#thinking about types of coffee and it's so funny that a doppio is just two shots of espresso like damn that really is just espresso squared

[chewyjellycable]

Put two Espresso Cookies in a room and call that a Doppio

[thepointoftheneedle]

BUGHEAD APPRECIATION WEEK: day three - favourite trope

I am a very simple creature so my favourite trope is the coffee shop AU.  I’ve written the little thing below the cut to celebrate it and as a thank you to the kind folks who have mentioned one of my stories this week. It honestly means such a lot! 

Betty tied the apron and stood attentively behind her shift manager, Kevin, as he showed her the idiosyncrasies and foibles of the huge Fracino espresso machine.  She was pleased to have got the job and wanted to present herself as an uncomplicatedly good hire.  The coffee shop was a five minute walk from her apartment and she liked the ambiance.  She’d been a regular since she began her research degree, stopping in often on her way to class in the morning.  It would give her a break from the solitude and intensity of her thesis and it would force her to interact with people, she needed the human contact.   After her initiation into the sacred rites of the machine Kevin gave her a laminated recipe card, took a seat on the other side of the counter and called out orders to her as she practiced. 

“Tall latte, three shots,” presented no problem and she even managed the leaf design in the foam with a reasonable degree of skill.  Kevin had clearly given his own order as a first trial because he took the drink from her hand and sipped it as he continued to put her through her paces.

“Medium cap, extra wet, rice,” was next, followed by “Flat white with legs.”  She turned out the orders competently although the difference between them was negligible. He tested her listening skills and her ability not to laugh at an order with the "Grande, bone dry, five-shot ristretto, extra-whip, two-raw-sugars cappuccino” and the "Trenti iced coffee, 12 pumps vanilla, 12 pumps hazelnut, 12 pumps caramel, 5 pumps skinny mocha, a splash of soy, ice, double-blended.” When he asked what she would suggest to up sell that customer she suggested a shot of insulin, which made the only client in the place bark out a laugh.  Kevin raised an eyebrow and she pointed at the millionaire shortcake instead and he nodded his approval.

“Ok, now for the real caffeine heads you need to get the serious drinks just right every time.” He had her draw a straight doppio, a ristretto, a lungo, a red eye and a black eye and lined them up along the counter.  As she served the last Kevin looked over his shoulder at the lone customer.  “You want any of these before they go down the drain, Hemingway?”

The guy looked up from his laptop and nodded, shuffling over and gathering up all of them in two journeys and returning them to his booth like a squirrel gathering acorns to tide him through winter.  “Thanks Kevin,” he muttered as he secured the last of his spoils.

“Don’t thank me, Betty here made them. I only worry that all that caffeine will stop your heart. An ambulance outside will do nothing for our reputation,” Kevin replied.

“I have a high tolerance.  For caffeine if nothing else.  And thanks Betty.  Nice to meet you.” He looked at her as he spoke and she was surprised by his eyes.  They were a striking blue green, not the brown she would have expected with his dark hair.  His eyelashes were unexpectedly long too, sweeping almost up to his brow line.  Now that he wasn’t hunched over the keyboard she saw that he was handsome in a poetic, sensitive, romantic kind of way.  He looked out of his time somehow, more suited to doublet and hose and rhyming couplets or drinking absinthe with Rimbaud.  But here he was, drinking free, cold coffee in Greenwich Village.  

“He’s a fixture and fitting, aren’t you Jones?”

“You’re my Café de Flore Kevin.  I’ll dedicate the book to your hospitality,” he smiled.  Betty liked the smile.

Over the next few weeks she exchanged a nod of greeting with Jones almost every day.  He was generally in his booth when she arrived at four and left around seven, gathering up his laptop and a tall Americano to go, as if he hadn’t already risked his sanity with the amount of caffeine he’d consumed.  “That’s quite a coffee habit,” she observed as he ordered another cup of drip coffee one afternoon.  

“I’m a machine for turning coffee into prose, got to fuel the engine,” he quipped with a smirk. It was clearly a line he used a lot.

The next day as he collected his to-go brew she asked him if it stopped him from sleeping and he explained that he worked nights.  “This’ll keep me going til four tomorrow morning.  It’s good to be able to hate your job with the required degree of enthusiasm.” He was funny in a dry, self deprecating way that she enjoyed.

She started to try to sneak him extras with his coffee, offering cookies and chocolate stirrers. He turned them down.  “I just like coffee with my coffee.”

“If you drink anymore you’ll start twitching.”

“No, I know my limit.  I stop when I start being able to see noises and hear smells.”

She began to tease him about the consistency of his ordering.  “Hey Jones, give me a challenge.  Order something milky with complicated syrups and whipped cream.”

“Coffee should be black as hell, strong as death and sweet as love,” he replied.  “That’s not mine by the way.  It’s a proverb from Turkey or somewhere.”

“But you don’t use sugar.”

“No, I replace the love with bitterness,” he laughed, returning to his seat with his usual drip coffee.

The next day she suggested a cortado.  “Come on Jones, let a little light into that darkness.”  He grinned and accepted a macchiato.  “Today a dab of foamed milk, tomorrow a vanilla latte with whipped cream.  You’ll find you can live without pure intravenous caffeine.”

“I can live without it but all the folks who remain unharmed because I am well caffeinated really don’t want me to skimp.  Anyway if you wean me off caffeine you’ll slash the profit margin of this place,” he smiled. “Not that I’m here solely for the coffee.”

She began to look forward to the jokes, to his familiar presence, to looking over at his long fingers dancing over the keys as he typed.  There were moments when she found herself imagining them moving over her skin that way, flushing and tightening her ponytail in confusion as if he’d be able to read her thoughts.

One afternoon she found him slumped in the booth, his head against the seat back, snoring softly.  She let him sleep until ten to seven before holding his Americano under his nose.  He blinked his magnificent eyes as he awakened and then shook his head to disperse the sleep.  She’d like to see that a lot more often, preferably from the adjacent pillow. “Thanks Betty, not enough coffee today and Jones without coffee is like… something without something…sorry, too sleepy for bon mots.”

 Betty learned that he was doing his MFA at the New School, supporting himself by working nights as a porter at Bellevue.  “Takes too long to travel all the way back to Yonkers between class and work so I hide out here and write.  Besides I live with a singer/songwriter so it gets sort of noisy at home.” Betty hid her disappointment.  Of course he had a girlfriend.  

“A musician.  Would I know her work?” she asked, twisting the knife masochistically.

“Him.  No, I doubt it.” He paused and then looked at her a little shyly through his untidy, dark curls.   “He’s playing downtown at the weekend and I’ve got a night off. You should come.” Betty reproached herself for her heteronormativity and smiled weakly.  She really didn’t want to see Jones and his boyfriend together.

“Oh I’ve got … stuff this weekend.  But thanks though.  I’m sure he’ll be great.”  

Jones flushed and looked at his feet. “I’m sorry if that was inappropriate.  You don’t come to work to get hit on.  Sorry,”

“Oh, no I didn’t think you were asking me on a date.  To your boyfriend’s gig?  That’d be weird.  Oh unless…Oh, I mean, weird was rude.  It’s totally your business but I’m not…like, I’m pretty strait-laced I guess.  But you do you…or whoever.  Sorry.”  Jones was actually laughing now.

“Archie’s my roommate not my boyfriend.  I wasn’t inviting you to a threesome.  I was asking you on a date.  If you’re busy or you’d rather I got lost just say so.”

The gig was the most fun she’d had since she moved to the city.  When he leaned in for a kiss her heart thumped like she’d just drunk ten shots of espresso. After the encore she put her hand on Jughead’s arm and looked into his eyes.  “Would you like to come to my place… for coffee?”

[jadewritings]

Searching For My Muse

Author’s Note ~ This idea has been stuck in my head for. So. Long. Enjoy! Oh and I also put my own spin on “Dark Fairies”, hope you like!

Pairing ~ Sam x Blogger!Reader (Sorta)

Word Count ~ 3.2k (I did this all on my own!)

Warnings ~ Graphic scenes, Language, slight smut, dirty talk, fluff, let me know if you see any more

Thank you to @sis-tafics for being my beta!

Hellooo California! Welcome back to Searching for My Muse! Now, as you all know, this blog is dedicated solely to love. I have been getting a lot of questions about my love life, and usually, I wouldn’t talk about it because this blog is for you guys, the people of the world. BUT, since I have gotten well over 300 questions about it, I decided, what the hell?

So I guess we should start off with, do I have a man in my life now? Well dear ladies and gents, I do not. Sure, I’ve flirted with some guys, gone on some dates, but they never really stuck. I will say, I have a crush. I can’t tell you his name but I can tell you that he is gorgeous.

The way his soft, spiky, dark blonde hair rustles in the wind, the way his intense hazel green eyes sparkle with determination. His jawline chiseled, it could slice your eyes just by looking at it. This man is the definition of an angel. If I could get my hands on him… Anyway, back to what I was saying.

Me, being all bark, no bite type of person, I would usually never have the guts to go and talk to him. Thankfully we live nowhere near each other so I’ll never have to worry about it. Another question, I thought it was funny, was if I had gotten any in recent weeks. Well, my dear readers, have you?

In the time it had taken you to write your blog, you had noticed that the cafe you were currently writing in had become less populated. Not that you were complaining, but it’s easier to focus when there’s a light chatter. Since you couldn’t think of anything else to say for your blog, you decided to refill your coffee.

“Excuse me, can I get another espresso please?” you asked the barista, handing them your cup. In the few seconds that you were standing there, you heard the doorbell ring as though someone was opening it.

“Hi, I would like a doppio and a coffee, black, please.”

That voice, it was like from a fairytale. The kind you used to dream of with Dean. You turned around to have your suspicions confirmed. There he was, as handsome as ever, just as you described in your blog. You gulped, quickly grabbing your cup just as the barista handed you it, hopeful that he had not seen you.

A few steps and you would have made it.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

You sighed, slowly turning with your head down so he couldn’t see the bright red blush creeping up on you.

“Hey, Dean. Long time no see.”

“Y/N, I knew it was you! How ya been?”

“Good, good. Just, ah, writing. Doing my own thing I guess.”

“You write? I never knew.”

“Yea, Dean, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

You didn’t mean for that to sound as harsh as it did, but he went to your high school and no matter how hard you tried, he never noticed you. Hard not to resent him even just a little bit.

“Well, it was nice to see you, but I’ve got to go. My brother is waiting outside for me, there’s some family business we have to take care of. We should catch up some time. Here’s my number.”

He took out a pen and grabbed a napkin, scribbling his name and phone number on it just before handing it to you. As quick as he had been there, he was gone. Just like in high school.

Well, guys. I saw the guy of my dreams again. Though it wouldn’t have gone as well as you’d think. God, he’s just like he was in high school; devilishly handsome and mysterious. If you guys ever see someone you secretly love, don’t be afraid to tell them. It’s better to know now than never. See ya in the morning! Goodnight!

You sighed and shut your laptop, rehashing today’s events. It definitely could have gone better. You took out that same napkin and debated whether to actually call him or go to bed, the option to go to bed was outweighing the other. You groaned, tossing the napkin into the bin next to your desk. Sleep was better than delving back into the pool of emotions that Dean Winchester had you swimming in.

It was 4:08 am when you woke to a dry throat in need of some water. Your house is a two story house and your bedroom is to the left when walking up the stairs, at the end of the hall. The wooden stairs are at the end of the hall after you pass the bathroom and guest bedroom. In order to get to the kitchen, you had to go downstairs and to your right is the living room while the kitchen is to the left and the dining room is behind the wall that is consequently a bathroom, is connected to the staircase.

It’s really not complicated, but when you’ve only got three hours of sleep and an empty stomach, it tends to get a bit disorienting. When you finally managed to get to the kitchen and not the living room or dining room, you reached into the fridge and grabbed a water bottle, gulping it down.

What sounded like glass breaking, made you turn around, dropping the half full bottle to the ground, spilling it everywhere. What you saw was something out of a fairytale. Things like this weren’t real, it couldn’t be…

Floating in front of you was a ghostly blue creature. It was tiny and weirdly cute as it floated, staring curiously at you. You stood face to face when curiosity got the better of you, causing you to reach out to it.  It turned a fiery red, rushing at you. You couldn’t breathe, almost as though you were drowning. A metallic taste rose up your throat but nothing came out.

You felt it inside you, “playing” with you. Twisting your thoughts and changing you entirely. Your front door flew open, though your vision was darkening quickly, you called out, “Dean?”

The halls twisted and turned, making you feel like it was never ending. You ran and ran from what was chasing you. You could hear it but every time you turned around, nothing was there but a sickeningly, deep, forced growl. It all felt otherworldly.

At the final turn, you saw a white glowing door and ran to it as fast as you could. No matter how much your legs burned and ached, no matter how out of breath you were, and certainly, no matter how much those voices tried to lure you back, you kept going.

It was like a break through when you forced your eyes open against the harsh lights. It all felt like a really bad hangover until your eyes twisted around the room. You were on a bed in the middle of an iron built room, weapons all around, things you’ve never seen before and an iron door. You sat up but the room twisted and you felt all of the contents in your stomach try to escape.

“Hello?”

Your voice was quiet and hoarse. It hurt to speak but you had to find out what happened. What was that thing in your house? Why was Dean there? And more specifically, where were you now?

The door felt cold when you leaned against it. You carefully tapped on the door to see if it would hurt. When it didn’t, the panic set in and you started banging with more force, willing your voice to speak louder, to the point of screaming at the top of your lungs while tears streamed down your face. The door latch moved and the door slowly opened.

In front of you, stood an older man. He was wearing a grey plaid shirt under a green vest and blue jeans along with a hat. He had a bit of pudge to him and a brown beard and blue eyes. He was cautious towards you and held a shaved shotgun but lowered when he had seen your state. You could only imagine what you looked like if it was anywhere near how you felt.

“Where am I? What happened to me? Who are you?”

“Calm down, Darlin. You’re safe. You can come out now, we’ll explain everything when you get something to drink and food in your stomach.”

Something about him felt safe, homey, like a parent protecting their offspring from the world. So, you followed without hesitation. You went up the stairs just outside the room and into a finely furnished home.

Two men stood in the living room when you entered. One looked concerned and the other looked like he was about to explode, a look you recognized from high school. ���Dean?”

He looked up, that intensity in his eyes putting you off balance yet again.

“Y/N! You’re okay? Bobby, she’s okay?” he walked over to you and hugged you tightly.

“Yes, boy. Give the girl some space, she’s still weak.”

You had only got a whiff of his scent before he let you go, though it was nice that he wouldn’t leave your side. He finally let out the breath he had been holding in from hearing you scream for hours on end as Bobby got rid of whatever it was overtaking you.

You turned to the man named Bobby. “Thank you. I don’t really know what happened but I could feel you there, helping me. So thank you.”

“You’re welcome. These boys would’ve taken forever.”

You laughed and the tension in the air finally died down. Everyone became more relaxed after that.

“Oh, Y/N, this is my brother Sam.”

You turned, never really noticing the brother but now that you have, he was something different.

He meekly extended his hand to yours, “Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“U-Um, same goes to you.”

You took his hand, and you could have sworn an electric shock went through you but it wasn’t the time to think about stuff like that. You wanted and needed to get to the bottom of what happened, hours earlier.

“Wait, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that, that cute little fairy thing I saw in my house was actually a Dark Fairy? And…Monsters, the things in my nightmares, are very real…awesome.”

Sam sat down next to you on the couch, putting a hand on your leg and one behind your back. You inhaled sharply when the hand on your leg began moving up and down. You knew he was just comforting you and this wasn’t the time to be thinking about such inappropriate things about your high school crush’s brother but you couldn’t just throw his hand off you, that would be rude.

“Uh, I think I’d like to go home now.”

“Y/N, it’s not safe to go home. You’ll be staying here with us. You’re lucky we got the damn thing out when we did.”

“Dean.”

“No Sam, she needs to understand just what is going to happen if she leaves. It’s going to enter you and eat you from the inside out. It won’t feel great either. It’s going to make you feel crazy and make you go insane but not before-”

“Dean!”

“NO, DAMNIT! She was in there screaming bloody murder for days! I’m not going to let that happen again!”

“Wait, Dean. I wasn’t in there for days. I was only in there for a few hours… right?”

Sam turned to you and a look of pity washed over his face. Your gut wrenched, knowing his answer.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

You ran as fast as you could until you found a bathroom in the house. You locked the door behind you and paced back and forth. You cried and cried until you couldn’t. A few minutes after you settled down, there was a knock at the door. It was Sam.

“Just a minute.”

You turned and looked in the mirror. You turned it on and splashed your face, drying it on the towel hanging from the metal rack. Sam was patient in waiting so you took a deep breath and unlocked the door, inviting him in.

“Hey. Look, I know this is hard for you. It’s hard to understand for someone who wasn’t raised into this life, but Dean means well and what he was saying, it’s true. If you go home, there is a high chance that you get attacked again.”

You sighed frustratedly, “Fine. You’ll protect me right, Sam?”

“Of course, Y/N, if that’s what you want.”

Bobby gave you a guest room to sleep in while the boys got the couch downstairs. You didn’t know what time it was before you finally passed out.

The night terrors came quickly. You were back in your house, doomed to repeat the situation over again, each time getting more and more painful. It felt all too real. You could feel the air being sucked out from your body, the atmosphere becoming more and more tight.

You struggled out from under the blanket covers, racing to the door, trying to get out, but ultimately meeting the monster again.

You screamed, for Dean, for Sam, for anyone to help.

“Y/N! Damnit. Sam, we’ve got to help her!”

Bobby did the same ritual he did and you immediately woke, forehead slickened with sweat, heart racing, and tears falling from your chin. You got up from the bed and raced out of the home as fast as you could. You couldn’t take this, you would rather not know about monsters being real than to be at risk of dying young from knowing.

Before you realized where you ran off to, it was too late. No one in sight for miles and forests surrounding your environment. This was not going to be easy.

Dean and Sam raced to the impala, hoping they’d find Y/N. It wasn’t long before they found you walking the streets.

“Dean, I’m fine. I was just a bit scared and ran off. Don’t worry, I’m okay now.”

Dean looked skeptical but took your word for it, for now. Sam sat in the backseat with you, so you decided to start a conversation.

“So Sam, how has dear Dean been since high school?”

You put a hand on his thigh, slowly tracing circles. He cleared his throat and looked quite uncomfortable but you didn’t care, you were doing nothing wrong.

“U-Uh, heh, as well as you’d expect I guess.”

You moved your hand up further, biting your lip as you looked at the road with a smirk playing on your lips. Your hand was placed there, occasionally squeezing, the entire car ride. You could tell Sam was nervous, every few minutes he would clear his throat and wiggle around.

You waited until you got to the bunker and Sam alone to finally push him against the wall, attacking his lips before he could say anything. He was stunned for a moment but slowly started to kiss back. Before he knew it, he was viciously ravaging your mouth with his tongue.

“Mmm, wait, Y/N.”

Sam pulled away from you, gasping for breath. His swollen lips turned you on even more and you went in for another kiss but he pushed you away.

“Y/N! What’s wrong with you? This isn’t you.”

“What are you talking about Sammy? This is exactly what you wanted all along isn’t it? I saw the way you looked when I did this-” you placed your hand on his thigh again, sliding up just as you did before, and palmed his strained erection, “You just can’t wait to pound me into the mattress, fucking me with your hard,  thick cock. Yank my hair back while you bend me over and spank me. Mmmm, don’t you want that Sam? I sure do.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to do just that. Your core ached for it, for that release. But Sam didn’t think the same. He took hold of your arms and moved you out of his way. At this point you had had enough and lunged at him, knocking him to the floor.

“What the hell!”

“You are going to fuck me, right now.”

Before you knew what was happening, things became blurry and all together, black. You were in and out of consciousness. Voices came in pieces, the words a blur in your mind.

“Kum savaltcha… “

Darkness.

“Ar noyang, kun enna, ret augus…”

Darkness again.

“Kkuum doinsha and getta wabasach shul!”

When all was said and done and you finally regained full consciousness, the harsh light hit your eyes in a hurry. Blurry figures were placed at your left and right, carefully resting your arms on their shoulders.

“Sam? Dean?”

Once again your voice was hoarse and barely audible.

“Shhh, it’s okay. It’s all over.”

Your back hit the soft comforter as they laid you down. Sam pulled the covers over your body, moving your hair and kissing your forehead softly. They both turned to leave when you reached out and grabbed Sam’s wrist.

“Sam..please…stay with me?”

“…Of course, Y/N.”

Dean gently smiled and left the room, shutting the door behind him, while you moved over so Sam could climb in with you. When he settled, you rested your head on his chest along with your hand. He wrapped his arm around you tightly, like he never wanted to let go.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I.. I remember… what I did. I said things I shouldn’t have and I… did things.. I shouldn’t have.”

“That wasn’t you. That was the thing controlling you. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I remember, when I ran. I got lost in the forest, so I sat near a tree and cried. I remember hearing something, like a buzzing and the next thing I know, everything’s black. I could feel my body moving but I couldn’t see anything. It all came to me in pieces. It…It used me for it’s own pleasures.”

Sam rubbed his thumb up and down your back, it gave you comfort. Tears you hadn’t realized were there, spilled onto his shirt. You looked up at him, wanting to apologize a million times over, but you both just looked into each other’s eyes. He wiped away the tears, his hand lingering on your cheek. You leaned into it, the warmth giving you comfort, and lightly kissed it.

Sam grabbed your face and pulled you into him. The last kiss was hunger filled, lust filled, but this one, this one was gentle and loving. You put your feelings into it, letting him know just how much you truly cared.

Well guys, turns out the one I thought was the one, wasn’t actually the one. It was his brother! I had a crazy week and I’m sorry I sort of ditched ya’ll for a little bit but, things are back to normal. Well, things will never be normal again. This blog started out as a little blog about how a girl wanted to find love and turned into a big advice column. Thank you guys so much for sticking around, but I think it’s time to end this chapter of my life and start a new one. I guess you could say, I’ve found my muse.