#I go back there to get more cold chicken SPOILER ALERT they didn’t have anyone make any this morning so now there’s no chicken for the wrap

[heavensturtle]

Day 7: Free Day

A short fic for Day 7 of Xie Lian’s Birthday Week!

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Note: So, I realize I’m posting this on day 9, I could just not keep a schedule this week.

Also, if you know me at all you know I need rules, free days are not good for me. So, my self-imposed prompt for today is writing about Xie Lian’s fears in a modern AU.

Also, this is again unedited. Good luck!

Spoiler alert: This is an AU, so technically no spoilers today!

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It begins, as it always does, with the sound of rain on the roof.

Xie Lian rises from the futon where he’s been napping and races to the front closet to pull out the buckets he keeps expressly for this purpose. His hands are already shaking.

“Should have…” he scolds himself, should have fixed this weeks ago.

The small, dilapidated house on the edge of town was barely habitable when Xie Lian moved in a few months ago, but even so, it had been a vast improvement over where he’d been before.

Xie Lian hadn’t exactly minded sleeping in cars or in doorways or on the couches of friends who weren’t his friends any more. He hadn’t exactly minded the looks or the way people would turn and walk the other way when they saw him taking a rest from collecting bottles for the recycling center.

He hadn’t exactly minded, but he hadn’t exactly not minded, either.

Xie Lian runs to the guest bedroom, which is currently furnished with a bed, a nightstand, and a slowly growing wet spot on the wooden floor. Xie Lian places a cracked bucket underneath the drip.

For a long time the bed had just been a mattress placed directly on the floor, until one day Hua Cheng had turned up with a hammer and nails and proceeded to turn some scrap wood Xie Lian had been collecting for unspecified projects into a bedframe that looked like it belonged in a catalog. He’d built the nightstand almost as an aside. And suddenly, the room was transformed from poor to tastefully spare.  

Xie Lian has more drips to catch, so he rushes to the hallway to place his second bucket, and as he does so he catches sight of the painting Hua Cheng gifted him (Hua Cheng claims to have found it at a thrift store, but the signature in the corner, when Xie Lian had removed it from its frame one day, looked suspiciously like Hua Cheng’s name). He rushes to his bedroom to catch another drip, then to the kitchen, where the table Hua Cheng built out of more scraps fills the empty space by the oven, making the room feel cozy.

He’s just placing the last bucket under the drip by the back door when he hears the sound of the front door unlocking.

“Gege, are you home?” Hua Cheng calls. Hua Cheng has a key to the house; Xie Lian had insisted on giving him the spare when Hua Cheng had installed the lock only days after meeting Xie Lian. Hua Cheng had refused for several more days, saying Xie Lian should give it to someone he trusted, not seeming to realize that that person was him.

Hua Cheng should just let himself in, but instead he waits by the open door. Once, Xie Lian had pretended not to be home, just to see what would happen. Hua Cheng had closed the door, locked it again, and left, and Xie Lian had been left with an odd sense of bereavement.

“San Lang!” he calls, emerging from the little room by the back door to greet Hua Cheng. He runs across the main room and skids to a stop in his stockinged feet just in front of Hua Cheng, unable to contain his smile. Hua Cheng smiles back and holds up his hand as though to steady Xie Lian. When he sees Xie Lian isn’t going to fall over, he drops it. Xie Lian feels a little bereft.

Then he remembers the leaks.

“Ah, San Lang, maybe you could come back tomorrow? Now’s not a good time…” but he has nowhere to be, and can think of no reason why Hua Cheng shouldn’t also be here.

“Ah, but gege, I found something I wanted to try to cook with you?” Hua Cheng holds out a bag of groceries, and Xie Lian’s throat tightens.

Xie Lian spent years eating food picked out, or thrown out, by others, but when Hua Cheng brings him food it’s a categorically different experience. Hua Cheng asks him what he likes and dislikes, and doesn’t seem at all impatient when Xie Lian doesn’t know how to chop onions or peel a tomato or any of the rest of it. He simply puts his hands over Xie Lian’s and shows him.

“Oh! Uh-” Xie Lian stops talking, because a new drip has just begun, right over his head. A drop hits his forehead and rolls down to the tip of his nose.

“San Lang…” he feels his face grow hot. This is too much, Hua Cheng is going to see the buckets and realize just how poor of a caretaker Xie Lian is. With anyone else, Xie Lian wouldn’t spare it a thought. But Hua Cheng isn’t anyone else.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng chuckles, reaching out and wiping the drop from Xie Lian’s nose. For a terrible second Xie Lian thinks he’s about to lick it from his finger, but then Hua Cheng wipes it on his shirt and Xie Lian lets out a sigh.

“San Lang, this is just-”

“Your roof giving you trouble?” Hua Cheng finishes.

Xie Lian hangs his head. He really can’t look at Hua Cheng.

“I’m sorry, my house isn’t really suitable for company right now,” he admits.

Hua Cheng makes a small noise, and Xie Lian looks up. Hua Cheng is giving him an inscrutable look.

“Gege. If you want me to leave I will, but if this is about your roof, it’s really no problem at all, we can just fix it tomorrow.”

Xie Lian shifts uncomfortably, but it’s still raining hard, and he’s sure that Hua Cheng is getting cold in the doorway. Xie Lian is.

He moves to the side. “San Lang, please come inside.”

Hua Cheng beams, steps inside, and opens his arms. His coat is open and Xie Lian slips his arms inside when he goes to hug Hua Cheng, avoiding the wet exterior of his red peacoat.

Hua Cheng makes a soft choking noise.

“San L-” Xie Lian starts to pull back, but then Hua Cheng is pulling the edges of his coat around Xie Lian and Xie Lian’s house isn’t that cold but being cocooned inside Hua Cheng’s coat feels better. He lets out another sigh.

“It’s warm in here,” he mutters, and Hua Cheng wraps his arms around him.

“Gege, what’s this about?” Hua Cheng asks.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he says.

Hua Cheng tightens his hold.

“Oh! San Lang! Your dinner,” Xie Lian extracts himself from Hua Cheng. Then he  picks up the bag of groceries that’s been discarded by Hua Cheng’s feet and takes it to the kitchen. Hua Cheng comes in a bit later, coatless, as Xie Lian is unloading everything onto the kitchen table. Xie Lian notices that Hua Cheng is wearing a black shirt that looks very good on him.

Hua Cheng has brought ingredients for at least three different meals, but tonight he wants to make the Korean version some sort of chicken dish. As they’re about to start putting things into the frying pan, another drip starts, just above the stove. The raindrop sizzles on the hot pan.

“Oh no,” Xie Lian buries his face in his hands. This really is too embarrassing.

Hua Cheng, who is standing next to Xie Lian ready to pass over ingredients, laughs delightedly.

“Gege, it seems we need another bucket to protect the food.”

“San Lang, please,” Xie Lian begs, the sound muffled.

“It’s fine, we can use a lid, and after tomorrow you won’t have to worry about it.” Hua Cheng pulls out a lid that’s much too large. “A little rain-hat,” he explains, holding it above the pan. He’s smiling at Xie Lian like he’s immensely pleased with himself.

Xie Lian stares at that smile for a long, quiet moment. Then: “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Hua Cheng sets the lid on the pan. A drop hits it and rolls off the side.

Xie Lian watches the drips landing on the lid, avoiding Hua Cheng’s face.

“San Lang, you’ve been so kind, but I can’t let you keep helping me.”

“Why not?” Hua Cheng’s voice sounds tinny, but maybe that’s just from the blood pounding behind Xie Lian’s ears.

“Because I don’t live here,” he admits, letting out a shaky breath.

Hua Cheng puts a hand on Xie Lian’s wrist, and Xie Lian turns to meet his eyes.

Hua Cheng is staring at him intently, focused. He can see Hua Cheng’s throat bob as he swallows.

“Gege, you do live here,” he says, “This is your home.”

Xie Lian shakes his head. He’s trembling now, and he knows Hua Cheng feels it because Hua Cheng takes hold of his hand and holds it, tightly.

“Actually, I’m homeless.”

Xie Lian doesn’t remember ever feeling afraid before, but in this moment, with Hua Cheng holding his hand and the frying pan gently smoking on the stove, he’s terrified.

He has something to lose, now.

“It’s not my house,” he goes on, “I found it. I, well, I moved in shortly before I met you. And I’ve just been waiting this whole time for someone to come take it away.”

He braces for the moment when Hua Cheng lets go of his hand. For when he asks what, exactly, Xie Lian was doing before he broke into someone’s house. For when he gets up and walks away.

None of that happens. Instead, Hua Cheng starts rubbing Xie Lian’s palm with his thumb. “They won’t take it away,” he says quietly.

The warmth radiating from Hua Cheng’s hand competes with the cold gripping Xie Lian’s heart. “How do you know?” he asks.

“I checked.”

“You- what?” Xie Lian’s mind is tripping over itself, trying to understand.

“I knew you were squatting when I met you, gege. You didn’t even have a lock on your door. So I checked the laws. You have squatter’s rights. You can stay in this house as long as you want to. You just have to take care of it, and after five years it’s yours if you want it.”

“You knew?” Xie Lian feels limp, all the nervous energy drained out of him.

Hua Cheng smiles brightly and tugs on Xie Lian’s hand until Xie Lian moves closer. Then he wraps his arms around Xie Lian, holding him close. Xie Lian presses himself against Hua Cheng, feeling Hua Cheng’s heart beating rapidly like it’s his own.

“Of course I knew. So I installed a lock. And helped you level the floors. And tomorrow we’ll fix the roof, and then we can start building your garden beds. And then, we can start filling this house with whatever you love most.”

Xie Lian swallows hard. The words slip out before he can stop them:

“With you, then?”

Hua Cheng laughs, a deep rumble that Xie Lian wants to never stop.

“This is your home, gege. But I’d be honored to be a part of it.”

Xie Lian smiles, hiding his face in Hua Cheng’s shirt.

“You already are.”

[katymacsupernatural]

When Push Comes to Shove

Dean Winchester x Reader

3600 Words

Written For @amanda-teaches and her 2K Reader and Writer Challenge.

My prompt: “I saw you staring at each other, I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage.”

Summary: A bad fight years ago between Y/N and Dean had her running off. Now, five years later, they need her help. But when she arrives, all things left unsaid are brought out into the open.

Warnings: Lots of angst, mentions Dean with the mark, other warnings in the tags because of spoilers. 

When you had first received the phone call, you immediately hung up, your heart racing as memories from five years ago came crashing through the wall you had so carefully erected.

“No, I can’t,” you whispered, staring down at the phone laying on your bed as if it had bitten you. And truthfully, it had.

It started ringing again, Sam’s name flashing on the phone, and while you wanted to toss it into the nearest trash can, you knew he would only call in an emergency.

“Hi Sam,” you whispered, your voice shakier than you realized.

His voice crackled through the phone, the connection not the greatest. “Y/N, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” you agreed. You had missed him. You had once considered him your closest friend. But after your disaster with his brother, well….

“Listen, I’d love to catch up, but we have quite the problem going on here,” he yelled through the phone. You could hear gunfire and yelling in the background, immediately putting your rusty hunter senses on high alert. “How fast can you get to Indiana?”

“That’s five or so hours away,” you measured in your head. “But Sam, I haven’t gone on a hunt in..well...since you know.”

Sam forgot about the phone call for a moment as he yelled in the background, the gunfire even closer. “Listen, I wouldn’t have called you if this wasn’t an all hands on deck kinda deal. So please. Get your guns and get your ass over here. Pronto.”

He hung up, and you stared down at the phone in dismay. “Hey honey, is everything okay?” Tyler called from the doorway, and you glanced up at your boyfriend, hoping your poker face was in place. “Is everything okay? Who were you talking to?”

“Just an old friend,” you answered, knowing that Tyler wouldn’t be able to handle any aspect of your old life. “Wanted to do a little get together tomorrow.”

Tyler strode forward, pulling you into his arms. It was comforting and safe, but nowhere near as exciting as...you refused to even think it. “Honey, I think you should go!” He exclaimed. “After all, I’m heading down to Vegas for the weekend with the boys. I was worried about you being here all alone, and now I won’t have to worry.”

He pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek before taking his duffle bag from the floor. “Let me know when you get there. K?”

You nodded, watching silently as he left the room, knowing that while your heart wanted you to stay here, where it was safe, you couldn’t leave Sam in Danger. Or Dean.

Even thinking his name was enough to send a pain straight through your heart, and you wondered how you would ever get through the next few days.

Everything was as you had left it. Gathering a fine layer of dust, but the guns were still in good shape. Your ammo was a little low, but that could easily be fixed. You took the entire toolbox, the heavy weight welcome in your arms as you pushed it into the back of your classic old pickup. “Ready to ride again girl?” You asked the classic 1970 Ford, patting her tailgate fondly. You had painstakingly fixed her back up until she looked and ran better than ever before. Tyler had thought it odd but had never said anything.

With one last glance back at your normal life, you climbed into your truck, pulling out of the driveway and turning it to the highway that led straight to your past.

With the radio quietly playing country music, you thought back to the last time you had seen Sam and Dean. It had been horrible, parting with anger and frustration. Tears had filled your vision as you had driven away, not only from the man that still held your heart, but away from the only life you had ever known.

But you had been given no choice. Dean had taken your heart, ripped it in shreds, without even realizing he was doing it. Later you had heard it was the Mark that had caused it, but you had been too scared to turn back.

You noticed the black Impala immediately as you pulled into the only hotel in the tiny town. It was dusty, but otherwise just exactly as you had remembered it. All the times spent in the passenger seat, listening as Dean sang along to the music. The other times in the backseat with his body covering yours.

The thoughts swirling through your mind were quickly becoming melancholy, and you forced them away, parking beside the car. “It’s just a car,” you whispered to yourself, but you still wondered how many women Dean had laid down in that back seat since you’ve been gone.

“Y/N!” Sam exclaimed as he pushed open the door to room 112. “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

“Didn’t seem like I had much of a choice,” you muttered. “But you look okay.”

“Barely made it out of there,” he muttered. “And tomorrow we try again.”

He took your duffel bag, tossing it over his shoulder. “It’s a mess in there. Demons everywhere. They ambushed us, and we almost...if it wasn’t for Cas.”

He shook his head. “But we can talk business later. I already booked you a room. It’s right next to ours. Hope that’s okay.”

You placed your hand on his arm, stopping him. “Sam, does..does he know that I’m here?”

He sighed. “Yeah, he does. I figured I’d give you two some privacy later if you want it.”

You weren’t sure if that’s what you wanted. Sure, it would help to clear the air, but you weren’t exactly ready for a confrontation. “Sam, I..,”

“Sam! Get in here!” Dean’s voice yelled through the thin walls, and you shuddered back slightly in fear, all sorts of emotions rocking your system.

“Y/N, that was years ago,” Sam offered. “He’s changed. Just give him a chance.”

He gave you his goofy, sideways smile, not realizing that you had already moved on. At least your head had, even if your heart hadn’t. Sam took your hand, pulling you into the room where Dean was sitting at the table, his head lowered as he glared at the laptop in front of him.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. His hair was wet and unstyled, slightly longer than you remembered. His shoulders were just as wide as you remembered, encased in a simple maroon flannel. A black t-shirt stretched across his chest, his strong thighs encased in roughed up denim. He looked good, even with the nasty gash above his eye. “Hey Dean,” you spoke softly, wincing as he glared up at you.

“Sam said he called you,” his voice rolled, even deeper than you remembered. But still cold. Oh so cold. And it hurt. “You didn’t need to come.”

“Dean, we talked about this,” Sam sighed. “Those Demons have us outnumbered. At least this way we have a fighting chance.”

Dean closed the laptop sharply. “A fighting chance? One more person against all those Demons? How is that going to help?”

“I can go,” you offered.

He ran his fingers through his hair, completely agitated.  “No. Don’t go. I’m just...we do need your help.”

You sat down across from him, offering him a small smile even though you were shaking inside. Sam took that opportunity to sneak out the door, yelling over his shoulder that he was going for dinner. “Guess it’s just you and I,” Dean mumbled.

Sitting there quietly, you stared at Dean who seemed to look anywhere but at you. And while you didn’t want to do it, you knew the air needed to be cleaned before you finished off the hunt. “Listen, Dean, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about!” He exclaimed, pushing back from the table, pacing the small hotel room. “I was an Ass, you left like you should have. You’re here to kill some Demons, that’s it.”

“That’s not it,” you answered softly, just the memory of it enough to bring tears to your eyes. “Dean, if we don’t talk about it, then…,”

Dean sighed, tucking his hands in his jeans. “Y/N, I wanted to call you. Every day, for over a year, I typed in your number but hung up because I was too chicken. How could I call you and expect you to understand? To forgive me?”

“I wish you had,�� you whispered. “After I left, I was so lost, so heartbroken. I wanted to turn around, head back, but I thought everything was too broken. I was too broken.”

“Damn it Y/N, I never meant to hurt you. You should know that. I hate to blame it on the Mark, but it changed me. In ways I never imagined.”

“Dean, it wasn’t just me,” you finally admitted. You had never spoken the words out loud. Never told anyone. You had taken the loss and buried it deep inside.

“What do you mean?” He asked, stopping in front of you.

“When we had that argument, I don’t know how much you remember.”

“I remember every little moment of that day. They haunt me in my nightmares. Every word, every time my hand connected with your skin. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget that.”

Your mouth opened, the words ready to be heard for the first time, but Sam burst through the door, the forgotten dinner bags squished in his hands. He froze, glancing between you and Dean.

“What?” Dean growled, annoyed that your intimate conversation had been interrupted.

“I saw you staring at each other, I just wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage,” Sam muttered. And if you hadn’t just been ready to bare your soul, you would have laughed.

“Neither, Sam,” you assured him, but the moment between you and Dean was gone. Maybe forever.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got to move. Now!” He exclaimed, tossing the food on the table. “The Demons are getting ready to move.”

“Damn it,” Dean grumbled. “Let’s go.”

Sam filled you in as you climbed into the backseat of the Impala. “Missed you girl,” you whispered, patting her leather seats fondly. Dean glanced at you through the rearview mirror, his expression full of regret. “So these Demons have Jack.”

“Who’s Jack?” You asked, hearing the fondness as Sam said his name. Making you realize how much you’ve missed these last few years.

Sam tried to smile, but it faltered. “He’s like a son to us. But in reality, he’s the son of Lucifer.”

“What?” The word came out louder than you wanted, but what Sam had just said, it shocked you more than you cared to admit.

“I know what it sounds like,” Sam spoke quickly. “But he’s nothing like his Dad. Cas is more like his Dad than anyone. We’ve known him since the day he was born, and he’s a good kid. Needs guidance, but he’s...uh..he’s getting there.”

“So how old is he?” You asked as Dean rounded the corner, parking in a dark alley.

“Typical human age doesn’t work for Jack,” Cas said as he appeared on the seat beside you. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again.”

“Cas!” You threw your arms around his shoulders, giving the Angel a tight hug. He returned it awkwardly, before turning his attention to Sam and Dean. “I’ve been surveying the place. With Y/N’s help, we should be able to infiltrate in and save Jack.”

“What’s the plan Cas?” Dean asked as you all climbed out of the car.

“I believe Sam and I should head through the south side. There only seems to be only three Demons on that side. You and Y/N shall head through on the North Side. There are more Demons there, but if you keep them occupied, Sam and I can retrieve Jack.”

“I think we can handle that,” Dean didn’t even look your way as he made sure he had all of his weapons ready and loaded. You had the Angel Blade that Cas had given you years ago, along with a couple of Devil’s trap bullets. You were as ready as you could be.

Sam and Cas took off, rounding the corner, while you and Dean stayed to the front. Shadowed by the brick wall, Dean pulled you to the side. “Y/N, I know we ended that conversation on a cliffhanger. But you’re good for this hunt, right? How long has it been since your last hunt?”

“Five years,” you whispered. “But I will be fine.”

“Five years!” He seemed completely taken back. “But that’s when…, you mean you haven’t hunted since then?”

“No. But we need to go,” you insisted, pushing past him and rounding the corner. The house stood in front of you, dark and foreboding. Sam and Cas were just rounding the back. Pushing ahead of Dean, you led the way to the front. He wouldn’t believe your words, so you would just show him that you were still capable of hunting.

And then, maybe you could go home. Back to your normal life. With your normal boyfriend. Who, you had to admit, never created the same butterfly effect that Dean always did to you. But at least it was safe.

“Damn it Y/N, slow down,” Dean growled low as he came rushing up beside you. “Do you want to mess this whole thing up?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the door swung open, and the fight quickly began. Three Demons greeted you at the door, no doubt ready and waiting for your arrival. They swung knives and blades, but weirdly enough didn’t use their powers. Stabbing on through the heart, you turned to see Dean grappling with two big and surly men. However, as you headed over to help, two more came down the stairs, and you were once again fighting for your life.

You were quickly overwhelmed, one holding you roughly by the shoulders, the other one laughing as he swirled the blade around his fingers. “Is this all you brought with you, Winchester? A slight girl, her fighting stale. We expected more of a fight.”

Dean had just killed one Demon, and with a growl, he stabbed the other before facing the ones holding you with murderous rage. “Let her go now!”

“Or you’ll what?” He chuckled. “You take one step towards me and I’ll have this blade so deep in her skin before you could even blink.”

You struggled against the Demon’s tight hold, your breaths short. Dean’s gaze caught yours, full of anguish and fear. His words earlier rang in your mind. You had come into this so unprepared. This was all your fault. “No. I will not let you control this,” You muttered, dropping all of your weight. Surprising the Demon, he let you fall, and it gave Dean a chance to stab the first one. As you started to stand up, the other Demon gasped in surprise, his eyes burning yellow before he slumped to the floor.

“Is everyone alright?” Cas asked, wiping his hand on his trench coat. Behind him stood a young man, a little bloody, his right eye swollen but otherwise unharmed.

“Yep. We’re good,” You answered, ignoring Dean as Cas helped you to stand up. “This must be Jack.”

“You’re...you’re Y/N,” he spoke, coming forward, his gaze almost too much with its intensity. You wanted to look away, but you were caught up in it as well. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” You whispered before Dean was gently grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Let’s go before any more of these black-eyed sons of bitches come back,” he insisted and led the way out the front door. Cas and Jack were not far behind you, Sam shutting the door and taking up the rear.

Once you were safely inside the Impala, you found yourself sitting next to Jack. Sam and Dean were talking softly in the front seat while Cas smiled happily as he stared at Jack. Jack’s attention was on you though. “I am glad to finally meet you,” he offered, reaching for your hand. You thought he was going to shake it, but he simply held it, his eyes widening. “Jack?” Cas noticed the strange look in his face as well.

Suddenly Jack let go of your hand. “I’ve never felt such heartbreak before,” he muttered. “Y/N, how do you keep going with all that pain in your heart? I felt pain and sadness directed at Dean. But there was something else.”

You could feel Dean’s gaze on you through the rearview mirror, and you tried to stop Jack before he said too much. But you were too late. “I’m so sorry for your loss. A miscarriage was it?”

Dean slammed on the brakes, parking in front of his motel room. “Everyone out! Now!”

You started to climb out of the car as well, but one look from Dean had you staying where you were. Sam was the first one out, smiling reassuringly to you before he disappeared with Cas and Jack into the room, leaving you alone with Dean. Alone with the big news that Jack suddenly decided to let everyone know about.

“I didn’t realize he could read people like that,” you started talking as Dean turned in his seat to face you, your hands tugging on the loose thread of your shirt. You were nervous and unready to have this conversation.

“He has a lot of powers that even he doesn’t know about,” Dean explained. “But what he said. Was it true?”

You thought back to that horrible day. You had barely left the bunker when the pain hit. Cramps that had doubled you over, making you swerve your car. You had been alone and scared in the hospital when you had lost an important part of your life. “Yes. It was.”

He ran a hand along his chin, a sure sign that he was upset and unsure. “Dean, during that fight. When..well..something happened. I didn’t blame you for that. After all, I hadn't’ even told you the news yet. I wanted to wait until things were back to normal. Our normal. To tell you that I was...pregnant. But then…,”

“We fought, and it was because of me you lost the baby,” he whispered. “Y/N, I’m so freaking sorry.”

The tears were falling down your face before you even realized you were crying. “It’s nice. Finally being able to tell someone. I’ve kept it buried inside for so long. Dean, please know this. I’ve never blamed you. You had the Mark, it changed you. You didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t excuse it!” He bellowed. “Y/N, I ruined your life, and mine with that freaking mark! I just wish that..,”

“Please don’t,” you spoke softly, wiping away the tears. “Can we just forget any of this ever happened? You can go back to hunting with your brother and his friends. I can go back to my normal life and…,”

“What’s his name?” Dean asked.

“Tyler. We’ve been dating for over a year now.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Is that what you really want? To air all of this out and then run away..to Tyler and whatever normal life you’ve made for yourself? Because I don’t know about you, but I still love you Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you admitted. “But sometimes love isn’t enough to push past all the pain.”

You reached forward, brushing your knuckles against his cheek before you slid out of the car. Dean only watched as you climbed into your truck. Tears streamed down your face as you started to pull away.

“Is this the right thing?” You cried as you pulled onto the highway. Sniffling back tears, you tried to look forward. Back to your simple job, and the fact that you and Tyler were thinking of taking a vacation next month. But all you could see was your memories of Dean.

Dean, with his cheeky smile who had captured your heart the moment you saw him in Harvelle’s bar. Dean, who would wake you up in the middle of the night to take you to some empty field to look at the stars. The man who had always kept his promise to come back to you. And yet here you were, running away.

Slamming on the brakes, you flipped the truck around, knowing you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t run from Dean again. You turned your truck into the parking lot, your tires squealing at the speed. Dean was just getting out of the Impala, walking towards the hotel room.

Turning the engine off, you jumped out. “Dean!” You screamed. “Dean, wait!”

He turned but made no move. Smiling, you raced forward, throwing your arms around him. “I can’t lose you again.”

“But what about Tyler? And that normal life?” He asked, but you could see the hope shining in his eyes.

“It was never meant for me,” you assured him, and with those words, his mouth crashed against yours, and everything was right with the world once again.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney​ @akshi8278  @bebravekeeponfighting  @bi-danvers0​ @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language​ @colette2537   @deansgirl215  @flamencodiva​ @hamiltrash1411​ @its-not-a-tulpa​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @justanotherwinchester​ @just-another-winchester​ @karouwinchester​ @keikoraventeller​  @krys198478​ @librarygeekery​ @magssteenkamp​ @misspygmypie​ @mlovesstories​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​  @mrspeacem1nusone​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @ria132love​ @ruprecht0420​     @sortaathief​ @superseejay721517​ @squirrelnotsam​ @team-free-will-you-idjiot​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @torn-and-frayed​ @tricksterdean​ @wonderfulworldofwinchester​ @woodworthti666​

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[awakeandalive2012]

Grateful

The last several months have been a whirlwind of [much needed] change. For me personally, things went from 0 to 60 real quick from my last post. It’s been insane, but now I have a little bit of time to step back and take in the scenery a little bit. Which, in my own way, is to recount everything that I have been up to since moving back to the east coast. 

As the title of this blog suggests, I am nothing but truly grateful for everything in my life thus far, even with everything that has happened this year thus far. My former coworkers, my family, my friends, every single one of you has been been truly helpful and sending so much love and positivity my way during this difficult time. So for that, THANK YOU. 

--------------

May 2020

My journey back to the east coast from sunny Los Angeles was eventful. We travelled for four days, with my mom and I alternating driving times in my car, while my dad tailed us (and sometimes sped ahead) in the other family car. Each night, we did stay in hotels (which we vigorously cleaned upon arrival).One of the highlights of this trip was making a detour into Scottsdale Arizona, where my grandparents used to live. We stopped at our favorite Jewish deli eatery, Chompies, and had one of the best meals in recent memories. We also visited some of my parent’s Israel trip friends who lived nearby. One of the hardest days was the last one, when we hit a massive rainstorm crossing through Arkansas and Tennessee. It was more rain than I had seen during my nearly four year tenure in LA. But also, it was the last leg of the trip and at this point, I was ready to return home safe and sound. 

Even after all that, the long days on the road, the unexplainably cold night sleeps in hotel rooms, the constant pit stops, and the loving embrace that I gave my cats as soon as I barged in the front door, it didn’t actually hit me that I was truly back home. Not yet anyway.

--------------

June 2020

My main focus this month was scouting and landing a job (and still is, spoiler alert). Boy, that is easier said than done. I know that millions are in the same boat as me right now, which is awful. Current political & pandemic atmosphere aside, I have been blessed with having enough funds to manage. Unfortunately, for the rest of the world, including former work colleagues of mine, are struggling every day to make ends meet and don’t have the same luxuries. I truly wish I could help them out, but being in a similar boat as them, it’s hard for me to figure out the most efficient way to do so. All I can do is be a friend, a positive light, who can provide positive energy and words of encouragement. Feel free to reach out and I will reply <3 To those who fit this bill, or to anyone who needs to hear; WE WILL GET THROUGH THIS. I promise. 

I moved up to Virginia to be with Caleb in mid-June. He came down to Tennessee to help me gather my belongings, because yes I am a packrat and love stuff and it all wouldn’t fit in my car. That moment, when he finally drove down my driveway and made his way to my front door, I wrapped my arms around him super tight. We had done this routine numerous times before, but this one was the most impactful. To embrace him and know that we had successfully closed the gap on a nearly three year long distance relationship was truly memorable. 

At this point, I felt in my heart that I was here to stay. But it didn’t really feel “real” yet; it was as if that nagging feeling of “check in to your flight” or “pack up your suitcase” was still triggering my internal reminders. 

--------------

July 2020

What. A. Month. 

It has been one of the happiest months of my life. Firstly, Caleb and I finally moved into our own apartment together. I walked into the apartment for the first time on July 8th. Breathless, unable to fully encompass my thoughts and my emotions. In that moment, I felt as if a huge brick that had been crushing my soul finally tumble off. I walked in and looked around in awe. After weeks of searching and inquiring, I found us a place to call our own. We managed, in this crazy and turbulent time, to start a new chapter in our relationship together. Our first night in the new apartment, after the big move in, we shared a meal of Korean Fried Chicken together. In that moment, as we sat down and enjoyed our meal together (so delicious by the way), it hit me. Just like standing under a waterfall at summer camp, or a big gust of wind swirling your body around with its current. It finally hit me that I was home. 

Secondly, Caleb and I headed down to Hilton Head for a much needed vacation with my family. Beach week for us is a family tradition; we have been going for at least 21 years now. This year was special, because the purpose of this trip was to celebrate my newly married sister. They held a small beautiful ceremony from our rented out beach house, which overlooked a nearby golf course and grandiose lake. The ceremony happened and I took a moment to look around. Even though there were only seven of us, in those brief moments, everyone was smiling. My family was happy, but more importantly, my sister was happy.  Throughout my whole life, I know that Elena has been by my side, picking up the pieces where I fell and had my back. We even joked that she was the older sister figure, not me. She made me laugh, she was my rock, my confidant, my number one fan, and my happy place. I can never pay her back for all the joy that she has brought to my life. But now, it was her turn to to be happy. I was so glad to be a witness to that joy; she deserves every bit of happiness for her new life with her now husband. 

Lastly, I got engaged. Yep, Caleb got down on one knee and proposed during beach week with my family.  And yes, I cried. For the moment, since we didn’t have a ring yet, he used one of my sister’s birdseed bundles from the wedding ceremony and tied a ribbon from that bundle around my finger. All that set against a golf course sunset backdrop. Truly magical. When we got back, we went and got a ring. Even as I sit here and type up this post, I constantly stare down at my finger in awe and excitement. I get butterflies. I smile. The one moment in every girl’s life that she dreams of, finding someone truly special for them and realizing that you’re going to be with them for the rest of your life. That is happening to me. I never imagined that it would happen. Years of Pinterest boards and swooning over my favorite rom com doesn’t even come close to the joy that I am feeling in the moment. I am going to marry an amazing man, and it feels fucking amazing. 

At this point, still job hunting and still coming up empty handed. But I continue my search because I know it only takes one.

--------------

August 2020

Cut to today, August 5th 2020. Seriously, this year is both progressing at a snail’s pace and at top notch speeds. The job struggle still continues, but I’m still standing. Now that I have sat back and reflected on the last few months, I have had to slowly adjust both my mindset and time towards tomorrow. Every day, I am finding new strengths and weaknesses that I possess. Every day, I have made some choices for the benefit of our future. And, like I promised myself months ago, every day I try to write in some capacity. Because of the numerous events described above, that goal has not been met to my satisfaction. But now, as I rediscovered my feature script which I started nearly four years ago, I hope to make a dent of progress in that front. 

In conclusion, I am truly grateful for where my life is right now and I am grateful for those people in my life who have helped me to get to this point. <3

[chaniters]

I’m fine. Really.

Exploring Ortega’s emotions a bit, for a change.

Chargestep.

Some minor spoilers I guess?

_____________________________________________ 

“Retribution… stand back” he says in a cold tone as he takes a step forward

“Why?”

“Because… I’m going to kill him” Charge lets out in a tone you hadn’t thought could possibly come from his lips.

“That wasn’t… ” you start

“... part of your plan?” he says finishing your sentence “I know. Don’t worry, this one’s on me.”

Argent just looks at you both … and then simply leans her back on the wall by the door. She’s not going to get in Ricardo’s way, because she agrees. She feels this is true Justice.

Your gaze falls to Steel, and he glares right back at your mask. This is all your fault, his mind lets out. He finally speaks as Ortega takes another step.

“I can’t let you kill him”

“Well if you’re going to stop me, you better do it fast Marshall” he states flatly.

“Charge, I won’t let you murder civilians”

“This isn’t a civilian. He’s a monster,” he says taking yet another step. “You know the experiments he did on people” And of course, by experiments, he means you.

Ortega asked you what Dr. Zeimer did to you back at the farm. And you opened your big mouth and told him. You told him everything. Steel is right. This is definitely your fault… you should have predicted this would happen. That’s what you get for blurting the truth.

“You’re not a killer,” he says standing in between the terrified scientist and Charge.

“Just move to the side and we can put that to the test”

“You know I can’t do that…”

Zeimer takes the chance and runs to the door…. But Argent stretches her leg making him trip, falling down and losing his glasses.

“Please…” he whimpers. But she’s not in a merciful mood. She leans down, picks him by the lapels, and simply tosses him back to his corner as if he weighed nothing at all.

“This is the worst kind of scum Steel. You don’t know how many he tortured… Let him do it”

“We can’t do this! We’re heroes!  Have you two gone mad?!” he snaps back at them. “I won’t let you. We have duties. You’ll have to walk over me”

Charge never gets to answer, because Argent is just too fast. She leaps forward, and takes Steel down hard, holding his mechanical arm in a wrestling lock.

“What the hell!” Steel struggles, his mods humming and coming to life in an instant. He raises a few centimeters, before Argent brings him down again, with all her strength.

“Do it !” Argent yells. “I’ll hold him!”

Charge nods and walks over to Zeimer…

“If you do it, there’s no going back for either of you!” Steel barks as he and Argent keep struggling…

The Scientist backs up to the corner, while Ortega begins sparking furiously, Ozone filling the room.

“This will be much faster than what you deserve, you piece of shit!” he says, looming over him

“DAMNIT! DON’T DO IT ORTEGA!”

“Just let me go…” the creature that is Zeimer says crying …

Charge’s fist comes down. Zeimer closes his eyes, prepared to become a piece of crisped chicken smeared on the walls… He’s not wrong, with that voltage, he’s likely going to explode too...

“W… Steel, let go!” Ortega struggles against the hands holding his arm back.

“That’s not me, you idiot” Steel argues, still pinned down by Argent.

“What are you doing?” Argent asks. Steel uses the distraction to free himself, letting her fall to the side with a loud thud.

“You?!” Ortega says turning. Your gloves are starting to smoke under the excessive power of the voltage coming your way as you hold him. Red alerts begin to show up on your hud.

“Why? Let go, let me kill this bastard right now!”

“Ricardo… Just... don’t.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?!”

“I think the villain he sounds pretty more stable than you right now and that’s saying something,” Steel says rubbing his arm, the metal plating on it now bearing the shape of Argent’s fingers.

“Guys… what’s going on?!” Herald asks, shocked by the weird scene as he lands.

“I don’t know anymore,” Argent says.

“No. I’ll kill him. I’ll do it. I have to...” he insists

You wrap your arm around him, pulling him back. You can fill him trembling with rage as you do, but he slowly steps back.

“It’s ok… I don’t need you to do this for me“

He seems at a loss for words at that.

Good, now’s your chance.

You approach Zeimer and enter his mind. Erase all memory of what happened… take what information you need… put him to sleep. All in less than 10 seconds.

You turn. “Herald… can you take him home?” You say pointing at the unconscious man. “He’ll remember nothing”

“What?!” he says looking at you, the villain, then at Steel…

“Ugh… just… “ you simply pull your helm off. “There. It’s me. Cyrus. There’s the big secret, the big reveal.”

You swallow, as he looks at you … at all of you… horrified. Shit. You should have worded that better. Too late...

“Ortega and Argent already know, Steel suspected all along, and now you know too. Are you happy?” you say looking at Steel.

Steel’s not happy. You deprived him of his big “Aha!” moment.  But he still manages a smile.

“Do as he says, Herald. It will be safer for everyone. I’m sure we can all have one big chat later when no ones at risk of getting killed”

“Uh… right… but... Does anyone know his address?”

“Let’s find it together,” Argent says taking hold of Zeimer and dragging him outside. She gives you one last look “I don’t understand you Cyrus”

“Neither do I, most of the time” you answer.

She just snorts, walking out, followed by Herald.

Your gaze falls on Steel, who’s staring at you.

“I was just making sure nobody made a mistake or crossed the line…” He states finally.

“Well, I hope you’re glad then?”

“I am. And I still think you should go to trial but… I think we’ve all been fooled. There are many new… pieces of evidence to consider”

“What, not going to try to arrest me?”

“I can’t arrest you because as far as I know, you were never here,” he says turning and walking out.

You turn to Ortega. He’s still there, looking down.

You approach him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you let me do it?”

“Because I don’t want you to be a murderer.”

“But…”

Crap… you’re not good at these things, it’s usually him that knows how to handle your meltdowns...

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer.

“You’re not fine… He hurt you. I couldn’t save you back then… But I could stop him now if you had let me”

“Yes. Yes, he did those things… And you’re right, I wasn’t fine. But I’m fine now, Ricardo. I truly am. Thanks to you”

He trembles all over… and starts crying. On your shoulder…

Wow.

You know how hard this must be for him… You’ve only seen him cry a few times in all the years. And you’ve never seen him so weak.

You hold him tighter.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he keeps apologizing.

“Why are you sorry? You’ve done nothing wrong”

“I just… wanted to make it up to you… somehow… I couldn’t help you back then...and...”

“Well, you’ve helped a lot… even after all the shit I pulled on you,” you say. “You’re always been my best friend.”

He looks int your eyes… 

“... ok, you’re way more than a friend to me. You know what I mean...”

And then moves forward for a kiss…

“What the hell are you doing? I don’t want any ugly-crying-kisses!” you say dodging with a smile on your lips

That does it... He cracks a smile.

“I’m not ugly crying, you moron,” he says clearing some tears, just in case.

“You totally are!”

“Shut up, ugly-crying kisses are all I ever get from you, so you don’t get to judge me,” he says, closing in again… but you’re not going to dodge this time, and he knows it.

__________________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[floral-and-fine]

Turtle Dove

tur·tle·dove  /ˈtərdlˌdəv/ noun

turtle-dove

a small Old World dove with a soft purring call, noted for the apparent affection shown for its mate.

Clyde Logan x Female!reader

Soulmate AU (my first soulmate AU story!! So excited! I love soulmate fics :D)

Warnings: some cussing I think. Mostly just fluff and feels. possibly movie spoilers

A/N: Clyde Logan owns my ass. That is all. 

Clyde sat on the couch with his elbows on knees. The TV was on but he couldn't care less about what he was watching. On the coffee table, his beer sat getting warm and flat.

Another damn cauliflower scheme and this one intentionally involved him getting arrested and incarcerated. There were plenty of reasons to object to his brother's crazy plan, but the outcome, if they could pull it off, would be incredible.

Absentmindedly, Clyde ran his thumb across the wrist of his prosthetic arm. This was a nervous habit of his, something he did whenever he was feeling nervous or worried.

He looked down at the wrist, black letters spelling 'y/n' were written across it. The letters were worn on some parts, he figured that it was partly from him rubbing his thumb over it so often.

He had done his best to copy her name just like he remembered it. But it was difficult, every time he tried to remember how it looked on his real arm it was kind of blurry, like for a second it would be perfectly clear, then gone the next.

Losing his arm was an unexpected tragedy, and what made it even worse was losing his soulmate tattoo. Clyde took it for granted, figuring that it was his soulmate mark, and therefore, he'd have it forever.

When he received his prosthetic hand, Clyde worked hard on adding her name to it, trying to capture the curves and pattern of her handwriting to the best of his ability.

He wondered what she thought of his handwriting every time she looked at his chicken scratch across her wrist spelling 'Clyde'. Did it comfort her? Did she wonder what he was like as much as he wondered about her?

Clyde took out a black sharpie, and with extra care he traced the letters again, making her name look even more vibrant on the skin colored plastic. Her named shined while the ink dried.

"Y/n," he whispered to himself.

His mind started to wander to thoughts that he often pushed back. Thoughts he tried to ignore but always lingered around. Like whether or not he'd still feel anything if she were near without his real mark?

People described a burning sensation coming from their mark alerting them that their soulmate was close. What if he doesn't feel a damn thing? What if she's the only one who feels it? Or, even worst, What if she's already felt it, but didn't want him. That she saw him, saw his arm, and rejected him without him knowing. And now here he was sitting like a fool, hoping that one day soon he'll find her.

He hoped that she wouldn't be disappointed with him, with his lifestyle or his lack of having a complete arm. If she did find him first, he hoped she'd let him know.

"Thinking about y/n?" Jimmy asked stepping into the living room with a beer in hand.

"Yep," Clyde muttered, still looking at her name. Jimmy flopped onto the couch. He took the remote and started flipping through the channels.

"I wouldn't worry about it, you'll meet her," Jimmy reassured Clyde, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder.

"My soulmate is bound to end up with a criminal, thanks to your plan," Clyde huffed, still bitter over his part in all this.

Jimmy shook his head, "It's fate, she's gonna end up with you whether you're a criminal or a saint. We've got nothing to lose except this opportunity."

"Well, our family hasn't the best of lu-,"

"Don't get started on all that crap about the Logan family curse," Jimmy warned, interrupting Clyde. "It'll all work out in the end, trust me."

Clyde rubbed his mark, in little circles, he wanted to desperately believe that.

On the day of the heist, losing his prosthetic arm was sudden and unexpected.

It immediately put Clyde into a panic, not only could this get him caught, but he was also losing his soulmate mark again.

Automatically, he started to try to see if he could get it out. Clyde shook his head his dark hair covering his face while his arms wrapped around the hose.

"Listen," Jimmy started trying to calm him down. "We can get a new one, hell we can you hundreds of new arms, but not if we get caught."

"This one has her name, almost like the real one... I can't lose it," Clyde muttered, his head facing down, and yanking at the damn machine. "I can barely remember how it used to look...what if I forget completely?"

Jimmy put his hand on Clyde's back, "I promise I will not leave it here, but you have to go."

Clyde felt torn over the whole situation but staying meant getting caught for sure. He'd have to trust Jimmy. He tried one more time to get it out before reluctantly leaving.

Clyde still couldn't believe that they had pulled it off.  Clyde stared at the new arm. It was sleek, fancy, and functional, Jimmy even had someone engrave y/n's name on it. His fingers traced over the grooves of her name. At least, he didn't have to keep retracing it on this arm.

The bar was quiet, not a single customer had stopped in. It was pouring cats and dogs outside, anyone would have to be crazy to be out in it. Although who was he to judge anyone for being crazy? He was the crazy idiot who agreed to his brother's plan.

He figured it would be best to go ahead and close the place up for the night. No point in staying open without any customers.

He started cleaning the bar wiping the counter off, putting the glasses on the shelf and restocked.

A loud knocking sound interrupted his work.

Clyde frowned at the door, who in the world was trying to get in? Probably Earl or one of the other barflies.

"We're closed," he hollered, continuing to flip the chairs over.

"Please?" a woman's voice begged from the other side. "I'm having car trouble."

Clyde sighed, he couldn't leave a lady standing out there alone in this kind of weather.

"Give me a minute," he grunted putting the last barstool on the counter.

Clyde headed towards the door. Then it hit him, an unfamiliar burning sensation. Wincing, his hand automatically cradled his wrist, and that's when he noticed that the feeling was coming from his left arm.

The pounding on the door had halted as well. He ran his thumb over his wrist, over the engraving of his soulmate's name, y/n.

Clyde approached the door. As he did so the burning became stronger. His heart was racing so fast that it was almost painful.

So this is what it feels like.

He rested his forehead against the door and asked in a shaky voice, "Are you feeling that too?"

He was trembling, his nerves on edge. He didn't feel ready to meet her. In fact, he never felt so anxious in his life.

"Clyde?" she mumbled, to verify that this was real.

He closed his eyes, her voice sounded so sweet. He knew without even seeing her yet, that he loved her.

"Y/n," he muttered back.

"Oh God, this really is happening?" she asked.

"It is," he confirmed.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course, just... Just give me a second," Clyde tucked his shirt back in and raked his hand through his hair trying to make himself look more presentable. He took a deep breath. This was it. He knew he'd love her no matter what, hopefully, she'd feel the same way.

Clyde unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the door open.

There was no turning back now.

There she was taking shelter under the porch. She looked so beautiful. Her wet hair clung to her face, just like her sopping wet T-shirt clung to her figure. She was holding her hand against her chest over her heart.

They stared at each other, just taking it all in. Clyde's eyes studied her face. He already adored every part of her.

The wind picked up, causing y/n to shiver.

Clyde blinked, coming out of his daze, "Sorry, you must be freezing." He stepped aside to let her in. "I wasn't... expecting anyone, especially not you," he explained.

She smiled and started to cry wiping her tears, "I'm sorry, I must just look a mess right now."

Clyde shook his head, "You're more beautiful than I could've hoped for."

She shook her head, giggling, "You are too. Except you know, handsome, and much taller than I thought you'd be."

Y/n cautiously reached out and touched the part of his arm where her name was engraved, "looks just like my handwriting."

"I didn't want to forget," he muttered.

Y/n nodded her head, she couldn't imagine what he has been through. But it did make her feel warm to know that he wanted to still have her name on his arm.

"Can I hold you?" Clyde asked, averting his gaze.

Y/n felt her heart melt being asked such a question in such an innocent way.

"I'm still pretty wet and cold," she reminded him.

"I don't mind," Clyde rubbed the back of his head. "Actually, I could help warm you up," he offered.

He pulled y/n into his arms, her face buried against his chest. Her hands clutched his shirt. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She smelled like rain.

"There's a couple of things, I gotta finish around here," Clyde explained, slowly letting y/n go. "Maybe we can talk for a bit, or somethin' after."

Turns out y/n was having her own troubles with bad luck on this particular day. She had gotten lost trying to find her way to her destination. Got pulled over for a ticket, even though she didn't do a thing wrong. Then her car had broken down on the highway near the bar, and as she walking it started raining.

"I can give you a ride home," Clyde offered.

"I live pretty far, and with this rain and it being so late as it is, I don't really want to be a bother."

"I don't want to come on too strongly, but you can stay the night with me," Clyde suggested.

"Here, you can change into this," Clyde handed her one of his old t-shirts. He figured it would be long enough to fit her like a nightgown.

"I'll give you some privacy," he muttered, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Y/n pressed the shirt against her face, it smelled just like him. The material of shirt was nice and soft. It was obviously one he had worn a lot.

She undressed, taking off everything except for her panties. She pulled his shirt over her head. It barely covered her ass, but it would be appropriate enough to sleep in.

Y/n stepped out of the room to find Clyde waiting out in the hall. He smiled, admiring how good she looked in his shirt.

"I'll sleep on the couch, and you can take my bed," he mentioned.

"Are you sure?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"It'll be alright."

She rocked on her heels, trying to figure out how to say that she'd like for him to sleep with her. Y/n understood that he probably wanted to things somewhat slow, seeing how they just met, but she also had this need just be near him.

"Everything okay?" Clyde asked, resting his hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, he was so perfect in her eyes. She wanted to spend every moment she could with him.

"Don't you think you'd be more comfortable sleeping with me?" she finally asked.

How could Clyde say no to a suggestion like that? He nodded.

"I promise, I won't do anything that's improper or unwelcomed," he muttered with a serious look on his face.

"I know darlin'," y/n replied. She then stood on her tiptoes kissing him lightly on the lips.

They laid in bed together, her fingers playing with his hair that hung around his neck.

"Will you keep talking to me until I fall asleep?" she asked nuzzling her face against his shoulder.

"What about, turtle dove?"

"Anything, I just want to listen to you talk," y/n couldn't get enough of his voice, the way he spoke and his accent was all too appealing.

"Well, I could tell you about the time I went to juvie or the 3 months I recently spent in prison?"

"What did you do?" y/n asked looking at him wide-eyed, but smiling.

Clyde stroked her back while he started at the beginning, telling her about his brother and his cauliflower plans.

At some point they had fallen asleep, Clyde shifted a bit in bed. Y/n stirred in his arms, he held her closer to himself. He could feel her chest rise and fall in sync with his own breathing. He listened to her soft breaths and heartbeat falling back into a deeper sounder sleep.

In the morning, Clyde woke up but y/n was already gone. He felt slightly disappointed, seeing how he wanted to hold her as much as he could. He got out of bed and shuffled out of his bedroom.

"Mornin'! I hope you don't mind that I helped myself to your kitchen. Thought it would be nice to have breakfast together," she explained standing in front of the stove.

Clyde smiled to himself, she looked pretty darn cute concentrating while frying the eggs.

"Oh shoot! I think I burnt the bacon," y/n complained, pushing the pieces around with tongs.

Clyde chuckled walking up behind her.

"Just the way I like," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her from behind, kissing her shoulder.

Taglist: @skellingtonbatz , @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @letusunalivethem

[wtfholland]

late night talks with tom☽

a/n: i discovered this band called cigarettes after sex about a year and a half ago and fell in love. honestly, their music is the most calming, mellow, and relaxing stuff i’ve ever heard. i found this playlist that has their music with a couple other songs from different artists, who are just as amazing♥ this also turned out to be a lot longer than i anticipated but OH WELL ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

masterlist♡

request♡

[for dialogue, italic is for y/n and bold is for tom]

listen to this while reading♫

i think we can all agree that everyone gets really honest when they have late night talks

in my opinion, i think it’s one of the most special things you can do with someone

you're laying in your bed, staring up at your ceiling

it’s late and both of your parents are already sleeping

there is nothing that sparked your interest on netflix and you’ve already finished the book that you’ve been reading that week

none of your friends were awake

...except for one

your room is dark except for the beautiful glimmer coming from the fairy lights you have hanging on your headboard

your room is also quiet except for the soft music coming from your laptop (*nudge, nudge* the playlist i linked lel)

the one constant thing that kept grazing your thoughts was tom

his sparkling eyes, enchanting laugh, beautiful smile, fluffy hair and just...everything

just the thought of him made your heart swell and practically beat out of your chest

you’ve considered texting him but you knew he was constantly busy and needed rest after getting back from filming

but your panties got into an extreme bunch so you gave into your hearts demands

a couple seconds after this text, your phone starts buzzing

you waited a couple seconds before answering because you didn’t want to seem desperate (literally fucking me in real life)

“hello?”

“‘ello love.”

“oh, my god! is this the real tom holland? calling me? i am...honoured.”

you hear him laugh softly on the other end and you melt

“oh, shut up. you’re the only super star here, y/n. how are you doing? why couldn’t you sleep?”

“oh, you know, i just couldn’t stop thinking about you. how in love i am with you, how sexually frustrated i am with you AND also how bloody cold it happens to be in my goddamn house” you think

“ehrm, i’ve just been...thinking about a bunch of stuff all day and laying down just kind of made me think about these things even more.”

“really? enlighten me. i’ve been in the same predicament myself for the past few nights.”

you end up bullshitting and telling tom how you have feelings for this one guys who you “work with” but how you’re too chicken shit to make a move or even drop hints that you’re interested

you keep trying to change subject. for a while, you're having a very serious conversation about how insignificant you feel because compared to the rest of the world (actually, the universe) you’re two specs of dust

*as a bonus, watch this and be mind blown*

“right?! like, honestly, i know that harry probably thinks we’re bat shit crazy and just being childish but, there is no way that we are the only forms of life. i’m calling it right now, there are aliens out there.”

“no kidding. when they come to earth, they’ll probably probe harry.”

you both start laughing. tom’s laugh was one of the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard. it sounded better than your favorite song

“so, uh...does your...man of interest believe in aliens?”

“uh, yeah, he actually does! isn’t that awesome?”

“huh, okay then.”

...

“whatta fuckin’ loser.” tom whispers

you’re actually dying on the inside. he’s so...ugh

tom quickly changes the entire mood of the conversation

he starts talking about a fake girl, trying to make you jealous

“hm well, i don’t think i told you yet but there is this one really fit girl who i met not too long ago.”

you immediately feel your stomach drop and your heart shrink

“uh, that’s good...i guess. what’s her name?”

“uh...tracy...lancaster.”

“oh...cool.”

“yeah, she goes to my gym.”

 shit. FUCK. 

in addition, you felt your self esteem crumble because you don’t go to the gym

“there’s no way he’d like me. i knew it. i’m stupid for ever thinking that he could be hiding the fact that he has feelings for me. who am i kidding? he’ll only ever be interested in models or girls who are drop dead gorgeous. not...someone like me.” you thought

you couldn’t be anymore WRONG

spoiler alert: he likes you

he loves you actually, but he’s just as big of a wuss as you are to admit his feelings, in fear that he’ll fuck up your friendship

“so...what does tracy look like?”

“she’s...blonde. and, uh...nice looking...stuff. y’know...the works.”

this bOY

okay, moving on

tom continues to push you to talk about your crush

but you’re ready to crank this thing up a notch AND DESTROY HIS INTEREST IN “TRACY” AHHH (sorry)

so you try to make him jealous now, without knowing that he was already initially jealous

“he just...he treats me extremely well. he understands everything but i know in the back of my head that he’s just being friendly, and that’s what hurts the most. i feel like i’m wasting my time but part of me wants to keep hoping that he possibly feels something for me. but, he’s like...so hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve seen.yeah...he’s, uh...preeeeetty bangin’.”

tom stays quiet for while

you start to notice how everytime you brought something up that you liked about your “work buddy” (WHO IS ACTUALLY TOM), he’d give you shitty responses

“he has pretty eyes.”

“oh, nice”

“he also skateboards, and plays a little bit of guitar.”

“hm, i can do both (sorta).”

HE. IS. SO. OBLIVIOUS. AHHHH.

“he used to take dancing. his hair is super shaggy and lovely. not gonna lie, but i’ve thought of running my fingers thro-”

“he probably dances like he has two left feet. what’s this clown’s name anyways?”

“oh! it’s uh...tyler! tyler nuh..nolan.”

“hmm...that’s basic.”

you becoming more and more confused

“why are you shutting down everything i’m saying about him?”

...

“tom?”

“sorry, love. can you repeat that? i was, uh...distracted.”

“i said why are you shutting him down, like the things i’m telling you about him?

“i’m not?”

“yeah, you kind of are.”

“ugh, whatever...”

...

...

“jerk.”

“brat.”

...

“UGH, do you want me to be honest?”

“yes!”

“i’m dismissing what you’re saying because every single time you’ve ever fancied someone, they’ve always broken your heart. i’ve been here with you through every single heartbreak you’ve endured to pick up the pieces and quite honestly, love...it fucking hurts me to see what they do to you. i’m sorry to be so blunt but you’ve never had the best of luck when it comes to love. i just worry about you, all the time. i don’t want anyone to hurt you, especially not this knob that you’re so flustered over. you’re smart, brilliant i should say. YOUR eyes are pretty, you are so talented, so outgoing, down to earth, kind, absolutely beautiful...you’re so...you.”

yOu ArE qUaKiNg

tom immediately retreats and wants to die because of this sudden outburst

He Is QuAkInG

there is a good 60 seconds of silence

you’re in complete disbelief. the guy who you’ve been in love with for as long as you can remember just made you fall even harder for him (if that was even possible)

“tommy...you think i’m beautiful? you think all that stuff about me?”

“...yeah...i do. i think you’re...the most beautiful girl on the planet. i mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

you feel yourself starting to tear up

this is it. 

this was the perfect time to tell him.

“tom...i...there’s something i need to tell you and i don’t know what you’re going to think after i tell you but...i just want you to know...”

“go ahead, love. tell me. i have something i’d like to tell you to...”

deep bREATHS, y/n

your heart is beating so fucking fast, you think you’ll drop dead right then and there

“here we go.” you thought

there’s no going back now

“i can’t keep hiding this from you...how i feel about you. tom, i...i’m in love with you and i know how stupid that sounds. ‘tyler nolan’ isn’t a real person. i just made him up but i was really just talking about you. you’re my best friend and i never anticipated this to ever happen but, i don’t know what it is about you. you’re honestly one of my favorite people ever; the way you carry yourself, your selflessness, you’re just so perfect, and please don’t try to tell me you’re not. i love everything about you, right down to the flaws you think you have. i...know that you don’t feel the same way towards me but after tonight, i just felt like i should get this off my chest. i can tell you that i’ve felt this way towards you for as long as i can remember. i want to be with you, in every way, shape and form. i love you...thomas stanley holland. so much.”

...

mutha fuggin silence

tom

is

DYING

LIIIIIIIIKE 

😶

XABZNJAUIBDNLAISNI he’s actually ready to drop his pants and marry you

you immediately start freaking out because he’s not saying anything

“tommy...say something, please...”

tom starts tearing up because he’s so happy

“this is a miracle.” he thought

“i fucking love her. oh god, i love her”

“y/n...i lo--”

...

...

“tom?”

...

“hello? tom, are you still there?”

you moved the phone away from your ear and looked at your screen

the damn thing was back on your lock screen

you checked your battery, which now dropped to 43%

then you realized...

hIS FUCKING PHONE MUST’VE DIED

meanwhile

he’s actually freaking the fuck out at his house

“FUCKING HELL!!! SHIT!!!!” 

all of a sudden, he hears banging on his door

“TOM! SHUT UP, YOU’RE SO BLOODY LOUD, YOU WANKER!” he heard sam on the other side of the door 

tom ignores him and frantically tries to look for an extra charger in his room because haz ruined the one he already had

sam pulls open the door

“mate, be quiet! mum can hear you from upstairs. what are you doing? it’s almost two in the morning.” sam whisper-yelled

“y/n just poured her heart out to me on the phone and i need to tell her that i feel the same way she feels but my bloody phone died when i was about to tell her! do you have your charger? can i please borrow it?” tom exclaimed, frantically

“tessa bit mine, i need to get a new one. just ask mum for her’s in the morning. good god, go to sleep.” sam replies, storming out of tom’s room

tom sighs, defeated

he feels terrible about getting cut off because he’s worried about what you’re thinking

YOU ARE FREAKING OUT

you are tossing and turning, trying to figure out what tom was going to say

“i lo...? i love you but in a platonic way? i lost you, did you just say you love me?” you thought

UGH

ain’t nobody wanna wait

you probably got around two hours of sleep that night

finally the next day, your eyes snap open

you scramble to reach for your phone, which is sitting on your bedside table, with your charger hanging out of the bottom

you rip the cord out of your phone and find five texts from tom

thank GOD

you let out a sigh

YOU WERE SO RELIVED THAT HE DIDN’T ACTUALLY JUST HANG UP ON YOU

but like

dafuq

hang on?

HANG ON?

you notice that he sent these over an hour ago

suddenly, you heard a bang coming from outside your room

wTF 

your parent(s) is/are at work and your sibling(s) (if you have any) is/are gone on a school trip

you start freaking out

you quickly tumbled out of bed (your feet get caught on your blankets so you ate shit lel)

scooping yourself off the floor, you slowly but surely pull open your bedroom door

you have 911 dialled into your phone on standby

you tiptoe down the hall and peek your head into each door way of the main floor

nothing

there’s another bang

“the creep must be in the kitchen stealing my food” you thought

you trot over to the kitchen and you shat a brick

fuCKING TOM HAS HIS BACK TURNED TOWARDS YOU

“WHAT THE FUCK???”

he dropped a pan in fear, the metal clanking against the stove loudly

he FUCKING SHRIEKED (if tom shrieking isn’t adorable, then honestly wtf is)

tom whirled around quickly with his hand over his heart, trying to calm his breathing

“bloody hell! i just pissed myself, i didn’t even hear you come in.”

you moved towards him, the memories of your confession began to invade your head again

your knees buckled a little bit underneath you with every step you took but you tried your best to stand your ground, not letting the intimidation get to you

“what are you doing here?”

you look behind him

thAT FUQQIN QT

he was preparing breakfast for the two of you

scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, breakfast sausage, toast, a bowl of strawberries, freshly squeezed orange juice and of course, the tea you both loved so much

you look back up at him in awe and he’s just smiling down at you

“i’m sorry for all the noise, love. i let myself in with the key you have hidden in the flower pot outside and i, uh...wanted to make you breakfast...”

you are still silent

this is the sweetest thing someone has ever done for you

“and i’m also here to tell you that...”

suddenly, tom was leaning down. his hand cupped your cheek and his arm wrapped around your waist

his lips were mere inches away from yours

instinctively, you placed both your hands on his biceps, holding them as you pushed forward too, closing the space between the both of you

MUTHA FUCKIN FIREWORKS ARE GOING OFF IN YALLS HEADS

of course both of you have kissed other people before but this kiss...

THIS KISS.

lemme tell u sumtin

this was the best friggin kiss either of you have ever had

tom was the first to pull away, but he rested his forehead on yours and chuckled under his breath

“i’m here to tell you that...i love you too. i’m so in love with you. i’ve been waiting ages for you to tell me what you told me last night.”

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing

“oh and, uh...’tracy lancaster’? she isn’t a real person either, just like ‘tyler’.”

your eyes scrunch a little as you giggled from how childish the two of you really are

you bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck, as his snake around your waist

you both stand there, full of content and full of love

“god...i love you, angel. you’re so bloody perfect. thank you for loving me.” tom whispered

the only thing you can think of is

“wowie, i guess i’m not just a spec of dust in this universe after all.”

after a while, you quickly left to brush your teeth and wash up for breakfast

you sit down at the table with tom, the both of you laughing, going over the times you both figured out your feelings towards one another

you both really enjoyed the breakfast

but let’s just say that breakfast wasn’t the only thing tom ate that morning

lol

sorry

kill me

byE

[sav-wites-everything]

Science Partners (Peter Parker x Reader) - Part 5

A/N: Here by popular demand is Part 5!!!! So, I have already seen Spider-Man: Homecoming (AND IT WAS AMAZING!!) but I will keep this series as spoiler free as possible!!! (partially because the timeline of events I created are different than the movie so it would mess things up anyway!) I will kind of allude to the events with Vulture but won’t go any further than what the trailers have shown!! Anyway, Enjoy!! xx

Warnings: hurt Peter, tension, sad :(

PART 1  PART 2  PART 3  PART 4  PART 6

“So,” Ned began, scooting closer to Peter at the lunch table so he could whisper, “When you got like, buff and stuff from the spider bite, did uh... anything else change?” At this point, Ned was nodding down towards Peter’s lap. 

Peter nearly choked on his cold burrito. “Dude!” he shouted through a mouthful of beans and cheese.

Ned threw his hands up in defense. “I’m just curious!”

Peter shook his head and checked his phone. He was growing impatient as he waited for Mr. Stark to get back to him with details on their next mission. Ever since Berlin, Peter had been itching to see some more action than the petty crimes around Queens.

Interrupting Peter’s thoughts, you dropped your bag on the table and sat down in a huff. Your face was flushed from running down the hall. “Sorry I’m late, guys. Mr. Namara called a last minute Mathlete meeting.” Neither of them responded. Ned was looking at Peter strangely and you were sure his eyes kept trailing to his... Couldn’t be. Peter was engrossed in his phone. “Earth to Dorksville,” you chimed, waving your hand in front of Peter’s face. 

Peter shook his head as if coming out of a trance and looked up at you in surprise. “(Y/N)! When did you get here? Where have you been?” he said rapidly. You just shook your head and chuckled. Although you kept a pretty neutral facade, his response ticked you off. This had been happening for awhile now but after the two of you started dating, it seemed to get worse. He seemed to be constantly distracted. The pair of you hadn’t been together long (the dance was only two weeks ago), but it still annoyed you. 

“Are we still on for dinner tonight? I’m super excited to try that new...”

“Can’t. I’ve got some stuff to do for the Tony Stark Internship.” Peter went back to scrolling through his phone and vigorously texting. 

You pursed your lips, grabbed your bag and stood up. “Ned, still need help studying for the math test?”

Ned looked between you and Peter, cocking a worried eyebrow. You just shrugged your shoulders and rolled your eyes. He gave you an apologetic smile before saying, “Yeah, that’d be awesome. Come over after school?”

You nodded an affirmative and gave one last glance at Peter who was completely oblivious to the exchange you just had with Ned. Your shoulders drooped as you turned to walk away. “I’m gonna go eat lunch in the library,” you mumbled, “See you later.” With that you walked away, your head low and anger chewing at your belly.

Peter looked up nonchalantly from his phone and a frown creased his face. “Where’d she go?” he said, genuinely confused.

Ned shook his head and groaned at his distracted friend. “She went to go find a new boyfriend,” he said, hoping to make Peter realize what he’s been doing. 

He snapped his gaze to Ned, suddenly alert. “What?!”

“Good, now I have your attention. She went to the library to eat but if I were her, I’d be looking for a new boyfriend.” Ned took a bite of his pizza, staring at Peter sternly.

“What are you even talking about, dude?”

Ned let out a laugh at how clueless Peter was. “You know, Pete, you’re right. I’m sure she loves having all of her plans with you cancelled so you can go catch bike thieves and mope over Tony Stark.” 

“I catch more than just bike thieves and I don’t mope!” Peter lowered his voice to a whisper, “I’m the Spider-Man, Ned. I have a responsibility to the people.”

“Well, why don’t you tell her that?” Ned whispered back, irritation in his voice.

“I.. I can’t.” Peter swallowed hard, averting his gaze.

“Why not? She’s your best friend too. Not only that, she actually agreed to be your girlfriend. Do you think you’re ever going to get a girl like her again? She deserves to know and if you won’t tell her...”

“Ned! You cannot tell (Y/N)! You promised me you wouldn’t tell anyone and she counts in that promise.”

Ned grimaced at Peter, angry at him. “Fine,” he said flatly, “but don’t come crying to me when she leaves you.” Just then the bell rang. Ned got up quickly from the table, leaving Peter behind. 

Peter’s shoulders drooped and he slowly got up from the table. He checked his phone one last time before dropping it into his pocket. Ned had to be wrong. Ned was protective of their friend from the beginning. That’s all this is. Peter cancels a few dates and Ned overreacted. That’s all. You wouldn’t leave Peter... Right?

During gym, you ignored Peter like it was your job. He noticed this. It was fitness test day so that meant people broke off into their own groups to talk. You were with some of your other friends, leaving Ned and Peter by themselves. They watched you the entire class period. You definitely seemed to be venting to your friends because every now and then, one of them would shoot Peter a dirty look. 

Peter did everything in his power to look inconspicuous as he got closer to you, trying to listen in on the conversation. “So, are you going to break up with him?” your friend, Liz, asked. 

Peter put all of his attention on you, not caring if anyone noticed. You shrugged your shoulders and mumbled, “I don’t know..” Peter’s heart sank. “Probably not.” His stomach tightened and color came back to his cheeks. “If I had something like a Tony Stark Internship, I’d probably be the same way.”

Your friends nodded in a hushed agreement before Liz broke into a smirk, “But if that Spider-Man ever showed up, you’d definitely leave Peter, right?”

You giggled at this and Peter noticed an adorable blush rise to your cheeks. “Well, of course,” you giggled. The softness that was overtaking Peter was suddenly replaced by anger. “A guy with that much bravery and heart must know how to treat a girl right.” Peter didn’t even stop to consider the fact that you were talking about him. To him, you were talking about a different person. You were crushing on a different guy. 

Peter stormed back over to Ned, not wanting to hear anymore of the conversation. “She likes Spider-Man more than she likes me!” he whispered angrily.

Ned shrugged his shoulders and sympathized with you, saying, “Well, with the way you’ve been treating on of my best friends, I’m starting to like Spider-Man more too.” Peter dropped his shoulders and hung his head. He let out a heavy sigh before getting on the floor and angrily doing sit-ups. 

That night, you sat on Ned’s bedroom floor, monotonously drilling Ned with equations. You barely touched the Chinese food that Ned’s mom had ordered for the two of you. Frustrated, you threw your notes to the floor and put your head in your hands. Ned, who was sitting across from you, put a warm hand on your shoulder. “Did I do something wrong, Ned?” you mumbled into your hands. 

Ned looked bewildered at your question. “(Y/N), no!”

“Then what’s going on with him? Is... Is he just not interested anymore?”

Ned took your hands away from your face so he could look at you. Silent tears had began sliding down your cheeks. “(Y/N), before you two actually started dating, you were all he talked about. I’m sure that now that he has you, he couldn’t be happier.”

“Then why does he cancel plans? He barely pays attention in chemistry. Hell, he doesn’t even hang out with both of us. He should be here studying with us!” Your voice cracked with a sob. The tears began to flow harder. You knew Ned was the one you would break down to about this. 

Ned got up on his knees and enveloped you in a hug. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to tell you the truth about Peter but he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he? Just because Peter told him not to? You had the right to know and he didn’t care how angry Peter got at him. 

As Ned opened his mouth to tell you the truth, there was a knock at the bedroom door. Ned released you and you hurriedly tried to wipe away your tears. Ned’s mom poked her head around the door and said with a wide smile, “Peter’s here, dear. (Y/N), honey, are you okay?”

You nodded and forced a smile. “Just a really spicy bit of the chicken.” Ned’s mom nodded understandably and left her position at the door. Peter walked in, a grin on his face. 

“Chinese food? Why didn’t one of you call me?” he said, as if he hadn’t noticed that your eyes were puffy from crying. 

“Did you really get into another lab accident?” you said, concerned laced in your voice. You stood up and grabbed Peter’s face, any thoughts of animosity gone. He had a cut above his eyebrow and a bruise was forming on his cheek bone. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s Tony Stark. Shit happens, ya know?” He brushed your hands away and sat down next to Ned, leaving you standing. He leaned in and whispered to Ned something you couldn’t hear, “There was this huge metal bird guy..” Your fists clenched with anger. 

“No, I don’t know!” you shouted. Peter looked up at you, shocked and confused. “I don’t know how you let Mr. Stark do this! Can’t you ever just tell him no? He works you like an adult but you’re still in high school! You just let him use you whenever he deems it necessary, which is all of the time! Why don’t..”

“Why can’t you understand that this is important to me?” Peter shouted back, standing now. He towered over you and his eyes were dark. “I’m making something of myself and you can’t seem to support that anymore! I would have never asked you to be my girlfriend if I knew that you wanted all of the attention in the world!” Peter stopped in his tracks. His face went pale and his mouth stood open. His hands began to tremble as he realized what he said. “(Y/N),” his voice wavered, “I didn’t..”

You held up a hand to stop him and shook your head. All of your anger was gone. You just felt... empty. “You’re right, Peter,” you began flatly, “I should be more understanding. I see now just how important this internship is to you. It’s more important than your girlfriend. It’s more important than your two best friends. It’s more important than school.” Peter tried to cut in, reaching a hand out to you. You took a step back and continued. “I get it, Peter. I don’t want to get in the way.” You bent down and scooped up your notes and backpack. You looked Peter square in the eye. The pain you saw swimming in his eyes almost made you bite your tongue but it came out anyway, “I’m sure you and Mr. Stark will make a lovely couple.” You walked out of Ned’s room without giving Peter time to reply and slipped out the front door into the chilly, night air. 

You gave a harsh sob when the cold air hit your lungs and you let the tears fall freely. You started walking home, hugging your jacket tightly around you, tonight’s events eating at you.

Peter sank to the floor in defeat. His hands shook and he clenched his jaw. He lost you. He really lost you. All because he felt the need to keep his stupid secret. Why would he say those things to you? He didn’t mean it. You didn’t ask to hang out any more than you did before he started dating you. 

“Well, you did it. I’m sure the bike thieves will be happy to hear that you can devote all of your time to them,” Ned said with malice. He looked hard at his friend. 

“I’m gonna go home,” Peter mumbled.

“Good idea.”

The next morning, Peter lay in bed, staring blankly ahead of him. Maybe he’d pretend he was sick. He couldn’t see you today. He wouldn’t be able to bear seeing you in the pain he had caused. Peter was so engrossed with his self-pity that he didn’t hear the phone ring or notice his Aunt May walk into his room. “Peter?” she asked, her voice shaking.

Her voice piqued his attention. He sat up in bed and looked at her with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Do you know where (Y/N) is? Her mom called and said she didn’t come home last night.”

A/N: Oooooooooooo cliffhanger!!!!! I’m sorry this one is such a downer but you need a little raw emotion and heart ache every now and then. Keep an eye out for Part 6 and send in your requests!! xx

Tags: @notawarriorjustyet @scottsxmmxrs @glupijelen @conboyrachael @mylameinternethome @woah-broah @libby822 @basket-of-dragons @miraisnotavailable @purebabysethwright @fae-tus @gerardwayisapotato @thebookisbtr 

Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters!!!

[tilly-and-her-books]

I cannot express my joy when I discovered that this book was real...and that it was also free to purchase as an e-copy through amazon (it's like under 100 pages so it's a quick read). However, that joy was short lived when I actually began to read this book. Maybe it's because of my lifestyle of memes, puns and general shit-post humour but I was expecting a book with copious amounts of chicken puns, knights wearing KFC buckets as helmets and well...a lot more steamy romance between our darling Harland Sanders and Madeline. I feel as a long time Colonel Sanders and KFC fan I have a duty to make this story cringe worthy and yet oddly satisfying to those readers who are just like me. So grab a delicious, crispy chicken wing, ignore my spelling mistakes, general crappy grammar and enjoy. And to cover my own ass, all these characters belong to KFC and I mean no offence to anyone. Also I apologies because this got way out of hand and there's a lot of dirty insinuations involved. Take a bible with you. Also I didn't read this over because I'm terrified of having these thoughts in my head again. (GOODREADS REVIEW LINK:https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1996014517?type=review#rating_117050525)

Of all the things that Lady Madeline Parker disliked about her life, the one that constantly stuck out in her brain was her hatred of beef. There was something inherently pointless about it's boring, bland flavour and particularly chewy meat. Even now as she sat at the table, sawing at a rather pitiful piece of it she couldn't help but sigh. Around her at the table, her family watched with a secret dancing between them. Even Madeline's younger sister, Veronica who was obviously talented at every thing pursed her lips as though to stop herself from speaking. Veronica looked beautiful, even after she'd been outside doing yoga for the last two hours. Maybe it had something to do with her new gluten free diet she bragged about constantly. Madeline looked at her beef and for just a moment and considered this strange, gluten free idea but she quickly returned to her senses. What a ridiculous idea, she thought. Winston, Madeline's favourite sibling cleared his throat and gave a pointed glare at Mama. Finally, Mama spoke, just as Madeline managed to hack my way through a string of fat. "I have some wonderful news," She declared. "It's about you, Madeline." Madeline dropped her knife and fork onto the table and bared her teeth. She was fed up with beef. She was tired of feeling so underwhelmed and unsatisfied after every meal that involved in. How could someone live a in a world like this? It wasn't even porterhouse but a measly, flank steak. "This beef is terrible Papa, how could you allow us to suffer by eating it?" Mama and Papa looked at each other and shared a silent conversation before Mama looked at Madeline again. "Well, my dear if the meal is so unpleasant you will be glad to hear the news. Duke Reginald has asked for your hand in marriage and we have allowed it." Madeline couldn't contain her gasp of horror. Duke Reginald was a well known man in the county. He was rich, handsome and from certain rumours it was well known he was talented at clapping with only one hand. Everything Madeline would look for in a man except that Duke Reginald had a deal breaker and it was one that she could not look past. "Mama!" She screamed. "He's...He's a...He's a vegan!" Despite Mama's face turning red and angry it was Veronica who spoke first, her voice enraged. "How can you be so selfish, Madeline! That man is the only one in the county who would ask for your spoilt hand in marriage and all you care about is his lack of meat! If you weren't so selfish you would accept this marriage and spend your days as a duchess." Madeline opened her mouth to retort just how important meat was to her when her Papa, who doesn't have any other role in this story besides being the enforcer, spoke. "Madeline...You don't have the option to accept this marriage. We have already done that for you. You will be married to Duke Reginald by the end of the month and you will not have anything else to say about it tonight, understand?" Madeline looked down at her steak. Suddenly, it didn't seem so bad. She stood there as Mama, Papa and Veronica all left the room and this story. They weren't important anyway. Rumour has it, they don't even like gravy. However, Winston loved gravy almost as much as he loved his sister...who are we kidding, he loves it more than Madeline. She's a KFC. Kinda Foolish Chick. No one loves a Kinda Foolish Chick. He pushed away the thoughts of gravy and took his sisters, cold hand. "Maddie, you don't have to do this, you know? You could run away from this wedding." She looked at him wide eyed. "Winston, where would I go? I've never left the safety of our home. All I know is beef, scrabble and how to tie a string bow tie." "Just get on your horse and ride. Go towards the coast. Maybe try fish?" Madeline curled her nose at the thought of fish. Sure, the beef here was deplorable but what other meat could she eat? Winston squeezed her hand before he stood up and turned to walk out of the room. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder dramatically. "Let me ask you this...could fish be worse than being a vegan?" Madeline listened to her brothers footsteps as he walked away. No...she decided. There was nothing worse than being a vegan. Unless you were a vegan with a gluten free diet too but no one would be that silly. And so that night, Madeline didn't pack a bag because she's a spoilt brat and expected a maid to do it for her, climbed aboard her horse and rode towards the coast. Little did she know what would be waiting for...or who. ***** The ride towards the coast had started well for Madeline. Her horse Persephone galloped ahead, the wind whipping through her mane. However, things took a turn for the worst when Madeline realised...She didn't know how to ride a horse. Persephone headed straight for a very spooky looking forest that mostly likely hid a band of thieves that liked to prey on young women like Madeline. Spoilers? No, because it's happening right now! A thief jumped out from behind the tree grabbing a hold of the leather reins and pulling Persephone to a grinding halt. Madeline released a shrill scream that could be heard from miles away. However, it was cut short as a thief leapt up towards her, his arm snaking around her waist and yanking right from her steed. "Well what have we got here?" The thief sneered. Madeline wriggled out of his grasp and quickly faced her back to a large tree. She looked at the three thieves that stood before her. They were triplets. All of them had long, skinny legs. Their hair was bright red and styled in a type of deflated mohawk. And for some strange reason they had attached feathers to their old clothes. They looked like...weird ducks. "What do you want with me?" Madeline whimpered. One of the thieves laughed and looked at the brother to his left. "Damn, Daniel!" He exclaimed. "This girl is KFC." Thief Daniel nodded his head in agreement. "Ain't nobody got time for that. We should just take the horse and leave her in distress." The third brother didn't seem so sure as he took a step closer to Madeline. "What's your name?" he asked. Madeline swallowed the lump in her throat as she decided to lie. "It's...Felicia." He squinted his eyes at her before he released a deep, throaty laugh. "You're right boys, she is KFC! Let's get outta here." They turned their backs on Madeline, leading Persephone away with them. Madeline was in such a shock she didn't even move to stop them. Not even as Thief Daniel waved at her and said, "Bye Felicia!" before disappearing with her horse and her only way to get to the coast. It was only when Madeline heard a branch snapping in the distance did she finally move from the tree. "Who's there?" she screamed because alerting your presence in a forest filled with bad people wasn't a bad idea. In this case, it was a terrible disaster as a talking goat clambered out from behind the trees. It's horns were coated in blood and it's white goatee touched the ground. It's eyes were bright red as it focused it's attention on Madeline. The air around them grew tense as Madeline idly looked around for any form a weapon but she was in the middle of a forest and not armoury. So she curled her fists and looked the goat in the eye. It's first words, were terrifying. "I crave that mineral," It bleated and then it was running towards her, tucking it's chin down so his horns could be used to their full extent. Madeline didn't have time to scream before there was a huge thud and a great, white shape took up in front of her. It took her but a few seconds to realise that this shape was in fact a man. He wore a stark, white suit. It's sleeves cut off at the shoulders. He wore a helmet that was white and red. Madeline couldn't see his face but as he spoke, her knees went weak. "It makes you a chicken to attack a young lady in distress. I ought to deep fry you, goat." The goat bleated in response before Madeline heard his little hooves, trotting off back into the trees. He didn't put up much of a fight but judging from the bulging muscles on the knights arms, she wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him either...maybe the right side though. Or underneath. He turned around slowly, Madeline's eyes assessing every inch of the man. From his white leather shoes, to the cardboard bucket on his head, the eye holes cut out unevenly. She couldn't see his face but her eyes settled on the only non-white thing he wore...a string bow tie. It was then, Madeline knew she was in love. "You...saved me." She breathed, casually sticking out her chest. "Whatever could I do to repay you?" The knight cleared his throat as he took a tentative step towards her. "You can repay me by giving me your name." "It's Madeline. And what's yours?" His hand reached up and ever so slowly pulled of the helmet, shaking his head. His thick, white locks bounced around until they finally settled in place, shaping his magnificent face. He was the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes upon. "Sanders," He said with a smile. "Harland Sanders. How can I help you, Madeline?" Madeline asked Harland if he could take her to the coast, despite the fact that the man had no horse, no need to go there or any favour owed to her but because this is a love story, he said yes. Along the way she told Harland her story and her secrets about how her parents had wanted her to marry rich but she had run away. She spoke about how she would never want to be in that situation again and all she wanted to do was have a normal life, like any other normal person. And then she asked Harland about himself. "What's your secret?" She smiled. "Who told you about the eleven secret herbs and spices?!" He gasped. "Excuse me?" Madeline said bewildered. Harland looked shocked for a second before he shrugged it off with a laugh. "I mean, I don't have any secrets that I'm going to reveal upon meeting you...I mean, I'm just a simple man. A sailor. A romantic. A string bow tie enthusiast." Madeline didn't even know that she'd wanted all of those things until now. It was like she was living in a hazy world until she'd met Harland. They continued on their journey until they reached a coastal town and they found a hotel to stay out. I can't be very descriptive because I've just realised there's a word count and it's slowly creeping up on me. You guys can just fill in the blanks with your imagination but keep it clean...for now. ***** Madeline sat before the big open fire, a cup of beer in her hands as she listened to Harland talk about life as a sailor. From what she could see on his face there was sadness there. Like something had happened to him and driven him to a life on the seas. What life did you have before Harland? Madeline thought to herself. What life would you want with me? She was surprised by her second thought. She was also a little scared to have fallen in love with this stranger so quickly. As she watched him though, with that glint in his eye she knew that she needed to be with him. So she decided to wing it and interrupted him before he'd finished speaking. "Harland...I think we should get a dinner for two...or a giant feast. I want to share something with you..." She reached over and ever so carefully, took his hands in hers. "I want to share a lot of things with you." (PLZ remember word count, I can't spend a lot of time focusing on them falling in love and not on the actual spiciness) Harland looked torn for a second before he allowed a smile to cover his face. "Oh Madeline, I'm so glad you feel it too. But I need to tell you something first..." Madeline felt her heart sink a little as she took in the desperation in his voice. "What is it?" Harland stood up from his seat. "Well, I can show you. If you'll come with me?" Madeline didn't hesitate as she sculled the rest of her beer. Her Mama didn't raise no quitter. She stood up and allowed him to guide her up the stairs towards the bedrooms. It was only when Harland reached his own room that Madeline started to fret. She was a woman of noble birth and it was already scandalous that she'd run away from home before her own wedding, let alone that she was now entering another mans room! But as he opened the door she was greeted by an irresistible smell...Oh my. Madeline closed her eyes as she breathed deeply through her nose. Harland let go of her hand but Madeline just wanted to embrace this smell for a few seconds longer. When she finally mustered the strength to open her eyes she gasped. Harland had his back to her but he'd taken off his white pants as he had begun to take of his shirt. "What are you doing?" She screamed. Harland looked over his shoulder and smiled at her knowingly. His hands were playing with something near his waist. Strangely, Madeline only felt a warmth spread through her body at that and it caused her to step further into the room, closing the door behind her. This only caused him to smile more before he spoke. "I do have a secret I need to share with you, Madeline. Especially since you're my one true love. I...like to cook. And I want to cook you something now. Something I'm famous for." He spun around, his eyes looking from his hips, to her. Madeline, processed his words but she was too busy looking at down at his cock. The poor thing was being choked by Harland's hands. "What are you doing to that poor rooster?" Harland, laughed before he lifted it higher in the air as it squawked. "Madeline, this isn't a rooster. It's a hen and it's my specialty. Don't be a chicken, come closer and I'll show you." She was terrified but as she looked at Harland she could see the passion on his face. He loved...whatever he was about to do. In this case, murder to that poor hen but we're going to overlook that because it's all for the greater good. "Sit down," He told her. "I'll tell you my story as I prepare for you the greatest meal you'll ever taste." And so the night wore on. Madeline sat at the table between eleven small dishes filled with herbs and spices. She watched Harland, with splatters of blood dotting his skin, feathers littering the floor around him as he told her about his past life. His parents owned a chicken business across the sea and he was to be the heir of the business...but he had been too afraid. He was scared he wasn't good enough especially because he planned on franchising the business to become even more famous and wealthier. He broke a chair into pieces and started a fire right in the middle of the room as he crumbed the chicken with spices and flour and all that other stuff you use to make delicious pieces of heaven. As the food began to cook, the smell that had been in the room intensified and Madeline found herself becoming more and more relaxed but also eager to taste Harland. Uhm, Harland's food. Finally, he set a box down in front of her. Inside of it was 10 pieces of freshly prepared Original Recipe chicken, 2 large chips, large coleslaw, large potato & gravy, and a 1.25L drink™. Madeline looked from the food up to her Harland. As he told her the last part of the story. That his parents had died a really hazardous death when the chickens fought back and smothered them before they even really had a chance. And so now it was his. The business, the home, the life he had before. He was now a rich man and he was to take back the family name. He was Colonel Sanders and he was still the love of her life. Madeline pretended to forget that she'd said earlier she wanted a normal life because let's be real, who would pass up a life of wealth and chicken? She couldn't wait to rub this in Veronica's face. Madeline, reached over and took Colonel Sanders hand. "I still love you," she declared and then looked at the food. "There's so much here, I don't think I can eat it all on my own." Colonel Sanders smiled cheekily. "This, my love, is the Family Box." "The Family Box!" She exclaimed. "But there's only two of us..." He smirked and looked behind him at the bed. "Baby, After we've eaten that chicken, i'm going to give you some stuffing and we're going to create a new beginning for us." Madeline had never eaten food so fast, she barely had time to register the crispy skin and slightly dry chicken, the under-salted chips and the disappointing coleslaw that no one really likes. But the gravy, oh god the gravy was perfect as always. She drank her 1.25L beverage but not all of it. She'd leave a little bit in it so it felt like a waste to throw it away and then just let it go flat over the next few days before finally throwing it away. And only when they'd eaten the last piece of chicken did Colonel Sanders swoop down, picking Madeline up and sweeping her off the feet (just like in the COVER YO) and carried her to the bed. He planted a kiss on her lips and they both savoured the delicious taste of chicken. "You're KFC." She said seductively. "What does that mean?" He growled, removing her clothes. She blushed, a little embarrassed. "You're...Kinda Fucking Cool." Colonel Sanders laughed. His hand now trailing down to the apex of her thighs. Madeline let out a moan of passion. Colonel Sanders thought about those words. "I like that...KFC...Kicking Fat Children...Klassy Fried Chicken...Kentucky Fried Chicken!" And just like that, he had found his restaurant name! "Now, you just need a slogan." Madeline purred. Colonel Sanders waited until Madeline had screamed his name euphorically and then lifted his hand between them, looking at his fingers. "I think I just found that too..." He said, looking into the camera like he's on The Office. "Finger. Licking. Good."

[instantdeerlover]

Our Three Favorite Spots For Everything added to Google Docs

Our Three Favorite Spots For Everything

We think about food a lot. Like, a lot a lot. And while we have plenty of guides to great first date spots and lists of literally every single sports bar in LA, sometimes, what’s really on our minds are specific dishes. Singular foods that, much like a Kylie Minogue love interest, we just can’t get out of our heads.

And thus, Our Three Favorite Spots For Everything was born. Each week, we give a different staff member free rein to write about the very best spots for those very dishes - from gluten-free pastas to big ol’ chicken parms, and everything in between. This is our very specific field guide to eating in LA, and we’ll be updating it regularly, so check back often for more inside looks at what’s going on in our brains (spoiler alert: it’s mostly just cured meat plates and this video of Kim Cattrall scatting).

three spots for: lobster rolls

Chances are that within approximately seven minutes of meeting LA Staff Writer Brett Keating, you’re going to know two things about him: He grew up in Massachusetts, and he has strong feelings about seafood. (Don’t get him started on how to pronounce “scallop.”) So needless to say, he’s very critical when it comes to lobster rolls. Here are his three favorites in town.

 Jakob Layman Broad Street Oyster Co. $ $ $ $ American ,  Seafood  in  Malibu $$$$ 23359 Pacific Coast Hwy 8.6 /10

I always thought only tasteless yuppies from Connecticut preferred hot-buttered lobster rolls to cold ones with mayo, until I tried the one at Broad Street Oyster Co. in Malibu. The roll is perfectly toasted, the lobster is fresh and not at all spongey, and the clarified butter takes it to another level.

 Jakob Layman Found Oyster $ $ $ $ Seafood  in  East Hollywood $$$$ 4880 Fountain Ave Not

Rated

Yet

Found Oyster does quite literally everything right - including their lobster bisque/lobster roll mashup, a fantastic, cayenne-heavy version that I’ll happily sacrifice a couple orange-ish stains on my shirt for.

 Jakob Layman Connie And Ted's $ $ $ $ Seafood  in  West Hollywood $$$$ 8171 Santa Monica Blvd. 8.3 /10

The most substantial roll of the three, the cold roll at Connie and Ted’s is a classic. It’s heavy on knuckle meat (the premier lobster roll meat, if you ask me), and lightly dressed with mayo. I absolutely douse it with lemon, too.

three spots for: eating alone

Editorial Operations Manager Jess Basser Sanders enjoys being alone. It’s why she wrote guides like Where To Get Some Pasta And A Glass Of Wine By Yourself, and shows up to work an hour-and-a-half before anyone else. So as a self-proclaimed master of solitude, here are her three favorite places to eat by herself. Don’t try to join her.

 Jakob Layman Hippo $ $ $ $ American ,  Italian  in  Highland Park $$$$ 5918 N Figueroa St 8.2 /10

If I had a spirit meal, it would be pasta and a glass of wine (OK, sometimes I swap in a martini). It’s fun to do with a friend, but secretly, I love it when everyone else is busy. If I’m in Highland Park, my preferred solo meal is at Hippo. You can almost always walk in and sit at the bar. Bring a book, try one of the wines on tap, and order whatever pasta they’re serving that night.

Pho 2000 $ $ $ $ Vietnamese  in  Koreatown $$$$ 215 N Western Ave Not

Rated

Yet

Years ago, I worked in Koreatown at a job I hated. So whenever I could escape for lunch, I’d jump in my car and drive to Pho 2000 on Olympic. I’d get the oxtail pho and spend an hour slurping in silence, scrolling through my phone looking at job postings. Now I just go back for the pho - and the nostalgia.

 Jakob Layman Gjusta $ $ $ $ American ,  Sandwiches ,  Deli  in  Venice $$$$ 320 Sunset Ave 8.7 /10

I used to live in Venice, and while I miss nothing about weaving my way through the tourists every weekend, I do miss Gjusta like it’s an actual real person. One reason is that I can no longer use this place the way the locals do - walking in at 2pm on a weekday, ordering a tuna conserva or tomato confit or smoked fish plate without having to wait, and eating it while leaning on the counter, knowing you’ve got life all figured out.

three spots for: gluten-free pasta

We talk about pasta a lot at Infatuation LA HQ, which makes life in the office pretty hard for our gluten-free LA Marketing Manager Marika Jayne. But rather than getting mad, she got busy - putting together this list of her favorite spots for gluten-free pasta in LA.

 Holly Liss Osteria La Buca $ $ $ $ Italian  in  Hancock Park ,  Hollywood ,  Larchmont $$$$ 5210 Melrose Ave 8.2 /10

The carbonara at Osteria La Buca is one of the best plates of pasta in LA, and just because there may not be any gluten in the noodles doesn’t make it any less great.

 Jakob Layman All Time $ $ $ $ American  in  Los Feliz $$$$ 2040 Hillhurst Ave 8.9 /10

All Time doesn’t always have gluten-free pasta, but when they do, you better get after it. Their gnocchi with lemon parm can only be described with three words: Potato pasta pillows.

 Benji Dell Jones Hollywood $ $ $ $ Italian  in  West Hollywood $$$$ 7205 Santa Monica Blvd. 8.3 /10

There’s no reason to be sad about being gluten-free at Jones Hollywood, because almost any pasta can be made gluten-free, and they’re all excellent. It doesn’t hurt to get a Dirty Sue martini, either.

three spots for: Japanese breakfast

On the rare occasion LA Editorial Assistant Kat Hong wakes up at an “acceptable time” for breakfast, there’s only one choice for her - 朝ごはん, a.k.a. asagohan, the glorious, perfect meal known as Japanese breakfast (and no, we’re not talking about Michelle Zauner’s indie rock alias). Here are her three spots for the most important meal of the day.

 Azay $ $ $ $ Japanese ,  French  in  Little Tokyo $$$$ 226 E 1st St Not

Rated

Yet

Azay is my go-to weekend spot. There’s nothing better than grabbing a corner seat on a Sunday morning, digging into their simple, homestyle breakfast set (and realistically, also whatever special they have that day) and going on Twitter while pretending to read.

 Jakob Layman Orsa & Winston $$$$ 122 W 4th St

For my birthday last year, I called out of work and treated myself to Orsa & Winston’s breakfast omakase. I like that it’s not very traditional - expect dishes like pear and apple salad, and miso-based minestrone - plus, they gave me a free pot of tea even though I didn’t even mention the birthday thing?

Fukagawa Soba & Udon $$$$ 1630 W. Redondo Beach Blvd. Ste 6

While I love Orsa & Winston’s non-traditional take, sometimes, I just want a classic Japanese Breakfast. And my favorite place for that is Fukagawa in Gardena. It’s a bit of a journey from my apartment in [REDACTED], but the D Combo, which comes with grilled fish and natto (very important!!), reminds me of the mornings when I lived in Japan.

three spots for: sandwiches so big you’ll need a nap

LA Editor James Montgomery loves big sandwiches and even bigger naps, so whenever he can combine the two, it’s gonna be a good day (though not necessarily a productive one). Here are his favorite spots for sandwiches so filling they make you sleepy.

 Jakob Layman Eastside Market Italian Deli $ $ $ $ Sandwiches ,  Italian  in  Chinatown ,  Downtown LA $$$$ 1013 Alpine St Not

Rated

Yet

There’s a lot to love at Eastside Market Italian Deli, but if I’m looking to conk out for an afternoon, there’s nothing better than their massive D.A. Special, approximately 15 lbs of sausage, meatballs, roast beef, and pastrami on crunchy bread. Sweet dreams!

 All Day Baby $ $ $ $ American  in  Silver Lake $$$$ 3200 W Sunset Blvd Not

Rated

Yet

Silver Lake’s All Day Baby is pretty new, but their smoked beef and cheese sandwich - tender beef, creamy cheese sauce, and horseradish mayo on a soft brioche roll - is a sleep aid as timeless as counting sheep.

 Jakob Layman Wax Paper $ $ $ $ Sandwiches  in  Chinatown $$$$ 736 N Broadway Not

Rated

Yet

The sandwiches at Wax Paper are named after NPR hosts, which already sounds pretty sleepy, but their Larry Mantle takes it to another level - especially if you like bologna, salami, pickled peppers, and dozing off on your drive home.

three spots for: cold brew

If there’s one thing LA Staff Writer Brett Keating is known for around the office (aside from his obnoxious support for the Patriots), it’s coffee consumption. And until he gets that cold brew tap installed at his desk, he’s going to keep pursuing his mission of finding LA’s best cold brew.

Menotti's Coffee Stop $$$$ 56 Windward Ave

If you think all cold brew tastes the same, I’m very sorry for all the mediocre versions you’ve been drinking. And also, head straight to Menotti’s in Venice. They pick their favorite cold brew batches, and send them off to a brewery to have them kegged for a perfect nitro brew.

 Modern Times Beer: The Dankness Dojo $ $ $ $ Bar Food ,  Vegetarian  in  Downtown LA $$$$ 832 S. Olive St. Not

Rated

Yet

Speaking of breweries, you probably know that Modern Times’ Dankness Dojo is one of the best in LA County. But they also roast their own coffee, and it’s great - and also reasonably priced. Get it without ice.

 Spoon By H $ $ $ $ Korean ,  Dessert  in  Beverly Grove ,  Hancock Park $$$$ 7158 Beverly Blvd 8.7 /10

Cold brew ice cubes are a discovery akin to that moment you learned your AirPods case doubles as a phone stand. Ask for them with your fantastic iced coffee at Spoon By H, where they come in the shape of coffee beans.

three spots for: Excellent table bread

Does everything taste better if it’s free? Perhaps. LA Editorial Lead Brant Cox argues that a basket of great table bread has the power to change the course of an entire meal - if not your life. Hyperbole? Not at these spots.

 Jakob Layman Jones Hollywood $ $ $ $ Italian  in  West Hollywood $$$$ 7205 Santa Monica Blvd. 8.3 /10

With solid pizza, incredible dessert, and our favorite martini in town, there are all sorts of reasons to be hanging at Jones Hollywood - and that includes their table bread. It’s basically seasoned flatbread, but when you dip it into some balsamic and olive oil, you’ll forget you came here to eat dinner.

 Jakob Layman Craig's $ $ $ $ American ,  Italian  in  West Hollywood $$$$ 8826 Melrose Ave 5.1 /10

Craig’s in West Hollywood is probably the most celebrity-packed restaurant in LA, but unfortunately, the food is absolutely awful. That makes filling up on their incredible table bread even more of a requirement.

 Holly Liss C&O Trattoria $ $ $ $ Italian  in  Marina Del Rey ,  Venice $$$$ 31 Washington Blvd 7.1 /10

If free carbohydrates come with a warning from the waitstaff to “please exercise restraint,” you know they’re going to be good. And make no mistake, the free garlic knots they hand out at C&O Trattoria are tremendous.

three spots for: french onion soup

When you hear the words “pinnacle of human creation,” what comes to mind? The immortality of the written word? The convenience of indoor plumbing? Dev Patel’s face? Well, if you’re LA Editorial Assistant Kat Hong, you think of French onion soup. Here are her favorite spots in LA to fire up a hot, hot bowl:

 Benji Dell Petit Trois $ $ $ $ French  in  Hollywood $$$$ 718 N. Highland Ave. 8.3 /10

You literally can’t talk about French onion soup without mentioning Petit Trois. Their version is mega-traditional, which means it comes full of caramelized onions, toasted baguette bits, and enough gruyère to forget about the time I misquoted the “Myth of Sisyphus” in the company-wide Slack channel.

 Jakob Layman Oriel $ $ $ $ French ,  Wine Bar  in  Chinatown $$$$ 1135 North Alameda Street 7.9 /10

I am fully obsessed with Oriel, to the point that I once made this photo of their dining room the background on both my phone and my work computer. And while I will happily eat everything on the menu here, their F.O.S. is trèèèèèèès bon.

Trader Joe's $$$$ 8611 Santa Monica Blvd.

Trader Joe’s: Frozen section. Two-pack. Thank me later.

three spots for: A big ol’ chicken parm

LA Editor James Montgomery isn’t here to take part in your small-plate scam. All he wants is some good ol’ gut-busting chicken parm, the kind that’s buried beneath a sheet of bubbling cheese, drowned in a sea of marinara, and so big that the accompanying side of pasta feels like a cruel joke. Here are three spots that do it right.

 Dan Tana's $ $ $ $ Italian  in  West Hollywood $$$$ 9071 Santa Monica Blvd 8.6 /10

Ordering the chicken parm at Dan Tana’s is practically a prerequisite, right up there with getting hit on by Ron Jeremy. It’s cheesy, saucy, and the more martinis you drink, the better it gets. And you can say the same thing about Ron.

Little Toni's $$$$ 4745 Lankershim Blvd

It’s certainly not as well-known as other old-school Italian spots, but Little Toni’s in North Hollywood makes a chicken parm that I’d put up against any in the city. You will have leftovers.

 Jakob Layman Dear John's $ $ $ $ American ,  Steaks ,  Italian  in  Culver City $$$$ 11208 Culver Blvd 8.0 /10

The rebooted Dear John’s in Culver City pays homage to Old Hollywood, so I expected them to do a mean chicken parm - I didn’t expect it to be stuffed with cheese, though.

three spots for: a whole damn fish

LA Staff Writer Brett Keating grew up in New England, so he’s basically always talking about Cape Cod. It also means that he spends a lot of time thinking about seafood, and if he sees a whole fish on the menu, he orders it. So here are the best places in LA when you want to pretend you’re a grizzly bear and eat a fish whole.

 Jakob Layman Here's Looking at You $ $ $ $ American ,  Seafood  in  Koreatown $$$$ 3901 W 6th St 8.3 /10

Here’s Looking At You’s whole-cooked sea bream comes coated in what are basically green curry Rice Krispies, and it’s fantastic because of it. And because it comes with a sauce made from coconut caramel.

Cheko El Rey Del Sarandeado $ $ $ $ Seafood  in  Long Beach $$$$ 343 E Market St 8.4 /10

It’s easy to get overwhelmed by options at Cheko El Rey Del Sarandeado. But the Mexican seafood spot in Long Beach’s whole-grilled snook - flayed open, and grilled over low heat - reigns supreme.

 Jakob Layman Dudley Market $ $ $ $ American ,  Seafood  in  Venice $$$$ 9 Dudley Ave 8.5 /10

Reasons I’ve gone to Dudley Market: The wine list, the clam and pork toast, to prove to my boss that it’s really true they own a fishing boat (it is). And in addition to all those, anytime it’s on the menu, I get the Vietnamese-inspired fried rockfish with nuoc cham.

three spots for: pad thai

LA Marketing Manager Marika Jayne has a lot of opinions about a lot of foods - but she’s most passionate about pad thai, a food that can be eaten for any reason, at any time of day. Here are the best places to eat the ubiquitous Thai dish, in her words.

 Luv2Eat Thai Bistro $ $ $ $ Thai  in  Hollywood $$$$ 6660 W. Sunset Blvd. 8.7 /10

No matter what time of day, if you’re alone or in a group, or if you go to the restaurant or get delivery, Luv2Eat Thai is never going to let you down. They have the best pad thai in LA, with the perfect balance of sweet and savory. Get it with the duck.

 Jakob Layman Jitlada $ $ $ $ Thai  in  East Hollywood ,  Thai Town $$$$ 5233 Sunset Blvd. 9.4 /10

You’ll be tempted to try everything at Jitlada, and you should, but don’t skip the pad thai just because you see it on so many menus. They do it very, very well, and it’s also a great palate-neutralizer after their extremely spicy Jungle Curry.

 The Original Hoy-Ka Hollywood $ $ $ $ Thai  in  East Hollywood ,  Hollywood $$$$ 5908 Sunset Blvd. 8.1 /10

Not only is The Original Hoy-Ka a great lunch option in Hollywood, the portions of the pad thai (and almost everything) are big enough to become your dinner that night, too.

three spots for: tsukemen

LA Editor James Montgomery grew up in Florida, so whenever he mentions dipping, we assume he means tobacco. But sometimes, he’s actually talking about dipping noodles - a.k.a. tsukemen, noodles dunked in a bowl of rich broth. And while that sounds simple, good tsukemen is actually tough to pull off. Both the noodles and the broth must be perfect, because there’s nowhere to hide the shortcomings of either. Here are three places that get pretty close to perfection.

 Tsujita Tsujita LA $ $ $ $ Japanese ,  Ramen  in  West LA $$$$ 2057 Sawtelle Blvd 8.3 /10

You will always wait at Tsujita, but at least you’re waiting for LA’s best tsukemen - their rich and flavorful cha siu, with BBQ pork over cold noodles.

Palms Ramen Yumeya $$$$ 11127 Palms Blvd

Palms Ramen Yumeya is an unassuming spot, but their tonkotsu tsukemen definitely deserves accolades. Plus, if you ask for extra garlic (which you should), they’ll deliver fresh cloves - and a garlic press - right to your table. Go wild.

Menya Musashi $ $ $ $ Japanese  in  Sawtelle Japantown $$$$ 2012 Sawtelle Blvd Not

Rated

Yet

Menya Musashi is located on the same stretch of Sawtelle as Tsujita, which is a pretty bold move. Good thing their tsukemen is up to par, especially if you order it with pork belly, thin pork katsu, and a soft-boiled egg.

three spots for: pastries

Editorial Operations Manager Jess Basser Sanders has a unique role. She works in our LA office, but has to be on our New York office’s time. So she starts work every morning around the same time everyone else is waking up. But as such, she’s learned a lot about LA mornings. Specifically, where to find the best baked goods in the city.

 Konbi $ $ $ $ Japanese ,  Sandwiches  in  Echo Park $$$$ 1463 W Sunset Blvd 8.0 /10

My favorite time of day at Konbi is 8:56am. It’s the perfect time to sit at the counter, order a breakfast set, and put dibs on a couple of LA’s best pastries right as they come out of the oven. Don’t try and choose between the plain and chocolate croissants - just get both.

 Jakob Layman Huge Tree Pastry $ $ $ $ Chinese ,  Taiwanese  in  Monterey Park $$$$ 423 N Atlantic Blvd # 105-106 8.0 /10

I am not the kind of person who would a) order a glass of milk or b) dip anything in it, but I make an exception for Huge Tree Pastry in Monterey Park, where the Taiwanese donuts are not complete without a mug of house-made soy milk to dip them in.

 Jakob Layman Lodge Bread Co $ $ $ $ Cafe/Bakery  in  Culver City $$$$ 11918 W Washington Blvd 8.7 /10

I don’t have any kids, but every time I order the cinnamon bun from Lodge Bread Co. I get a little insight into what the parent life might be like. It’s almost as heavy as a newborn (my arm gets sore carrying it home), and wherever it goes, people want to take photos of it.

three spots for: khao soi

In the waking moments of your day, what’s the first thing that crosses your mind? Is it the overbearing work project you’ve been putting off all week? Why Rose didn’t pull Jack onto the door with her? Lizzo? If you’re LA Editorial Lead Brant Cox, the answer is khao soi. And more specifically, how soon he can get the curry noodle soup into his body. Here are his three favorite spots when he needs to scratch the itch.

 Jakob Layman Northern Thai Food Club $ $ $ $ Thai  in  East Hollywood ,  Thai Town $$$$ 5301 Sunset Blvd #11 8.3 /10

For me, it’s the creamy coconut broth that usually makes a khao soi. At Northern Thai Food Club, it’s the giant leg of chicken that’s so perfectly-cooked the meat falls off with one brush of the fork.

 Jakob Layman Pailin Thai Cuisine $ $ $ $ Thai  in  Hollywood ,  Thai Town $$$$ 5621 Hollywood Blvd 8.1 /10

You could pass Pailin 100 times and not notice it. But you can eat Pailin’s khao soi once and be changed forever.

 Spicy BBQ Restaurant $ $ $ $ Thai  in  East Hollywood $$$$ 5101 Santa Monica Blvd 8.0 /10

I once ate Spicy BBQ’s khao soi three times in one day. And yes, that’s a brag.

three spots for: prosciutto

How do you measure luxury? In bubble baths and champagne? In sports cars named after arachnids? Well, if you’re Infatuation LA Editorial Assistant Kat Hong, it’s all about cured meat. If you’re looking to get in touch with your inner George Alexander Louis, she’s got three places that serve prosciutto so good, you’ll feel like a little prince.

 Phillip Guerette The Factory Kitchen $ $ $ $ Italian  in  Arts District $$$$ 1306 Factory Place 8.6 /10

I’m not particularly religious, but if there was any indication that God exists, it would be the prosciutto + fried dough + burrata behemoth from Factory Kitchen.

 Jakob Layman Larchmont Wine and Cheese $ $ $ $ Sandwiches  in  Larchmont $$$$ 223 N. Larchmont Blvd. 8.9 /10

For the days you wake up with a fever and the only prescription is more prosciutto, head to Larchmont Village Wine and Cheese and get the #5 sandwich.

Cookbook $$$$ 1549 Echo Park Ave

I once left Cookbook with five packages of their prosciutto. Maybe that was overkill, or perhaps pure hubris. Either way, it was worth it.

three spots for: drinking a martini tonight

Is there ever a bad time to get a martini? Not really. But the best time is definitely tonight. Here’s where LA Staff Writer Brett Keating is headed as soon as he’s done here.

 Freedman’s $ $ $ $ Deli  in  Silver Lake $$$$ 2619 Sunset Blvd 8.4 /10

Sure, Freedman’s has great food. But their Classic Martini is the real reason I go to this Silver Lake spot twice a week.

 Jones Hollywood $ $ $ $ Italian  in  West Hollywood $$$$ 7205 Santa Monica Blvd. 8.3 /10

Jones has the best martini in West Hollywood, and no matter what restaurant I’m driving back from, they’re never too far out of the way.

 Chez Jay $ $ $ $ Santa Monica $$$$ 1657 Ocean Ave Not

Rated

Yet

Chez Jay’s martini isn’t going to blow you away. But it’s the size of a 7-Eleven Slurpee, so anytime quantity is more important than quality, this is where I go.

via The Infatuation Feed https://www.theinfatuation.com/los-angeles/guides/best-food-breakfast-lunch-dinner-la Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://trello.com/userhuongsen

Created February 25, 2020 at 12:44AM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

[bigmouthbadsleeper]

Are You There Pizza? It's Me, Gabi.

When I was twelve, my favorite album was Alanis Morissette’s “Jagged Little Pill”. There’s a song on it that I love called “Mary Jane”, and it remains my calling card to this day. The lyrics cut me real deep, in particular the part that goes, “I hear you’re losing weight again, Mary Jane. Do you ever wonder who you’re losing it for?” One time on a car ride I told my mom that I felt like I was Mary Jane, and when she asked what I meant by that, I told her about that line and she started to cry. I didn’t understand why back then, but now I think it was probably because she knew what it was like to be a woman. It probably hurt her that even at twelve I felt the pressures of a society that placed so much emphasis on looks rather than on being a person of substance.

I’m trying to remember the first time I became aware of my body, and I think it was in sixth grade. A boy in my class called me a whale. He didn’t mean it as a compliment, like “Hey, whales have excellent hearing, and have a very intriguing way of communicating. You are very much like a whale.” It was in a mean way, said with disgust. “Look at her, she’s a whale!” I guess he meant it in more of a “Whales are very large mammals so it’s no surprise that they consume large amounts of food” way. I don’t remember why my body was a topic that was up for discussion at that time, I only remember the sharp sting that came along with that word. It was as if I had been slapped across the face. I was stunned into silence, which was odd for a kid who was pretty much widely known for being a big mouth (apparently avid communication is another thing I have in common with whales). I just sat there staring at him, with a burning urge to punch him in the face. I knew I couldn’t do that, and not in a Martin Luther King Jr., “violence is never the answer”, kind of way. More like an “I would never be strong enough to overpower a boy” kind of way.

(When the twerp in your class calls you a whale in a mean way even though they are majestic creatures and also no one should ever comment on your body because it’s nobody’s business!)

I don’t know when society decided that fat means ugly, but it has been the story that has been told to me all of my life. That I WOULD be beautiful, if only I wasn’t so fat. The first time a guy said some variation of that sentence to me, I was 14. I’ve heard it so many times over the course of my life, I can’t even count them all. Although I am confident about certain talents that I have, I have never ever been confident about my body. I don’t know a life where I haven’t been aware, at all times, that I am overweight and therefore less desirable, less capable, and less beautiful than everyone else in the room.

I wasn’t a fat kid, but I was a chubby teenager who grew into a fat adult. If these terms make you feel sad or uncomfortable, I feel you. They make me feel sad and uncomfortable, too. I didn’t ask for these to be the words that described my body or my looks, but they were the words that were thrust upon me by those around me, and by society at large through movies, television, and magazines. The majority of people who made comments about my body were boys, but some of the more cruel girls would make remarks too. Sometimes they were meaner than “fat” and “chubby”, and sometimes they were more subtle, like, “Are you really going to eat that?” or “I thought you were on a diet?” As far back as my memory takes me, my weight has always been an issue, and it’s been an issue that, for some reason, other people feel the need to comment on. It’s exhausting for me to think about my weight; to think about every piece of food that I put in my mouth, and to plan out every bit of physical exercise I do. In many ways it is a miserable life to constantly feel like who you are is wrong, lazy, bad, ugly, etc. As exhausting as it is to calorie count and restrict myself, the bigger pain associated with my body comes from the unsolicited comments I receive from other people about it.

Despite my weight, I’ve always been an active human. For many years of my life I got up at 5:00 in the morning to walk around the block before work. When I got a job that started earlier in the morning, I joined a gym and started exercising later at night. I’m a Just Dance champion. I use five pound weights with my workout DVDs. I do yoga. At one point in my life I could hold a plank pose for three minutes straight, which I think basically means I’m Wonder Woman? Being overweight means most people assume you’re lazy and you do nothing but eat all the time. To those people I say GOOD DAY SIR. Most people are surprised to find out that I don’t binge, snack, or overeat, and that I exercise regularly. While exercise is a big part of being mentally and physically healthy, it doesn’t make you skinny. Obviously.

My body isn’t like other bodies. Because of my medical condition, I have a very hard time losing weight. I’ve tried many diets in my lifetime, some more weird than others. I once did I diet in high school where I ate a grapefruit and bacon for breakfast every morning. That lasted all of five days. I’ve tried the Atkins diet. Body For Life. Weight Watchers. I’ve choked down more gross food than I can count. I saw the best results when I counted calories. For a straight year I exercised every day, and restricted myself to a daily intake of 1,250 calories. I lost twelve pounds, and four of them were lost in the first month. Those kinds of results are depressing to say the least. I got the feeling that I was trying so hard to get my body to be something that it wasn’t. Losing weight seemed impossible for me, so why was I trying so hard to look like someone I wasn’t?

(at least she got to eat cheese, right ladies?)

A couple months ago, I decided to try the Whole 30 program. I first heard about it a few years ago, through the #whole30 Instagram hashtag, and when I looked into it initially, I thought anyone who did it must be crazy. As someone who loves food, I couldn’t imagine being that restrictive on what I ate for an entire month. No bread, no grains, no dairy, no sugars, not even honey. I am not one of those people who eats for fuel. In fact, I am a person who rolls my eyes at people who say they eat for fuel. I eat because I love food. Food is my friend. Food helps me cope with difficult things, it helps me feel better when I am sad. Pizza would never let me down. Cheeseburger always makes me feel happy. I couldn’t imagine going a whole month without my friends. What was I supposed to do when I had a bad or hard day? You mean to tell me that I can’t talk to Burrito about it?? I have to just deal with it on my own?? What kind of sorcery is that?? It wasn’t something I ever even considered possible for myself, which is primarily why I decided to do it. I didn’t like that there was something out there that I thought was impossible to do. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do something that was very difficult for me. If I lost weight on the diet, I would count that as a bonus, but what I really wanted to do was challenge myself, and hopefully change my relationship with food and my body.

I’ll be real honest with you, this diet was rough for me. I really struggled. On the first day, I got a migraine and barfed three times. As I sat on the bathroom floor, sobbing and gripping the toilet seat, I started to doubt myself. I wondered if this was maybe not the best idea for me. I was doing the diet with my husband and a couple members of my family, and they all assured me that it was okay if I needed to quit, and I did seriously consider it. I laid on the couch with my head throbbing and tears in my eyes and looked over at the white board that was in my kitchen. My husband and I had written so many encouraging things on it the night before, along with meal ideas and grocery lists. Emblazoned in the middle of the board in bright orange ink were the words “DAY 1���. I stared at that board for a long time, imagining what it would look like when it said “DAY 10”, or “DAY 15”. I thought about how amazing I would feel when I would finally be able to write “DAY 30”, and I wanted so badly to feel amazing about myself. I wanted a win. With the image of myself writing that on the board secure in my mind, I decided that I wasn’t going to let one bad day keep me from finishing what I had started. I was going to keep going, and I was going to finish.

(every day we would write something on our white board that encompassed how we were feeling that day-most of them had swears- I wish I could share them all with you, because they were top comedy.)

Spoiler alert: that wasn’t the last hard thing I went through. The first ten days were miserable. I choked down every broccoli floret, every dry piece of chicken. I lived for the few “treats” that I allowed myself; dried apricots, Utah peaches, and a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. I savored those things and they tasted as good to me as any scoop of ice cream. Three days into the diet, I dreamed that I drove to Little Caesar’s and got a Hot n Ready pepperoni pizza, without my husband knowing. I took one bite out of it then began to sob because I cheated and ruined my diet. I tossed the rest of the pizza into a dumpster and woke up in a cold sweat. The dreams I had on this diet were truly wild, man. I dreamed about chicken strips, I dreamed about ice cream. I dreamed about taking a bath in ranch dressing. I spent many waking hours being disappointed with the weakness of Dream Gabi. She’s a maniac, I tell you.

I read a lot about this diet and most everyone commented on how hard the cravings would hit you, and they weren’t kidding. On day ten I went to the grocery store to get a couple things I needed for dinner, and I became a salivating savage in the bakery section. I walked around like the velociraptor in that scene from Jurassic Park. You know the one, where the steam from the raptor’s nostrils fogs up the window? Yeah, that me. I went to the little containers where they sell fresh baked bread and lifted the lid and took a giant hit of fresh Kaiser roll. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. I sadly slunk past cheese island without taking any samples. I was a hero, I tell you! Strong and noble. Joan of Arc and her flames have nothing on me and my resistance to carbs and dairy! Feel free to write about me for future school papers on strong women.

During the first part of the month, I cared more about food than I ever had in my life, mainly because I couldn’t eat any of the things I wanted. Going to the movies was a particularly sad affair. Two weeks into the diet we snuck fresh pressed juice into the theater in my backpack. I was disappointed in myself for spending $13 on two small orange juices, but desperate times call for desperate measures! Movie popcorn is my number one all-time favorite treat. Not being able to have it was bad enough, but smelling it and listening to everyone around me smack it around in their mouths during the movie was torture. Over the course of that month my husband and I had many “nothing” fights, purely because we were hangry. In a particularly low moment, during an argument where I was unnecessarily irritated because I was so hungry, I started crying like a toddler and then maniacally laughing. It was a wild ride, my friends.

(sadly, pizza and I could only be internet friends during this time period. which basically meant I googled pictures of pizza all the time and cried.)

People online talk a lot about the “Tiger’s Blood” phase of the diet, which sadly I never achieved. I never felt anything even remotely like a tiger! I was generally less energized, more tired, and my skin was as bad as ever (I knew my acne was all hormonal but that didn’t stop me from hoping that it would clear up when I cut out dairy completely). Most of the time I continued on with the diet only because I didn’t want to be a quitter, and I really didn’t want to let myself down. Because I’m such a fan of social media, I really wanted to be able to post about my experiences online. I decided against sharing anything related to the diet until after I finished it, because I didn’t want to have to tell all of my friends that I failed. Except for the vent sessions I had with my husband or my mom, I kept everything I was feeling to myself. Sometimes I don’t know what I’m most surprised by, the fact that I went 30 days without pizza, or the fact that I did it without talking about it online. Both were difficult in their own way.

(here’s a pic of how our board looked when we were a little over halfway through and we really got our crap together.meal planning and cooking was really the worst part of all of this, tbh.)

Reading all this probably makes you wonder if there was a single positive thing I felt while dieting. The answer is yes! I did have some good feelings! Most importantly, I really never felt so proud of myself. I was so thrilled to write “DAY 30” on my white board. I still haven’t erased it, it’s just so dang satisfying to see it up there. I feel accomplished. This is the furthest I’ve ever gone with an extreme diet. About ten days in, my belly started feeling smaller, and continued to get smaller throughout the month. That was a huge deal for me! My husband and I took measurements and weighed ourselves the night before we started, and the morning after we ended. I lost 21 pound and five inches off my waist. That’s almost double what I lost in a whole year of calorie counting. I do love that during this diet I didn’t have to count or measure anything out. Sometimes I feel like I spend my life counting, and that gets old after a few years.

I’ve been done with the diet for a few weeks now, and sometimes I still can’t believe it’s real. I can’t believe I really went a month without pizza, soda, ice cream, chicken strips, etc. The people who work at the Soda Shop probably think my husband and I are dead! Though we are finished with the initial 30 days, we have decided to continue with the Whole 30 program during the week, and eat in moderation on the weekends. I’m hoping to continue to lose weight while still allowing myself to eat for enjoyment every once in a while. I’ve found a new appreciation for my body in these past 30 days. I think it’s kind of amazing, all the things it can do for me. Although I have changed the way I see food, and I now make better decisions on what I eat, I still love food a lot. That hasn’t changed much. There’s a quote from a famous supermodel that goes, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” and that makes me sad because she’s obviously never had the sourdough pizza that we make in our backyard, and I feel bad for her.

I think back to who I was at twelve, the girl with the flushed face and balled up fists in her sixth grade classroom, irate over the boldness of a strange boy who felt like her body was available for his commentary. I love that girl. I don’t think she is fat or ugly. I think she is brave, and smart, and kind, and it makes me sad that she ever felt like anything less than that. Why do those feelings only apply to past versions of myself? Why is it so hard to feel that way about myself now? I think maybe what I’m most proud of myself for is the fact that I did this for myself. I could have quit, but I didn’t I kept going because I wanted to prove to myself that I could. I hear you’re losing weight again, Gabrielle, do you ever wonder who you’re losing it for? This time I was losing weight for myself, and that really does feel better than any pizza tastes.

Well. Almost.

[stillinstyle]

Nano Day 3

With my buddies out of the picture and no drink in my hand, I felt more out of place then ever, so I decided to do what any good, faithful friend would have done in that situation - wait an appropriate amount of time, then sneak on over to where Tart and Lark were talking, close enough to eavesdrop but not close enough to look like a creepy stalker who collected his roommate’s shed body hair in the shower. Yeah, I complained all the time about Tart’s constant fixation on Lark Clarentine, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t invested in his attempts to win the girl. Plus, I told myself, if he ever got her to agree to go out with him, we might get a three day hiatus from the mooning. It did not take me very long to realize that it was not going well. “I don’t even know why you’re wasting your time,” Lark was saying. Her tone was so bored there was no way it wasn’t affected. No one, in any situation, sounds that bored without trying. I know this for certain because I made Gentry sit through a twenty-five minute practice run through of my science fair project last year, and even he didn’t manage to sound as utterly disinterested as Lark did. “I feel like I’ve made it pretty clear, even to someone as thick-headed and, frankly, slow as you, that I am one girl you will not be adding to your little collection.” “Collection?” Tart spluttered. “Lark, it’s not like that, okay? I don’t have any kind of collection. I’ve barely dated anyone. I’m not this playboy or whatever.” Lark looked pointedly at the kisses on his cheeks. They started to turn pink. “What, this? This isn’t…we’re just playing a game. It was Gentry’s idea. You know, see which one of can get the most girls to kiss him by the end of the party.” “Fun,” Lark said dryly. “And not at all misogynistic.” “No, no, it’s not…I mean, if it’s misogynistic I didn’t realize…it was just a stupid game, it’s not like these are like, real or anything.” Tart took a deep breath. I noticed his cup trembling a little in my hand, and was struck by how nervous he was. “Can I start over, actually? I’m gonna start over.” “By all means,” Lark crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. “Thrill me.” “I’m glad you’re here tonight,” Tart said. “I watched every episode of Madam President this summer - that’s your favorite show, right? I heard you talking about it last semester and - I mean, I did other stuff this summer too, not, like, just lamely sat there and watched a show about a woman President…not that that would be lame. Or even if it is, you can think I’m lame. I don’t mind being lame if it’ll get you to talk to me or…whatever.” Tart was rambling again, which was his go-to move when he was wracked with nerves, but from the outside I noticed something Tart probably didn’t. As he went on making a fool out of himself, Lark’s brow had softened, and her arms had relaxed. She wasn’t smiling - definitely wasn’t smiling - but she wasn’t glaring anymore, either. When it came to Lark and Tart, that was a huge improvement. “You watched Madam President?” she asked. Tart nodded. “Uh, yeah, I mean…yeah, I watched it. A few times, actually. I could probably put up a pretty good show in a round of Madam President trivia.” Lark’s eyebrow cocked up. “There are twelve seasons of that show.” “Well…yeah.” “You watched twelve seasons of a show I liked for…what reason, exactly?” Tart shrugged, but his cheeks turned so red Hannah Bledsoe’s kiss faded away like a chameleon. “I was hoping to have something to talk to you about.” Lark stared. “That’s kind of pathetic.” Tart laughed. “Yeah. I’m kind of pathetic.” And then, miracle of miracles, Lark Clarentine laughed - actually laughed. At Tart. Well, not at Tart - she’d done that plenty of times - but with Tart. I pumped my fist. “All right,” Lark said. “What did you think of Madam President.” A voice honked out from the crowd behind her. “Lark, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.” I knew that voice. I heard that voice in my nightmares. We all did. It belonged to Duncan Blank. Tart’s face darkened immediately. “Hey Duncan,” Lark said, spinning around so fast her hair whipped Tart in the face. Lark’s voice had risen an octave or two, and her ears were turning red. She looked like she’d just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I didn’t think you were coming.” Duncan scowled at her, and shot Tart a look so venomous it should have made him wither right on the spot. “Well I wasn’t going to,” Duncan said, “for obvious reasons. But I didn’t want to leave my best friend to just rot in this swamp of idiots. Stupidity is catching, you know.” Tart’s free hand was clenched in a fist, and a thin sheen of sweat was slicking across his forehead. “Guess that would make you patient zero,” he spat. “Oh, look,” Duncan said. “The king of the apes. Where are the rest of your little trained monkeys, Tart?” “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘friends’ actually,” Tart said. His voice had taken on the cold and cutting tone that only Duncan Blank could draw out of him. It fit poorly on my ordinarily kind friend. “And don’t bother pointing at Lark. I said friends, not charitable providers.” “Enough,” Lark said, and I couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that she was pointing the arrow of her anger at Tart, when Duncan had clearly started it. Duncan wasn’t going to be the one to finish it, though. I knew that for sure. Tart may have been willing to make himself look like an idiot for Lark, but he wasn’t going to let anyone else do it for him, least of all Duncan. I sighed and settled in to watch the whole scene play out, like a song I didn’t really enjoy but knew all the words to anyway. “Yeah, Tart,” Duncan said, waving his hand like he was shooing away a bug. “Go play with your little buddies. Maybe if you ask really nicely, one of them will give you a blow job.” I winced, and so did Duncan. He had made a fatal error, and he knew it. “Funny you should mention that,” Tart said, pulling out his phone. “Because I recall a certain picture making its way around the school…when was it? Oh yeah, right before the summer vacation. Let’s see if I can find it.” “Tart,” Lark warned, then turned to Duncan. “Duncan, come on, let’s go. We don’t have to talk to this idiot. Come dance with me.” But Duncan was frozen in place, his face frozen into a gray and seething mask of loathing so utterly perfect it would have made Thomas Jefferson look like Hamilton’s fairy godmother. “Oh, here it is!” Tart said, flipping his phone around and shoving it in Duncan’s face. I didn’t have to see what was on the screen. I already knew. We all did. It had been Gentry’s idea - these kind of things were always Gentry’s idea, and the more antsy, anxious, and pent up he was, the more extreme his schemes became, and the end of the year always represented the boiling point for him. Gentry’s mischief always pushed the line, but if there was ever a time he went too far, it was last year. Duncan was notoriously…awkward, and midway through last year someone noticed that they never saw him shower. Not after gym, not in the morning before class, and not in the evening before lights out, either. Most people went the obvious route when it came to weaponizing this information by making up nicknames that had to do with Body Odor, but Gentry took it a step further. Look, I don’t know why Gentry has it out so bad for Duncan. He’s a little strange, sure, and definitely not the friendliest guy, but Gentry - our Gentry, the same guy who spent a full three months last year rehabilitating a baby duckling he found sick and abandoned in the woods, who named it Goof and literally fed it from a baby bottle - just can’t leave him alone. Duncan antagonizes us his own fair share, but at this point, I don’t know which came first, the chicken or the egg, and I’m not sure I wanted to. The week leading up to the Academic Awards at the end of last year was a pretty big one, and tensions were running high. I was struggling to scrape up the last one or two tenths of a point I needed to secure my scholarship renewal for the next year (spoiler alert - I did it) and Gentry was in a neck and neck race for the top of the class in math against, you guessed it, Duncan Blanks. Gentry’s dad is pretty tough on him, especially when it comes to school stuff, but even knowing that I was surprised at how badly Gentry wanted to win this one. I’m sure it had more than a little to do with his competition. So when Mr. Oteri announced that the award would be going to Duncan, Gentry took it…not so great. Duncan didn’t help matters at all. If he was insufferable before he found out he’d be getting the award, he was downright horrible afterward. He took every opportunity to rub it in Gentry’s face, and the war went from cold to nuclear pretty fast. Gentry set up a full Carrie situation on the stage, so that right at the moment when Duncan was receiving his trophy, we tripped the wire and a full, five gallon bucket of chicken shit poured out from the rafters, all over Duncan. I still felt a little sick when I remembered Duncan’s shocked, frozen face. The rest of the school started howling instantly, but Duncan just stood there, trembling and shaking, filthy and stinking. His face was too dirty to tell if he’d started crying. He walked off the stage and disappeared out the back door, and no one saw him again for the rest of the night. That was too far, but it was only phase one of Gentry’s plan. Gentry slipped out after him and followed him to the gym, hiding in the shadows, slipping from hiding spot to hiding spot, until Duncan reached his destination. The locker room. Gentry waited outside until he heard the shower turn on, then he burst in, phone out, and snapped a dozen pictures of Duncan in the shower before he darted out, grabbing Duncan’s clothes on his way. The next day at breakfast, everyone’s phones started going off. A text from an unknown number sent a high-def photo of Duncan Blanks to every student in school, and it was both way more than anyone ever needed to see of him, and way, way less. His body looked like something a mad scientist had sewn together - bony shoulder and legs, a concave chest, and a flabby, ugly gut hanging like extra skin. But everyone’s eyes went to one body part, and it was very, very, very small. I couldn’t see it, but I knew that was the picture Tart was brandishing at him. “Oh, Tart,” I muttered, shaking my head. Duncan was a cockroach for sure, but I wished Tart didn’t always let Duncan turn him into the worst version of himself.   “So you wanna talk about blow jobs now, Duncan? Cause from the looks of it, it’ll be a good long while before you find a girl - or a guy, or anyone, really - who’s willing to suck you off through a straw.” A crack rang out over the party then, timed exactly right, between two songs, so that everyone heard it, and a hundred heads whipped in our direction at once. Lark was standing in front of Tart, fists balled at her sides. The lipstick on Tart’s cheek had smeared, and a bright, angry hand mark bloomed over it. “You’re disgusting,” Lark spat, and from the look on Tart’s face, the words hurt him a lot more than the slap did. “You and your little friends can all go fuck yourselves.” Lark took Duncan’s hand and stomped out of the kitchen, Duncan stumbling behind her. Just before they walked through the door, Duncan looked back at Tart, and gave him the most hateful, victorious little smirk I’d ever seen. Tart coughed to clear his throat and pull himself together. “Well, you’re welcome,” he said, putting on that million-watt Colgate smile of his. “Don’t worry Gloriana, you had a nasty little cockroach in your party, but I got rid of him for you. I’ll just bill you for my pest control services later.” Gloriana laughed and shook her head. “Tart, you are so terrible,” she smiled, eyes shining. “Now come on, isn’t anyone going to start the music again?”