t know him at all.

“How about this? If you marry me…. If you let me have this dream wedding with my dream girl…. “ He smirked,” If you let me love you the way you deserve , maybe I’ll take you to visit him…someday. ”

I closed my eyes.

I couldn’t process what I’d just heard… I didn’t know… if he was bluffing. What if he had actually killed-

I couldn’t believe that. I couldn’t. It would break me.

“Okay… Just…please don’t hurt him…” I whispered.

Jungkook smiled.

“Just relax Hana. Everything’s going to be okay.”

AUTHORS NOTE : THIS IS LITERALLY MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS PURELY OUT OF IDLE CURIOSITY

~~~~~~~~~~~

[jeonggukookies]

too young || six

summary: you and jungkook meet up after a surprise delivery happens at the school

word count: 2,018

genre:  parent!au, single dad!jungkook angst

one || two || three || four || five || six

When you thought about your first heartbreak, you’d thought you would be nonstop sobbing in your bed, being surrounded by empty jars of melted ice cream pints and sad movies. You thought that despite the distance, your mom would make the trip and drive all the way to see you, rub your back in small comforting circles and take care of you as if you were a sick child. You thought that everything would hurt so much that you wouldn’t even want to move. 

The only problem? Your first heartbreak didn’t feel like that at all. 

It was all practically numb.

You didn’t fall apart when you did something that reminded you of him. 

You didn’t start breaking down when you watched him pick up Jules and didn’t bother to come in to your office to say hi to you. 

You didn’t crumble to pieces when you had no notifications on your phone from him.

You lived your life normally again just without Jungkook and Jules. 

Alone.

There were no more screams or echoes of noise from Jules and her cousins when you peacefully relaxed, there was no more idle music playing in background as you did your work and there were no more soft breaths and snores next to you in your bed. 

Your mom called you every night on the phone, checking up on you. It was like she wanted you to cry and to feel some pain, just so she could go down there and be there for you. But you told her that you were fine and will deal with whatever negative feelings when they come. 

Life went on whether you liked it or not. 

Three weeks after the break up, at the end of March, there was a familiar knock on your office door after the last school bell rang. You haven’t talked to Jules since the night she found you looking at pictures of her mom, and you really hope it wasn’t awkward when you talk to her. 

It’s the first time you see Jules’s hair was down, strands of her hair going in every direction. She looks like a mess. Tears streamed down her face as she ran towards you, hugging your legs. “Can you help me?” 

“What’s wrong, Sweetie?” 

“I lost Jungkook’s mp3 player,” she cried, rubbing her face on your black dress pants to wipe her tears. “He’s going to kill me!” 

“It’s okay, Jules.” Bending down to comfort her, you wipe her face and stroke her hair. You’ve never seen her this sad, and it made your heart sink. “I’m sure he’ll understand. Things like this happen all the time. It’s okay.” 

She shook her head. “Auntie Moon Soo is coming soon, and I can’t leave without the mp3 player. I can’t.” 

“Why don’t we ask her to come look for it with you?” You asked softly. “That way 3 people are looking for it.” 

Namjoon’s wife, Moon Soo comes out of her van, she’s surprised to see you standing next to Jules. She doesn’t say anything to you at first and tries to reassure Jules that’ll be alright, that they will find it before Jungkook goes home tonight.

When it’s been over 30 minutes, retracing Jule’s steps from her locker to the gym to the playground, she goes to the bathroom, making you and Moon Soo wait outside for her. 

“I’m sorry we had to meet like this in this circumstance,” she said, offering a kind smile. “I heard a lot of great things about you, and I’m sorry things didn’t go well at the dinner with the girls.”

You hear Jules flush the toilet. “It is what it is.” 

“I know what it was like,” she said. “They made it seem like I wasn’t good enough for Joon, and we took a small break too. But at the end of the day, it’s about how you feel about Jungkook and Jules that matters more than their opinions, especially if they brought up Sarah.” 

“I’m almost done!” Jules shouted, turning on the sink. 

“But that doesn’t change the way Jungkook feels about Sarah.” Tears were forming in your eyes, and you bit your lip to hold them back. “But I’m glad you and Namjoon were able to overcome it.” 

“It’s been like what, almost a month? Jules knows Jungkook can easily buy her a new mp3 player, or even a phone, anything she wants, honestly. But think about it...I’m sure she misses you and is using this as an opportunity to spend time with you again.” 

“Can we check out my classroom?” Jules finally opened the door, getting out of the restroom. 

The three of you walk quietly over to her class where she looked through every desk (without touching their things) and looked over to the place where she reads books in the class. She lifted the bean bag in the corner of the room, revealing what she has been looking for this whole time. “Yay!” 

“See, everything is okay.” Moon soo smiled. “Are you ready to go, Jules?” 

She nodded, but then stared at you with her piercing eyes. “Is this going to be the last time you’re going to talk to me?” 

“Of course not, Jules.” You took a breath. “I’m here for you always.” 

“I have to tell you something.” But before she could tell you, she pointed at Moon Soo. “Why didn’t you go to the bathroom when we went, Auntie?” 

Moon Soo raised her eyebrows, then looked down at what Jules was pointing at. She then began holding on to her stomach with a pained look. “My water just broke.”

_______

“Hey!” Namjoon exclaimed, rushing through the hospital doors. Before he goes to Moon Soo’s room, he went towards your direction as you waited outside the room with Jules. “Thank you so much for bringing her here safely and for being there for her at that time. I seriously cannot thank you enough.”

“No worries,” you let out. “I’m glad I was there.” 

He’s about to say something, but you hear Moon Soo scream Namjoon’s name, making him go into the room as quickly as he can. 

Your phone in your blazer buzzed. 

[seokjin]

the whole fam is coming in about 10 minutes 

thank you for taking care of jules

will be there soon and you can leave

“Are you leaving when they come?” Jules asked as she looked down at your phone screen, seeing the texts from. “You’re not going to stay to see the babies?” 

“I don’t know yet.” You lied, knowing you were going to leave once someone is here able to take care and watch over Jules. As much as you wanted to see the twins, you didn’t want to see some specific people. You were doing fine right now in your life and didn’t want to ruin that if you saw Jungkook or some of the girls. “I have a lot of work to do still, Sweetheart.” 

“Will you see the babies with me on different day then?” 

“I hope so.” You couldn’t make an empty promise to her. “Are you excited to have more cousins?” 

She nodded. “I like my small family, but sometimes, I hate being alone. The cousins help me forget that I can’t have any brothers or sisters.”

You sighed, wrapping your arm around Jules. “Never forget that you will always have your family, your uncles, aunts and cousins to support you. They will always be there.”

“Will you?” She asked, looking up at you, once again, her eyes were so piercing.

“I hope so.” You rubbed her back in small circles. 

“I heard what Auntie said when I was in the bathroom,” she said. “I missed you, but I had to find this mp3 player. Jungkook’s new song is on here. I’m always the first to listen, and I didn’t want to lose this song.” 

“That’s good you found it then.” 

She’s about to tell you more, her mouth is slightly opened, but she doesn’t say anything more and started to stare in the direction behind you. Letting go of her, you turned behind, seeing Jungkook walking towards you two. 

He paused, not expecting to see you here, but then continued to walk forward as you looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m hungry,” Jules answered with a pouty look on her face.

He laughed, taking his leather wallet out of his back pocket. He hands her a couple dollar bills, telling her to get something for the three of them from the vending machine. “Go crazy.” 

“You know I will,” she joked. 

There’s awkward silence in the air now, with Jules gone. Jungkook then sat down in the empty chair beside you, with his head turned to you as you looked down at your hands in your lap. He doesn’t know where to start and what words to say. How ironic, coming from a songwriter. “Hey.”

“Hi.” 

“Did you eat yet?” He asked. 

“Nope,” you replied, still not looking at him. “Did you?”

“Not yet.”

“I should get going.” You finally took the first step, grabbing your purse off the ground. 

Before you could take another step, Jungkook reached forward and grabbed your wrist, stopping your movement. “I never loved her, you know.” 

You wanted to shake him off, go on your own way, but you kept standing in front of him, facing away from him. “What?” 

He sighed, wishing he could look you in the eyes. “I never answered you that day because I was too scared to admit it out loud. I never got to tell her either, and I knew she loved me. The thing was I only thought of her as a sister, someone I had to protect. And I was afraid that if I actually told someone that I didn’t love her before she got the chance to hear it from me, I would somehow hurt her even though she’s gone.” 

“Jungkook,” You said this name, but he kept talking.

“I know that’s no excuse, but I am so sorry. I never wanted you to feel like that, and I should have just told you. No one has been competing with you.” He let go of your hand and stood up. “I don’t want you to be Sarah because I love you for who you are. I want you for who you are. My life feels incomplete without you.”

Finally turning around, you stared at Jungkook. It’s the first time finally looking at him up close in three weeks, and he looked like death. Dark circles were under his eyes, his hair was a mess. You could tell Jungkook felt too much.

And he did. For the last three weeks, he got up every morning, trying to ignore the pain he was feeling in his heart. He tried to continue his life like everything was okay, but all he kept thinking about was you. He wanted you to see you when he picked Jules up from school. He wanted to hear you laugh when he watched a movie with Jules. He wanted to you next to him when he was alone on Wednesdays. He wanted to hear you cheer for Jules when he watched her soccer games. He just wanted you. 

With all the pain he had been feeling, he’s been trying to figure out his feelings and all the words he wanted to say to you that night, and now that he was finally letting all of it go, he was crying right in front of you.

“You saw me more than Jule’s guardian. I felt like you were the first person to honestly see me for me. I want to live spending more time with you, watching Jules’s games, hearing all your different opinions and views than mine. And I am so sorry that I damaged us in the process.”

“Hey, Y/N!” Namjoon rushed out of the room. His jaw dropped once he saw you and Jungkook together, looking all sad. Still, his smile on his face reappeared as he asked, “Do you guys want to see the babies?” 

____ 

hi this is so long overdue i apologize, i’ve honestly been stuck :( hope you all have a good day and enjoy permission to dance<33 lowkey not proofread either:/

[imagines-hoarder]

House Warming - Bucky Barnes

Summary: Hopping through some standout moments in making Bucky's apartment a place worth coming home to. (This definitely could have been a headcanon but I refuse to do headcanons at this time.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2.6 k

Warnings: fluff with a lil angst

A/N: I have finished all the assignments left for my degree and decided to sit down and write today. This is probably trash but idc because it has been written and therefore I may as well release it. It's been a while since I've written and years since I've truly tried dipping my foot into a different fandom, but I figured I'd give it ago. Please don't forget to leave comments, I love interacting with y'all. Thank you @bwbatta​ for the dividers! xoxox

Masterlist

It all started with a damn candle. A ‘sandalwood & vanilla orchid’ candle tucked away in a reused cyan jar.

“I found it at the art market down the street last weekend,” you said as you placed it in the corner of the living room window. “You know we have to support local business.”

“And I shouldn’t assume this is your way of telling me my place smells, right?” Bucky quipped from the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He’d just gotten back from a 12-day mission with Sam, and the last thing he had on his to-do list was to buy candles.

The smile grew firmer as you put yourself into his arms. “Complete opposite, actually. I bought it cause I thought it smelled just like you.” You hid your face within his chest, and he thanked the stars that you couldn’t see the warmth rising in his cheeks. His barren apartment felt a little bigger with a candle in the windowsill.

From there it became decorative pillows… and a couch to hold them. The small living room had quickly become a mess by the time you both had brought it up to his fourth-floor apartment, furniture wrap and packing peanuts strewn everywhere.

“I still don’t know why you needed to buy a sofa this big,” Bucky grumbled as he leaned over the back of the beige three-seater, looking down at your splayed out across its cushions.

“Don’t get me wrong, babe. I love the transient bachelor look you’ve got going on here, but you need more furniture than an armchair,” you mumbled between heavy breaths as you tried to regain control from maneuvering the couch into the apartment.

“And the pillows?” A laugh fell from your lips as you watched him look at the indigo cushions with a remarkable amount of disdain. Who buys pillows made just to look nice on a couch?

“They add character.”

“I didn’t think character was an area we were lacking in. Transient bachelor, remember?” He walked around the couch and shifted you over so he could lay beside you. You instinctively curled into him as you both closed your eyes. For a second the place felt like home. “I also don't know how you plan for us both to fit on this couch every day along with the pillows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You looked up from his chest with a mischievous glint that made his heart skip. “It’s a pullout bed too. I’m sure it’ll be firm enough even for you.”

The home improvements didn’t stop there, but Bucky refused to admit how much he enjoyed them.

He liked having a place and person to come home to. After you had bought neutral bedding for his room, you’d spent an evening putting together ‘his and hers’ trestle bookcases for either side of the bed. He’d try to keep up his crabbish demeanor as you argued that ‘you needed a place to set your books for when you slept over,’ and a side table could no longer contain the small collection you had spilling over. Even still, he couldn’t find it in himself to banter much about the minor changes you made to make the place feel lived in.

And God, did he love living with you around. Between missions, his continued therapy, and trying to find his place in a world that had tripled in opportunity since his youth, he knew that he never had to question who he was and where he fit in when he walked through that door. You still occasionally slept at your own apartment when he was away, but he could always count on you being asleep in his bed by the time he came home.

One toothbrush in a glass became two, and from there, hand creams, face masks, and cotton pads cluttered the bathroom counter, packed away in their clear containers. You had made sure to keep lavender bath salts on hand for the late-night baths you took together when he woke up in a panic, unable to close his eyes again for fear of falling back into a nightmare.

It took time and working through plenty of hesitation before Bucky could progress from sleeping on the pull-out sofa to the bed, but ever since, you found your nights attended by restlessness whenever you weren’t wrapped in his arms.

Once your lease was up and you had a lengthy conversation about your inability to rest without him, you quickly filled the apartment with brown boxes. Bucky had been no less than astounded by how much you fit into them. From then on, no nook or cranny was without a vase or shelf.

“How many mugs does one house need,” Bucky asked skeptically while he continued to carefully pull them from their paper wrappings.

“Oh, come on! They’re fun!” You exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his waist as you took the Charlie Brown mug from his metal palm. “Plus, we go through enough coffee around here to justify some extra mugs.”

After you put the mug into the lowest shelf of the cabinet, you busied yourself with filing away the spices one cabinet over. No matter how much he tried, Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes away from you, lost in your own world as you chipped away at unpacking your belongings, making yours his, and vice versa. The domesticity in the little things you did was something he could get used to, and he wanted to return the feeling of normalcy as much as he could. He was far from the average boyfriend, but you remind him that could be a good thing. You never wanted to be average, but in these small moments, as you both did what normal couples do, he felt that he could create a new normal with you.

“So your Christmas gift came in already, and it’s too big to hide.” Your awkward tone carried over the phone as he exited a station ten minutes away from the apartment. Even though his neck ached and the cold nipped at the top of his ears, he couldn’t stop himself from releasing a breathy laugh.

“I thought you said you were good at this gift-giving thing, doll,” he teased you as he maneuvered his way to your shared apartment.

“Oh, don’t you fret, baby. I am the best gift-giver in all of New York City. I just slightly miscalculated how big this thing was and have realized it won’t fit into our closet.”

He tsked with a smirk on his face. “If you say so.”

“Hey, you gave me my Christmas gift a week ago.”

“Yeah, that’s because I didn’t know if I’d be back before Christmas.”

“Well, you will be, and I’m glad you are,” your voice softened lovingly as he pulled out his keys to the front of the building.

Bucky had gotten used to your love, but he’d vow to never take it for granted. All the pain he’d endured had somehow led him to you, the person who didn’t see his broken pieces as a burden or a project but as a potential to be whatever he desired.

When he hung up the call and unlocked the apartment, his brows furrowed into one; the apartment was pitch black. It was only when he heard your soft footstep walking towards the entrance that his face relaxed.

Before he could even kiss you, you had your palms firmly placed over his eyes. “No peeking; your gift is in the living room.”

The uncertainty in what you could have got him made his stomach clench. “Is it an animal?”

You slowly dragged him through the front hallway, making sure to avoid crashing into the entryway storage table. “I’m sorry to say it’s not alive.”

“Is it a nice welcome-home spread with candles, fruit, and the pullout bed all set up?”

He could feel your eyes roll to completion. “Easy there, sergeant. That’s for later.” You pulled him down to sit on the couch, and he kept his eyes closed as you pulled your palms away, moving to turn on a lamp. “Okay, Buck. open up.”

When he opened his eyes, it took him a moment to understand what he was seeing nestled against the wall; when he did recognize it, he could only form two words “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit indeed.”

He was quick to stand up and cross the room, eager to get a good look at the walnut centerpiece. “Does it work?”

You scoffed as you moved to kiss his cheek. “What kind of girlfriend would get her ancient boyfriend a broken phonograph console?”

He didn’t even attempt to answer as he bent down to wrap his arms around you, his lips eager to find yours. “A fucking Magnavox radio and phonograph,” he mumbled against your lips.

“A working Magnavox radio and phonograph, you mean.” When you pulled away and saw that his face held a glow reserved only for special occasions, you knew you had made the right choice. “I’ve got some records wrapped up if you want to open those now too.”

You yelped in surprise as he picked you up and made his way towards your bedroom. “I’ve got something else I’d like to unwrap first.”

Bucky Barnes had grown up in a period when the average family could seldom afford nice things or much of anything at all. The Great Depression has resulted in the slogan ‘Make it do or Do without,” being ingrained into what memories he still had, and 'doing without' had become commonplace for the Barnes household.

That’s why every gadget and gizmo you added to your household left him in awe. For much of his life, including the decades he spent as a weapon for Hydra, he hadn’t been allowed to call anything his own; he was still getting used to living so plentifully, both in love and in life. But now, he could barely move and he thought it had all been taken away from him.

The attack was supposed to have been contained, at least three miles away from the apartment. Anything less, and he would have made you visit your family upstate instead of just suggesting it. By the time Sam had told him that there’d been some confirmed damage within a block of the apartment, Bucky was already on his way home. He couldn’t think of anything but the worse: you trapped in a collapsing apartment building or pulling up to find no building there at all.

He felt his lungs fill with air again as he pulled up to your building, completely intact regardless of the severe damage less than a five-minute walk away. It felt like both seconds and hours between when he parked his outside and unlocked the front door.

“He doesn’t have his phone on him, mom. How am I supposed to…” you trailed off from your call as he walked into the living room, turning your head away from the Breaking News report you’d been glued to for the last hour. “Wait, I’ll call you back. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you back.” Your eyes never left his as he walked over to you, hanging up the phone with worry in your eyes. “Buck, are you oka-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pulled you off of the couch and into his arms. His grip was less reserved than he usually kept, but he made sure not to hurt you, eager to keep you in his arms, where he knew you were safe. A single tear fell from the corner of his eyes as he realized the real possibility that he could have lost you if you lived even 5 minutes closer to the attack. You stayed like that for a while, gathered tightly in his arms as you both settled onto the floor You didn’t push him to verbalize his fear; you already understood it. And it took this occurrence for him to realize he never wanted to experience this feeling again.

Bucky was quiet for the rest of the evening, and while it worried you, his fear had been evident enough not to require questioning. The city-wide cleanup had lasted all hours of the night; for the first time in all the years you had lived in the city, the sounds of the whirring of vehicles clearing debris off the street had been too close to ignore. The sun was rising before a single word was said between you and Bucky, tangled together on the sofa as the first ray of light made itself known.

“You’ve spent so much time piecing this place together, doll.” His voice was raspy. You know he hates when you see him cry, but his pain was always evident in his voice. “And it could have been all wiped away in seconds.” You let a heavy silence settle between you as you traced a pattern into his shoulder. He couldn’t bear to say it, but you knew what he meant: You could have been gone within seconds. “I just… I don’t ever want to feel like this again.”

You’d both gone through so much to make your relationship work. Nearly normal was as close as you would ever attain to being an average couple. The distance, the days without contact, and the ever-present fear that anything could pull you away from one another was something that had taken time to work through.

You looked around the living room and saw the place you had built together. There were photos and books scattered on any flat surface, a leftover mug half-filled with cold tea, and a record left out on the phonograph. The apartment looked like what love felt like; a messy combination of everything you and Bucky. But this apartment could not contain everything that ‘home��� was; only Bucky could do that.

The words fell from your mouth before you could restrain them. “Maybe we should move.”

Your eyes found each other, and you both sat in silence, though it felt lighter, invigorated with the new proposition.

Before he even responded, you could see tension dissolve from his shoulders. “Where do you want to move?”

You hadn’t thought that far ahead, only being able to provide him with a shrug. “I don’t know… maybe upstate, maybe somewhere else.”

“Your mom would like you being Upstate.”

“My mom would love us living next door too, but I don’t see that in the cards anytime soon.” You got a ghost of a smile for that.

“We could probably afford a house if we moved out there,” he said as he moved his lips to meet your forehead.

“Buck, I’d move anywhere with you. As long as we have each other, then we have all we need to rebuild this place.”

He pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head, and you swore you felt his chest flutter. “Tomorrow, I’m gonna look for some places, bigger ones too.” He tilted your head up to find your eyes, and you were sure that all of the love you carried for each other was incredibly visible at that moment. “You have made this apartment something worth coming home to. Now let me give you a house to make a home.” Your skin tingled with adoration as you pulled him as close as possible, burying your face into his neck.

You didn’t want to let go. You wanted to lay in this room, in this bed, and in this moment until the end of time, but you knew that something bigger and better was on the horizon for you and Bucky.

“All I heard is that you’re buying me a house.” His laugh was music to your ears.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 12) - Not So Sweet Home

Summary: Jensen is fed up with his parents ignoring Y/N all day and when he gets a moment alone, blows up on them like never before. The reader sees how upset Jensen is over what’s happening and does her best to defend him while still trying to salvage a relationship with them...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,200ish

Warnings: language, major family angst, mention of a dead parent

A/N: Eek! If you like angst this part is for you! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

It was late, the kids asleep in the guest bedroom, Jensen’s siblings and their families gone home for the evening aside from his brother. He made some half ass excuse about wanting to hang out with Jensen more but you knew he could sense what you did. Jensen was getting close to popping after a whole day of politeness on his part and his parents ignoring you on theirs.

Jensen was bouncing his knee like crazy as he sipped on his beer around a gas fire pit, suddenly stopping when you shifted in your seat.

“Maybe you ought to cool it with the alcohol tonight,” said his dad. Jensen set his empty bottle down on the grass and breathed deeply through his nose. “Your legs been-”

“Y/N, would you get me another beer please?” asked Jensen. You took the opportunity to get out of there, surprised when the back door opened quickly after you, his brother closing it behind him.

“I don’t think your parents like me very much,” you said, going to the fridge and pulling out a drink. 

“I know,” he said, glancing out the dark window. “Jensen asked me to make sure you don’t come back out there.”

“He’s gonna go off on them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m guessing,” he said with a sigh. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to go well. You guys can crash at my place if you want. We don’t have a guest room but we have an air mattress we can put in the family room.”

“You think it’ll be that bad?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Then why are we in here talking about this when we should be out there making sure he doesn’t say something he regrets in the morning.”

“You might hear things you can’t unhear,” he said. 

“Right now my concern isn’t if my feelings get hurt. He’s really upset and I need him to be okay.”

“You know that’s why the rest of us like you, don’t you? You care about him, the kids. You’re in love with him.”

“Yes I am,” you said as he nodded.

“You call me if either of you ever need anything,” he said, going back to the door. You nodded and took a deep breath, following him outside and already hearing raised voices.

“She’s half your age, Jensen,” said his mom. “She was your nanny. Sweetie you have to know what’s going on here.”

“You’re getting played,” said his father, catching you walking out with Josh.

“She is not half my age. She’s thirty fucking years old! She’s a goddamn adult and been through more shit then both of you put together! She’s not after fucking money,” snapped Jensen who was already out of his seat.

“You’re engaged to the girl after five months!” said his father. “It took you years to propose the first time around!”

“Because I was a nervous kid that was away working constantly. I didn’t want to make Dee stay if it was gonna make her unhappy. I’m not afraid of how I feel anymore because I feel the same about her as I do Dee and I’m not wasting my time so I can stick to your socially acceptable schedule,” said Jensen. “I love her and she’s gonna be part of this family whether you like it or not. Deal with it.”

“You need a prenup,” said his dad.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! You’ve known the girl for not even six months!”

“She’s not up to anything!” shouted Jensen.

“Son-”

“Have you ever lost your wife? Have you ever been in the car and almost die yourself while you watch her breathe for the last time? Where she’s hurt and you can’t do a thing to fix it? Have you ever had to tell your children their mother is dead and she’s not coming back? You have no idea, no idea, what that does to you, how much it hurts and how much it hurts when you’re still so fucked up and your parents start making comments behind closed doors about you and you have to pretend you’re better when you’re really not. When you don’t even care about yourself anymore, when you pretend for everyone’s sake so they stop treating you like a child, when you don’t know how to tell your kids it’s okay because it’s not. It’s not. Until you go through that, until you know how bad it hurts, don’t assume a damn thing about her. She’s my best friend and she makes me feel like my old self again. I laugh and smile and have fun and when I get scared or feel guilty or freak out she makes me feel better. I don’t give a fuck how old she is or what her job was. She’s kind and good and she deserves better than you two. Danneel’s parents like her. Jared’s parents like her. Her old foster dad’s family likes her. Our family likes her except for you two. Get your heads out of your asses or you can not even bother letting me know you exist anymore. I’m done with things hurting the women I care about. I couldn’t stop what happened to Dee but I can sure as hell keep Y/N away from the two of you,” said Jensen. He huffed and walked off, Josh running off after him. 

“Well congratulations. You got your hooks in him deep, don’t you,” said his father. You rolled your eyes and his mother scoffed.

“You can take care of someone without treating them like a child you know. He’s an incredibly strong person. If you don’t like me fine. But don’t call him stupid or easily manipulated or imply that it’s wrong to know you love someone after only a certain amount of time. I love your son.”

“You love his money,” said his mom.

“I do just fine on my own,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “He’s staying at Josh’s house tonight. We’ll pick up the kids in the morning.”

“He’s overreacting. He’ll be fine in the morning,” said his dad. You crossed your arms and leaned your head back. “He’ll be fine.”

“You two don’t know a thing about me and you assume I want money because of my age and my former career. Don’t assume your son will be fine and get over it.”

“We’ve known him a lot longer than you have. He’ll get over it after a night’s rest.”

“You may have known him longer and I’m sure in some regards you do know him better but not the ones that matter. If you did, you would have seen how much he would have loved for the two of you to like me. I would have taken some respect and been happy because trust me, I get how this looks to everyone else. I understand you have fears and I’m not mad you have them. I’m mad you assume those are facts when all they are is a story you made up in your head you don’t want to change. He’s right, I’m not going anywhere. The difference between him and me though is that I’ll stay out here all damn night with the two of you until you get it through your heads that I’m not here to fuck him over. I love him. I don’t have family, not really. Things have always been screwed up for me pretty much until I met him and he didn’t have to say it for me to know that he was hoping he could share the two of you with me. Maybe I was hoping for that too. But right now I’ll take some goddamn respect and an apology to your son to start and we can go from there.”

“You’re gonna curse at us and expect an apology?” said his mom. “We know you took him when he was at his low and tricked him into trusting you so you could get exactly what you wanted.”

“You know what I want? What I’ve always wanted and somehow always seems to get ripped away? A family. A stupid fucking family. Being a nanny? That let me feel like part of the family. I could pretend I was like all of those people I worked for. Nice and normal and like people gave a shit. Some kindness and a family is all I’ve ever wanted. You two...you wouldn’t have survived a day in my childhood. In my adulthood with the shitty ex boyfriend and the crappy friends and I picked myself over all of them because my mom told me to stand up for myself. Even when she couldn’t be there and I wanted her to. So I stand up for myself and now I stand up for him and those three kids to anyone and I mean anyone, that hurts them. He’s my family and those kids are my family. I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do but I guarantee the only thing I will do is tell you two where to shove it and to leave him the hell alone.”

“Why would we believe anything you say? At all?” his dad asked. “It’s probably the same sad story you told him to get him on the line. I don’t buy it.”

“I have a million dollar book deal. I’ve worked rent free for a lot of rich people since I was eighteen years old. Do I sound like someone who needs his money?” you said. You put your hands on your hips and shook your head. “What is it? You want me to sign a prenup? I would but he doesn’t want one. He trusts me and for a guy that lost his wife and had to work through falling in love with another person, I respect that. He knows what he wants and he’s not wasting time. This is scary for him. It’s scary for me. But when Dee’s parents gave me open arms and kindness and their blessing, the last people I ever expected to disapprove were you two. If you’re going to stand there and keeping calling me a liar, I’m going to find your sons and I’m going take care of Jensen instead of wasting my time here.”

“We don’t disapprove of him moving on and marrying again,” said his mom as you turned to walk away.

“Could have fooled me,” you said. 

“He’s going too fast and he doesn’t know you either, not well enough to make a decision like that,” said his dad. You turned around and smiled.

“He knows my favorite color. He knows what my favorite flavor of ice cream is. He knows why I have nightmares and he knows how to make me forget them in the first place. I’m sorry we aren’t doing things on your schedule but it’s his life. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with it, whether that’s me or somebody else. For the record, he knows me just fine. Oh and if this is how you plan on speaking to him again in the morning, I’ll pick up the kids myself.”

“We’re looking out for his best interest,” said his dad.

“No, you think you’re looking at his wallet for him. See money? People think that’s important and it is but best interest? It ain’t that shit,” you said as you started to leave.

“Well what do you assume his best interest is then?” said his mom. 

“Treating him like an adult. He is smart and strong and the most emotionally healthy man I’ve ever met which considering all the fucked up shit he’s been through and felt the past year is really saying something. He’s your child but he’s not a child. He found someone he loves and all he wanted to do was share me with you. This was his worst nightmare and I couldn’t stop it. So if you’re not gonna even try with me, then I’m gonna protect him from you.”

“He doesn’t need protecting from us,” he said.

“You call him stupid and that he can’t take care of himself, that he can be fooled and that the person he thinks is his best friend really only wants him for his money. He knows none of those things are true but it’s what you said to him when you said that about me. For a man who went through what he did, it wasn’t mean. It was cruel. I’m gonna go fix what I can of your relationship with him because despite all that, I know you guys love each other and I’m not letting that get fucked up because you think whatever the hell you think about me.”

You stormed off around the house and found Josh’s truck still there but neither man in sight. You looked around and heard a sniffle, your head going up to the roof. You saw the lattice work on the side and climbed up, peeking your head up to spot the two of them sat on the roof.

“Hey,” you said quietly. Jensen wouldn’t look at you, Josh rubbing his back. 

“Careful,” he said as you climbed up and slowly walked over. You took a seat on your bottom, spotting the window behind them. “That was my room. Jensen used to sneak out this way. I was always too nervous of getting caught to try myself. You landed the bad boy of the family.”

“Oh yeah, such a bad boy,” you said. You scooted closer on your butt to him, Jensen resting his head on his knees. “Hey. Before you even think about it don’t say you’re sorry.”

“I know,” he said. He took a deep breath but looked up, looking fairly normal aside from a slightly pink nose. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Nobody was,” said Josh. “I’ll give you guys a minute. I’ll be in my car when you’re ready.”

“You should go home,” said Jensen. “Staying in a different house won’t change anything.”

“That was kinda fucked up what they said.” Jensen raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “I don’t always agree with them. If you guys want to stay, that’s your choice but I’m not going home without telling them what a mistake they’re making.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re my little brother and I like her. Even if I didn’t, they’re being assholes and she doesn’t deserve that. You don’t. Alright?”

Jensen nodded and Josh walked off to the lattice and climbed down while you scooted next to Jensen. 

“You thought your siblings weren’t gonna like me,” you said.

“He’s a good person. He’s never told off our parents before so...I don’t know if I’m happy about that or not.”

“He’s a good big brother,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “I don’t love you for your family though. I don’t care if your parents don’t like me. I’ll deal with it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” he said.

“I still like your dad so much better than mine,” you said.

“Yours is a monster to be fair.”

“Yeah, he is. Yours love you and I don’t agree with them but in their minds, they’re protecting you and I don’t have a problem with anyone trying to do that.”

“How are you so fucking kind to them after they basically said you’re with their dumbass son because of money?”

“Like you said, I know monsters. I know toxic and bad. They aren’t it. They raised you and I really, really like you. Good people can be stupid and still be good. In the morning we’ll try again.”

“What if I can’t get them to change their minds?” he said quietly. 

“Jensen,” you said, moving to squat down in front of him. You grabbed his cheeks and he stared at you. “You don’t have to pick anybody over anybody. Maybe I won’t be close with them but that’s okay. It’s so okay. We’ll respect each other or just won’t talk to each other and we’ll figure it out but we don’t have to do it all tonight.”

“I think what bothers me the most is they’ve already made up their minds about you based on your age when they don’t even realize who you are. They don’t see that this is the kind of person you are, kind and supportive and I heard you not taking their bullshit. You’re a stronger person than I am and I wish they could see that the reason I’m not freaking out over this is cause I know you’re my partner and you got my back like I got yours. I’m just having a hard time understanding why they won’t even listen to us.”

“I don’t know,” you said, eyes darting to the window when you caught some movement inside. You narrowed them and glanced down, spotting the crack between the windowsill and frame. “I’m a little cool. I’m gonna get my sweatshirt if that’s okay.”

“Careful climbing in,” he said, turning on his bottom and pushing the window up. You kissed his cheek and climbed inside, the room empty as far as you could tell. You stepped out to the hall and into his old room, getting your hoodie, his old hoodie. You pulled it on but went downstairs, catching his parents in the kitchen with Josh.

“Josh may I speak to your parents in private,” you said.

“Yeah. I’m done here. I’ll be over for brunch, okay?” he said. He walked past you and caught your arm. “Call me if you need me back.” You nodded and he kissed your temple before he went out. 

“Were you eavesdropping on us?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“We went to tell him to get off the roof. We could see him from the backyard up there,” said his mom, putting her back to you as she mixed up something in a mug. “But we heard the three of you talking and then the two of you. We didn’t mean-”

“We are all on the same side. His side. We should get along. It shouldn’t be this difficult and I don’t appreciate private conversations being listened in on. But I hope you understand that you hurt your son. I know you didn’t mean to and it’s the last thing you’d ever want to do to him. But you did. So please try to help me fix this. This isn’t easy for me to accept that you don’t like me either but you’re gonna respect me. If we can respect each other, then he’s not going to worry as much at least. Please promise that we can agree to that,” you said. His parents looked at each other and you sighed. “You have to be kidding me. What do you want me to do? Go away? I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

“That’s not...Jensen called your father a monster up there,” he said. 

“I thought it was a sob story according to you ten minutes ago.”

“You said you don’t have parents. He said your father is alive.”

“What’s your point, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Please enlighten me.”

“It doesn’t make much sense to tell different stories,” he said. 

“You can’t even give me the benefit of the doubt that I love your son. Why the fuck would I tell you things only he knows, things so few people know about. Why would I trust you with the worst parts of my life when you don’t accept the best ones. For your information, my birth mother is dead. My adoptive mother is dead. I wish my son of a bitch father was dead. The only glimmer of a parent I have maybe, maybe was my foster father. That was until last weekend. I met some parents. I met Dee’s. I met Jared’s. I got the same message from all of them. Let us know if you ever need anything. Oh the way he looks at you. You must be pretty special. Anything at all, you give us a call. People that don’t even have an obligation to look in my direction treated me like I was their kid. So maybe he and I both got our hopes up with you two and that was on us. If you want to pick apart what I’ve said and call me a liar…” you said, putting your hands on your hips. Your shut your eyes and breathed deeply, turning around. “I don’t care if you have to pretend to respect me. Just do it for his sake and the kids sakes, alright?”

A tissue appeared over your shoulder and you took it, blowing your nose and stepping away. 

“When did your mother’s pass?” you heard behind you. You threw your head back and took a deep breath.

“When I was born and when I was sixteen,” you said, turning around and swallowing. “Why does that matter?”

“When were you adopted?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Please.”

“I was eight,” you said.

“So you only had your mother for eight years then,” he said. 

“Yeah. She got sick when I was fourteen. I stayed with her boyfriend until I moved out for my first nanny job at eighteen. It was all very sad and angsty,” you said.

“Who made the first move?” 

“I’m done with this interrogation,” you said. You started to leave but he stepped in front of you. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want to know who made the first move, you or Jensen.”

“I don’t…” you trailed off. “We had a fight. I told him I didn’t want him to be my friend anymore, he was just my boss and that was it. We couldn’t hang out at night and stuff anymore.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want him to hurt me,” you said quietly. “I didn’t fit with his life. I’m not a pretty actress. I’m not smart. I’m the younger nanny and that’s all I was gonna be until I became an older nanny and that was supposed to be my life. I didn’t ask for…”

“For what?” asked his mother, carrying over her mug and setting it down on the end table.

“I didn’t ask for him to love me. But he did and I don’t know why but I trusted him not to hurt me. It’s not fairytales and roses all day every day but I like having a best friend and I never would have submitted those books to a publisher without him encouraging me and I need him to feel better. He can’t catch a break lately and I hate seeing him upset. It makes me sick to my stomach and I really, really need him to be okay so please stop doing this. Just stop. Please. I don’t care if we have to pretend the rest of our lives but please, I can’t keep seeing him take hit after hit anymore and not being able to stop it.”

You weren’t expecting the hug from his father or to bury your face in his chest for a brief moment. His mom guided you to sit on the couch, pulling a blanket around you. She handed you the mug and you saw it was hot chocolate, your eyes darting back and forth between them.

“This isn’t about to be like a lifetime movie where you murder me, right?” you said. 

“No,” said his mom as she sat next to you. “We hurt you quite deeply today, didn’t we.”

You stared at the mug, holding it in your hands. 

“You were looking forward to meeting us,” said his dad as he sat down on your other side.

“It doesn’t matter. All I care about is him.”

“I don’t think he’d be very happy with you laying down for a semblance of normalcy for him,” he said.

“Just spit out whatever the fuck you want,” you said. You gripped the mug and shut your eyes.

“I’d like you to stop swearing please,” he said. “In exchange, maybe we can have a second chance.”

“Second chance at what?” you said dryly.

“At meeting our son’s fiance.” You lifted your head and stared at him, catching a bashful look you saw in Jensen every so often. “We understand, as well as we can, he was hurt after Danneel. We can’t fix those problems like when he would scrape his knees. We knew he was in a vulnerable position and things between the two of you seemed so fast for how in pain he was. We thought of the worst of you before knowing you and that wasn’t right of us. We were trying to protect him. But like you said, we all try to do that. So if you’ll let us, give us a second chance.”

“For him, I will give you both a second chance,” you said. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this but this sort of thing isn’t going to go away just like that, for him or for me.”

“Is there anything…” said his mom as you shook your head. “We are sorry for before. Truly.”

“I know. Trust is difficult for me on a normal day. You guys kinda tore through the safety nets I thought I had with you. I need to build them up again is all.”

“That was you that said that, people have safety nets,” she said. You raised and eyebrow and she sighed. “Jensen, months back, he told us his therapist told him that, put things in perspective.”

“I guess couple’s are kinda each other’s therapists,” you said. “Sometimes they just need to vent to each other too.”

“Before you said...has he ever been to one?” asked his dad.

“Last weekend was...intense. I went to one as a child and he talked to him for a little while, helped him put things in perspective,” you said.

“Intense? Did you fight?” she asked.

“He and JJ got stung by a scorpion. It was a little serious. We went out the next night and I made a comment and he took it a different way and he got upset thinking I thought of myself as being less in his eyes than Dee was. I know it’s not true, it’s just different. He’s been having a really great week aside from today.”

You took a sip of the hot chocolate and went back for more, drinking half the mug down. 

“We screwed up,” said his dad with a sigh, sitting back against the couch. 

“Yeah but he’ll forgive you,” you said. “This is really good Mrs. Ackles.”

“Thank you sweetie and call me Donna. I made it for Jensen. He’s always liked it when he was living here and having a bad day.”

“Why do you think he’ll forgive us?” asked his dad as Donna got up.

“Because he’s Jensen. He’s not an angry man. Angry in moments but he doesn’t hold onto anger. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. So I know he’ll forgive you. When I’m not sure of but it won’t be forever.”

“Have you two ever fought badly?” he asked.

“We’ve had a few fights. Mostly small and when we’re both tired or hungry. We had a big one a few weeks ago when he got home but we talked about why it happened and how to make sure it doesn’t again,” you said. Donna carried over a kettle and poured more hot chocolate in your mug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don't ask about fights Alan. It’s not our business. We should let them tell us what they want,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen.

“They probably should have had a big fight at least once to know if they can work through those things and it sounds like they have,” he said when he turned to you. “I know you’re probably love struck but marriage? That’s a lifetime of putting in the work.”

“Alan if I didn’t care about putting in the work I wouldn’t be down here right now. I know I don’t know everything I’m signing up for and no one really does but I know him and the kids and that’s worth the parts I have to work at.”

“You sound older than you look.”

“Age doesn’t always equal life experience,” you said.

“I suppose not,” he said. He stood and took a deep breath. “I do apologize for thinking the worst of you and not giving you a fair chance upfront.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m going to bring this up and check on him.”

“Can I ask one last thing?” asked his dad. You nodded and he looked over to Donna who gave him a short nod. “Josh said you really love him.”

“I do.”

“Do you think he loves you the same way?”

“I know he does,” you said.

“How are you so sure?”

“How are you so sure your wife loves you?” you said. “Goodnight Alan.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his mom catching up with you in the foyer where the stairs were. You gave her a tired smile and she nodded.

“If I told you something, would you keep it a secret from Jensen?” she asked.

“No,” you said with a smile. 

“I had to try,” she said. “We’re not like this by nature. Something happened he doesn’t know about when he was recovering that put us off to you. A woman. A young woman at his physical therapy.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly. She took a seat on a step and you sat beside her. “If someone tried to take advantage of him, you should have told me and him. He thinks you guys have gone nuts, no offense.”

“You’ll find with time you’d rather have your child safe and upset at you than the other way around,” she said. 

“What happened?”

“We moved down to the house for a few months to help Jensen. He went to physical therapy. A very good place. A family friend works there and got him in and he regained a lot of strength in his leg quickly because of it. There were nurses that often helped and he worked with a few regularly and they develop a relationship and all that. It’s good for morale and healing we were told. One of these girls was about your age and our family friend overheard her gossiping to a friend on the phone during a lunch break.”

“Gossiping about…” you said. “Jensen?”

“They saw an opportunity to manipulate him. He is smart, smarter than the both of us together, but he was going through the motions that first month. She made him smile a bit. She flirted with him. Our friend told us what she’d said and we realized, he could be hurt again. Taken advantage of for what he has, what he can offer. His sudden shift in mood this year, introducing you as a fiance, made us think we’d failed to protect him this time.”

“Why not tell him that?” you asked.

“And tell him he was being manipulated back then? He’s so adamant that it can’t happen to him but we know different.”

“I think you should tell him, Donna. It makes your reaction today seem not so…” you said, her head shaking.

“Ma,” you both heard. You looked over your shoulders, Jensen sat against the wall at the top of the landing. “Mom. Jerry told me why I got a new nurse when it happened. She was nice, or was pretending to be, I don’t know. But I didn’t like her. I never got manipulated and I was never going to.”

“How long-” you said, Jensen rubbing the back of his neck. “You heard everything.”

“Yup,” he said, popping his p, his dad coming over to the bottom of the stairs and staring up. “I don’t want to talk to either of you right now. Y/N, I’d like to go to bed, please.”

“Accept their apology Jensen. You can hash out the rest of this in the morning but accept that they know they were in the wrong,” you said. 

“Why should I?” he asked, cocking his head.

“We both got hurt out of their love for you. They are not monsters and I know the difference,” you said. “You know too.”

“Will you two ever look at me the same again,” said Jensen, staring at the landing. 

“Honey it was a fight. It’ll be alright,” said his mom, his head shaking.

“Ever since I woke up in the hospital, you two look at me like I’m a kid. Like I’m weak and defenseless. But I’m not. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been and this whole day could have been avoided if you treated me like your adult son, not the kid who fell off his bike and cries over a cut. I needed you two to take over, I did, I honestly did after the accident. I couldn’t take care of myself let alone the kids. But you haven’t stopped thinking I can take care of me again. I can. I do. I know I’m your kid but let me be an adult again. Trust me. Please.”

“Come here,” you said, holding out your hand. He slid down the steps and you stood up and aside, letting him get a hug from his mom and then dad. 

“We’re sorry,” said his dad.

“I know,” said Jensen quietly. “Never do something like that again. Ever.”

“We won’t,” he said. You leaned against the wall and sipped on the hot chocolate, Jensen’s nose twitching.

“That’s my cocoa,” he said, turning his head up at you.

“I just Jerry Springer’ed ya’ll. I get the cocoa. Get your own,” you said. He smiled and you gave it right back, his parents pulling off and bringing him to his feet. 

“Come here,” said his dad as his mom dragged him off towards the kitchen with the promise of hot chocolate. You stepped down until you were about his height and took a drink, licking your lips when you finished. “How do you just let that go? You were so angry before.”

“I’ve been to therapy. I have good diffusing skills,” you said. 

“Is that a joke?”

“Not really,” you said with a smile. “You made a mistake because you love him. I’m gonna make mistakes because I love him. So when I screw up, now you owe me one, deal?”

“I know it’s getting late but would you be willing to stay up a while longer, maybe find out that favorite color?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, stepping down.

“Depends on the day,” said Jensen, stepping out with a mug of his own.

“He’s right,” you said. “You okay to stay up a bit?”

He nodded and walked back to the family room, taking your hand. 

“Better?” you whispered to him.

“Yeah. Not all the way but definitely better honey.”

It was warm when you woke up the next morning. You peeled open an eye and caught Jensen laying awake, staring at his ceiling. You kicked off the blankets and he reached an arm out, pulling you to lay on his chest.

“It’s hot in here,” you mumbled, eyes shutting again.

“There’s a box covering the vent,” he said, dancing his fingers lazily over your bare arm. “It’s almost noon.”

“Seriously?” you said into his chest, nuzzling against his soft skin.

“Yeah. Sounds like they’re out back with the kids,” he said. You nodded and felt him move his fingers all over you, soft and light, absentmindedly tracing patterns every so often.

“Still upset?” you asked, his head nodding. “They’re human. They fuck up.”

“Are you angry?”

“I was. Not anymore. I kinda like ‘em actually.”

“Why would you give them a second chance?” he asked. 

“When I got adopted I didn’t like, instantly love my mom. I was scared of her at first. I don’t know, I get that you can not like someone at first and then love them unconditionally, you know? It’s weird but your opinions can change once you get to know someone.”

“I don’t do a very good job of protecting you from things,” he said, tilting his head, moving a few hairs behind your ear. You looked up at him, his fingers playing in your hair behind you. 

“Honey you went off on your parents last night. I bet you’ve never done that to them. You were trying to protect me and you did. No one has ever protected me the way you do,” you said. “Today is a new day and I’d like to get to know my new family some more.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll follow your lead.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 13 here!