#I’m afraid to slice a bagel ever again

[slicksquid]

going back to work is throwing a wrench in my plans of getting 1 mil ink on e-liter

[hey-hey-chan]

The Protagonist - Hyunjin

❀ Slice of life 

❀ Warning: mentions of death & covid-19

❀ Word count: 8k 

❀ When your best friend Ryujin cheats on her boyfriend who you’re also friends with, you’re stuck to pick up the pieces of their relationship. When Ryujin starts pushing you away and Hyunjin starts keeping you close, you wonder who was a better friend to you in the first place and uncover new feelings you never knew you had. 

❀ A/N: i know i haven’t written in like a year?? but i suddenly had inspiration to write. Honestly, I felt the inspiration after I didn’t get picked job opportunity I really wanted (and thought I was going to get). I was put on the waitlist, but it still hurt my ego. But, I had some other good news and you can read on my blog about it, but I still wanted to write. I didn’t really have anything in mind, but I just let my words take me where it needed to be. Also, don’t get used to me writing, I won’t be writing often or at all. I’m not that into skz anymore LOL 

------

Do you ever feel like you’re not the protagonist of your own story? 

Yeah, that’s how I feel everyday. 

Especially today.

“Ok, on the count of three, we reveal our statuses ... one... two..”

“And three!” 

I tore open the letter from my dream college, Seoul University, probably giving myself a paper cut in the process. 

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, I GOT IN! I got in y/n, holy shit!” I heard my friend’s words over the speaker, but I just couldn’t get the stupid envelope open.

“Fuck this.” I grabbed the scissors nearby and cut the damn thing open, revealing a thin piece of white paper.

I regret to inform you that you have been...

I felt tears well up in my eyes instantly at the words “regret” and “inform”, already knowing where the letter is taking me.

“Y/N?? What does it say?!” 

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t get in...” 

I cried harder, silently, when I heard her moans of agony. “No fucking way! You’re a WAY better student than I am! There’s something wrong.” 

I shook my head. I was a good student, but I wasn’t the best personality. I was only in two clubs: acapella club and bagel club. Not good enough for the best university in our city.

“It’s ok. I have plenty more universities I applied to, I’ll be ok. I’m so, so happy for you though! I swear you’re gonna have so much fun!” 

My stomach churned as I said those words. Did I really mean them? I didn’t feel happy in the moment. 

“Ugh, I hate this... I really thought we would be roommates!” 

I set the pristine piece of paper on my desk; I didn’t even want to look at it anymore. 

“Don’t worry about it. This could even be a good thing! We’ll meet new people and just widen our group of friends. It’ll be awesome. Plus, I’m too weird for this clean cut college.” I joked. 

That made her laugh. “You’re right, they couldn’t handle your personality. Anyways, I got to go to drama club right now, talk later? And again, I’m really sorry y/n.” 

I pursed my lips. “Talk later, and don’t worry about me!” I ended the phone call and let the tears fall freely from my eyes. 

I knew this would happen. 

How could I compete with a chemistry major with a 4.0 GPA and the president of 2 clubs with a bombass personality? I was nothing compared to her. 

I picked up the piece of paper and took one good look at it before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it. The soft thud barely made a sound which was anticlimactic. I was trying to have an angsty teen moment here?? 

Sometimes I felt like I was just a side character in a movie or a book. I was that girl who watched her best friend experience all these things in life and you just stand by them and cheer them on. They are the ones who have a mental breakdown and somehow end up with the love of their life at the end. 

That was my best friend, Ryujin. 

She was the one that every guy and girl fell for. Her charisma bounced off walls and even made me dizzy at times. And it wasn’t even like she was the “girly-girl” that we see in movies, no no no, tomboys are much trendier nowadays. She was confident around guys and wasn’t afraid to embarrass herself in front of anyone. I was insanely jealous of her sometimes which I would never admit. 

She’s funny and adventurous, pretty and athletic: she is everything I ever wanted to be in a person. 

She even had the hottest guy in the school as her boyfriend, Hwang Hyunjin. 

I, on the other hand, was the opposite of her. I wasn’t overly awkward and uncomfortable to be around like the protagonists of some books. I wasn’t even cold and hostile like the mysterious girl in fanfiction. 

No, I was just completely and utterly average. 

I wasn’t “ugly” or whatever that means. You wouldn’t cringe away if you saw me, but the only guys I attract on the streets are the ones who might follow me home. I was friendly to people I met and was the queen of small talk. I was girlier than I wanted to be and try to put on makeup, but end up with botched eyebrows and nonexistent mascara-- that didn’t stop me from trying though. 

I cringed at every horror movie, I hate sports, I love astrology, and the only close friends I have are girls. 

Well, the only friend I truly have is Ryujin and all her friends became mine.

Any who, I was the girl that if a story was written about her, it’d be about 2 minutes long. I never had any big failures or big achievements. No family issues or tragic past. Nothing. I was a normal girl with a normal life. 

And now one who wouldn’t even be going to college with her best friend who she depends on for her social life. Oh yeah, I was a burden too. Now she can’t even be fully happy because of me. 

Great, just great. 

I felt a buzz near the bottom of my foot. I sighed and kicked it towards me. 

‘Ok i wasnt going to ask you this, but i just have to. did you know?’ -hyunjin

I squinted my eyes, re-reading the message to see if I got that correctly. What the heck is he talking about? 

‘what are you talking about?’ 

‘are you being serious?’ -hyunjin

Ok, now this is just weird. I sat up in my bed, suddenly interested in this conversation. 

‘im being serious. i have no clue what you’re talking about. care to inform me?’ 

I sent the text, realizing this is probably the longest conversation Hyunjin and I have had over text. We often hung out in person in groups, since he was Ryujin’s boyfriend and we did have the occasional deep conversation, but talking like this was new territory. 

‘im 100% sure ryu would tell her best friend that she cheated’ -hyunjin

Wait. What did he just say? 

Suddenly I was standing, pacing around the room. 

‘ok, i’ve officially lost whatever ur talking about. what the hell are you saying? ryujin did not’ I typed in confidence, but realized I shouldn’t immediately attack the victim. I erased the message and called him. 

He picked up almost instantly. 

“What the hell did you just say?” I heard him shift around, probably in his bed.

“I said, I’m sure that Ryujin would tell you if she cheated-”

“Ok, that, stop right there. You’re saying Ryujin cheated on you?” I felt my head spin.

Ryujin can’t be a cheater. That’s impossible. And plus, she would’ve told me if something was wrong in her perfect relationship. 

I heard a loud chuckle on his side. “Wow, you really don’t know do you.” I shook my head, but I realized he couldn’t see me.

“Um, I really don’t, so I would really love it if you explained.”

“What’s there to explain? She came to my house two days ago and told me she was cheating on me with Jeongin. Yang fucking Jeongin, who is, yes, a grade younger than us!” 

I winced at his volume. Hyunjin was a lot of things, but he definitely wasn’t a liar. Neither was Ryujin which is why I had no idea what was going on. 

“You have anything to say?” He asked. But I was in complete shock. 

“Well, um... I’m gonna talk to her about this. Bye, Hyunjin.” I hung up the phone and tossed it on the side of my bed despite his muffled talking. 

What the fuck is going on?

-------

“I’m asking you a simple question, did you or did you not cheat on Hyunjin?” 

After Ryujin came home from drama club, I was already there waiting at her door. She gave me a weird look since we live a good 20 minute walk away from each other, but yes, this conversation was worth the exercise. 

“Excuse me, what did you just say?” She asked with a sassy tone, but I had no time for this bullshit.

“Did you cheat on Hyunjin? God Ryu, just answer the question!” I felt my face turning red and I knew I was losing my temper. I had no idea why I was so upset, but I just was. 

I saw her features contort, and I knew I was going to hear the truth.

“Ok, yeah, yeah I did.” 

My heart dropped.

We didn’t say anything to each other for a couple of seconds. It was like we were both taunting each other, which she doesn’t have the right to do in this moment.

“Are you serious? Why?” I asked incredulously. 

She didn’t say anything yet walked passed me and straight to her door. 

“Hey, what the hell?” 

“Y/N, I cheated on him, what else is there to say? It’s done, it happened!” I almost flinched at her tone. It was bitter and angry and it was a tone I was used to with her. 

“What the fuck? Ryu, why wouldn’t you tell me? And this is breaking Hyunjin’s heart-” 

“You know what? I don’t have to tell you everything about my relationship! It has nothing to do with you. It doesn’t even matter, ok? I just don’t wanna talk about it.” 

I stood silently, wondering who was this person in front of me. 

“Fine, I’ll leave then.” 

As I walked back to my house, I couldn’t help but feel like I was stuck in the protagonist’s drama once again. 

-----

It was almost 1am when I got back home. Thankfully, my parents were asleep and thought I was staying the night at Ryujin’s like I told them. I snuck in the house and collapsed on my bed. This was too much emotion for one day. 

I peered down at my phone and saw the light illuminate the room.

‘So. is your world shattered like mine?’ -hyunjin

I bit my lip. Was it weird to text my best friend’s ex-boyfriend like this? Technically, we were somewhat of friends too. So I’m not breaking any rules.

‘this is fucked up. im rly sorry man, she really didn’t tell me.’ I brushed my hands through my hair and felt the sweat sticking to it. I had walked back in the spring heat, it was too much. 

‘Damn, I didn’t think she would pull something like that and not even tell YOU. that’s cold.’ 

‘tell me about it. we were just fine earlier today, dont know whats goin on with her.’ I hesitated before typing the next part. ‘also, i know we arent the closest and ik im also ryu’s friend, but im here for you bro. this is a messed up situation’ 

‘Thanks, that means a lot... most of my friends are making fun of me for getting cheated on... with a JUNIOR. disgusting.’ 

I snorted. ‘technically, if ryujin didn’t skip a grade, she’d be a junior too.’ 

‘y/n, pls don’t ruin this moment’ 

‘fine, fine, disgusting, she cheated on u with a junior. plus ur friends are felix and jisung who are also complete insensitive dickheads sometimes’ 

‘Thank you.�� 

I laughed. Hyunjin was always an interesting guy to hang out with. Sure we never texted or talked much, but he was always a joy to have around. He was quiet in school, but he was animated around his friends. And of course, an awesome boyfriend to Ryujin. 

Seeing them together made me more aware of my singleness. He would open doors for her, give her his jacket when she was cold, pay for her meals, he even knew how to braid hair, like what the fuck? He was perfect.

And then she cheated on him. 

And didn’t even tell me. 

I rubbed my forehead. I was always a fixer. I fixed other people’s problems, which made me quite involved in their issues even if I shouldn’t be. 

‘but seriously though, im rly sorry this happened to you...’ 

‘yeah ... a year down the drain. and plus, i got accepted to Seoul University with her today.’ My heart sank, even when I knew it shouldn’t. 

Hyunjin was a smart guy, maybe a little too studious for his own good. He had lots of fun in high school, but made sure to go home early to events and not drink if he had a test the next day. He spent hours at the library at times and read in his free time, like me. Ryujin always hated it and thought we were too similar at times. Which is untrue because Hyunjin was way cooler than me. 

‘If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t get accepted’ 

‘That actually did not make me feel better and made me even sadder because what the fuck?? you’re an amazing student!’ 

That made me smile of course, the valedictorian was complimenting my intellect.

‘aha thanks, i’ll probably end up going to incheon uni which isn’t too far from here so i’ll be ok’ 

‘That’s good, maybe i should consider going since half the senior class is going to seoul lol’ 

I scoffed. “hyunjin, don’t give up your dream uni just because ryujin will be there. you probably wont see her as often as u think’ 

‘If I decided not to go there, it won’t be because of Ryujin. But seriously, I rarely try anything new and i feel like i’m confined to a small group of people. At least at Incheon, I’ll know less people.” 

I sighed loudly. Oh Hyunjin, it must suck to get a mental breakdown right before going to college. It happens to the best of us though. 

‘well ok, where ever you go, i’ll know you’ll thrive!!’ 

‘:) thanks y/n. also, ik we dont talk much, but i really do appreciate you.’ 

Well, that warmed my heart... and my cheeks. 

The fact that I was texting my friend’s ex boyfriend snapped me back into reality. And the fact that she cheated on him. 

I gulped. 

‘aw thanks hyunjin, i appreciate you too. Now get some sleep! it’s almost 2am’

I didn’t get a response back, and I hoped he fell asleep. I changed into my pajamas and did my nightly routine and fell asleep to thoughts of my friend’s ex-boyfriend.

------

I woke up to several buzzes that tickled my side. I grunted and threw the blanket off of me. I found my phone that was flung somewhere and picked it up. I turned off the notifications to stop the constant moving. 

“It’s too freaking early for this.” I moaned.

I rubbed my eyes and peered down at the message.

‘hey im sorrrryyy for lashing out yesterday. i just feel guilty about the whole thing and i was afraid to tell you... also i think im in love with jeongin’ -ryujin

My eyes naturally widened at this confession. 

Love? Ryujin dated Hyunjin for a whole year! How could she fall in love with Jeongin so easily??

‘excuse me?? what the fuck did you just say cuz i think u just said u LOVE jeongin??’ 

‘stfu. just hear me out, he’s a great guy and he’s just... normal’ -ryujin

Ok, time to call this bitch.

“Define normal?” I heard her sigh and adjust in her bed. She’s always been an early riser.

“Just, when I was dating Hyunjin, it felt like it had to be this perfect relationship. We were all friends before and it just seemed right that we dated. He was super nice and perfect and not to mention, hot, but it just felt superficial. I don’t know.” 

Well this was new. Ryujin never told me much about the problems in their relationship and I thought everything was going well. Well, until now.

“I mean, I get that, you shouldn’t have to date anyone you don’t like. But, you should’ve broken up with him before!” 

“You think I don’t know that? I made a mistake, ok? Can you just get off my back about it?” 

There’s that temper again. 

“Are you serious? You’re the one who texted ME in the morning.” 

“I’m just, whatever.” She paused in between her words. “You just wouldn’t understand ‘cause you’ve never been in a relationship! I just can’t describe it, ok?” And on that note, I just hung up the phone. I was in no mood to play these games with her emotional roller coasters. 

I bit my lip, knowing she would probably call me more times for hanging up on her, but I wasn’t in the mood. I was caught in between two of my friends, and I knew who was in the right and who was treating me better. 

I saw my phone light up a few more times, which made me curious as to what she was sending me.

‘Hey, do you wanna have breakfast with me this morning?’ -hyunjin

I raised a brow. This was not the message I was expecting. 

‘only if you’re paying’

‘deal’ 

-----

Soft r&b played from the speakers as I sipped from my small cup of apple juice, yes, I still drink apple juice. 

“So, how are you feeling?” I finally asked the boy. 

He was wearing a black tshirt and jeans and his hair was messier than usual. I could tell he wasn’t getting lots of sleep. 

“As good as I can be.” He shuffled around in his chair like he had more to say. “Just, it’s still crazy to me. Getting cheated on... it’s a whole new feeling.” 

I nodded, but I couldn’t relate to it. 

“Yeah...” I trailed off, not really knowing what to say or how to cheer him up. 

We locked eyes suddenly and I grew shy. Hyunjin was always hot in my eyes, even though I pretended he wasn’t, for my friend’s sake. And for mine. 

“What did she say when you talked to her?” 

I laughed. “She totally flipped on me and told me to leave. I have no idea what’s going on with her right now. She’s lashing out for no reason.” I confessed. 

“Yeah, she’s acting more temperamental lately. She always had a temper but this time... this time it’s out of control.” 

I nodded, understanding what he was talking about. Ryujin was a feisty girl with lots of emotions. I respect her for being in tune with her emotions, but sometimes her actions go too far. Most guys thought it was hot though. 

“Anyways, I don’t want to talk about her anymore. What about you? Any relationship problems?”

I forced a small smile. “Nope, all the guys that were ‘into me’ were trying to use me to get to her.” 

Hyunjin took a bite out of his sandwich and shook his head. “Stone cold Slytherin.” I laughed at that one.

“Stone cold Slytherin indeed.”

“You know, Ryu has never watched any of the Harry Potter movies?? Which is crazy because I swear the first time we talked to each other it was about what Hogwarts house we would be in.” 

I nodded slowly. “Yes, yes I do know that my best friend has never watched the movies. And it pains me everyday.” He rolled his eyes at my teasing tone. “Also, I think that’s because you guys met in Mrs. Park’s English class which I also happened to be in. Remember, we all were friends first?” 

I thought back to those days, those simpler times. Hyunjin and Ryujin only dated for a year, but they’d known each other since our first year of high school. We were all somewhat of friends, more like acquaintances. But one day, their friendship just went to the next level. 

Hyunjin nodded his head slowly. “Yeah, you’re right. Ryujin isn’t as nerdy as you.” I scoffed, knowing that was not true. I was the dumbest in the friend group. 

“Alright, whatever you say.” I was out of witty banter. 

We called for the check and walked slowly to his car. For a moment, we just seemed like two friends. Two kids from school who were eating breakfast together.

But we weren’t really. I was his ex-girlfriend’s best friend. And he was the guy my best friend cheated on. 

And we were both losing a person who was ignoring us. 

“This is me. See you sometime?” His expression was hard to read and I didn’t know if he was saying this just to be kind or if he actually meant it. Either way, I didn’t care. 

“Sure. See you.” I waved at him awkwardly and he gave me a small wave back.

-------

A few weeks went by and soon, Ryujin and I were back to normal. I still texted Hyunjin quite often, but Ryujin didn’t know that. It’s not like I was lying to her, but I didn’t feel like she needed to know. It’s not like we were going behind her back and doing anything. He just needed a friend, and so did I.

The whole world was on lockdown and school got shut down early. Everyone was locked in their homes and told to keep a distance from each other in public. My electricity bill was off the charts and I was living off of Netflix for entertainment. Sometimes Ryujin came over, but she was the only one I really saw. She was an only child, so I pitied her. 

“Ok, this one or this one?” She held up two outfits that were completely different. One was a dark green shirt that tied in the front and sparkly paired with black jeans that flared slightly at the bottom. The other was a pink blouse with flowers paired with a blue denim skirt.

I looked up from my phone and sat up on the ground.

“That dark green one, it compliments your skin tone and the jeans are cute.” She nodded and tossed the other on her bed. 

“Great, Jeongin will love this.” 

“Are you sure he understands fashion? He’s like 12.” I felt a pillow hit me face in an instant, but the comment was worth it. The age jokes never got old. 

“Shut up! He’s the same age as me, only a grade younger. You know because I skipped a grade.” She bragged. I rolled my eyes and went back to playing on my phone. 

“Okay~ Whatever you say. I’m just saying, your boobies hanging out might confuse him-” 

She gave me a glare to shut me up from finishing. I shrugged and looked down at my phone. 

“Should you even be hanging out with him? We aren’t supposed to hang out with people during this time.” 

Ryujin snorted. “It’s my boyfriend, am I supposed to ignore him? I’d rather die.” I rolled my eyes are her insensitive statement. “Plus, aren’t we hanging out right now? You’re not my family.” Ouch, I’d always considered Ryujin family, but I guess she didn’t feel the same.

“That’s different. We’re best friends and I consider you my sister, since you don’t have one.” I spat. She narrowed her eyes at me and I saw the wheels turning in her head to clap back.

“Whatever, these rules are impossible."

I stayed quiet for a little bit, but I had so much to say. 

“What? If you have something to say, spit it out.” Wow, was her aggressive tone always this annoying?

I threw up my hands in aggravation. “Fine, I just think you’re moving on too fast from Hyunjin. You just broke up with him-”

“I cheated on him.”

“Ok, you cheated on him. Shouldn’t you wait a little longer to get into a relationship? It’s ... It’s sort of cruel.”

She narrowed her eyes at me but her eyes softened. 

“Look, what happened happened already. He knows I have feelings for someone else. I have to live for myself, ok? I’ll see you later.” 

She left the room and I knew that was my queue to leave her house. 

I picked up my phone and checked my messages before I left. I only had one, how popular of me. 

‘what are you doing right now?’ -hyunjin

I furrowed my brows. His timing was impeccable. 

‘um... nothing now. why?’ 

‘can you meet up rn?’ 

My eyebrows rose in surprise. Mr. Rule Follower wants to break the rules of quarantine? Interesting. 

‘... we aren’t supposed to hang out unnecessarily right now.’ I reminded him, just in case he forgot. 

I stood from Ryujin’s floor and started to look for my car keys. The perks of being the youngest sibling is that I was given my older brother’s car when he went off to college. Sadly, he’s back, but we share the car.

‘my mom is sick. shes getting tested today’ 

I froze. 

You never expect those words to come out of your friend’s mouth.

‘where r u?’

------

I got in my car and booked it. It’s like I was moving faster than I could think. 

Hyunjin’s parents were divorced and he lived with his father, so I knew he was safe to be around. But still, he saw his mom during the summers and occasionally throughout the year. They were close.

I drove up to his house and saw him sitting there with his head buried in his arms.

“Shit.” 

I parked on the side of the road and ran out as soon as I could. He jolted up when he heard the slam of my car. 

“y/n-”

I grabbed him and immediately pulled him into a hug. I wasn’t sure why I did it, but it felt right. 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok.” I said before I could think. I wasn’t sure she was going to be ok, or if he was going to be ok, but he didn’t need to know that.

I felt him shake as tears he sobbed into my shoulder. 

“She’s so old, y/n. I’m so scared. I hope she doesn’t have it. I fucking hope so bad.” I squeezed him tighter. Tears fell slowly from my eyes as I felt his pain. 

“I’m sorry. We’ll be ok. It’ll be ok.” I rubbed his back soothingly and sat on the steps with him when he calmed down. 

“I’m sorry for being such an emotional mess right now, I hope you weren’t anywhere important when I texted you. Honestly, I called Ryujin first but she didn’t pick up.” He mumbled the last part.

I frowned, but realized why she didn’t pick up. 

“You look guilty, why?” 

I thought about lying to him, but what was the use? 

“I was actually at her house when you texted me... she was getting ready to go on a date with Jeongin.” I admit. 

I saw his face contort and he let out a few strangled cries. I pulled him closer to me and felt his head on my shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, I told her not to go.” 

“Why? We broke up already. She made her choice.” 

He took a small glance at him. His face was red and puffy; his sleep schedule was also not getting better. I knew that because we always texted at 1am. 

“I know my opinion doesn’t matter, but I think she made the wrong one.” 

He turned to face me and we locked eyes. 

Usually with other guys, I’m skittish and sometimes awkward. I wanted to get away from them as soon as I could. But with Hyunjin, I felt at peace. I felt comfortable with him, safe even. 

The boy gave me a small smile and patted me on the back. He rested his head on my shoulder again. 

“Your opinion always matters, and thank you. For everything.”

“It’s not a problem.” I pet his head like I’ve seen in movies. I don’t think I’ve ever comforted a guy besides my brother. And my brother did not like to get his hair pet. 

I guess Hyunjin didn’t either when he shot up. I gave him a startled look.

“What-”

“It is a problem. Why do you run to everyone who needs help, y/n?” 

I froze in my spot, not knowing what to say. 

“Um, I don’t know. I guess I’m just good at helping people. I like comforting people. I like making people happy.” I tried to cheer him up. I did not want him to feel like he was a burden.

Hyunjin moved out of my grasp and faced me. 

“Doesn’t it get tiring though? I’ve never seen you get sad about something. And you got rejected from your dream college that we’ve been talking about for years. Still, nothing.” 

I laughed and looked away. This conversation was getting too focused on me and I wanted to shift the topic immediately. 

“Um, well of course I get sad. It’s just I deal with my emotions better when I’m alone. I don’t mind people seeing me sad I just want alone time when I’m upset.” That was a good answer. 

He wasn’t buying it though. 

A calming silence washed over us for a short moment. He kicked a small rock to the side and it trickled down the steps. 

“Why do I feel like that’s a cop out answer?” 

I was about to give him a snarky response, but I saw the pain in his eyes. He wanted to be distracted from his pain and wanted to focus on me. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re just a side character of someone else’s story?” I blurt out. Immediately, I felt like I shared too much about myself, but I couldn’t take it back. 

His silence made me anxious. So anxious.

I started to shake my leg, a nervous habit I had. Suddenly, he placed a gentle hand on my leg to stop it from shaking. 

“Bad habit. Also, I guess I haven’t before. Because we are actually the protagonists of our own story. Even you.” He peered deeply into my eyes to get his point across. I gave him a weak smile because I knew he wanted to cheer me up. But I didn’t need cheering up, I accepted that I wasn’t protagonist material. I accepted it a long time ago.

But he didn’t need to know that. 

“You’re right. I’m being silly.”

“Oh c’mon, y/n. You’re not being silly. You’re an amazing person. Total main character material!” I raised my brow but said nothing. He knocked gently on my head. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

So many things were going through my head. Including the fact that if I were main character material, I wouldn’t be sitting here with him right now. I’d be on some date with a cute guy. And then the whole situation would blow up in my face. And I would learn from it. And everyone would forgive me except maybe one or two people, but I would be ok with that because I learned from my mistakes and am a better person.

But that’s not me. I don’t make mistakes. I pick up the pieces of those who make mistakes. I fix them. I heal them. I’m the one who makes the main character realize they’re a shitty person. 

“Too many things, Hyunjin. Too many things.” I whispered. 

We said nothing for a while until he wrapped his arms around me. 

“I hope your mom is ok.” I quietly said as I rested my head on his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I hope so too. And I hope you realize your worth one day.” 

------

‘she’s not sick!! the tests came back negative!! WOOO! party at my house... ok virutal party lol’ -hyunjin

I cheered alone in my room. The test results came back pretty quickly yet it seemed like forever ago when Hyunjin cried in my arms. And we ended up spending the whole day together after I vented my feelings to him. But that’s besides the point. 

‘that’s awesome bro!!!! im so happy !!!!!!’ 

‘:) Thanks for being the best friend i have right now lol’ -hyunjin

I paused at the words ‘best friend’. I knew he didn’t mean best friend, but it still made me smile. 

Honestly, it was pretty cool being friends with Hyunjin and I wished that we were closer friends sooner. I guess I didn’t want to get too close in case him and Ryujin broke up. I didn’t know I’d be comforting him and not her.

‘ofc. u deserve happiness hyunjin’ 

He didn’t respond for a couple of minutes which concerned me. He would usually tell me if he was busy, but he just left suddenly. 

I tried not to think much about it so I set my phone on my table. I kept peering down at my phone every few minutes, but still nothing. 

I pulled out a good book and started to read a few pages. 

“y/n! I think your friend is here.” 

I furrowed my brows and closed my book with a pink bookmark keeping my page. 

“Friend? Didn’t know Ryujin was coming over.” I whispered. “Ok dad, I’ll be there!” I threw off blanket and opened the door. I shuffled to the front door and opened it. I ignored my dad’s weird looks as he made his way back to his room. 

Once I opened the door, I saw not Ryujin, but Hyunjin. 

His face was bright and I couldn’t help but smile back. His happiness was contagious, which is why he was so well-liked. 

He finally fixed his hair that was getting long due to the quarantine, but it suit him. He wore gray shorts with a sweater on top. 

I was suddenly aware of the gray shorts I had on. 

“Hey, we’re matching.” I said lamely. He laughed with his eye smile which was his best look. “What are you doing here?” 

“Wow, I’m hurt, no hello Hyunjin, I hear you come bearing good news.” 

I laughed. “You texted me said good news.” 

“I know, but I was wondering if you wanted to hang out right now...?” I crossed my arms and leaned against the door.

“Hyunjin, we aren’t supposed-”

“I know, I know, but I’m bored! I’m an only child too you know and I only live with my dad who hasn’t gone anywhere. And neither have I unless to see you. I know you follow the rules, so you’ve probably only seen Ryujin besides your immediate family.” 

I hesitated, wondering if it was the right thing to do. My heart was saying yes, but my brain wasn’t sure.

“Just go, honey. Just be safe.” My dad’s voice boomed. I looked back and saw him giving a thumbs up. 

“Really dad?” He nodded.

“Yes, but sure not to come in contact with any other people.” 

I held my pinky up, and I noticed Hyunjin was holding his up too.

“Promise.” 

------

The roads were so empty. 

“You make me! Feel like I’m living a, TEENAGE DREAM!” 

Hyunjin and I bumped to Katy Perry bops as we drove through a deserted city. 

“Don’t ever look back! Don’t ever look back~” 

“My heart stops!! When you look at me!” I sang. 

“Just one touch, now baby I believe~” He playfully poked me. 

“This! Is! Real! So take a chance and don’t ever look back~” I finished. 

He turned down the volume as we reached our destination. 

An empty parking lot. 

“Aw, how romantic.” I joked. 

“Sorry, not much places were open.” He gave me a small smile as he parked the car and rolled down the windows. We didn’t get out in case other people were around. 

I unbuckled my seat belt and turned to him. He was already staring at me.

“I’m really, really happy about your mom,” I said finally. He smiled, I had never seen him this happy for almost a month now, ever since Ryujin cheated on him. 

“Thank you. Also, thank you for being there when I needed you.” 

I thought back to a few days ago when he was sobbing in my arms. I felt my heart shatter for him. I loved his mom too, she was always around when we were at school and was just a ball of light. 

“It’s no problem.” 

"Right, because you’re ‘a side character’.” He used quotation marks with his fingers to get the point across. 

I rolled my eyes and pushed him. “Stop! It’s true though.” 

He looked at me again, his eyes saying “explain”. 

“Stop giving me that look. It’s completely obvious.” 

“Tell me again, how is this obvious? Because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but all of your thoughts are yours. You see things from YOUR eyes, your point of view, and whatever. Your life is your life; no one else is the main character y/n.”

I hated when he said my name so much. It reminded me too much of myself. I always made sure to use people’s names in sentences to show that I knew their name and to make them feel special. I knew what he was trying to do. I hated that it was working.

“Look, if I was the main character of my own story, then why would my only purpose right now to be helping yours and Ryujin’s?” 

He flinched at my words. 

“What?” 

I sighed, feeling uncomfortable again when the topic was focused on me.

“You know what I mean. For months now, it feels like all I do is to help Ryujin’s character development. And maybe even yours. She’s the one who makes shitty decisions, I’m the one who fixes them for her. She says stupid things, and I’m the one who makes her apologize. She even gets accepted into Seoul University, leaving me behind. I just feel like everyone is accelerating and changing while I’m static! I’m the same as I was in freshman year, sophomore, junior and now senior. I’m the same person!” 

Hyunjin stayed silent while I ranted. My chest rose and fell from my heavy breathing and my cheeks were dusted with pink. 

“Also, if I wasn’t a side character, would I be here, hanging out with you, to help you get over my best friend cheating on you?” 

He had no response for my words. And I knew he wouldn’t because he knew I was right. I was the push to get them back together. I was probably going to get a text or a call sometime by Ryujin while she begs for them to get back together. Or to ask me to fix this whole situation. 

I was right. 

“You really think I ask you to hang out so much because I want your help to get over Ryujin?” 

His accusing tone shocked me, and it made me nervous. 

I tried not to focus on the police cars passing by and calmed my nerves. 

“Um... yeah, why...”

He wasn’t looking at me initially, like he was focusing on something outside of the car. 

“Y/N, I ask you to hang out so much because I like hanging out with you.” He confessed. 

At my lack of words, he kept going and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Just... this is hard to say... but I-I feel like I made a mistake dating Ryujin.” He blurted. This definitely got my attention. 

“What??”

“Please let me finish.” The desperation in his eyes lulled me to listen. 

“We were a good couple at first, but the chemistry wasn’t there. We never clicked. We didn’t talk about the same things and we could never have a deep conversation. Everything we talked about was so surface level or about her problems. She was fun to be with and a great girl while it lasted, but it wasn’t like when we hung out, even when I was still dating Ryu, we got along better. 

We could talk about conspiracy theories and weird things in history like it was normal! You were always the first one I talked to when I read a new book or if I learned a cool fact. I could never do that with her and I hate that I just realized it after we broke up. And when I started to hang out with you.

It was always you all long, y/n. It was always you.” 

What on earth was going on right now? This isn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to fix this relationship-

“Ok, I see you’re kind of freaking out. And it’s freaking me out, please say something.” 

My leg wasn’t even shaking, that’s how numb I was at this conversation. 

“I-” my voice trailed off, like I couldn’t get the words out. 

“I have a lot to think about. I’m sorry, I can’t... I-” Tears filled my eyes. I didn’t know what was going on. This stuff never happened to me. Am I supposed to give an answer right away? That’s impossible! I need to talk to Ryujin first and maybe my brother and then just ignore the whole situation. 

“It’s fine, take as long as you need.” 

The drive back was silent, contrary to what it was before. I regret not taking my own car. I regret even hanging out with him in the first place. 

As soon as we got to my house, I got out.

“Thanks for the ride.” I mumbled, because I still had manners. 

“Hey y/n.” 

I paused and turned around, mortified of what he was to say next.

“I meant everything I said when I said it has always been you. I think.. I think if you think about our memories together, you’ll see that. 

I just.. I just needed you to know that.” 

I nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. 

Then he was gone.

-------

My first reaction was to eat my pain away, but I couldn’t even finish my banana. 

Ryujin would never forgive me for dating her ex boyfriend right? That’s girl code 101. Even if she did cheat on him. Or does that cancel out if she cheated? 

I downed a cup of water in anger. 

“Woah, slow down there, you don’t want to drown yourself.” I slammed the cup down and glared at my older brother.

“Chan, please. I’m not in the mood right now.” I tried stomping away from him, but he kept talking. Like always. 

“Uh oh, is it because of your boy? I can beat him up if you want.” I felt my cheeks turn red. 

“No! Don’t beat him up. And he’s not my boy. He’s Ryujin’s.” I muttered. 

“Wooo what? That’s a plot twist! Dad said he was completely smitten with you though. And Dad’s usually never wrong about boys and their feelings. He’s a therapist you know-” 

“I know who my father is, thank you very much! And, ugh, God, I can’t even.” I couldn’t even make it to my room before I collapsed on the floor. 

In the blink of an eye, Chan was sitting next to me. “Woah there, okay, this is some teenage angst I don’t know how to deal with anymore.” 

Anger rushed through my body at his words. And I’m not sure why. 

“Shut up! I don’t have teen angst! I don’t have any problems, ok? Just Ryujin cheated on this guy. And now I don’t know what to do!” 

Chan was silent for a moment, unusual for a person like him.

“What? What do you mean what do you do?” 

“I mean, how do I fix it?” 

Chan laughed. “Fix what?” 

“Fix their problems, are you not understanding what is going on here?” 

Chan stood up, then picked me up. I would usually struggle but he plopped my on the couch, so I was ok with him... for now.

“Y/n, it isn’t your job to fix other people’s problems. How about you focus on your own right now?” 

I peered down at my hands, embarrass to tell him what was going on in my life. I felt like such a trader. I helped my friend her whole life and suddenly, I was catching feels for her ex-boyfriend. 

I opened my mouth to speak, but I got cut off my a buzz in my pocket. Then I got like 10 more. I pulled my phone out and saw the texts from Ryujin.

‘i think i made a mistake’

‘i dont like jeongin that much anymore’

‘hes not a gentleman like hyunjin!! he doesnt even pull out my chair when i sit or open doors for me. plus jeongin is lowkey childish and he is always pulling pranks on me!’ 

‘tell me what 2 do?? how do i fix this?!!??!!?’

‘also my parents are fighting again and it’s sooooo irritating !!!!’

‘sos 911 aaahhhh’ 

“Who is it? What do they say?” Chan asked curiously. I shoved him away from reading my phone. 

“They’re from Ryujin. She’s already regretting dating Jeongin. The guy she cheated with Hyunjin on.” I wasn’t sure the sentence made sense, but Chan would understand.

Chan’s eyes widened. “Damn, dick move.” I gritted my teeth.

“And now, she misses Hyunjin. She says Jeongin doesn’t compare to Hyunjin who is nice and a gentleman. And her parents are fighting again. I got to go help.” I stood up to grab my keys, but Chan stopped me.

“Tell me why you were upset earlier.” 

His stern voice shook me. 

“Y/n, tell me.” 

Suddenly, my tears were unable to hide and fell freely onto my cheeks. Chan’s face didn’t soften, but he let go of my arm. 

“Tell-”

“Fine! Hyunjin told me he liked me. And that he regretted ever dating Ryujin.” 

I fell down on the couch while Chan held me close. He pet my head, like I did to Hyunjin earlier. I guess that was a good comforting tactic. 

“And now, Ryujin wants him back. What am I supposed to do?” I whispered. 

“Do you like him back?” 

I paused. 

Did I like him back? I wasn’t sure...

Chan patted my back and stood. “I’m gonna make us some lunch, sit here and think about it. And don’t you dare think about responding to those texts.” 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

We’ve been in school together since we were kids. We saw each other grow up. We were never close, but we wouldn’t be awkward if we were paired together in a project. 

He was always nice to me. He would remember my name contrary to all the boys in our grade. I faded into the background, especially when I became friends with Ryujin in the sixth grade. 

We were in acapella together and we were always in the same friend groups, especially when Ryujin and Hyunjin got closer. 

Everyone would yell and shout at us if we started talking about a book we just read or conspiracy theory we saw online. Or when we were both contemplating being vegan when we saw a deer get hit by a truck. 

He was the one who encouraged me to wear makeup even if Ryujin told me I was shit at it. He was the one who told me I could join acapella even if I was too shy to be on stage, because he was too. He was the one who dressed up as Harry Potter characters with me when no one else wanted to. He was the one I went to when I wanted to talk about the things I loved most. 

He was the one... He was the one all along. 

“Oh my god. It’s always been Hyunjin. Oh my god.” 

Chan set down a crappy sandwich in front of me, but I was on a mission. 

“You figure it out?” 

“Yes, yes I did! But what do I tell Ryujin?” 

Chan scoffed. “What do you tell Ryujin? She’s the one who cheated on him. And she’s always been a crappy friend to you.” I frowned. Ryujin wasn’t the best friend, but she was my best friend...  

“If she’s truly your best friend, she’ll forgive you for this. So go, go get your manz.” I cringed at his language. He was not as young as he thought. 

Then, I realized something. 

I looked at Chan who was just sitting on the couch, cheering me on. 

“Oh my god, you’re a side character in my story.”

The made him pause before he took a bit. “Uh, ok? Aren’t we all each other’s side characters? The protag will always be ourselves, dork. Now go!”

I ran out the door and checked my phone. Those can be dealt with later. Or right now. I’m not sure. Maybe at the same time. 

I jumped in my car and called Ryujin and put her on speaker. 

“Hello? Y/n?? Where have you been, I texted you like 20 minutes ago! I said SOS!” 

“Am I your best friend?” 

“W-what? Where is this coming from? Yes, of course you are-”

“Then you’ll forgive me for anything right?” 

She paused. 

“Maybe. I’m not sure, you’ve never really done anything wrong.”

I gulped. You can’t back down now.

“Is everything ok, y/n?”

“I have something to tell you. And you’re going to hate me for it.” 

“What?”

There was silence.

“What, y/n, seriously-”

“I have feelings for Hyunjin!” I shouted. 

Dead silence. I could hear the few cars driving in my neighborhood and kids laughing outside. The silence was terrifying.

“You what?” 

“I have feelings for Hyunjin. Your ex-boyfriend.” 

I heard shuffling on the other side. 

“Y-you can’t. He’s my ex-boyfriend. That’s breaking girl code, and I am not over him. What the hell, y/n?”

I felt tears fall from my eyes. This is not how I wanted this to go. But this is what I expected. 

“I’m sorry. But my whole life, I have been living for you. Ever since I met you. And this time, I have to do things for myself. I’m sorry but I- I want to be selfish and I want to make mistakes that you’re gonna have to decide if you forgive me for. 

I want to be the main character of my story right now.” 

“Y/n, wait-”

I hung up the phone. I couldn’t let her get in the way of me living for me. Even if it was selfish and bitchy. I need to make mistakes to grow. And I haven’t made many ground breaking mistakes in the past, but this one feels pretty good. 

I parked outside of Hyunjin’s house and ran up the steps. 

Before I could knock on my door, it opened revealing a disheveled Hyunjin. 

“You came.” 

I was shocked at his sudden appearance, but nodded. 

“I did, um, how did you get to the door so quickly?”

“I was waiting.” A cute blush danced across his face. 

How have I not seen him before? For how I truly feel about him?

For a minute, we didn’t know what to say. 

“I-”

“I-”

We laughed. 

“You first,” he said.

I cleared my throat. 

“Hyunjin, um, I’m not very good at speeches to declare my feelings. Most likely because I’ve suppressed them over the years and haven’t shown them to anybody. 

I’m dumb and stupid and now I’m selfish because I don’t care what anyone thinks right now because I realized that I am falling in love with you.” 

His eyes grew to the size of his hand at my words. 

“What?” 

I laughed nervously. 

“Um, I was .. I was talking to my brother. And I just realized that every moment in my life that I was insecure or unsure of something, you helped me through it. And when I just wanted to talk about something nerdy like a book or a poem that made me cry, I wanted to talk to you. 

It really has been you all along.” I whispered the last sentence, but I knew he heard it. 

He took my hands and wrapped them around his waist. 

“I’m falling in love with you too. I think I always have been a little, which sounds fucking up since I dated Ryujin. But I think we both knew we weren’t right for each other.” 

I nodded, feeling safe in his embrace. 

Then, I felt him hold my face and bent down to kiss me. His lips were soft and it felt like he was hesitant. Before I lost the courage, I pulled him closer. I could feel his smile across my lips. 

He made my heart flutter like I was reading a cute romance novel. 

Except I was in the romance novel now. 

And I was the protagonist. 

[juniebjoneswrites]

Bring Me Home // Harry Styles

Are We Out Of The Woods? (5)

Next chapter is 90% Harry, strap in!

t/w: remembrance of assault 

/the past/

“This is in everyone's best interest. It will help Elijah and his family to have the best outcome for any of you to come forward with information of his whereabouts,” a detective tells the five of us, they think he’s a runaway. “We know you six were close so odds are at least one of you knows something.”

We’re all sitting around Sam’s room waiting for someone to talk. I know if I speak a single word my secrets will spill from me like a knife wound. I cannot afford the blood loss no matter how great and valid the retribution. I am scared. I pace the room with my hands in my pocket. How does the prey become the shark? Or how do you make the shark afraid? All I have on my hands are questions in blood and I can feel Eli sinking into me whispering more. I can’t shake his presence or chill. “I’m sorry,” I scream, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” But my mind is only ever as loud or violent as a echoed whisper.

I don’t know when they all decided to leave but my sister pulls me from the floor I’ve found my way to and out to her car. I still say nothing. She pins me against the passenger door. “What’s going on?” she whispers harshly. I whimper and shake my head. “You were acting like a fucking lobotomy patient in there, June,” she’s pleading. “What is going on?”

My strings are unraveling and I can’t hold on for long. I need a foothold but all I can find are fault lines. I want the earth to split open, the Devil himself to wrap his red, scalding fingers around my ankle and drag me down so I don’t have to live with this. I reach for the door handle and attempt to pull it open. Tears are coming down so heavily that if I don’t get into this car now she will have to put me in like a child. I glance at his house. The house that chose him and he quickly learned to choose back. I see the days there with our bikes in his yard that turned into days where our cars littered his driveway. I saw my childhood intertwined with his and the secret time capsule we buried in the backyard with our keepsakes. We still haven’t dug it up. I see my first kiss and my first crush. I see Josie knocking on his door and politely asking for me only to then drag me out for being late for curfew. I see secrets and promises and love. But I no longer see him.

I watched us grow and change in that house. We’re eight years after that winter day and I can still feel his hands on me. They’re different now, rough and calloused from his guitar. I feel him watching me with his eyes like the ground from our mother earth, he gave me life. I feel him around me even now, in the wind and sun. I feel him in my sisters hands, hard on my shoulders. I feel him in my chest threatening to break free and tell her everything. I am sobbing. “Quiet,” I beg him in my mind. “Quiet. Please, please.” The ground is cool and is the first thing I register. There are pebbles pushing into my skin and I can only be thankful that they’re only things threatening it now. The sound around me is high pitched and far away. I think I can hear my sister crying for me to respond but I can’t make my body move to her. “I’m trying,” I try to say. I don’t think I’m talking but there’s another voice that carries with hers. Before I can make it out everything goes black.

I wake up in my bed, I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep. My fathers snoring on a chair he brought in from the living room in the hazy evening sun. I roll over and my body feels like it took the impact of an asteroid. I try to sit up but a wave of dizziness washes over me so I lay back down. When I wake up again it's the middle of the night. I roll into the warmth next to me and find my sister's body; curling into her, she wraps her arm around me.

“Don’t do that to me again,” She whispers exhaustedly.

“I’m sorry. What happened?" “The doctors said it was from stress. You hit your head too,”

I feel my head where it hurts and it stings to the touch. I suck in a breath. Great. When I sleep again I’m being chased through the woods.

I’m running through throngs of people, and past places I’ve never been. Am I being chased? I can’t tell. But it feels like it and it feels like he's gaining. I run harder. My lungs have never felt like this. It’s like being sliced with razors and pebbles bouncing off the walls. It feels like lava disintegrating my insides. I keep running. House, house, house, house, apartments, apartments, corner store, laundromat, run down law office, pizza shop, apartments, apartments. I do not know these places. How long have I been running? I don’t know. The more my body aches to stop, the more I feel him behind me. I run harder. Runners? Wave. Have an alibi. Don’t go missing. Don’t go alone. Don’t go into the woods. Don’t go on any paths. Stay in sight. Stay alive. Run on near the coast. Find Eli.

I run like this for hours and at a certain point my mind goes blank. The only thing I feel is the heat inside. Almost tripping on an uneven sidewalk, I slow and walk over to the pier to look at the ocean. Where are you? I sit on a bench and try to steady my breath. The warm morning air buzzes as the pier comes to life. I close my eyes and listen to the sounds like a heartbeat, letting the warm sun lull me. I can almost find peace here. The pain in my body eliviates as I sink into the bench. I hear young children laughing, busy streets, the pier workers setting up their shops, people walking by on early morning business calls. Someone drops something, I imagine it’s coffee, or maybe tea. I hear them grumble. I almost want to offer to trade them their troubles. I’d like to be upset over spilled milk.

I hear seagulls cawing. Opening my eyes I watch them dip and dive in an intricate dance of fish breakfasts and stolen bagels. They are chaos in the making and I want nothing more than to see one succeed. They’re bullies, the ostriches of the skies. One lands on the arm rest opposite me and stares. “I have nothing,” I say, showing my hands. It squawks and flies away, getting lost in the mess of them. A child screams alone in front of a local bakery. I look over to find her parents and see no one. As I start towards the crosswalk for the girl a man and woman step from the bakery looking panicked. I freeze instantly. The mom gives the father her purchase and scoops the child up, thankful she didn’t get far. The man puts the food in the stroller and scans the street to cross. His gaze is on me for what feels like an eternity but I’m sure it was only a fraction of a second. If he recognizes me as they pass, he shows no sign of it, nor does his wife.

A slamming car door brings me back to and I cross the road to get as far away as I can. A runner waves on the opposite side when I make it across. I stare at him for recognition but he’s wearing glasses and a cap and the distance makes it hard, but I smile and wave back. He seems friendly enough and if that man did recognize me, I would need a witness for my timeline. I run back home.

I don’t even make it through my door before my mom flings it open and pulls me into her. “Where have you been?” She’s worried. Her hair’s thrown up out of her face, sleeves rolled as if she’s going to throw hands with my captor for my safety.

“I went for a run,” “No one knew where you were,” she pulls back. “You were just gone,”

“Mom you’re the one who told me to run,” I say back in an almost laugh.

“Yes but not before the sun is even up! Do you know what time it is?” I do not know. “Just leave a note next time or take your phone with you for Christ’s sake.” I apologize and she forgives the way moms do and offers to make some breakfast while I shower.

I turn the water as hot as I can stand and then make it hotter. I wanted to burn his eyes off of me. He must not have recognized me. I think back to remember if he ever saw my face. I massage the shampoo through my hair and feel Elijah's hands running through it. The memory quickly shifts; that man is wrapping it around his hand and shoving my face into mud and leaves. I quickly rinse and open my eyes. My scalp is still sore from his assault and my fall but the long hair he had held is now gone, cut to the chin.

I did it two days after coming home in the dead of night. Quietly, washed the crusted dirt and leaves from my body and clothes as a bruise formed over my cheek where it hit a rock after I fell. Thank goodness for the power of makeup for my ability to hide my wounds. But I couldn’t hide my shaking and panic though so I faked a stomach bug and stayed in bed for three days.

Every time I try to go to the police I can hear his voice, “I will gut you,” he pushes my face into the ground. “I will kill your family,” there’s pressure against my back. The gun cocks, “No one will believe you,” and they won't. Because cops don’t kill people. He will have no repercussions. I’m crying and trying to crawl away but he just laughs and then everything goes dark. I can’t know if he saw my face after that but the forest was dark and the moon was dim. I couldn’t even see my hands in front of me so I feel secure that if he tried to know me, the earth he pressed me into would’ve at least hidden me well enough. I still feel it swirling in my mouth like a shaken snow globe of blood and dirt.

Downstairs my mom has made blueberry pancakes and I smell banana muffins in the oven. My sister sits reading at the end of the table in her favorite pink nightshirt with an old, faded Garfield on it. Classic rock buzzes softly through my ears as my mom hums along. The sun still shines through the windows in a late, hazy morning glow. I can smell the flowers on the sill outside as the bees bobble and bounce around them. My feet are cool on the wooden floor and not far from them our tabby cat lazily lays in the sun's rays, tail flicking happily. My chest rises and falls with this safety and I control my emotions enough to hug my mom from behind as she flips the eggs. She laughs lightly and I can hear her smiling. She rubs her hand over my arms and turns within my grasp to kiss my head. “I am so thankful for you,” She whispers. My breath hitches and I bury my face deeper into her. When I feel the mud threatening me I will remember this and it will bring me home, wherever I may be.

(1) / (2) / (3) / (4) / 5 / (6)

[orangetail-works]

A Phoenix and a Raven: Mission Impossible

A/N: The prompt for this one is a little long, but I think it would be impossibly cute.  PROMPT: Person A was sent to kill Person B but they got hurt and now Person B is naively nursing Person A back to health and calling them cute pet names and Person A just cannot do this.   It turned out to be its own monster, let me tell you.  A lot longer than I thought it would be and so different than what I originally planned for plot.  Once I start typing, all plans were out the door.  Happy reading!

Chapter: Mission Impossible

“Well, it looks like everything is in order.  You will have a protection order if you so choose and an unmarked vehicle parked on your block,” the officer read off from a page and stood up to stretch out his legs. His deep voice echoed off the walls of the dank and blank walls of the interrogation room walls around them making it seem more like a cave or dungeon, “Do you have any questions?”

A younger man sat behind the table, his hands in his lap as he scanned his eyes around the room and then to the officer in front of him, “Is all this really all that necessary?  He doesn't even know who I am.”

“You can't think that he doesn't,” the officer warned and sat down across from him again, “You are the only witness that we have against Stefan Barnes.”

“I'm not even sure if what you're saying is what I actually saw,” he argued and leaned on the table.  He folded his hands over one another on the steel surface, “You all are making speculations at this point.”

The officer opened the statement that he just signed, “You saw Mr. Barnes walk into the coffee house and joined Henry Perce at the table.  After they talked over a few items- including the addition of Stefan to the man's will as successor- Henry was distracted.  You noticed Stefan add something to his cup.  A sip later and the man is dead.  Yes, you don't know what was in that addition, but you can see where we would connect the dots.”

“It could have been sugar and the poor guy choked on the bagel he was eating!”

“And the coroner just happened to find a fatal dose of Atropine in the system?”

The guy leaned back in his chair a little exasperated, “Why would Barnes single me out?”

“How many other patrons were in that coffee shop at the time?”

“We have been over this.  Other than them, it was me and two men at the front.”

“Those other two men are already dead.  Car wreck, highly suspicious,” the officer shook his head, “Mr. Barnes has connections to the darker parts of our city.”

“Like?”

“Like assassins.”

“Assassins?” a moment passed as he waited for the punchline, but it never came about, “I'm starting not to take this seriously.  If you think that this man is truly guilty and you need my help, I will.  I will testify that I was in the coffee shop, enjoying my morning when a gentleman died and I saw something go into his cup before hand.  But I don't think that statement is worth my life.  I doubt they would think that either.  Any lawyer worth their merit could argue what went into that cup.”

“Or just rid of the problem to begin with,” the officer argued back, but then shook his head, “Don't come back to haunt us when you get taken out by someone like Black Feather, Phoenix or the Green Curse.”

“I am an insignificant man in the larger realm of things,” he pushed up from the chair, “Can I go now?”

“You are free to go and live your life.  However short you make it, Mr. Fitheach.”

“Diaval, please,” he threw back and then walked out the door.

Diaval left the police station and shook his head at the slight audacity of the officers.  How a morning coffee and something to nibble on can lead to a murder investigation he had no idea.  Now, all he wanted was something to eat and head home.

As he reached his car in the parking lot, he noticed a small puddle of liquid from under one of the back tires.  He leaned down and took a peek to see liquid not only falling from the one tire, but from the other back tire as well.  He hummed to himself and leaned back.

“That doesn't look good, 'ol girl,” he patted the trunk of his car from the bumper.

He frowned at his reflection in the chrome and noticed another form behind him.  He looked over his shoulder and his chin nearly dropped to the ground. Diaval looked up to see one of the most stunning women he had ever met.  Her eyes nearly glowed green with hazel gold, sculpted cheek bones and her brunette hair straight and shining under the sun.  A small shoulder bag hung at her side.  She wore a flowing dress that still was able to show off her slim figure and a short dark jacket and covered her top.  Her hands were behind her back as she looked over him.  

“Is everything all right?” she only lifted her brow as she looked him over.

He quickly scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off in front of her, unsure of how to continue without making himself out being a complete fool. His mouth opened and closed in an attempt to say something. Anything.

“With your car?” she asked as if she needed to explain her inquiry further.

“Oh!” Diaval turned back to his car and then back to her, “She's a bit of an older vehicle.  Been falling apart for years.  Need to get myself another new model, you know?”

“Is uh... she safe to drive?”

“Probably not,” Diaval shrugged and bumped the tire with his toe, “I am no mechanic, but she seems to be leaking some kind of fluid.  No problem, I will catch a cab more than likely.”

At that point his stomach began to growl and he looked mortified as he looked from his stomach to the woman.  He scratched at the back of his head in embarrassment, “Sorry, I'm a bit peckish.  Been in a meeting all morning.”

“If you head down 5th street, there is a lovely little bistro-” she offered and began to point before she stopped and took his hand, “Come with me.”

“W-wh-hat?” he stammered, but let her lead him irregardless.

They found a booth with no problem and she sat down across from him.  She peered over at him, her eyes narrowed as she looked him over. He was nothing special as far as he knew.  Dark hair, darker eyes and a penchant for dark clothes as well.  He desperately hoped that she didn't think he was into the darker side of life.  He actually enjoyed the brighter side quite a bit.

“You are a bit of a quiet one, aren't you?” she asked and took off the short jacket. It slid off her shoulders and fell beside her in the booth seat.  She grabbed the menu and began to peruse the selection in practiced familiarity.

“Just wait until you get to know me,” Diaval shook himself out of a quiet stupor, “Then it's a bit of a difference, I am afraid.”

“Afraid?  You talk too much?” she asked with a slight frown though she kept her eyes on the menu.

“I wouldn't say that either,” he shrugged and tried to distract himself with the menu as well, “I don't slip secrets or anything of the sort, but once I am familiar with you, I start to spout gibberish or facts about things that I find interesting.  My interests aren't always everyone's cup of tea.”

There was a slight pause and he flicked his eyes up to find her staring at him again as if waiting for something.

“Such as?” she prompted.

“Oh, well,” he looked out the window for a moment, his brain scrambling to remember his own interests.  Sitting not to far away from them on a small tree were two ravens and he smiled, “Ravens.”

“Ravens?” she tilted her head and another brow lift.

“Yes, did you know they have to be the most intelligent of birds?  Right up there with chimps and dolphins as far as brains in the animal kingdom.”

“You don't say,” she said in a aloof tone, but he saw the slight smirk in the corner of her lips.

The waiter came back to the table, “Are you ready?”

“We will both have the lobster bisque with a basket of french bread to share with extra sharp cheddar,” she handed her and his menu to the waiter without another word.  The waiter bowed and walked to the kitchen.

“How did you know I wanted the bisque?” he tilted his head.

“I'm a very observant individual.  I saw your eyes drift to it more than once,” she nodded and looked at him again.  She leaned forward on the table, her perfect skin almost luminescent in the bistro's dim lights, “Tell me something else.”

“About ravens? Sure, they are very adaptable.  Able to trick most of their predators to actually hunt for them.  They can mimic a wolf's howl so that a pack will take down an elk or open up a fresh kill and the raven will feast on what is left. Not only that, they usually know if they are being watched and will try to trick other birds on where their hoard is hidden.  Clever things.  They are also very empathetic.  Care very fondly for one another.”

“You are passionate about them.”

“They're on my family crest.  I started young,” he scratched the back of his head a little in embarrassment.

“Do you see some raven qualities in yourself?” she asked as the bread and cheddar was placed between them.  She immediately took a slice of the bread and a piece of cheese to her plate to nibble on.

“Adaptability, I would say so,” he nodded and then shrugged, “I don't know about intelligence as I keep putting myself in bad situations.”

“Is that why you were in the police station?” she asked.

“More of wrong place, wrong time, but nothing on the criminal spectrum, I assure you.”

She hummed to herself and took a bite of the french bread and the cheese.  She shifted in her seat and then her jacket fell to the floor.  She muttered something as she put a hand to her mouth so she wouldn't spit out her bite.

“I got it,” Diaval assured her and picked up the jacket from the floor.  He handed it back to her and she nodded her thanks after she finally swallowed.  She put the jacket on the other side of her.

“The bread and cheese is so good here,” she mentioned and looked up at the waiter as he set down their bisque, “Thank you.”

“I am more of meat eater,” Diaval mentioned and picked up his spoon to dig in to his bisque, “Even if it is shellfish.”

She looked a little disappointed, but continued with her meal.

The rest of the meal was spent talking over his other interests- food critiquing mostly.  Then it turned to her quite quickly as he wanted to know more about her.

Hesitantly at first, she told him very vague things of her childhood and her family.  Her parents had been killed on the same day, leaving her distant relatives to care for her.  The harsher life that she fell into after being used to more grand things when her parents were still alive.  She even went into the silly crush in her youth that turned into a dead end.   After minutes slipped by and an hour almost passed them by, she relaxed and more of herself opened to the stranger.  Her standoffish nature melted away with the minutes and she even found herself smiling at something that he said, but then the smile would turn sad and she would build another wall up behind her eyes.  

“I still manage to find myself still at his beck and call,” she sighed heavily and scooped at the last of her bisque with the last bit of her first slice of bread.  She popped it into her mouth and then sighed, “He calls for favors and I fulfill them.  Even now, when he has moved on and married and has a child of his own.”

“You still love him?” Diaval asked and poked his spoon in her direction.

“I don't even know anymore,” she answered truthfully and looked at his bowl, “Are you going to finish?”

“I am finished,” he pouted with a slight chuckle and looked at his bowl which held smeared remnants of his bisque.

“No, you are not,” she frowned and reached over to pick up another piece of french bread.  She put it in front of his face to show him, then mopped the bottom of her bowl with the bread until it was clean and took the bite that had the bisque.  She nodded then as if to show him that was the way it was done.

“If you say so,” he huffed and frowned at his bowl, “I think that I'm all full.  You know, we've been here talking this whole time and I don't even know your name or why you'd even want to sit down with me.”

There was a long silence and he looked up to find her eyes dilated and her breath shallow.  She blinked slowly a couple of times before she frowned a looked at the table confused.

“Are you okay?”

“I- I- so stupid,” she gasped between breaths and dug into her purse.  She brought out a vile and drank some of the substance inside.  She took deep breaths after and continued to blink slowly.

“You need help, I'll call-”

“No!”she yelled tough it was quite slurred and put her hand over his, “No ambulance, no police... please.  I'll be fine- had medicine.”

“Are you having a reaction to the food?” he asked and put his other hand over hers.

“You could say that,” she smirked and began to waiver in her seat.

“I need to get you out of here,” he whispered to her and she only bobbed her head.

“Is there a problem, sir?”

“She's having a bad reaction to the food.  I don't know why,” he said and walked around the booth to grab her jacket and threw it over her shoulders, “I will pay in a moment, but we have to leave now.”

“We did not know that she was allergic to shellfish-”

“It wasn't the shellfish,” Diaval muttered, “She got sick after eating more of that bread.”

“Take your wife home, sir.  We will take care of the check,” a manager came up from behind the waiter, “She doesn't look well to stay.”

“Thank you,” Diaval didn't bother in correcting his assumption and picked her off her seat.  He pulled her arm over his neck as she wobbled as soon as she stood.  He held her tight around her waist and pulled her against him so she wouldn't fall to the floor.  They made their way out to the curb and waved down a taxi.  He settled her in the cab and then sat next to her, “Where are we going?”

“Going?  Are we on a trip?” she asked with a hand to her chest.

“One of us is,” Diaval noted and looked to the cab driver, “Home it is.”

He gave the cab driver his address and they were off.

Once they got to the apartment building Diaval helped her out of the cab, to the elevator and all the way in to his studio apartment.  He laid her gently on the bed and headed to the sink.  He dampened a washcloth with cool water and came back over to her.  He patted her forehead with the cloth and noticed that her breathing had finally evened out.

“Are you still with me?” he asked and brushed the washcloth carefully over her forehead, “You gave me quite a scare back there.”

“Barely,” she huffed and her eyes fluttered open, “I'll be okay.  Took medicine. Do not call-”

“I know, no doctors, no cops,” he smirked, “Just like me to find a stunning woman with a possible sketchy past.  Don't even know your name.  This is what I mean about the lack of intelligence.”

She gave a soft smile back at him and put a gentle hand at his cheek, “Such a empathetic raven, you are.”

“That's me,” he nodded, “Are you okay to sleep?”

“Sleep would be good,” she nodded and turned her head into the pillow.

“Well, we may be here for a little while,” he hummed and went to re-wet the cloth.

Diaval didn't leave her side for more than a few moments at a time over the next few hours.  She would talk in her sleep of ripped wings and dangerous places, but nothing that made sense.  He trusted that she knew what she had talked about with the medication and he hoped to God that she would wake up good as new.  Evening time came about and he cooked basic bacon and eggs at his stove as that was all he had in the fridge.  He was not used to company and he definitely did not see her coming into his life.

“Are you cooking bacon at this hour?”

He quickly turned to the voice from the side of the room.  She sat up in the bed, a hand to her head as she blinked and tried to make sense of her surroundings.

“... and eggs,” he added with a nod.  He took the pan off the fire and walked over to her, “Do  you need anything?  You've been out for the past five or six hours now.”

“Water,” she said and grimaced as she held her head.

“As my mistress commands,” he nodded and went to the fridge to pull out a bottled water.  He brought it back to her and sat at the end of the bed.

“Mistress?” she asked as she took a sip.

“I still don't know your name,” he offered back and shrugged his shoulders, “With you getting as sick as you did, I thought that you had the right to order me about if you needed.  So, what else does my mistress ask of me?”

“I have been out cold for the last five or six hours and the worst you have done is come up with a nickname for me?” she asked a little shocked.

“Another thing you need to know of ravens,” he stood up and pulled at the front of his shirt, “We are gentlemen through and through.”

“And here I thought that you could have been a dragon,” she added on.

“I bet if you give me the right motivation,” he shrugged and turned to the stove, “I'll get you a plate.”

She watched after him and looked over the side of the bed where her purse laid on the floor.  It was still partially open, but she found all of her items there.  Everything that she had was still in the same pockets, the same lay out that she had meticulously put them in.  He didn't even look for a wallet- a phone.  He just trusted her to know and do what she asked of him.

“You trusted me...” she whispered.  Then to the side of her bag was a bowl of water and a few drying washcloths on the rim.  He had cared for her during the time she was out.  She knew so many people who would have left her on the curb, but he took a stranger into his home and helped her in whatever way he could, “You tried to help me.”

“You seemed to know what you were doing with that medication, but you were getting warm and weren't sweating.  I hoped that you weren't running a fever. Whatever you had a reaction to from the bread was bad,” he said as he came back over to her and handed her the plate with a fork, “Hope you can eat something now, Mistress.”

“I don't need you to call me Mistress,” she narrowed her eyes playfully at him.

“Well, then I will need to call you something,” he smirked and went to grab his own plate.  He sat down at the end of the bed again, “You can call me Diaval.”

She looked him over and shook her head before she let out a single syllable, “Mal.”

“Okay, Mal,” he smiled brightly and then began to eat.

She took a long look at him one more time before she began to eat.

A few hours passed since she first woke up and during that time they found more to talk about between his food critiquing and her mysterious food allergy to pass the time.  He also showed her his collection of polished gem stones as he was always drawn to shiny things and strange little nick-knacks.  She told him some of the gemstones were used in a variety of ways and he was enamored with her knowledge.

She looked at his bookcase where there was a picture of him and a little girl with golden curls, “You have a daughter?”

“Oh, no,” Diaval smirked as he caught sight of the picture she was looking at, “That's Rory.  She's my little sister.”

“She doesn't look like you.  I don't see the family resemblance.”

“Not blood related,” Diaval walked up to her and pointed to the shirts that they were wearing in the picture, “Part of the big brother program. Knew her since she was just a little thing.  Her parents aren't around much.  She usually stays with her aunts for the most part. Her mother's busy with her own father and his business and I never met Rory's father.  She doesn't talk about him much.”

“Hm,” Mal hummed and drew a finger down the girl's hair, “Pretty little thing.”

“Turning sixteen in a few months.  Throwing her a party since her father won't.”

“You sound more like a father than a brother,” she folded her arms over her chest.

“Sometimes feels like it,too.  I call her my little fledgling,” he took a pause and looked at Mal, “She would get a kick out of you.”

“Would she?”

“Always likes a puzzle, just like me,” he laughed at her expression.

She paused for a moment as if in deep thought, “You are a good man, Diaval.”

“I don't know about that, I'm just trying to do my best with the cards I'm dealt,” he felt his cheeks heat for a moment and walked toward the washroom to make sure he didn't embarrass himself.

“Diaval?”

“Yes, Mistress?” he asked as he reached the door.

She frowned again at the nickname, “Thank you again for your hospitality... and the meal.”

“Anytime,” he hesitantly turned back at to her and leaned on the door frame, “Would be quite happy to do it again, in fact.”

“We shall see, you silly bird,” she teased him.

He excused himself to the restroom, but when he came back out she was gone and there was a small handwritten 'Thanks again' on his bed.

“We shall see,” he whispered and let out a sigh before actually getting some sleep.

Over the course of the next few days, Diaval was able to pick up his car from the police lot.  He found out that it was his brake lines that were leaking from behind his tires.  Definitely not a good sign.  He was happy that he noticed the leak, otherwise he would have been devastated if something happened to Mal if he had tried to drive them to his apartment in his car after her food allergy episode.  The cops were even more paranoid- as was the usual.

He walked down the sidewalk on his way to the market for some essentials when he turned the corner and ran right into someone.  They both spun for a moment and he landed with his back against the brick wall and the other person right in front of him.  He looked down and a smile bloomed on his face.

“Mistress!”

“Hello, silly bird,” she greeted and dusted herself off as she took a step back from him.

“I'm not just a bird, a raven,” he corrected and pushed himself from the wall.

She turned to one side and pulled him with her as he heard something hit the wall where he just was, “What are you doing, running around without your car?”

“She's falling apart,” he shrugged.  He heard something hit the ground behind him and he turned his head to look, “Ready for a new one, I think.”

“You could always walk and taxi,” she shifted again and pulled him with her with a grip at his sleeve.

“I guess- what are you doing?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Thinking,” she narrowed her eyes, “Are you free tonight?”

“I- I... uhm, yeah,” he muttered out.

“Good, come with me,” she looped her arm through his and began to walk down the opposite corner of the building.

“Where are you leading me this time?” he asked, but was happy to be led.

“Dancing,” she smiled up at him as she led him to a little hole in the wall dance bar, “It's as close to flying as you can get around here.”

The next few weeks continued on much like that day.  To or from work, Diaval would bump into Mal or vice versa and they spent the rest of the day or evening together.  They would have dinner- taking great care with any gluten- or would enjoy one another's company in an outing.  He even introduced her to Rory on one occasion.  She was a bit uncomfortable with the teenager at first, but warmed up to her in mere moments. Rory had a way to do that with people.  When she had left to walk to the town car her mother sent for her she had hugged Mal goodbye.  It shocked the usual stoic woman who lightly hugged her back.

“She is quite delightful,” Mal said as they waved down at Rory from his window, “You've done a wonderful job with her.”

“She's a good kid all her own.  Didn't need me,” he waved her compliment away and then turned from the window.  He walked to the television and held up a couple of disks, “What's it to be tonight?  Horror or slap stick?”

“You know I enjoy a good blood bath,” she smiled warmly over her shoulder.  He went back to the player to get the disk ready while she turned back to the window.  She looked up at the top of the next building over and frowned.

“Are you ready?” he asked from the couch.

“Yes, just going to close the blinds,” she said quietly and she moved to do just that.

The court hearing finally came and Diaval was asked to come to play witness.  He dressed his best as it was still a court room and rolled his neck. He really disliked court.  Even if he was just to be a witness.

“Are you sure you should do this?” Mal asked from the end of the bed as he fiddled with his tie, “The police are constantly at your block and haven't lost sight of you in weeks.  What if they really have something to this whole assassination attempt?”

“If there was a hit on me, I would have noticed it by now,” he rolled his eyes and walked over to her.  He knelt down in front of her to look her directly in the eyes, “And I wouldn't have let you anywhere near me if it meant that my dear mistress was in danger.”

“I know you wouldn't,” she pinched his chin playfully and looked at the mess of a tie he had on, “Let me see this.”

He sat still as she fixed his tie and pulled on it to make it secure.  He watched her face as she concentrated on the knot.  Her straight hair fell flawlessly over her shoulders and her lips pressed and puckered as she worried over the tie in her hands.  Her beautiful eyes swept from one side of his collar to the other and then to his face when she had finished.  For a moment he couldn't catch his breath.

He coughed into his hand to clear his throat, “How do I look?”

“All preened and ready to go,” she smiled and carded a hand through his hair, “Handsome raven as ever.”

“You coming with?”

“Of course I am,” she smirked and followed him to the door, “Need to make sure you stay in one piece.”

“And just what are you going to do to an assassin should one come after me?” he asked as he opened the door for her.

“You'd be surprised.”

After the hearing they stood outside the courtroom and heard that the case was going to trial.  In part thanks to his testimony and there were also more factors and evidence to consider.

Diaval nodded to her and then toward the elevator.  He laughed to himself as they waited, “Well, if they wanted me dead before, it's going to be worse now.”

“Stop talking like that,” she hit his chest with the back of her hand.

“Should I take them up on the safe house?” he joked, earning yet another hit to his chest.

“Mister Fitheach!” a voice called from down the hall.

Both Mal and he turned to see Stefan and his lawyer walk toward them.  Mal stood in front of Diaval as they approached.  Diaval put his hand on her arm and took the step in front of her in response.

“Don't think it's a good move to talk to a witness outside of court, Mister Barnes,” Diaval said and stuck his hands in his pockets, “I don't have anything for you.”

“All my client wants is the truth,” the attorney summarized.

“Then he needs to remember what he put in that cup of coffee.  I told them what I saw. I didn't say it was poison and I didn't say it was creamer.  The jury can think for themselves on the contents.”

“You little piece of crap,” Stefan took a step toward him.

Mal was instantly in front of Diaval and took a long look at Stefan in the eyes.

“Mally,” Stefan breathed out and looked from her to Diaval and then back again, “Not as strong as I thought you were.”

“Stronger than you ever dared to hope,” she growled back at him.

“I would sleep with one eye open, Fitheach,” Stefan said as he still stared at Mal, “She's not who you think she is.”

“Come on, Stefan,” his attorney pulled at his client's arm to the elevator.

As soon as the elevator door closed Mal let out a breath.

“I didn't know you knew him.”

“I thought that I did,” she muttered and looked at Diaval who just looked confused and a little hurt.  She took another deep breath in, “I need to tell you something.”

“Something that is better in private, I think,” he nodded and pushed her toward the other elevator that arrived.

Once they made it to his apartment, he threw off his jacket and pulled off his tie.  He sat on his small couch and looked up at her, “So?”

Mal shuffled on her feet and opened her mouth a few times to start, but couldn't get very far past one word.  He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head as she struggled with words.  He got back off his couch and went to the cupboard for a glass and something harder to drink than water.

“This is harder for me than you think it should be,” she finally said after he took a shot.

“He's the childhood crush, I get it,” Diaval nodded and turned to lean back against his stove, his arms crossed over his chest, “Did he send you to- what?  Provoke me?  Threaten me?  Distract me?”

“No, he... he,” she muttered and let out a muffled scream from between her teeth in frustration, “He did much worse.”

“How's that?” Diaval tilted his head to the side in wonder and then shook his head, “How could it be any worse than throwing your ex at a man even though she still had feelings for you?  What kind of man would do that to someone who clearly cares for him?”

Mal's lips trembled a little and she looked away for a moment to pace.

“Did he tell you to keep seeing me?  Running into me?”

“No!” she fumed, her temper now beginning to show.

“Then why do it?!”

“To keep you safe!” she screamed and threw her bag across the room and onto his bed.

“Safe?  From what?”

“From others like me,” her shoulders dropped and she stared at him with a gloss over her eyes, “Others that would take my place and try to kill you.”

“Kill me?” he narrowed his eyes at her and opened his mouth to say something else, until he ran right at her.  He caught her around the middle and they both dropped to the floor just a moment before the vase behind her shattered.  He stayed over her for a moment before he looked over at his windows, now wide open instead of closed and locked like before. He then looked up at the wall and noticed the red dot that had been over Mal's chest.  He looked down at her and raised a single finger, “We are not done with this discussion.”

She nodded and looked toward the bed where she threw her purse, “My gun is in my purse.”

“You smuggled a gun into the courthouse?”

“I always have a firearm handy,” she said nonchalantly.

“Strange,” Diaval muttered and then rolled to his couch a foot away and hit the side panel of the base. The panel slid out and pulled a small glock with a silencer.  He handed it to her and then pulled out a rifle with the same outfitting before he closed it up again.  He checked for ammunition and then looked back at her again, “I'm the same way.”

Her eyes were so large at that point, he didn't know if they were going to fall out of her head.

“Get this guy off our tail and then we have a long night of questions ahead of us. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” she breathed out.

“I'll take the East window.”

“I'll take the West,” she nodded and they both crawled toward their windows.

“Think you know who it is?” Diaval asked as he carefully set up his rifle and looked out the scope.

“If I had to guess, it would be Borra,” she explained and tried to get a good feel on where he was set up, “If there was anyone that would take the contract on you and get to take me out as a bonus, it would be him.”

“Type?”

“Bulky, likes his muscles and rifle do the talking,” Mal growled, “Not much going on up stairs.”

“Good, won't be as big of a mess.”

“He's on the Southern edge.  Laser scope.”

“I see him,” Diaval focused his sight and just as the laser pointed his way again, he squeezed and no more laser.  No more shooter.

“Hold for a moment,” Mal said before either of them moved from their places.  A second lazer came into view from a story down from Borra, “There is another.”

“Yeah, I see the end of the rifle, but not them,” Diaval frowned and leaned back, “They have a better shot at me then I do of them.”

He heard the soft shot through the silencer from his other window.  The end of the other rifle fell back and then it was still.  He looked over her Mal who shook her head and stood from her spot at the window.

“You hit them with the glock?”

“I had a shot,” she said as if he had insulted her, “Give me some credit.”

He finally shut his window and walked over to shut hers, “Okay, so questions and answers.”

“How?” she asked and held up the glock, “You're a food critic.”

“Part-time food critic,” he corrected and took the glock from her before he went to put it back into the couch hide hole, “You know how I wasn't worried about assassins?”

“Yes, I thought that you were being way too under prepared for it.”

“Ever heard of Black Feather?”

“That's you?”

He laughed, “I really had hoped that they would pick up on the feathers left on the bodies belonged to a raven, but when you leave it to the media to name you...”

“Raven... you and ravens,” she shook her head and sat on the back of the couch to face him.

“Like you should talk,” he smirked and sat next to her, “Phoenix.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since you picked me up from the police parking lot,” he admitted and looked at the floor at their feet, “I knew that someone was after me when my break lines were cut.  Then a gorgeous woman takes me to lunch out of no where?  What did you have behind your back at the car?”

“Injectable nightshade,” she said quickly as if to soften the blow, “You saw me quick.  I'm glad you did.”

“Good trick with the jacket at the bistro,” he shook his finger at her, “Would have tricked most men.  I'm sorry I didn't stop you from eating that second slice.  I thought that you knew which slices were safe to ingest since you put the poison on there.”

She laughed under her breath, “Yes, that.  I got distracted.”

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” he smiled and bumped her shoulder with his, “I distracted you into poisoning yourself.  That is a new one.”

“Stop that, you insufferable raven,” she rolled her eyes at his laughter and looked at his profile, “Then you knew what I was doing after that day.”

“You probably tried to get the gang to call off the hit on me on the days following our meeting,” he guessed at which she nodded and then he frowned, “But once you found out someone else tried to take up the bounty, you came to keep me out of harms way- you know, I thought those were bullets hitting behind me.”

“They were.”

“What changed from today where they targeted you too?”

“Stefan,” she shook her head and her teeth ground together, “He put the hit on you to begin with, just like the other men who were caught in that coffee shop with you.  He asked me to take care of it.  When he saw me with you today, he finally realized that I truly wasn't going to go through with it.  I wasn't going to kill you.  I was going to protect you.  I then became the second target.”

Diaval took a moment and finally looked back at her, “Not that I'm glad you didn't keep trying to kill me after your disastrous first attempt, but why didn't you?”

She looked at him, deep in his dark eyes and shook her head, “I was being stupid and reckless and sentimental...”

He chuckled and she laughed lightly with him.

She took his hand in hers to poke at his palm, “And, I may just had fallen in love with you.”

“After that first day?”

“No, I knew you were a good man after that first day,” she rectified and kept a hold of his hand, drawing over the lines in his palm, “Then I got to know you, and Rory.  More and more and it just grew.  You were the first one to genuinely ask after me.  About me.”

Her head suddenly lifted in a single notion, “You did want to know me?”

“Yeah, I did,” Diaval nodded and pulled at the hand that was in his, “I still do.”

“After everything that I told you?  After you know what I am?”

“A killer just like me?”

“You kill the bad guys.  You're a vigilante and a hired gun for those you deem worthy. I've read up on you,” she smirked, “The blood on your hands is merited, mine is dirty... so very dirty.”

“Blood is blood. We've both done things that we regret- some things that we will never speak of because we think it will label us monsters.  Things we blame ourselves for.  I know your track record too.  Every single target,” he answered and took a deep breath.  He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight to his side, “The worst part is, I love you anyway.”

She smiled up at him and then leaned her head on his shoulder as he hugged her to him.

“I need to let you know something,” he whispered into her hair above her.

“More?” she asked as she pulled away.

“Yeah,” he squinted and rubbed the back of his head, “I was supposed to kill you too.”

“What?” she frowned.

“After you killed me, actually,” he chuckled a little, “Stefan tried to contact Black feather to take out another hit man after they finished with their target.  He wanted to tie up loose ends.  I think he figured out that wasn't going to happen either.  He kept asking, I kept ignoring him.  He finally gave up.”

“So, we were asked by the same man to kill each other?” she asked and narrowed her eyes at him, “I think that we should at least let him know that the contracts cannot be completed.  Don't you?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded as she tried to pull away from him.  He caught her arm and pulled her back to sit in front of him, “But before we do-”

She looked at him in question until he leaned forward and kissed her.  His hand lifted to gently caress her cheek and fingers gently stroked the hair pinned behind her ear.  She smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer.  She nearly crawled into his lap as he tried to steer them to the bed.

Much later that night, they found themselves wrapped in the sheets in his bed as they planned their first of many team contracts.

[knightowl725]

Healing in a Graveyard, Ch. 4

Fandom: Critical Role

A continuation of my work for Fjorclay Week 2020′s modern au prompt. I make some important notes about really the whole fic on the ao3 post. Short version: Landlords dating tenants is not cool, at all. I’ve been writing this with the knowledge that Caduceus wouldn’t abuse that power dynamic. But in the real world? Everyone should make their own choices, but I, personally, do not condone it.

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57397261

Chapter Four: Pink Blossoms

He awoke in the morning to the sound of metallic clanging.

“It’s breakfast ti~ime,” Jester’s cheery voice sang from outside his door as she banged - what? Pots and pans? - together. “It’s time to wake u~up!”

He heard distant, high-pitched cursing from the direction of Nott’s room, followed by a giggle from Jester and her thudding back down the stairs.

Fjord threw himself out of bed, slinking into the bathroom for just a few moments to wake himself up. He’d slept like shit. Hadn’t he set an alarm to wake up early? Caduceus had said he could help out later in the day so he could sleep in, but he’d still wanted to be up for meditation.

So much for that.

Fjord made his way downstairs and through the kitchen into the dining room, where everyone but Nott was settling around a wide array of breakfast foods. There were tall stacks of pancakes, waffles, piles of fruit, syrup in different flavors, breakfast sandwiches, bagels, and more laid out, all in their vegan varieties. Fjord wasn’t sure about the vegan version of some of these items, but after everything else he’d eaten that week, he was willing to try.

Caduceus stood nearby, having just set down the final plate of food. He looked rather pleased with himself in his purple apron. A bit of light from the window was falling on his face just so, and Fjord thought that he looked rather handsome in that image.

Which was a weird thought, and one he squashed back down. He didn’t need to get into that weird admiration-crush area right now. In fact, it might be the exact last thing he needed.

Fjord took his seat, Nott following shortly after. They all tore into the food, shockingly quiet for a few moments as everyone was lost to the joys of breakfast. What had seemed to Fjord like a ridiculous amount of food turned out not to be, as the Nein neatly polished it off.

“That was so good Caduceus,” Beau said, slouching a bit with a hand on her stomach.

The others echoed their thanks to a pleased Caduceus. Fjord couldn’t help the thought that Caduceus was the kind who needed people to fret over. He supposed the Nein was about as perfect a match as any.

Fjord considered spending his day studying, maybe trying to look at job postings. The thought reminded him of his rough night, of regretting ever leaving The Champions’ house even temporarily. But now, in the light of day and with a stomach full of pastries, he wondered if maybe it wasn’t the right choice. Maybe, if there was such a thing as fate, he was meant to be here now. Surrounded by friends, with the only stranger becoming a fast friend as well, in a beautiful nature escape, under the eye of a goddess that asks you to protect and preserve rather than consume and destroy.

Any of his plans for the day were dashed by his friends, who coaxed him into joining them at a pop up carnaval. It was a day full of Jester-levels of chaos, spurred on by Nott that he gave up trying to contain after about an hour. At one point, Caleb had gone off to read, Beau was trying to impress Jester by winning her a giant unicorn plush at a game, Nott was on top of a popcorn stand, and Yasha was showing a juggler how to actually perform.

He took a deep sigh, pulled out his phone, and recorded a clip of all of his friends in their shenanigans to send to Molly. Then, on a whim, he sent it to Caduceus as well. He was kinda part of the group now, right? That was the impression Fjord got, even if Caduceus couldn’t join them today. Visiting his sister, he’d said.

By the time they made it back to the Xhorhaus, everyone still laughing and jostling one another, it was nearly sunset.

Caduceus was sitting in his rocking chair, wearing an endearing straw hat that made Fjord smile instinctively.

“Caduceus~!” Jester called out. “The carnival was so much fun. Look what Beau won me!”

She raised the over-stuffed unicorn plush high overhead with pride.

“You should join us next time,” Fjord said.

He smiled wide, eyes crinkling. “I’d like that.”

He stood up, a little slowly as though he’d been sitting for a while. “Would you all mind very much if we fended for ourselves for dinner? I’m rather tired today.”

There was a chorus of, “of course!” and “no problem!” from the group as they poured inside.

“Ah, Fjord? Could I speak with you for a moment?” Caduceus asked. Fjord paused, then stepped out of the way of the others. Had he done something wrong?

Ah, shit. He’d forgotten.

“Right. I still need to earn my keep for today,” he said with a little laugh. “What should I work on?”

“It’s not that,” he said, distracted and gazing off across the Grove. “Actually, I’d like to skip our project work today, if you don’t mind. We can call it even.”

“Caduceus, are you alright? I mean, it’s not that I’m not grateful for a break, but you seem...tired.”

He met Fjord’s eyes to smile. “I am a bit worn out today, I’m afraid. But just tired. Calliope’s gym is very busy on the weekends. Too many people.”

Ah, that made sense. Fjord wasn’t bothered by crowds too much most days, but it was obvious that Caduceus, while sociable and friendly, was a more introverted man. In fact, it was a little strange to imagine the towering pink firbolg anywhere other than in the Grove.

“Of course. Is there anything I could do to help?” Fjord asked. “I could try making you something to eat? I’m, uh, not familiar with much vegan cooking, but I’m sure I could put together some of those sandwiches you left out the other day? The moss ones?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t impose--”

“I insist. We could call it my work for the day, if need be.”

Caduceus considered it. “Well, alright. I would appreciate it, Fjord.”

Fjord stepped towards the door. “You get settled again. I’ll bring out some food and tea, and then we can talk.”

“Right, thank you.”

Fjord disappeared indoors, suddenly daunted by the idea of cooking anything for Caduceus. And he offered to make tea? Caduceus was the type to make tea properly, to brew it at the perfect temperature for the exact amount of time that particular tea required.

He ventured into the kitchen, carefully sifting through the shelves so as not to upset Caduceus’s inscrutable system. He found the sandwich ingredients easily enough - it was the kind of recipe you could piece together just by looking at the meal. The tea he relied on the Internet for. A search told him honey lemon tea might be an easy one to make. He watched a quick tutorial and made himself meticulous notes.

After a bit of time, he had two plates of sandwiches, neatly cut in half, and two cups of tea. He placed them strategically on a large tray with a little saucer of honey, a tiny spoon, and a sliced lemon. He’d noticed Caduceus often added them to his teas, so hopefully that would be enough if he hadn’t gotten the flavor right.

Caduceus was still outside, his empty tea cup on the little rounded table, slightly unbalanced. Fjord set down the tray, shifting it so Caduceus’s half was closest to him, then sitting on the bench.

“Thank you, Fjord,” Caduceus said.

“I hope I did it justice.”

“I’m certain you did. You’re a quick learner.”

They enjoyed a quiet moment, the warmth of the day beginning its shift into a cool night.

“Did you enjoy the carnival?” Caduceus asked after a few moments, his sandwiches gone and tea between his hands. He always held it up to his chest like that, especially when he was sitting idly. It was a little cute.

“Yes, though it was tiring in its own way,” Fjord said. “You may have seen the video I sent.”

Caduceus chuckled. “I showed Calliope, and she got a good laugh out of that. Still can’t puzzle out why Nott was up on the popcorn stand.”

“I think the vendor said something that offended her? I don’t know.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” Caduceus said, straightening a bit. “I needed to talk to you.”

“Right.” Fjord felt the pit in his stomach return.

“Calliope runs a gym, and she has a few people she’s brought on staff,” he said. “She’s very proud, we all are. She normally spends her time between all the tasks, training, running the business, working reception, and the like. But she’s gotten a bit overwhelmed with the gym’s success.”

“Understandable,” Fjord said.

Caduceus nodded. “She told me she’s been having a hard time finding people she likes to help her out more. She really wants to find a part-time receptionist. I think she had one already, but she needs another. I mentioned I knew someone looking for work, and how you’d been helping me all week.”

“Oh,” Fjord said, unable to form any words beyond that.

Caduceus tilted his head thoughtfully. “She asked a lot of questions, most I couldn’t really answer, but she wanted to know if you’d like to speak with her about the job.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.”

“I told her I would ask, but that you might have other things planned. I don’t want to assume or push anything on you, but I do think you would like working at the gym. And it’s important to Calliope that her employees be, at least, accepting of the Wildmother, and I know you’ve been respectful of Her.”

“Of-of course.” Fjord took a deep breath. A job? The pay couldn’t be worse than it was at the cafe, so as long as he got the same minimum hours...Which it sounded like the gym was doing well enough to need him around a bit...And wasn’t it close by?

“I, um, I’d certainly like to talk to her more about it,” Fjord finally said. “I can’t promise anything, but I am interested.”

Caduceus brightened. “Good! I know it’s far from decided, but wouldn’t it work out just so nicely? I’d like for Calliope to have trustworthy folks around her, and she could use someone who is good with people on her staff. She’s a little rough, but she’d be much better to you than some of these other folks have.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Fjord had always had some level of charm, even in his more awkward moments. It wasn’t a surprise to hear, but somehow hearing it from Caduceus made him flush.

“Here, let me get you her number.”

Fjord entered Calliope into his phone after a few attempts at getting her name right.

“I’ll send her a text tonight. Unless you think I should call her?”

“I think a text is fine. I’m the technology-challenged one of the family, not her.”

Caduceus smiled at Fjord’s laughter. They finished up their tea, talking a little more about their day. Soon it was dark, with speckled stars overhead and invisible crickets chirping away. They said their good nights, and Fjord breezed through his nightly routine. Wash his clothes, brush his teeth, file at his tusks, check that his assignments were all in order, plan what he might need to study tomorrow, finish laundry, then crawl into bed.

Lying in the dark of his room, he pulled out his phone and stared at the new contact.

It didn’t hurt to ask about the job, right?

In the dark of night, all alone, he felt those familiar hooks dig into his chest, like something weighed him down. Avantika would be so angry if he took another job. It was as good as saying he wasn’t coming back. He might lose all his other things. All that time invested. All the comfort in having someone else to make his decisions.

But it was so damned warm here. The Blooming Grove, the Xhohaus, it was like a dream. Was it even possible that it would stay? If he reached for it, would it just vanish?

Mind shifting between possibilities, the cold comfort of pain well-known versus the warm but terrifying unknown, Fjord fell asleep with his phone on his chest and a single text message he didn’t quite remember sending.

Hey Calliope, this is Fjord, the guy Caduceus mentioned. He said you might have an opening for a front desk role at your gym, and that I should contact you. I’ve got a few years of experience in customer service, and I spent years on various ships doing all kinds of odd jobs. If you still have that opening, I can send you over my full resume if you’d like to talk more.

~~

He dreamt of the ocean. He was standing on the edge of a rocky outcropping, staring out into the softly turning waves. They stretched out before him, intimidating. Awe-inspiring. Eternal. Powerful.

He looked up into a bright blue sky, watching as it shifted. A cloud, or a face? A face made of a cloud, maternal, grew to encompass the sky.

~~

When Fjord awoke his mind raced with the...conversation he’d had with the cloud, the promise he’d made. His heart raced with his mind, and he took a moment just to breathe. Process.

The sun was just beginning to fill the room. Fjord looked around. It was the same room he’d woken in, what, six times now. It was his seventh day in the Xhorhaus. It was his last day in the Xhorhaus.

He planted his feet on the wooden floor, seeing his phone discarded face-down on the floor. He ignored it for now, facing himself in the mirror as he had done merely days ago. Days and yet a lifetime.

He looked disheveled. His hair was still too long, too gray for his age. His face was clean, fuller. His eyes were clear, his slouch more natural and less burdened. He looked...stronger. Somehow. Maybe not physically. Those kinds of changes didn’t happen overnight, after all, but still.

A flash of pink caught his eye, and he looked to the houseplant sitting on the dresser. It had flowered overnight, from nothing to a vibrant pink, pointed sort of flower. He stood and approached the plant, barely grazing the flower with his fingertips. He knew that shade of pink.

It was surreal. He didn’t know if he was still dreaming or experiencing a mental break, but some deep, certain part of him knew it was neither. He dressed and went through his morning routine with a strange calmness over him. When he returned to his room, another shock awaited.

He turned back to his bed, intending on gathering his phone and making his bed, but more color caught his eye. Outside his window, that large, beautiful tree he’d come to admire had burst into color. It’s usually vibrant green leaves were now overwhelmed by bright pink flowers.

Caduceus stood beneath the petals, dressed in the long teal-pink robe-esque coat he’d worn earlier in the week. His back was to Fjord, a staff in one hand while the other extended out to catch a falling petal.

Fjord pried open the old window and leaned out. “Caduceus!”

Caduceus turned at the shout of his name. “Fjord? Look at this! I’ve never seen--”

“It’s amazing! Wait a minute, I’m-I’m coming downstairs.”

Fjord hurried from his room, leaving his window and door open in his haste. He tore out the front door, leaping down the porch steps to jog to the tree.

Caduceus was waiting, smiling with childlike delight as he was gently showered in pink. Petals had caught in his hair, a near-matching color. He laughed.

“I’ve never seen this happen, never heard of it happening,” Caduceus said. “I… I should take a picture. At some point. For my family.”

“I think I--” Fjord caught himself. Who was he to act as if he might be the cause of this? A minor miracle amidst another family’s home for centuries, where they had all worshipped a goddess he stumbled across in a dream, and he was going to try and claim it was about him?

“Do you know something, Fjord?” Caduceus asked in sincere curiosity.

“No, I couldn’t possibly. I just…”

Caduceus watched him expectantly, wise eyes waiting for him to come clean.

“I… I had a dream last night. About the Wildmother.”

Caduceus straightened, leaning towards him in intense interest.

“She asked me… To serve her, I think. Like you do, but different?” Fjord relayed the dream, the vision of the ocean, all that the Wildmother had told him, the promise he made, even the flower on his houseplant.

Caduceus’s smile slowly widened until it looked like it might split his face in his joy. “This is wonderful, Fjord!”

“Is it?” Fjord said. “I’m a bit nervous, if I’m honest.”

“You’ve been lost to this darkness for some time, I understand. Something drew you to it.”

Fjord looked down for a moment. “I...wanted guidance, I suppose. Purpose. Not to figure it out alone.”

“The Wildmother can give you those things, if you’d like for her to. And from what you’ve shared, I think some part of you might.”

“I’m sorry,” Fjord said. “I don’t mean to make this about me, I’m sure--”

“It is about you,” Caduceus said, almost confused. “She has chosen you to join her following, to take under her wing and her protection. There are no coincidences Fjord. This tree did not burst into flower for the first time in my life the night after you accepted its goddess by chance. She gave you a sign, several of them. First, when you were brought to her temple here, then when you met me, and more this morning.”

Fjord didn’t know what to say. He looked up at Caduceus. The man was smiling down at him, brimming with joy and pride. Was Caduceus proud of him?

He felt something push at his eyes.

Caduceus looked up into the tree. “This is a blessing, Fjord. I sensed you were meant for greater things than serving destruction, but it seems She has surprised me once again.”

Fjord managed a laugh. “She is certainly surprising.”

“Today is a special day,” Caduceus said, still smiling. “Would you help me finish breakfast? I think I’d like to bring it out here.”

“Of course.”

[bakingupastorm]

Hey hey self indulgence time again~

Finally working up the will to leave her home to meet with a ‘fan’ from her streams, the tubby nerd knocks at a firm wooden door, shuffling in place as the bundles upon bundles of nerves rattle her. Why did it have to be so warm today? It’s seeping the little bit of energy she has, and compiling with her unsteadiness it’s making her lardy legs wobble. “I sh-shouldn’t have done this, I should have stayed home where it’s cool with all of my snacks...” Claire mumbles as she brushed aside a few stray strands of hair that threatened to hide her cool, blue eyes.

The door opens to reveal a taller, more mature woman. Her raven locks flow down to her back, her pronounced bust and wide hips stand out quite well against her lithe looking form, however her top is doing little to hide those abdominal muscles she’s clearly quite proud to showcase. A Cheshire-like grin parts her face as her eyes roam about the heavyset girl before her. “Ah, I’m so glad you could make it. Won’t you please come inside? It’s much cooler and I have refreshments already made up for you~” Her sultry voice oozes out so smoothly, enticing the brunette with both the tone and offer. Demurely nodding she waddles her way forward, entering the abode before the door is shut behind her. “Right this way. It must’ve been quite the tiring trip to come all this way for little old me, but I am so grateful that you chose to come out this way.” Laying it on thick, Lila’s ushering Claire further inside towards the kitchen. Everything looks so orderly and pristine on the inside, a far cry from the brunette’s apartment where so much trash was strewn about lazily, most of it consisting of bags, boxes, and wrappers of all of her snacks and bottles and cans of her favourite sodas. She could certainly go for something like that right about now.

Arriving in the kitchen, the darker skinned woman pushes Claire softly to a seat before pouring her a beverage. “Here, you must be parched. Don’t worry, it’s something I made myself, using a formula similar to some of those drinks you enjoy on your streams.” Sliding it right into the other woman’s hand, that grin never seemed to leave her face. Taking the drink, Claire mumbles a soft “Thank you.” before taking a swig... or what was supposed to be a swig before it turned into a desperate chug. Can you fault her, she was standing out in the blasted heat for a couple of minutes after leaving her taxi, plus she had to waddle all the way from it to the front door and then from there to the kitchen! The glass clunks on the counter top and a sigh is released. “M-may I h-have more?” She requests softly, and the request is given rather quickly as the bottle is tipped to the glass and more of the liquid fills it. “Have as much as you like~” Once again, she kindly offers and watches as the glass is lifted and drank in mere moments. “That’s it... that’s a good girl~” The bottle is placed within reach as Lila whispers to herself. The glass is once again set down and she sees the bottle, her eyes going between it and the kind woman several times before Lila motions for her to go right ahead. Giving right in, Claire snags the bottle and begins to chug, her breath hitching as she goes. This has to be the best soda she’s ever had... but there’s something strange. Her gut feels extra grumbly... she knew she was hungry having not had anything to eat since leaving her apartment... but it shouldn’t be this strong... should it? Then again, maybe it was a lighter breakfast, and it was a decent half hour ride here.

That grumbling didn’t go unnoticed, as Lila shuffled right over to the fridge and to the cabinets to gather some goodies she stockpiled for today. “Goodness, you sound like you’re starved! Did you skip a meal today? We can’t be having that, now can we?” She knew exactly what was happening. That pop was one of her creations, after all... laced with plenty of additives to induce incredible hunger from a single drop... and the silly butterball to be went and guzzled a whole two liters of it!

Starved... that was putting it mildly in Claire’s mind. She was downright ravenous at this point! As soon as the snacks were set before her, she had to tear right in, abandoning her nerves for her need to eat. Sure, there’s still that glowing blush on her face, but now was not the time for any sense of trepidation. Fistfuls of muffins started her off, cramming them right down her gullet before chasing them with those soft cookies. The taste made the girl melt and moan. “Shoooo good~” Came her exclamation. Even her own recipes, she felt paled in comparison to this! Maybe it was the hunger addling her, who knows, but truly, these tasted like masterpieces her shoddy creations could never hold a candle to... and she can’t get enough! “Enjoying yourself? I made each and every one of these myself... and I do hope you save room for the pizza and barbecue as well. Although, don’t be afraid to have every last bite of all of these snacks. They’re all for you~” Lila plucked a bagel and thrust it between Claire’s lips, much to her surprise... and thrill. “I encourage you to feast... eat every last morsel, leaving nary a crumb behind on the plate... It’d be rude not to, wouldn’t it~?” Her tantalizing voice whispers into Claire’s ear, spurring her even further. Her gracious hostess had a perfect point... it’d be wrong of her to not enjoy all that was offered. Plus, she’d be able to sate this insane hunger she’s feeling at the moment. Unbeknownst to her, the impacts of her consumption were coming on rather rapidly. Like rising dough, her belly stretched outward, her shirt climbing to reveal the sweaty, pale blubber beneath as her hips widened outward, her elastic shorts filling up with her bulky buns and thundering thighs. A second chair had been scooted over, Claire thinking it was just Lila pulling herself a seat when in fact it was  just being added for Claire’s own comfort.

“That’s it, love... let yourself revel in scrumptious delights... That pizza should be about ready for you... just give me a moment.” Sliding away while Claire was distracted, Lila is soon to pull an immense pizza from her oversized oven. A quick glance over her shoulder, she confirms the hoggish woman being completely enraptured with her appetizer, allowing Lila to add a bit more of her secret ingredients. Plenty had soaked into the dough and meats, but a little bit more would serve quite well in the long run. A generous amount of spritzing later and she’s sliding the pizza to the counter, the damned thing almost covering the entirety of it!

“Th-this... has to be the biggest pizza I’ve ever seen in my life.” A statement of awe interrupts her feasting for a moment before she’s back to cramming more of the pastries into her gob, not even the slightest bit of fullness seeming to occur at this point... not that she noticed that fact with her being so willing to gobble every bit like she has been. “Yep... and it’s all for you! Dig right in at your leisure.” Once again, Lila’s voice sent a calm through Claire and now she’s alternating between the two courses, one hand sticking to finishing her first course and the other eagerly taking pizza by the slice. Several crumbs, icing, pizza sauce... all of it was coating her cheeks and twin chins, a triplet forming at this point. It all was so magnificent... as if straight out of one of her dreams. Sauntering back around to her side, Lila thinks it’s high time to break the charade. “Is it all up to standards, piggy?” The tone of her voice shifts, less kindly and a bit more forceful and lust filled. Claire is taken aback by this, but her hands never stop their motions. “P-p-piggy?” Eyes have grown wide as her heart skips. “Yes, that is what you are... Look at yourself. Glutting like this without a care in the world. Have you even taken notice of your clothes?” At this, Claire takes a moment and sees exactly what she means. Her top no longer covers her gut and is straining against her bust. Her shorts give in at last with a resounding *SHHHRRRRRRIPPP* leaving her in her woefully tight underwear. Even her socks are tearing around her corpulent calves... and yet, here she is, still devouring like a woman possessed. Her attempts to speak fail, only coming out in stutters and snorts. “Surprised? You really shouldn’t be with how you’ve been living your life. Those streams where you’re lazing around, playing those games and eating so much junk food... I’m just helping you along to that goal I know you’re desiring. You want to be so much fatter than this minuscule size, don’t you? You want to be a giant whale, a blob of lard constantly filling with more food and blubber without a single worry.” Roughly grabbing a fold and giving it a jiggle, Lila’s leaning against the corpulent woman and giving her a teasing nibble at her ear. “And I want to turn you right into that~ Come... give us an oink, you sow... I know you want to.”

And stars above did she ever. Her heartrate was already setting a new record, but now... it threatened to bust right out of all of that lard. Her eating pace had increased as Lila went on, caving right into those desires as her weight crests over double of what she came in at. “O-oink... oink oink *snort*” She’s able to loose after a few moments, followed by a hoggish squeal in delight as she was given her response in a set of gropes and kneads. “Good piggy... you know exactly what you are... and you don’t want to fight it. It’s in your nature, after all.” Yes... it’s her nature... to eat... to inhale so much fattening food and become a sheer pile of girthy lard. “Mmh... y-yes... I am a piggy... I-I’m your piggy~” She huffs out between mouthfuls and is rewarded with another helping of soda. “Yes... all mine to make as fat as I choose, entirely reliant on my creations... A good piggy gets rewarded for doing what she is ordered to do. Such as guzzle the soda that turned that bit of hunger into a roaring need to feed... and feed yourself you did with all of my creations that have been improved by my concoctions to increase their caloric, sugar, and fat content and immediately take effect on you. I’m just giving you what you want most.” Even with that knowledge, the blubber bound brunette is still gulping... if anything, knowing that has kicked her to a higher gear!

[lightandwinged]

So I saw The Movie. Spoilers--good, bad (or neutral), and ugly--below. Spoiler-free: not as good as the first Avengers, but better by far than AoU. 

The Good

This film made me even more furious with Joss Whedon, solely because it proves that the problems in AoU were of his own making, namely his inability to handle too many characters and therefore incompetence when it comes to a film of this type. The Russo brothers took a very smart approach to this, in that they knew they couldn’t take the time to give all of the good guys the characterization they’d have gotten in a film with a smaller cast, so they basically made Thanos the main character, which is really what should’ve happened with Ultron but inexplicably did not happen. 

And man, what a joy Thanos is as a character. So many superhero villains are so kind of... one dimensional, tbh. Or not one dimensional, but rather, they seem to have an understanding that what they’re doing is evil or, if they don’t have that understanding, a lack of real conviction. They’re nascent Sith, in a sense, running on either the sheer joy of being cruel or on a heightened desire for vengeance. They can be a lot of fun, don’t get me wrong, but they seem, for lack of a better word, like cartoon villains. 

They’re fun, like I said, and the world is full of people who are just... evil for the sake of being evil (as we’ve found out in the last ~2+ years more than a lot of us realized, I think), but they get tired when they’re the villain of everything. Chaotic Evil, in other words, gets less compelling when it’s all you see. It becomes the same person with a different mask, 9/10 times, which I’m sure contributes a lot to superhero movie fatigue. 

Thanos, though, I enjoyed because he was 100% convinced that what he was doing was for the good of the universe. Ultron was trying to go there, I think, but Whedon handled it with about as much delicacy as a bull in a china shop (Ultron is mostly redeemed by his being played by James Spader, who is a delight at all times, but that also ends up being his downfall because you get the feeling that he’s winking at the audience the entire time... “I’m saying this with conviction, but here’s a quip to show that I know I’m evil.”). Thanos actually felt real. He felt like he believed everything he was saying, like he truly thought he was doing the universe a mercy, that he was the good guy. 

And that doesn’t redeem him by any means (incoming people screeching about how I’m downplaying genocide or stanning because dude’s evil, y’all), but it makes him infinitely more compelling, and GOD, that is refreshing. It’s the same way that Killmonger was refreshing because, even though you don’t agree with it, you see his point. I mean, who among us that’s worked retail hasn’t wanted to snap our fingers and make half of humanity vanish? It’s been more than a decade since my last retail position, and I still have those days.

On a different level, it’s that garbage that gets pushed by freshman level philosophy students who are like “people should stop having babies” because that, not a mismanagement of resources by the wealthy and powerful, is why there’s scarcity. It’s rubbish, absolute rubbish (and it doesn’t work because science tells us that the universe, that all of existence, is infinite... and fuck, the movie’s science tells us that as well--Bananabread Cabletelevision had his little moment of hunting for spoilers and only got through about 1.4 million of the unending possibilities that exist BUT I DIGRESS), but at first blush, you ask yourself, “Wait, does he have a point?” No, he does not.

A rundown of other Goods:

Look, Thor in lightning form is the sexiest creature in existence. I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules. 

Also I appreciated him getting another smushface. And then the immediately following Battle of the Chrises (all I’m saying is that if there’s not a threeway Chris standoff in Part Deux, I’ll be very sad. Also, someone please cast Chris Pine in Captain Marvel, he needs to spend the rest of eternity watching powerful women heroes in awe).

The people who were allowed gave fantastic performances. RDJ will be sorely missed as Iron Man (because if y’all think he’s living past the next film, I’m sorry for your loss), and of the good guys, I felt like he came the closest to being the main character here. Which has been true of the other Avengers films as well, so that’s nice to see. Ultimately, these first three phases of the MCU were Tony Stark’s story, and that finale will be really... well, painful. 

Other great performances: Tom Holland (darling baby child, I wept for you), Mark Ruffalo (good at constipation), Bagels Cucumbers (that hurts to admit, he’s the Worst, but damn if he isn’t a good actor), Zoe Saldana (you’d better come back), Chris Hemsworth (as always), Paul Bettany (NOOO), and Elizabeth Olsen (poor darling). 

The humor was nicely balanced, not fourth-wall breaking like you get in the Whedon Avengerses, but logical. It was kind of like exhaling: inhale the action and serious stakes, exhale the humor. It allowed breathing room in all the intensity, so that was great.

Also how can I have missed Wakanda that much if it’s only been like... not even two months since I saw Black Panther?

Look, if the next movie involves just one scene--just one!--of Okoye, Nat, and Wanda fighting together, my ticket will have been worth its price.

Related, Proxima Midnight is (a) literally the coolest name for anyone ever, and (b) my wife now.

The Neutral-Bad

Or, really, more the expected. 

In any ensemble movie, you’re going to have a lot of characters whose purpose is just to step on scene, state their name and allegiance, and then fade into the background. This ended up being the case with pretty much all of Team Cap, and it was to their detriment. They had their shining moments (”Earth just lost her greatest defender” made me ship things like FedEx), but as opposed to the group above, they didn’t really have a lot to do? Or even really much in the way of reactions? They just sort of... came and saw and fought and that was it. 

It felt a lot like nobody knew what to do with those characters, which is fair enough, but it also felt like they were wasted, and they shouldn’t have been. If I had to guess, I’d guess that the writers had to pick and choose which good guys they wanted to focus on and which new Avengers and old Avengers would get the attention. Tony because these films have been basically a huge Iron Man series. Thor because I think? the plot requires him to be Important, as per comic books. But as much as I adore Thor, I wish there had been a focus on Steve more. With Tony, you’ve got the plot of “oh my god Thanos, the thing I’ve been afraid of since 2008″ but maybe Steve could’ve had more of a reluctant plot, like he’s been heroing all this time but all he’s gotten for it is locked up and exiled and shit? I don’t know, point is that if Captain America is going to be so prominent in the MCU logo, he should get a bigger slice of the plot pie.

Also I’m annoyed with Gamora’s passing, though I wouldn’t call it a complete fridging because it wasn’t just for mangst. It was just mostly for mangst. Either way, though, I think that’s the death (besides the end ones) that bothered me the most. It didn’t feel unnecessary and was probably the most shocking, when you look at it objectively (more on that in a second), but... I don’t know, it bothered me, but I can’t 100% put my finger on why/how. I do appreciate, though, that it gave Gamora a decent arc in the film. 

Anyway, to the deaths. The presumable permadeaths (Heimdall, Loki, and Gamora) were, for the most part, unsurprising. The Thor trilogy is over, so Heimdall and Loki end up being kind of extra weight, the former because he doesn’t have a lot to do that’s not in a role filled by another character, and the latter because the only other way he could’ve worked in this film was as an eleventh hour heroic sacrifice, and that feels almost too woobie-ish, like beyond Zuko levels of woobie. 

The Great Dust Rapture at the end was also fairly unsurprising, mostly because there’s no way a good chunk of those characters aren’t coming back. At least two have sequels literally named after them coming out sometime in the next couple of years; as I also pointed out to Kyle, “Look, Gamora may be dead forever, but if the rest of the Guardians remain dust, GotG3 will just be The Adventures of Rocket Raccoon Being Very Sad.” The non-dusted bunch are the OG Avengers, plus or minus a few friends; the stakes for the next film are, therefore, a LOT higher, since all the OG Avengers have finished their trilogies and, should they survive, will probably only ever show up again in cameos. We know T’Challa and Peter Parker and the Guardians of the Galaxy and probably Dr. Strange and everyone still have Things To Do. 

But the OG Avengers do not, and they couldn’t really kill off the main characters of the franchise with one film to go, so...

(also, calling it now: the next film is going to be The Avengers: Rebirth. I will put money on it)

The Ugly

But HNNGH. Okay.

I 100% understand the choices they made with the dustinatings, but like... there’s no suspense whatsoever. If Marvel didn’t release their film titles 6000 years in advance, maybe the stakes would’ve been stakier, but as it stands, it’s like... come on people. 

You know what would’ve worked way better and made for stakier stakes? Don’t kill off the main characters from franchises that still have sequels coming out. Kill off sidekicks. T’Challa doesn’t die, but maybe M’baku or Okoye does. Spare at least three of the Guardians of the Galaxy. Leave Peter Parker’s fate uncertain (though his death scene was literally the only one that made me tear up because TOM HOLLAND IS JUST THAT GOOD, DARLING FROG-IN-MOUTH BOY). Bucky, Sam, Nick Fury, Maria Hill--they can remain dusted. But if you want to keep the stakes for the second film while actually letting us believe that there won’t be any resurrections this time, maybe don’t kill people who we know will be back in various MCU films at future dates. 

It’s like I keep thinking when I watch trailers for Solo or literally any prequel anything: the problem with 99% of prequels is that we know who lives and who doesn’t, so giving us trailer shots of Chewbacca in danger, for example, is like trying to play peek-a-boo with an adult. We have object permanence, it’s not surprising when you pull your hands away and your face is still there. It’s not surprising that Chewbacca isn’t going to get his face bashed away by a rock. It’s not surprising that somehow, in Avengers Four: You Asked For More, all the dusted people with eponymous films coming up will be back. 

Another big plot hole: why didn’t Dr. Strange go and do his future vision the second a giant green man fell into his living room? Bruce, as Bruce, tells him “Thanos is coming for the macguffins” and then he goes and spends the next 5 minutes going through possibilities and then figures out the very easy way to solve the thing. 

That easy way? Just have Wanda destroy the time stone. Now we’re not panicking about taking out Vision’s brain as fast as we can (point: that scene was unrealistic, Shuri would’ve actually had it done in about 13 seconds flat) and Thanos has lost and maybe he goes around killing people manually but at least he can’t rewind time if things don’t go his way. 

The movie didn’t do this, obviously, but it’s one of those things where it’s like “if your audience can figure out a better way of doing things before the credits even fucking roll, maybe revise your script.”

(if Carrie Fisher had been alive to script doctor this shit, we wouldn’t have this problem, universe)

Other big frustration: does every Avengers film really need Thor to go on an epic quest away from everyone else for half the film? Don’t get me wrong, it was pretty cool to see him jumpstart a sun and see Peter Dinklage being huge (all I’m saying is that if Disney ever acquires the rights to the X-Men, things are going to get very confusing) and see a new Mjolnir-like-object, but oh. my. god. Every time those scenes were happening, I felt like it was a bathroom break. Like legit, that fucking ax had better cleave Thanos in half in the next movie because otherwise, that was so much wasted time that could’ve been devoted to literally anything else. 

Final Miscellaneous Thoughts

Maybe this means that GotG3 will be about Peter Quill actually growing up and dealing with his issues. I hope it does. 

Also, Nebula/Tony Stark road trip back to earth? I’m all about it. 

Wonder Woman would’ve ended this all in about 30 seconds flat, which is why Captain Marvel can’t show up until the next film. 

The next film is literally going to be at least 90 minutes of Thanos refusing to interact with anyone trying to kill him because he’s on vacation and fuck you. 

Literally why does anyone still live in NYC in the MCU? The first movie would’ve been enough to convince me to move to a cornfield in Nebraska and just stay there for eternity. 

“Thanos will return.” Along with literally everyone else SERIOUSLY THIS IS NOT SUSPENSEFUL MARVEL AAAAAAUGH.

[katymacsupernatural]

Hotel California Chapter 16: Hurt

Dean Winchester x Reader

1500 Words

Story Summary:After an unfortunate incident at work, you take a couple of days for yourself, planning on staying at the nice restaurant at the edge of town. There you meet a handsome green eyed man who comes to your rescue when you’re visited by a ghost.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

You stood there, dripping wet, shivering as you wondered what to do next. You could pretend you hadn't heard anything, acting as if everything was okay. Just to spend your last few moments with him before he left you behind with the trash.

But in your heart you knew you couldn't do that. No matter how much you wanted to pretend everything was okay, you sucked at acting. You knew the moment you went back out into that room, you would look at Dean, and he would notice something was wrong.

Not knowing what to do, you sniffed back the tears, hoping things would look a little better once you were dressed, with make up being your armor.

You ruffled through your bag, finally settling on a simple, but classic summer dress you had packed. You weren't usually the type of girl to pick dresses over jeans. But you wanted to look your best, to make Dean see what he was tossing away. It was pure white, something you tried to stay away from, due to your somewhat clumsy nature. But your Mom had forced you to pack this one, saying the white went wonderfully with your skin tone. It had slender straps above a sweetheart bodice, that flowed down to just above your knees. You had to admit it was beautiful, and it gave you a sense of confidence you were currently missing.

You fluffed your hair out, letting it dry in waves across your shoulders, before applying some make up to hide the fact that you had been crying. Glancing into the mirror, it seemed like a stranger was staring back at you. Gone was the every day simple girl who dressed in ripped jeans and t-shirts. In her place was a broken woman, a woman trying to hide behind her appearance. You didn't like it, but you weren't sure what else to do.

"Y/N, are you ever going to leave there? Your breakfast is getting cold!" Dean yelled from the other side of the door.

"Coming!" You yelled back, amazed at how calm and collected your voice sounded. Because inside you felt as if you were shaking. As you had dressed, you had come up with a plan, a plan that had you shaking in your boots.

Grabbing your bag, you took a deep breath before opening the door. Stepping out, you dropped it near the door, before turning back towards the main part of the room. You could feel eyes on you, and raising your own you saw all three men staring at you. It was the gaze of one man in particular that you wanted. Dean was glancing up and down your body, his look hungry, as if he hadn't eaten in days and you were a nice slice of pie. His gaze powered your bravado, and you strutted towards him, your dress floating smoothly around your body.

"Wow Y/N, you look amazing," Sam complimented you, earning a glare from his brother.

"Thanks Sam," you replied, before leaning forward and taking your coffee from his hands.

"Any special reason you're all dolled up?" Dean asked you, stepping closer, his tongue unconsciously slipping out and licking his bottom lip. You followed the movement, your throat drying up.

"This thing? It was just one of the last things in my suitcase," you told him, which was partly true. You walked around him, perching on one of the chairs before grabbing a bagel from the container.

Sam looked between you and Dean multiple times, a smile slowly growing on his face. "Listen Dean, Cas and I need to head downstairs for a minute. Check something out."

"We do?" Cas asked, not getting Sam's rather obvious hints.

"Come on,"  Sam ordered Cas, pulling him from the room. You chuckled as the guys left, amazed at how socially awkward Cas was.

"What are you laughing at?" Dean asked you, still standing in the same spot. It seemed like your outfit and demeanor had thrown him off of his game, and he wasn't sure what to do next.

"Your friend Cas. He seems like an interesting guy to be around," you told him, as he finally moved and came to sit in the chair next to you. Both of you took a sip of your coffees, the silence more than a little unnerving.

"So about that," Dean started, as he set his coffee down, and your heart immediately seized. Here it was. "I've been wondering. Where do you see this going?"

It hadn't been how you expected this conversation to start, but at least he was giving you a chance to speak for yourself. "I haven't thought about it too much. I just woke up for crying out loud. But I do know I've enjoyed my time with you, learning to hunt. If you would let me, I would like to do more, to learn more. To be close to you," you said, your heart shining in your eyes, hoping he could see how much you meant it.

He sighed, looking down at his hands, and your heart sank. "I was afraid you would say that. I didn't want to have to break it to you like this Y/N, " he started. "But, I don't think that would work."

"Why not?" You argued, wanting him to see you would work hard for it.

"Because you are weak, and you would only get in our way. It would take forever to train you," He argued, and you sat up straighter, his words digging deep.

"Fine, then I'll stay behind, doing research while you guys do the grunt work. I'm good at research," you pleaded, clenching your hands together when he shook his head.

"No. I just think it would be better, for everyone involved, if we just end it right now. It was fun while it lasted, but it didn't mean anything."

"What?? You can't mean that," You answered, but his words earlier came back to haunt you.

"I do. It was fun, and I'm sorry you were hurt, but you're better now. So why don't we say our goodbyes, and you can head back to your regular life."

You stood up, trying hard not to start crying again, the last of your resolve breaking. "Dean, are you doing this to protect me?" You asked him, staring hard at his face, checking for any signs that he was lying. That this was hurting him just as bad as it was hurting you. But he sat there calmly, staring at you.

"No. I wish I was. But in all reality, I'm done with you. I've grown bored, and I'm ready to move on,"  He told you, and that's when you had enough. Tears pouring down your cheeks, you turned grabbing your suitcase and your purse, heading towards the door.

Turning one last time, you saw Dean sitting there, watching you as you left. "I'm sorry Dean. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough for you. Guess I will never be good enough for anyone." You told him, before shutting the door behind you. Through your tears you missed the look of pain cross his face, or the way his hand clenched his paper coffee cup hard enough that it crushed under the pressure.

You tried to calm your breathing, tried to keep your tears at bay as you made your way down the stairs and into the main lobby. You didn't need to check out, they had already done that for you. You guessed Dean had been ready to get rid of you a long time ago.

You were so lost in your pain, in your suffering, that it took Sam yelling your name multiple times before it finally registered.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" He asked you, grabbing your shoulders to stop you. "Is Dean okay?"

"Dean's just peachy," you muttered. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to leave."

Sam's face turned into one of frustration and annoyance. "Damn it Dean. I was hoping he wouldn't go through with it."

Hiccuping through your tears, you shrugged." Well, he did. It was nice knowing you Sam. I think we would have made really good friends." You told him, standing on tip toes to give him a hug. He hugged you back, tightly, and you relished in the touch for a moment.

"You have our numbers?" He asked you, and you nodded. "Don't hesitate to call, for anything. Promise me."

You promised, grabbing your suitcase, once again making your way to the revolving doors, not ready to leave the new life you had made. Not ready to go back to the one you wanted to forget.

Dean/Jensen Tags:@acreativelydifferentlove @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @anokhi07 @aubreystilinski @bebravekeeponfighting @colette2537 @crusadedean @deanwinchesters-impala67 @haelyn @horsegirly99 @ikeneasul11 @its-not-a-tulpa @just-another-winchester @msimpala67 @lenaabs @love-charmer-sketch @ruprecht0420 @shadowhunter7 @sizzlingbearpolice @sleep-silent-angel @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @thesaneone @torn-and-frayed @wonderfulworldofwinchester

Hotel California Tags:@abbessolute @brentismeiamhe @catchingshadows-blog @classy-sassyandsmartassy @deansgirl215 @dramaqueenrolf @earthtokace @feelmyroarrrr @fullmetalavatar54 @georgialouisea @helpmeyouassbutt @iamabeautifulperson18 @imma-winchester-addict @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @kbl1313 @lessons-of-red @mina22 @musicistobeheard-blog @myloveforyouxx  @nevaeh-potter15 @obsessivecompulsivespn @peaceloveancolor @pilaxia @rhapsody-in-flannel @rosie21395000 @sizzlingbearpolice @spnfangirl1965 @sunskittlex @superwholock1983 @tmccarney @tjwinchester @walkerbex98 @wolfmoon8269 @yes-this-is-doggo

Forever Tags: @16wiishes @4401lnc @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @angelsandwinchesters @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @bemyqueenofdarkness @bohowitch @brooke-supernatural16  @brunettechick @camelotandastronauts @captainradicalpassion @chelsea072498 @clairese1980 @captainemwinchester @createdbybadappreciation @darthdeziewok @destiels-new-girl @donnaintx @dont-you-dare-say-misha @dslocum89 @duckieburns @docharleythegeekqueen @dontslurp @emmazach @emilicious-7 @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @essie1876 @generalgoldfishldrm @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @imboredsueme @internationalmusicteacher @ithinkimadorable-67 @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busy-fangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @keelzy2 @li-ssu @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice @mellowlandrunaway @mogaruke @my-squirrel-and-moose @nanie5 @newtospnfandom @oneshoeshort​ @percussiongirl2017​ @pilaxia @pizzarollpatrol @plaid-lover-bay25​ @rosegoldquintis​ @roxyspearing​ @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @spnbaby-67 @sunskittlex @superbadassnatural @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @thebikiniinspector @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tmccarney @totallovelesson @tunadean @vvinch3st3r @winchesterbrothers-inc @winchesterxtwo @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

[mywalkintofreedom]

Life at west Main Street- Part 3 Birth

I ended my last blog saying that before our first child came into the world I had a lot of victory in my life. I had gotten to a stable place and had gotten used to living the way we were living. I really believe this was Gods way of preparing me for childbirth. The intimacy and relationship I had built with God in the many quiet hours is what helped me get through the next chapter of our story. I was in the Word daily like I had never been before. I didn’t know then that I was sowing seeds for what I was going to need. I was heavily dependent on Him to carry me through the next part. Also the “stripping down” as I called it in my first blog really prepared me for natural labor. I had been faced with my issues without any distractions to escape in the past months, and I believe this is what helped me to get through natural labor, because I had learned to face it and not be able to run from it. When you are faced with the pains of labor you have to go through it, you can’t say “okay I’m done now someone else take over”. As unprepared I was for what was to come, I do believe God prepared me in these ways. My life was about to change forever. (I am 34 weeks pregnant in the picture below. We were trying out hats at a store just for fun)

Our church always throws a babyshower for any expectant mother. We had a babyshower as well and we were overwhelmed with the generosity and kindness of so many people. We didn’t have anything for our baby and went home with anything we could possibly need. And when I say anything, anything! This also made it so real, our little apartment all of a sudden was filled with baby items.

Towards the end of my pregnancy I was getting very very impatient. Part of my impatience was because of “fear of the unknown”. I just had no idea how things were going to go. Another fear I was having is that I wasn’t insured, so if things went wrong I couldn’t afford to go to the hospital. I also was afraid I would go into labor without being able to contact Micah. I had never gone through labor before. I started to struggle a lot actually towards the end, because waiting on our baby to come, mixed with being by myself and watching literally every minute on the clock, and then the unknowns, made for things to go sooo sloooow. Also, I want to say that we weren’t uninsured by choice, there just weren’t any options for me until my greencard process was complete.

Before I go into how labor started I have to tell you about an amazing name revelation we had. We didn’t know the gender of our baby. We had picked out a boy and girl name. Noami for a girl, and Liam for a boy. We also had the name Ezra on our boy name list, but ended up going with Liam. Well, when I was about 36 weeks pregnant Micah and I found the movie “flywheel” at the library. We watched it together and at the end of the movie they name their baby “faith”, because of what the season they had been in had represented. Micah and I looked at each other and we both thought that was amazing. Micah then wanted to look up the meaning of the name Ezra Yosiah, which we had as second choice (it had been my first choice when we were initially picking out names). He looked up the meaning and it means “Our help is founded in Jah(God)”. We both looked at each other and our mouths dropped. Dramatic, I know, but really. That was EXACTLY the season we had been in. God had been our help. We had depended on Him. We both said “that’s it” that the name, and we both were convinced from then on that we were having a boy.

On April 29th of 2015 I remember clear as day waking up that day feeling depressed. I was so done waiting. I hadn’t even reached my due date yet, but with this being my first child I had thought since 37 weeks “any day now”. I wrote in my journal about how done I was. The next day was the same. There really is nothing wrong with being done, it’s pretty natural.. but where it was going wrong for me is that I lost my good attitude. I was upset, I was angry, I was cranky and that made that I went into my labor with the wrong mindset because I wasn’t at peace. I was doing the best I could though, in that current season in my life.

On April 30th the time was ticking away and at 7:30pm Micah had still not come home from work. He would be late from time to time talking to customers or having a sale, but this was really late. The library closed at 6, so I couldn’t contact him. I also was starved. Don’t judge me, he always made dinner in this time (because I didn’t really know how to cook yet😑), so I would wait on him. I got so hungry I decided to go ahead and eat. I had two cinnamon raisin bagels with peanut butter and Nutella and slices of banana. I remember hoping it was okay I had two, because we usually only ate one, and I thought “I hope we still have enough for the rest of the week now”. In a way I felt guilty, but I didn’t know I was going to need that extra bagel that night. At around 7:45 I started to have scenario’s in my head that he had died in a car accident. I was getting really worried, and I really am not easily like this. I put my shoes on and decided to go walk to his work to see if I would find a car wreck somewhere along the way. I was nearly 40 weeks pregnant at this point. Our apartment was located in kind of a valley, so I had to walk up a hill to get to the square. I started walking, and I was having a lot of Braxton Hicks, but I had had those a lot, so I paused from time to time and kept going. Then when I was about halfway up the hill I saw our little Corolla’s headlights coming down the hill. Thank God! Micah saw me and stopped, and I told him “dude I thought you had died, what took you so long!!?” He had gotten into a long sale. When we got home I told him I already ate, so he went ahead and ate a bagel as well for dinner.

It was a Thursday and we were low on groceries. We decided to go to the grocery store. We went to Ingles first. As we were walking there I said jokingly to Micah “I feel like the baby’s head is going to fall out, I have so much pressure and it’s so low”. The baby definitely dropped that night. Me being clueless didn’t think a ton of it. We then went to Walmart and I was struggling to walk because the pressure was intense. Looking back now, I was probably already in early labor😂 We got home and went to bed. I remember thinking “this might be the night”.

Around 1am I woke up to a contraction. It was more intense than a Braxton Hicks. I got really excited thinking “oh my goodness maybe this is it”. I waited, and another one came, I got even more excited. I waited some more, another one. After several, I decided to wake up Micah. I told him I was having contractions and that it could be it. Micah got excited as well. We waited a bit and it really didn’t take long until they were getting more intense. Micah decided to call our midwife, I was protesting, I was scared this wasn’t the real thing and that she’d drive all the way here for nothing (she had told me stories of false alarms and I didn’t want to be that person). She lived more than an hour away from us. When he got her on the phone she wanted to talk to me, she told me “since you’re still able to talk try to lay down and rest more, if it gets more intense then call me again and I will come”. I thought, “see it’s probably not real”. Well, I tried to lay down, but I was pretty much in full blown labor now. Contractions were coming fast and got painful, this is when I was pretty sure it was real, and I slightly panicked. Micah called our midwife back probably less than 30 mins after he had hung up, again I was terrified she’d come for nothing even though I was for sure in labor. As we waited on her, my contractions were coming every 3 minutes and I had no idea what to do.

My contractions were so intense and I wanted my mom. I don’t know if I had ever felt as alone as I did in that moment. I told Micah to call a dear woman friend of ours. She came right away in the middle of the night. As soon as she arrived I felt a lot better. She had made notes she knew exactly what to do. She talked to me, she encouraged me and assured me that all of this was normal. She was amazing.

When our midwife finally arrived she seemed pretty relaxed, she then checked my cervix and I was 9 or 10 cm dilated! She was shocked! I had only been in labor, I guess maybe 3ish hours. You could see she slightly panicked. She did not see this coming at all, and neither did I, because she had told me over and over again that first labors were very slow. So I said “so I’m really in labor?” Our lady friend laughed and said “oh you definitely are honey”. Contractions continued for quite awhile without feeling the urge to push yet. We tried all sorts of different positions, but the only way I could tolerate anything at all was by laying on my side with a cloth over my face. Even though it was overwhelming, I felt I was dealing with it decently by shutting everything out and praying.

Finally the urge to push came, I had no idea how to do anything, and my lack of preparation for natural labor was definitely showing. I just pushed as hard as I could, and it felt like there was absolutely no improvement. It was very painful. I kept feeling like I was doing something wrong and I was constantly apologizing for the lack of progress. I started feeling hopeless and I clung to God more. Around this time our Midwife’s assistant arrived. She was a woman about my moms age, she held my hand and told me I was doing wonderful. This also really helped me. I hadn’t seen her come in so I thought “where did this wonderful lady come from?” I pushed for nearly two hours, maybe more I don’t know, with very little progress and then I felt something inside of me, it felt like a really sharp pain and I yelped out. I had no idea what that was at the time. My midwife kept saying “I really don’t want to do an episiotomy” (because the recovery is much harder). I had no idea what she was talking about, because I didn’t know that term. It was now starting to get lighter outside and I asked to open the window, I felt a slight breeze and it felt so wonderful. My midwife made the decision to do an episiotomy. I still didn’t know what it meant, but when she got out scissors i got the idea. With the very little strength I had left I pushed maybe two more times, and I could not believe the enormous baby that came out. (I will never forget Micah’s face when he saw the size of the baby).

At 7:29 am, on May 1st, 2015, Ezra was born. He was 8 lbs 7 oz. Micah and I both cried, I couldn’t believe I did it, and that he was finally out. It was over! It was a boy! They put Ezra on me and I wanted to take it all in and look at him, but the pain I was feeling was overwhelming.

What was supposed to be a peaceful joyful moment, which it was for a short while, turned into a stressful life threatening moment very soon. While I was getting stitched up from the episiotomy I was bleeding heavily and the bleeding was not stopping. The pain I was feeling now was worse than the pain I had been feeling during labor. My midwife and the assistant were doing everything they could to find what was causing the bleeding and they were pushing on my uterus to try and help it contract and make it stop the bleeding, which hurt unlike anything I had ever felt. They were doing a lot to find out the cause.

I was starting to feel my body shaking and I started to feel very very cold. I didn’t know what was going on, but I felt like something was wrong but I was also in denial. It was then that my midwife had to make the decision to call 911. I cried and told them “no no no we can’t, I’m not insured”, she plainly told me “if we don’t you’ll die”, I guess I couldn’t argue with that😄 It wasn’t barely 5 minutes and the ambulance people arrived. (We lived 3 minutes from the hospital). I now started to feel myself drift away. I was hearing everyone’s voices but couldn’t respond. I remember them taking Ezra off my chest and telling Micah to get him dressed. I remember being wrapped in a white cloth and carried onto a stretcher. I remember feeling exposed.

As they carried me outside I remember the temperature being fair and wonderful, and I remember thinking “I have a son”, “I am a mom”, and feeling a sense of joy about this, I felt changed. Then I heard a bird, it was a bird I remembered hearing often during my childhood in the Netherlands and I felt like God was telling me “everything will be okay”. It was a moment that has stayed with me since then and probably will for the rest of my life.

They put me in the ambulance and the people in there asked me a lot of questions that I wasn’t able to answer. I remember them trying to take my pulse and not being able to. I do remember whispering “where’s my baby?” They told me my husband would be following the ambulance with our baby.

When we got to the hospital I asked again “where is my baby?” It was then that Micah caught up with us holding Ezra in the car seat. I hadn’t really seen Ezra’s face yet, and Micah showed me rushing after us as they carried me in, and I said “he is so beautiful”.

They brought me to a room where I felt extremely cold and the shaking was only getting worse. There were several doctors leaning over me discussing things, (it felt very odd because I heard everything). One of them came in and said something along the lines “okay let’s get his baby out”, and they told him the baby had already been born. I thought “who brought this clown in?” They started pushing on my uterus again and all I remember was screaming at the top of my lungs and crying because the pain was unbearable. Then there were loud beeping noises and they rushed in with those thingies to get your heartbeat going, (again a very strange experience because I could hear everything). Everyone started rushing around and they said “no pulse, we’re losing her”, and I remember wanting to say “I’m still here”. There then was a doctor, after things calmed down, that kneeled down and held my hand, looked me in the eyes and said “everything is going to be okay, I’ll take good care of you”. He was the first one that had looked me in the eyes, and I felt very comforted, I knew he was a man of God. He got me blankets because I was so cold and after the screaming they decided to put me to sleep.

Through all of this I had Gods peace the whole time, which I think is truly a testimony. I had no doubt I wasn’t dying and really all I could think about was my baby. They put one of those things over my mouth and nose and after that I just remember getting really tired and falling asleep.

When I woke up I was in a different room and not so cold anymore, the pain was also better. I looked into the hallway and saw one of my pastors, and wondered if something was terribly wrong, then I looked and saw Micah. I immediately asked him “where is the baby”. He answered “someone is nursing him right now”. I couldn’t believe or understand what I was hearing and got upset at him and started crying saying “I want my baby, I’m supposed to feed him”. It was explained to me that Ezra had needed someone else to nurse him because I wasn’t able to and that he needed nourishment. I was very upset, and this probably continued to be the main thing I struggled with the most in the upcoming months.

Ezra was finally brought to me and I felt much better having him with me, it made me forget everything when I held him and I could finally study his face. He was indeed a boy, just like we had known within ourselves. I just couldn’t believe it.

Doctors came in and told me that I had suffered a major internal tear and that that was what caused the bleeding. They said they had never seen a tear as big as it was and if it had been minutes later I wouldn’t have made it. They had given me a blood transfusion and surgery while I slept. Nurses came in and out and were very sympathetic.

I wasn’t sure how to process everything that had happened, but I was glad it was over. Micah took my hand and looked at me and said “I will never look at you the same, I have never loved you more than I do today”. I could tell by looking into his eyes that he was changed, and that we were changed. I didn’t know all he had went through while I was in critical condition. I just loved him so much and we were parents, wow.

I felt guilty because we were in the hospital, and we couldn’t afford to be in the hospital. Micah said he had already been talking to some people at the hospital and they were going to see if emergency Medicaid could pay for us and that I shouldn’t worry about it.

I don’t remember a lot from that afternoon. I just remember trying to nurse and rest while holding Ezra. Some people also came over I think. I was in pain but I was so happy with our baby.

At the end of the afternoon a doctor came in and wanted to do some basic checkups on Ezra. He started listening to his heart with a stethoscope and he said it was elevated and that he wanted to take him to do some further tests and he would be right back. They stayed away for awhile and when the doctor came back he didn’t have Ezra with him and had a grave look on his face. For a moment I thought Ezra had died or something terrible had happened. (You can see this was a theme) The doctor then told us that Ezra was not breathing right and needed help breathing and also that he needed to be in the nursery. I really didn’t understand, he had seemed just fine that afternoon. I cried, for a moment I just felt like I was in a nightmare that wasn’t ending. I think this was the first time I felt completely overwhelmed and lost my peace for a moment.

The first time we went to go see Ezra in the nursery Micah pushed me there in a wheelchair. When we got to his little bed he was hooked up to different wires and had oxygen in his nose. He was also sucking on a pacifier they had given him and I thought “oh no he must have been crying, and I wasn’t there”. I was emotional. They allowed me to hold him finally. He was in a diaper because of all the wires and I held him up against my chest, it was the best feeling in the world. Anytime I held him all was well in the world. For the first time he opened his eyes and looked at me. It was like I had known him my whole life, he had exactly his daddy’s eyes. Sitting up was painful but I didn’t want it to end.

We were in the hospital for 5 days total. We felt very cared for. In the midst of the heartache and trauma Micah and I could still laugh together about different things. Like this picture below. It was probably because we were sleep deprived, but we had the biggest laugh of our life when Micah put Ezra on the hospital bed with the food tray over him as if he had just finished all of it. Micah would do things that would make me laugh, and I would tell him to stop it because otherwise I was going to pee my pants, literally😂

A financial lady at the hospital arranged for emergency Medicaid to pay for all of our medical bills, it was a huge burden falling off of our shoulders. I have no idea how she arranged it, because I wasn’t a permanent resident of the United States yet. We got the bill in the mail later and it was $70.000, we would’ve been in debt for the rest of our life.

When we were released to go home it felt unreal. It felt like we had been in the hospital for so long. We put Ezra in his car seat in our little Corolla and on our short drive home a song came on the radio that said “My hope is in You Lord, all the day long. I won’t be shaken by drought or storm. A peace that passes understanding is my song and I sing my hope is in You Lord”. I was so thankful, and tears of happiness dropped down my face, so emotional. I felt every word of the song and this became Ezra’s song. I always told him later on when he was older when it would come on the radio “that’s your song Ezra”.

Physical recovery took longer than regular childbirth. I had to heal from the episiotomy and the surgery and the blood transfusion. My body healed perfectly, and I never had any long term negative effects. Considering what my body had gone through I was doing well. Emotional recovery took longer for both of us. I will probably write about recovery and life as a new mom in part 4.

I want to end by saying that home birth is amazing and I hope this post doesn’t make anyone think that having a home birth caused this. My first one just happened to end unfortunate. We also had not done enough preparation. There were a lot of factors that might have contributed to the way things went that I haven’t shared. I had a quick and natural uncomplicated second birth in the hospital and a beautiful also natural uncomplicated and healing home birth with my third child. I am having an other home birth with our fourth child and would choose it over a hospital birth. That’s my personal preference and is different for every unique person. Every person chooses what they feel is right for them. Home birth is not as normal and accepted in the United States as it is in other parts of the world. Unmedicated child birth is amazing, but does require more preparation. We were not prepared the first time and have since then learned a lot from our experience and have taken it with us in our journey.

[friendlyunclej]

The Difference Between a Bagel and a Doughnut

Prologue

     “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing, anymore. I figured that after that job alongside the Halfling man had finished that I would be free from that asshole Tiefling, Mormo, and I could just leave them in the dust, you know? Run off into the sunset like those stories about villains-turned-good I always heard about. Sadly, Mormo kept that damn stone latched on to my soul and gave Igorr and I one last mission before he would grant me my freedom. Don’t get me wrong, Igorr’s a nice guy, you know. Short, usually quiet when he’s not yelling at people, lets me do pretty much whatever I want throughout the day. Truth be told, he’s one of the best men I’ve ever met in my life and I’m grateful to have him, but...”

     “But, you miss the freedom, don’t you?”

     “I really do. Being around Igorr is fun and he has surprised me on more than one occasion, but...”

     “He just doesn’t fit with you?”

     “No, he fits perfectly. He’s a killer, just like me. I just feel like, as much as he tries to prove to me why I should stay with him, he’s just trying to put in my head that there’s no real other choice for me. Hell, I could run out of this brothel and never come back if I wanted to.”

     “But would you want to test your luck out there alone? With that Tiefling guy holding on to your soul or your stone that’s connected to your soul?”

     “I could just kill him myself. Save Igorr and myself the trouble.”

     “Do you really want to keep on being that kind of person, though?”

     “...”

     “Uhhhh...I’m sorry if I pu-”

     “What’s your name, anyway? Or should I just call you ‘Bagel Boy’?“

     “Heh...I’m Ferren. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

     “I’m D. Pleasure to make your ack- acq-. Uh...nice to meet you, too.”

Baked Goods and Better Company

     As they sat at the table, I was making their food. It was the middle of the night and they were the only two in the mess hall. Well, the only two awake. Amrit was still asleep on a nearby couch, but that’s besides the point.       Ferran ordered his usual nighttime snack: a bagel. That’s all the kid ever ate at night: one damn bagel. I always offer more, like a slice of salmon to place on top with a nice spread made of various fruit and spices to fancy up the meal for him, but all the kid wants is a plain, baked fresh bagel. He’s a good kid and Madam Zita is pampering him up since he’s still untouched, so I see no reason to cause a fuss about his lack of refined taste. At least the girl he was trying to inch closer to has a better palate for late night snacks. Not much better, mind you, but better still.      The girl, I think I overheard it as “D”, asked for a doughnut. Just a simple, glazed doughnut with no fancy ganache added to the mix or even a filling to offer more tastes to please her tongue aside from just the sugar glaze melted and poured on top. Eh, I shouldn’t complain so much since I’m not even supposed to be up at this time of night either, but, if someone’s going to go for a nighttime snack, go all out or just drink water in my opinion. Regardless, at least the girl wanted a dessert for her late night snack. Gave me something to multitask with, at least. While I was baking, I eavesdropped on their conversation.

     “So, Ferren,” the Drow girl said, leaning on her arm away from him, “Are you going to tell me something about your life or are you just going to stare at my shaved head like everyone else?”

     “Oh, I wasn’t staring at your hair,” the boy said, chuckling to himself, “I was trying to see your eyes again.”

     With a confused tone and her voice shaking a bit, the girl asked, “W-Why would you want to see my eyes?”

     “Well, when I caught you in the hall earlier today, I just couldn’t stop looking at them,” Ferren remarked, eyes shut with a coy smile and his hand on the back of his head.

     I slammed my hand into my face, knowing that he doesn’t realize the full power of words in our business yet. Surprised as to not hear a chair slide away from the table or the smack of the girl’s fist against his cheek, I peeked out from my oven to see a shade of purple grow from the sides of her face as she looked at him with an awkwardly worried stare. When he opened his eyes and saw the look on her face, he scrambled to apologize.

     “I-I-I didn’t mean anything weird about it! Like, I wasn’t leering at you or anything like that. You just have very beautiful eyes, that’s all I meant to say,” he said, scrambling to reassure her of his normality.

     The blush grew stronger on her cheeks as she shot her eyes away from him and just stared towards the kitchen again. Ferren continued to save himself as I tried desperately to stifle the laughter welling up inside. It’s not hard for me to stifle laughter. I don’t like to laugh, personally. It always sounds weird coming out of my mouth.      After the first few snacks were finished, I ate them because I wanted to continue to eavesdrop on them. I’ll bake double for them in exchange for the entertainment.

     “No! Wait! That’s still wrong! I’m sorry. Let me start over,” Ferren said, still flailing like a buffoon, “I just like how you look.”

     The girl tensed up, holding her arms tightly as she clammed up more.

     “Hold on! I mean, I like how you looked when you walked by me earlier,” Ferran continued, still trying to salvage the stiuation.

     The girl now crossed her legs, purple rouge still growing on her cheeks.

     “No, I’m sorry! That’s still wrong. I mean that I-” he stopped his explanation mid-sentence, slamming his mouth shut as he heard his voice crack for a moment.

     It was at this point that the girl’s eyes actually shot back to his and she loosened up again. They both stared at each other for a moment, blush on both faces now. D began laughing first, letting her hard exterior crack. Ferren began to laugh softly alongside her as he continued to apologize for nothing.

     “You apologize too much, Ferran,” the girl responded, a soft blush still on her face but fading a bit.

     “I know. The Madam told me to stop doing it so often,” Ferran told her, voice normal again.

     “Hmmm...she likes you that much, huh?” D asked with a shit-eating grin on her face, “Keeps you away from practically everything during the day. Keeps you more clothed than the others. You must be real special.”

     “It’s not like that!” Ferren stated more firmly than I’ve ever heard from him before, “I’m a high-selling oddity in Serhya. Apparently, there’s a number of people lined up and waiting for me to finish my training. They’ve already paid for everything.”

     D looked surprised at his momentary anger, but, there was something other than surprise in her eyes as she said, “Wow, that was sudden. I was only teasing.”

     He apologized before D did as well. She continued to ask, “So, is that the only reason you’re here? The money people give for the company of someone like you?”

     “Well, the money’s not for me. It’s for my dad,” he told her, his gaze now looking towards the floor as hers turned towards him, “He should have retired years ago and now he’s struggling to make ends meet again. He always has, but he’s much older now. I’m afraid he’ll work himself to death so I figured; why not work myself to death for him instead?”

     “You care for him that much?” D asked, locking her eyes to his with an almost admiring stare.

     “Of course, he’s my father. Don’t you care about yours?” the boy asked.

     Still with her eyes on him, she answered with no remorse nor hesitation, “Never knew either of my parents. Sold me to a slave merchant when I was able to walk. Hopped off into a sinkhole somewhere in the desert, hoping to make a run for freedom. Wound up falling into a maze. I met a minotaur who took care of me for years. We found a way out together around the age of 12. Got captured by a group of roving bandits when we tried to enter the marshes. Got tossed into the Crucible in Mastema City. Spent a few years as a ‘gladiator’ before losing to Igorr and a group he was with. Next thing I knew, he saved me from that chain of servitude into another.”

     “Well, at least the chain isn’t held by someone taller than you,” Ferren responded, trying to make a joke.

     I glared at him from over the oven. He caught my annoyed gaze and locked eyes again with D before she noticed me. She actually laughed at the joke, so I rolled my eyes as I went back to baking and eavesdropping.

     “Yeah, I’d just rather not have a guy who has been the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had trying to join me in bed,” she said, rolling her eyes.

     “For what it’s worth, there is one good thing that has come from this,” Ferren continued, seemingly to put his foot in his mouth again.

     Still not holding a smile outside of her laughter, D asked, “Really? What would that be because I can’t seem to find one, for the life of me?”

     “We’ve met now,” Ferren said, smiling wide at her, “Wounds heal best when you have friends to help.”

     Stunned by his words, it seemed she stuttered a bit as she said, “Y-You don’t want me as a friend. I’ll be leaving soon.”

     Ferren’s smile weakened for a second as he asked, “Do you want to leave?”

     D locked eyes with Ferren, letting his earnest gaze pierce through her, the purple rouge on her cheeks strengthened again. 

     Her face shot away from his as she said, “The food should be here by now, right? It’s been a really long time since we asked Chef.”

     As she said that, they both looked up to see me towering over them with a plate in both hands. Ferren startled at seeing me so close, not noticing me walk up to the table. D had steadier nerves and simply stared me down while keeping the boy out of her sight. Ferren’s plate held two bagels while D’s had four doughnuts.

     “Uhhh...I think that’s more than what we asked for Chef,” Ferren said, staring up at me.

     “I know,” I answered with my usual gaze.

     “I’m sorry. Thank you,” he shouted, turning his head down to his plate and pulling a piece out of a bagel.

     D struggled to force out a “Thank you” after shoving two large doughnuts into her mouth, trying to avoid conversation.

     I glared at them then took a step away before stopping. I let out a deep sigh before turning back to their table. Both of them stopped chewing with their mouths engorged with pastry and bread as I said, “Do you guys really want something to talk about?”

     Neither answered. I continued, “To an untrained eye, they’re practically the same. Both are pieces of bread garnished and improved to have more flavor. Both can be sweet or savory. Both can be glazed. Both can have a spread placed on it. So, I ask you two, since you’re both the only ones still awake: What’s the difference between a bagel and a doughnut?”

     I walked back to my kitchen and continued to prep for the next morning, moving dishes here and there while I laid out vegetables, fruit, meats, and more bread to be cut up at dawn. Both of them just stared at me for a moment before I glared back at them. Once they caught my gaze, both of them stared away from me, directly towards each other. They slowly began to chew as the tense air began to dissolve. After they both finished half of their plates, they began to discuss the question.

     “It would have to be the bread used, right?” Ferren began.

     “Well, honestly, can’t you use whatever bread you want to make these?” D responded.

     “One’s a pastry, though. They don’t use the same dough for a tougher bread like bagels to create something as soft as a doughnut, right?”

     “I don’t know. I’ve had some pretty tough doughnuts.”

     “But ‘bagel tough’ doughnuts?”

     “I’ve never had a bagel, so I wouldn’t know. Have you ever had a bagel as soft as a doughnut?”

     “I have actually. Haven’t had a doughnut in a while, though. I may have forgotten. Want to try my bagel?”

     “Sure, want a doughnut?”

     “Yeah.”

     Honestly, I was expecting them to just pick the pieces up off of their plates. Instead, they opted to feed each other. D tore a quarter out of a doughnut while Ferren simply pulled a small bit off of his second bagel. He offered it up to her lips and I saw her hesitate for a moment, not knowing what he intended.

     “Well, are you going to try it?” Ferren asked, holding the bagel closer to her mouth.

     Taking the whole piece in her mouth, a small guffaw broke out of my jaw, sounding more like a cough than a sudden burst of laughter. It was evident that she hadn’t ever been fed before as not only did the bagel enter her mouth but so did Ferren’s thumb and index finger.

     Awkwardly sitting back and looking away from him, she just held her piece of doughnut up to him as she said, “Uh, sorry if I bit you. Thank you for the bagel piece, though. Here’s the doughnut.”

     “Uh, yeah, thanks,” Ferren said, not realizing that he picked up the piece of doughnut with the same two fingers that were wet with a bit of her saliva. He also didn’t notice that he licked those same fingers clean after enjoying the piece of pastry.

     “So, are you excited to have so many people paying so much to have your company?” D asked, awkwardly holding herself again.

     Just as equally awkward, Ferren told her, “No, not really. I still haven’t even had my first time. I’m not too excited that people want me simply because of that.”

     “Wait,” D shot back to life, hearing the one secret he always fails to keep, “You work at a brothel and you haven’t even had sex yet?”

     Returning her newfound excitement with an awkward fervor, he leaned away from her a bit as he said, “What? That’s not too strange. I just never got to it.”

��    D began to giggle a little bit at the thought of someone so sought after having no real experience in the job he’s being paid to perform. “How old are you then?”

     “I’m sixt- TWENTY!” Ferren shouted, not remembering the age he’s always told everyone else.

     I snarled a bit upon hearing his mess up. I figured he just looked real young for his age, but hearing him actually confide it aloud was something else. I’m still debating whether or not I should tell the Madam about it.

     “So are you sixteen or twenty?” D asked, smiling playfully.

     Ferren, now with sweat beginning to form on his brow and his voice cracking again, pleaded with D, “You have to tell Madam Zita that I’m twenty if she asks you, okay? She won’t let me stay if she knows I lied.”

     “Whoa, calm down, Bagel Boy,” D said, patting him on the back, “I won’t tell anybody. Alright?”

     “You have to promise, alright?” he continued, beginning to shake nervously, “My father needs the money. He’s too old to work. He hurts himself everyday. I have to help him. Okay? I need to keep this to-”

     “FERREN!” she screamed, growing tired of his panicking, “Your secret is safe with me. You’re going to stay here. Have sex with a thousand women. Pay for your dad to have a Hero’s Burial and you’ll be set for life. Set a hell of a lot better than most of the people I’ve ever met in my life. You’ll be fine.”

     Amrit shuffled on his couch, almost waking up to D’s voice.

     Breathing deep, he said, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

     “Okay, first apologizing too much, now thanking too much,” D said, taking another piece of his bagel, “We really need to toughen you up.”

     “I though you weren’t staying long,” Ferren asked, returning to his normal voice.

     “Eh, I might change my mind,” she said, smiling to herself.

     “Does that mean that you don’t want to be that person anymore?” the boy asked, wishing to ruin the mood again.

     She fell silent once more, making a hard swallow of the piece of bagel in her mouth. Unlike before, she answered with, “Ferren, if I stay, I’ll need your help with something.”

     They began to whisper at that point. I couldn’t make out what they promised each other, but it put a smile on both of their faces. Even brought a tear to the young girl’s eye. Ferren was quick to wipe it away.

Epilogue

     ”So...” I said, walking back to their table, “Have you guys figured out the difference?”

     Ferren was the first to say, “How they’re made and how they come out.”

     Blowing air out of my nose, I simply said, “Explain.”

     Ferren continued with, “Well, a bagel is usually first boiled and then baked, helping the yeast grow, form, and harden into its form. A doughnut, on the other hand, is fried, being placed inside of boiling hot and searing oil to craft it.”

     D spoke up directly after, stating, “However, a bagel becomes firmer and stronger thanks to it being allowed to grow and form. It starts out soft then toughens up. The doughnut gets a nice crisp shell in a way, having a shorter and quicker cooking time. But the shell on the outside is easily broken and the inside is soft and fluffy.”

     I cracked a smile as I picked up their plates and said, “Sleep. Now.”

     They walked out slowly together, more like strolling if I’m being exact. They shared some more words up until the door of the mess hall where they stopped to say a few last passing remarks before going their separate ways for the night. If I had to describe it, it was like something out of a romance novel. You know those disgustingly heartfelt tales about children falling in love for all their lives but not realizing it until it’s almost too late? Yeah, I love those. Still have a few old scrolls hidden in some extra barrels I kept around after using all the food inside. Them walking out together almost reminded me of my favorite story: The Dancer and the Drow. Well, it almost reminded me of that until I heard the last questions they asked each other.

     Rubbing the back of his neck again, the boy asked, “So, since I’m so nervous about it, could you let me know what it was like for you when you lost your virginity?”

     Holding her hands in front of her with a smile that doesn’t seem to want to leave, the girl replied, “Who said that I lost it? I’m two years younger than you, after all.”

     Ferren was so dumbfounded that he couldn’t even ask a question before she walked away.

     “I’ll see you around, ‘Bagel Boy’,” D said, locking eyes with him as she walked backwards towards her stairs.

     “Yeah, see you around, ‘Doughnut D’,” Ferren said, walking in the opposite direction.

     I spoke aloud to myself as I pulled out my small notebook and accompanying pencil, saying, “Hmmmm...’The Love Between Baked Goods: The Story of Bagel Boy and Doughnut D’...Working title. Definitely a working title.”

[chickenkooks]

two rotten apples [m]

credit: x.

❛❛we're next-door neighbors and have hated each other since middle school but now we’re going to the same university how can we avoid the other person like the plague so there isn’t a crime scene— what do you mean you promised my mom you would keep an eye on me???? you fucking planned this❜❜ AU

COUNT → 16.053

GENRE → smut | eventual angst

PAIRING → jungkook | reader

WARNINGS → dom and sub tones | spanking | hair pulling | praising | explicit language | female masturbation | graphic oral sex | penetration

LINKS → 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | COMING SOON

There was always that one person at parties—that one person who hid in a bathtub somewhere so they didn’t have to contribute to society’s norms of choking on their own vomit and passing out cuddling a pink garden gnome.

Or maybe that was just you.

Then again, it wasn't just any party you were hiding in a bathtub at—it wasn't some rager that had frat boys downstairs chugging so much alcohol that their livers probably looked like fucking dried out asparagus—it was your high school graduation party. And maybe you'd attended only the lamest graduation parties in your eighteen years of life, but there was no alcohol here—only fruit punch. Yet, there you were, still hiding in a bathtub for some fucking reason with a piece of chocolate cake balanced in your lap.

You should probably reiterate that it was your party, which makes things worse since normally you don't hide in a bathtub when you're the guest of honor.

Normally—but this was not a normal circumstance.

The party had started around two hours ago and listing off your interests as to what major you wanted to pursue in college had started to sound more and more like an elevator pitch than an actual conversation. Not to mention you were pitching your plans to relatives you only ever saw at funerals.

And usually that meant they were the ones fucking dead.

Was that enough of a reason to run upstairs and hide in your parents' bathtub? Probably not, but it didn't help that you’d called your next-door neighbor's penis small at his parents' barbecue last weekend. Maybe he'd already forgotten about that but you kind of panicked when you saw him walk through the front door with his parents just five minutes ago.

Through the vent in your parents’ personal bathroom you could hear the boisterous voices from your family downstairs, your friends probably still lurking near the cheese platter. The thought occurred to you that if someone found you hiding behind the shower curtain when all they wanted to do was pee in the toilet bowl, you would be in a lot of trouble—but that was why you weren’t hiding in the main upstairs bathroom. If you did and someone managed to find you, your mother would lock you in a rusty cage in the basement with your only source of food being the rats that lived in the walls.

And that was after she killed you because one of her favorite things to say to you was, “I brought you into this world, screaming and covered in your own blood, and I’m not afraid to take you out in exactly the same way.”

It wasn’t just that your mother was scary and terrifying beyond all reason, but she’d put a lot of time and effort into planning your party, like making sure she knew what to cook for the guests and that she invited the right people—namely not your second cousin on your dad's side because he was not welcome at family get-togethers anymore after last year’s incident with the flame thrower.

You wondered how he was doing and if he was still in jail.

Your mother seemed bipolar at times, though. Some days, she would just come into your bedroom to ask about your day, excited to hear anything you had to say. Other days, she would come near you with a kitchen knife and scream at you for tracking dirt into the house. Your relationship was complicated—to say the least—but your father was always the mediator between you two.

And you knew deep down that your mother loved you more than anything else.

Leaning your head against the rim of the tub, you cut another piece from your slice of cake with a fork and licked your bottom lip to catch any crumbs there. You had a perfectly logical reason for hiding in the bathtub instead of your own bedroom, the dusty attic, or fleeing the house altogether to go buy a bagel. For one, if you actually left the house and never came back, your mother—as you already covered and had a cold shiver run down your spine at the thought of her—would break all your arms and legs. And if you simply hid in your bedroom, the person you were hiding from would definitely look there first.

Instead of a cold shiver running down your spine at the thought of him, you clenched your jaw and stabbed at your chocolate cake violently.

The person in question was your next-door neighbor by the name of Jungkook—one hundred and seventy-eight centimeters of concentrated muscle and a mop of ebony black hair. You could also describe him as someone who liked to bite off the ends of string cheese like a fucking monster. He was in the year above you and never let you forget it, acting like he was better than you just because he had attached earlobes and was allowed to grow hair on his body.

It wasn’t like you were hiding from him out of fear, because you weren't afraid of anything—except maybe, like, birds. The only animal known to swoop down with its beak outstretched just to steal a crumb. But you weren't afraid of him, more so afraid that you were going to get in trouble because of him—because whenever he was around, all the salt you absorbed from saltine crackers formed words that got you into a lot of trouble. You just liked to make him cry. Not that he ever did, just kind of looked at you with that shit-eating grin and shrugged off any sort of sarcastic comment of yours with a roll of his shoulders.

And according to your parents and every living human on the planet, Jungkook was an angel and could do no wrong to anyone.

Scraping at your paper plate to get any leftover chocolate frosting after finishing your slice, you nervously tapped on the tops of your knees, now bored out of your mind from sitting there for so long.

That is, until you heard someone coming up the stairs.

Sitting straight up, you pulled back the shower curtain just to make sure you were still alone and were simply hearing things, like maybe your house was just haunted. Honestly, you would prefer a fucking ghost coming to kill you and carving "dead girl" into your flesh than have Jungkook come up the stairs. At least ghosts didn't pull the heads off your dolls for fun. Well, maybe they did in some cases but you never recalled watching a horror movie about a ghost stealing a bra and wearing it on their head like someone.

You glanced around the bathroom anxiously, but soon realized you were still alone. The main bathroom was directly across the stairs, so someone was probably just using the bathroom, you reminded yourself. Only someone who knew their way around the house would actually come into your parents’ bedroom, let alone know there’s a bathroom there at all. And what kind of guest uses the host's personal bathroom anyway? Not even your own friends did that and you’d known them from kindergarten all the way until high school.

The sound of the bedroom door slamming against the wall startled you so much that you nearly yanked the shower curtain off the rod above you, your knuckles turning white at how tightly you were gripping it. You stood up and put your ear against the wall, listening as someone's shoes made contact with the hardwood floor. They seemed to pause for a few seconds before you heard drawers being pulled open and then slammed shut against the dresser each time they closed. At the sound of off-tune whistling, you recognized the person immediately.

It was fucking Jungkook.

He didn’t seem to realize you were hiding in the bathroom quite yet, so you covered your mouth with the palm of one of your hands in an effort to keep quiet. Pressing your ear more firmly into the wall, you pulled back when you didn’t hear anything. Maybe he did you a favor and had an aneurysm or something as equally convenient like that and died instantaneously.

Just as you were about to reach for the shower curtain and step onto the tiled flooring and check out the situation, it was already being opened for you and two balls of coal in the shape of eyes were staring deep into your soul.

The two of you didn't say anything for several moments, just stared at each other. He was only inches away from you, so close that you could see the length of his eyelashes and the scar on his left cheek. His left hand was still grasping onto the shower curtain, but you noticed one corner of his lips curled up slightly at seeing you. It was like you were a rabbit and he was a fox that'd been chasing you across a field of sunflowers for eight days—you weren’t sure why there were so many sunflowers or at least enough of them to make the field stretch on for eight days—and had starved itself prior just so he could eat you.

And enjoy it.

"So," Jungkook started to say, letting go of his grip on the shower curtain, "this is—"

You didn't let him finish his sentence as you pulled on the shower curtain, shutting yourself away again, even though you knew he was still there and was not going away anytime soon.

"You know, I can still see you," he said in a muffled voice from behind the shower curtain.

"Really? And here I thought I disappeared into the fifth dimension."

He didn't say anything after that and you watched his shadow through the curtain. His parents probably forced him to come to your party since he wouldn't voluntarily come in the first place, only to eat your cake but you had beat him to the last slice. And so, he was doing the next best thing—or worst thing, depending on the person. Even though the two of you didn't see each other that much ever since he graduated, he liked to make the most of being forced to see you. The two of you were next-door neighbors, after all.

"Your sarcasm really hurts me sometimes," he sarcastically shot back, pulling the shower curtain again and grinning at you. "Also, your mom made me come up here to find you."

Of course she fucking did, you thought to yourself.

You groaned at that, your head falling back as you shut your eyes tightly. Though, you felt air whip at some baby hairs framing your face a few seconds later and figured he was waving his hand in front of you obnoxiously.

"Closing your eyes won't make me go away," he sang, teasingly, as if he was enjoying every second.

"Would you stop that?!" you shouted, throwing your hands in the air. "God... You're so annoying."

"And you're so short."

"You know, that's always your go-to insult and I'm not sure where you got the idea that I'm short in the first place because I'm actually not that short—"

"You are literally a dwarf."

"First of all, that's very offensive to Gimli—"

"You're such a fucking nerd for saying that," he said with a roll of his eyes.

You didn't like that he called you a nerd, so you closed the shower curtain in his face again, the hooks making an unpleasant squeaking sound as they slid across the metal rod over your heads.

"Are we going to do this all day?"

"No," you hissed and leaned closer, practically spitting in his face from the close proximity.

You tried to outsmart him by quietly side-stepping him to the other side of the bathtub so that you could quickly make your escape, but he easily followed your shadow and opened the shower curtain.

"I really thought that was going to work," you grumbled and crossed your arms.

"Shocking that you were your class' valedictorian," he muttered dryly.

"Shut up. At least my grade point average is better than yours."

He scowled at you at that. "Grade point average doesn't mean shit."

"Says the person who got a 3% in English."

He reached forward and jabbed you in the forehead with one of his fingers. You let out a yelp in surprise, massaging the bruised area there and then glared up at him defiantly.

"It wouldn't kill you to be nicer, Jungkook."

"It wouldn't kill me to be less nicer."

"It wouldn't kill you even if that made sense."

Jungkook tugged at the shower curtain until it was all bunched together at the opposite end of the rod, now completely out of your reach.

"All right," he breathed out, irritated. "No more games. I didn't come up here out of the goodness of—"

"You don't even have one of those."

He gave you a tight-lipped smile at that.

"Fine, but it's fun messing with you because you do that thing where your eye twitches," he said, watching you closely and then pointing a finger at one of your eyes. He threw his head back in a fit of laughter, then. "How the fuck do you do that? It's kind of gross but hilarious at the same time."

You glared up at him, watching as he continued to laugh. He slammed his hand against the wall several times before his laughter finally died down.

"Anyways," he began, "are you going to come downstairs like a good little nerd or am I going to have to bring you down by force and spank you?"

Why did he have to make every little thing sound like a sexual innuendo? you asked yourself.

"You touch me with any part of you, and this is not going to be a fun time for either one of us."

"You know, when you say that, it just makes me want to do it even more."

"I'll karate chop off that noodle you call a penis."

"Back to penis jokes, are we?"

You were hoping he'd forgotten about that.

He reached for your arm then, and you acted on impulse, slamming your back into the wall behind you. When he leant forward to reach for you again, you quickly scurried out of the way, grabbing the bunched up shower curtain and sliding it towards him. He shouted when it hit him directly in the face and you used that as a chance to make a break for the door.

You'd barely lifted a leg over the side of the tub when the shower curtain was coming back towards you, causing you to lose your balance. The curtain wrapped around you, each individual hook falling off the curtain rod one by one as you collapsed into a heap directly on top of him. The two of you landed on the tile then with a thud, Jungkook yelling out a brief oh shit on the way down.

You couldn't see anything, as the shower curtain was still tightly wrapped around you, and you had limited mobility to even twitch. Jungkook seemed to catch onto that as he kindly shoved you off of him and you rolled straight into the bathroom's wooden counter.

"So, are you just gonna lie there or are you going to unwrap me, Jungkook..." you mumbled after a few moments of silence, breathing deeply into the polyester.

"Nah. I think you should stay like that. I can barely hear you and I like that.”

You heard him stand up, then assumed he finally looked at your predicament because he started laughing loudly in that familiar yet annoying cackle of his. Your tongue ran over your front teeth in irritation at the sound of him, or maybe it was just the smell of mold.

"If only you could s-see—" he attempted to speak, but could only stumble over his words by how hard he was laughing at you. "You look so f-fucking stupid right n-now."

"UNWRAP—ME—JUNGKOOK."

You didn't know what you expected but that is not what he did at all. Instead, he continued to laugh—laugh so hard that it brought your location to the attention of your mom, or maybe it was the giant fucking thud from the two of you falling to the bathroom floor a minute or two ago.

She yelled your name as soon as she burst through the door, taking note of Jungkook laughing like someone who got into a car accident and had a broken leg, two broken ribs, and a cracked open skull—and doped up on morphine so that he wouldn't immediately start crying. Then, she slowly turned her gaze to you lying there like some sort of newborn earth worm plucked from the dirt.

"What the hell is all this noise up here?" she shouted, but it was aimed all towards you. "And why the hell are you wrapped in my shower curtain? How old are you?"

"BUT JUNGKOOK—"

"I don't want to hear it!" she yelled, looking at Jungkook exasperated, even though you couldn't see. "Stop acting like a child and come back downstairs. Your grandfather wants to say goodbye before he heads to the airport." She breathed out heavily, then seemed to notice Jungkook's presence for the first time. "Hello, Jungkook. How are you, honey?"

You narrowed your eyes. Although you couldn’t see anything, it was as if this was the first time he was speaking to her. You ground your teeth as the suspicion ate away at you. Maybe Jungkook hadn’t been told to find you.

Somehow, that was even worse that he chose to torment you.

"I'm good. How are you?" he replied with a smile. "I was trying to get her to come back downstairs and then she wrapped herself in the shower curtain. I'm sorry I wasn't much help."

"Why does she choose today to be difficult..." she muttered to herself, and then said loudly to you, "And, you—we're going to have a long talk later because of your behavior. You’re an adult now, so start acting like one."

And with that, she was spinning on her heel and heading back downstairs, no doubt to tell your entire family you had found your way into her shower curtain to embarrass you further.

"I did not do this to myself," you hissed at Jungkook, but he just started laughing again. "You son of a bitch. You think I want to be unable to move and stuck in a room with you?"

"All right, all right," he finally relented, moving to crouch next to you to help you, or at least attempted to when suddenly you stuck out your bare foot and he easily tripped.

It was awkwardly silent for a few moments, the smell of mold disappearing as you somehow got a whiff of Jungkook's aftershave. He simply laid on the tile directly next to you indifferently, not saying a word.

"I was trying to help you," he angrily said.

"Sure you were," you shot back, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Now both of us are unhappy."

His fingers searched for one end of the shower curtain tucked under your side, and then he yanked on it with all his might. Fortunately for you, that meant you were freed from your dark, moldy prison, but your head also smacked straight into the wooden cabinet painfully.

After the sting from your forehead began to disappear, the two of you simply laid side by side on the floor, staring up at the white ceiling blankly.

"Happy now?"

"I'll be happy if you're kicked out of school so that I don't have to see you on campus."

"At least we can fucking agree on something for once. I don't exactly want to be charged with murder."

You felt your nose begin to bruise from slamming into the cabinet. 

"I really don't fucking like you."

Fortunately for you, you hadn't seen Jungkook since the infamous shower curtain incident.

After all your relatives and friends left the party that day, your mother sat you down at the dining room table and proceeded to yell at you for thirty-five minutes. You tuned out most of it because you were used to it by now, but you did catch her scolding you about how you were an adult now and should definitely know better than to mess with her shower curtain.

Of course, she also had to bring up Jungkook.

If only she knew how much pain and suffering he had caused you in your life.

But after she finished yelling at you and told you to cook yourself dinner since you were capable of doing that much, you went for a jog and pretended each time your shoe came down onto the concrete that it was Jungkook's face. Every unfortunate fucking circumstance in your life had to do with him and you were getting sick and tired of it. Your parents—more specifically your mother—always took his side. You thought sometimes she wished she would've spit him out of the womb instead of you.

And for the rest of the summer, you distracted yourself with working part-time and hanging out with your friends. You wouldn't be seeing them for a long time, except for school breaks and through the dim lighting of your computer screen, so you treasured those small, fleeting moments you had with them while you could. Maybe Jungkook was doing the same thing as you and that was why you hadn't seen him the entire summer—but you weren’t about to complain.

Though, you supposed all good things had to come to an end eventually because there you were, sharing the backseat with him and the rest of your suitcases.

"You were supposed to take that exit back there, honey," your mother said.

"Was I?" your father replied, glancing at the two of you crowded in the backseat through his rearview mirror. "We'll get there. No one said we had to get there right at noon."

"They did if we wanted free lunch and you know how I like free things."

The bickering from your parents wasn't calming your nerves. If only you could ignore Jungkook's smelly underwear combined with his grotesque cologne that probably cost him less than ninety-nine cents—but you couldn't do that when he was sitting right fucking there. Why your parents thought it would be a good idea to invite him along as if you were going for a picnic was beyond you.

After your father suddenly pulled a sharp turn and steered the car off the interstate, Jungkook's body slammed into yours and you let out a groan, glaring at him as you shoved him off of you.

"Why are you here?" you hissed at Jungkook, knowing your parents couldn't hear you over their arguing.

"You think I wanted to wake up at eight o'clock in the fucking morning to spend an hour in a car with you? I think the fuck not," he answered in a low voice. "My parents fucking made me."

You scoffed out at that, crossing your arms and readjusting your backpack containing your makeup and other haircare products in your lap. "I thought you didn't move back on campus until tomorrow."

And that was the icing on the cake.

The two of you would be going to the same university. By the time you found that out, you had already applied and been accepted. There wasn't enough time to apply to another school because it was so late in your last semester, but you also didn't want to be a big baby about it. The university was so big anyway that you doubted you'd ever see Jungkook on campus more than once.

However, that was before you found out Jungkook made a promise.

"How the fuck do you know that?" he asked, a little too loudly that your father looked at him through the rearview mirror. Acting quickly, Jungkook smiled politely, then pretended like he was having a civil conversation with you. After your father looked away, Jungkook sneered at you, "I was supposed to but then my fucking mom woke me up at the crack of dawn this morning, telling me I was moving today."

"So, what are we going to do?" you quietly asked, looking out the window at the passing scenery.

"We're going to act like we always do. You know, pretending that we don't want to stab the other person's fucking eye out with a number two pencil. And then once your family leaves, I'll go back to my frat and you'll stay at your little freshman cave and we'll never speak to each other again."

You stared at him, feeling one of your eyes twitching in irritation.

"Have you forgotten the little promise you made to my freaking mother?"

"It's okay," he whispered hotly. "You can say the 'f' word. I won’t tell anyone.”

"Oh, go blow yourself. You're just trying to change the subject."

He sighed, annoyed. "I don't know what promise you're talking about."

"Really? You mean you don't remember telling my mother that you were going to spend a lot of time with me and check up on me every day so that she doesn't worry about me? That promise?"

You watched as the dots seemed to connect in his small, puny brain, then his mouth dropped open.

"I didn't actually— I was just saying that to— That's not my fucking fault. She was just worried since your dramatic ass told her you weren't going to come home to visit her." He paused, licking his lips nervously at the idea of having to do that. "Does she... Does she think I'm actually going to do that?"

You gave a big nod, as if you were talking to a two-year-old. "That's what she said, you ignoramus."

"Fuck..." he said with a groan. "Well, I guess we're going to being spend a lot of time together, then."

"I think we're going to not be doing that at all actually, Jungk—"

The car jerked to a stop and then your father stepped out of the front seat, closing the car door behind him.

"What a beautiful parking lot," he said to himself, looking at the surroundings.

Just then, a large semi drove past your dorm on the highway and honked.

"Yes. It's truly beautiful," your mother grumbled, swatting at the bugs hovering over her head. "Is it too late to get you into another dorm? What if you can't sleep with all this noise?"

"Mother," you said with a groan, exasperated. "It's fine. Let's just go inside already."

You pulled one of your many suitcases out of the trunk, wondering if you had packed bricks instead of underwear. Maybe you had over-packed slightly but you definitely needed all this useless junk. Your father stepped behind you and grabbed two of your other suitcases while your mother grabbed your backpack. Meanwhile, useless Jungkook just stood there awkwardly watching a squirrel look for nuts.

"Here, son," your father said as he stepped in front of Jungkook. He rolled over one of your suitcases towards him and Jungkook hesitantly grabbed onto the handle. "Something for you to carry."

"Thanks," he said back, and you wondered if your father knew he was being sarcastic.

The four of you filed towards the steps leading to the front door of the dormitory. From behind you, you could hear Jungkook barely attempting to lift your suitcase up the stairs, slamming its side onto the cement with each step. You knew he was doing that on purpose for making him carry something.

What a fucking baby, you thought.

As you walked down the hallway, you took notice of students your age with their families, dragging suitcases and bags inside their own dorm rooms. When you walked past one of the first rooms, you were in awe at how well decorated it was with poster boards filled with personal photographs and sticky notes on the wall and even a white, plush rug to cover an old puke stain on the carpet. You hadn't even thought about bringing anything like that, only your own personal belongings.

"This must be it," your father said, stepping aside once you reached your room so you could punch in the combination.

After a few unsuccessful tries, it opened and a small, empty room greeted you. You set down your suitcase near the open doorway, looking around the room and already visualizing how you would organize the furniture. Maybe you could move the bed towards the window and loft it so you could arrange a dresser beneath it, and your roommate—whenever she came—could have the top bunk.

"Well, I don't think we can get that free lunch anymore," your mother said after a minute, pulling her phone out of her pocket to check the time. "Do you kids want to eat out somewhere?"

To be honest, you kind of just wanted them to leave—especially Jungkook.

"I'm actually not that hungry," you told her. "You guys can but I want to stay here and unpack."

Your mother nodded, then with a teary smile walked towards you for a hug. "Okay, honey." As her arms wrapped around your waist, she sighed. "You can always call us if you need anything."

"I'll be fine," you whispered. She pulled back to look at you, running her thumbs across the skin of your cheeks. "Really. I'll be okay. Don't worry about me so much."

"I worry," she said, softly. "But you have Jungkook here if you ever need anything, too."

Thanks for fucking reminding me, you thought bitterly.

Jungkook walked into the room then, a cheshire smile lifting up the corners of his lips. Your suitcase he'd been dragging behind was long forgotten in the hallway.

"Yeah," he agreed. "If you ever need my help, you know where to find me. But I'll be stopping by to check up on you anyway." He turned to look at your mother. "I won't let her out of my sight."

Although what he said seemed to soothe her anxieties, it only seemed to heighten yours.

The carpet dug into your knees as you sat on the floor, legs tucked underneath you as you sorted through one of your suitcases, folding your clothes and laying them out on your unmade bed. This would be all good and fine if it weren't for the elephant in the middle of the room.

Or maybe that was just Jungkook.

He'd insisted on staying behind under the guise of helping you unpack, but all he'd done so far was scratch at his butthole and laugh at John Cena memes on his phone. Somehow, a part of you knew deep down he’d be the only fucking person living near you in a 100-mile radius that still thought those were funny. That, and rage comics, and the use of "le" in normal conversation.

"Why the fuck are you still here?"

His head shot up at that, looking at you with wide eyes from his spot on your desk. He must’ve been so invested in his memes to remember where he was.

"I didn't know you fucking cursed."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, like how I'm interested in obtaining a gun license," you said calmly. "I don't see the point in you being here since no one else fucking is. You're not even helping."

He bent over and sorted through your makeup bag, placing a single bottle of foundation on your desk, acting as if he just did the world a favor and deserved a fucking Nobel Prize.

"In what fucking world does that equate to helping..." you grumbled.

"Fine, if you'll stop being such a fucking bitch about it, I'll help you."

You didn't like the tone of his voice just then.

Just as that thought ran through your head, he kneeled down across from you on the opposite side of your suitcase and flung shirt after shirt behind him until your suitcase was empty.

"Was this just a suitcase of your shirts?!" he shouted, jaw hanging open.

"I don't judge you for your porn collection, Jungkook."

"Who the fuck even needs all these shirts? How many of—" He stopped to look behind him and count all the shirts he'd thrown. "How many fucking shirts does one fucking person need?!"

You glanced behind him at one of your shirts hanging off your desk lamp.

“How dare you.”

Placing your hands on your knees as you stood up, you stomped over to the many shirts spread across the wooden exterior of your desk and the single shirt dangling from your lamp. Your mouth dropped open when you realized that one of your shirts had snagged on a nail in the wall and ripped.

"Jungkook."

"What is it fucking now?"

"You ripped my favorite shirt."

When he didn't respond immediately, you could only hear the honking from the highway and someone rolling down their window to yell. Staring down at your ripped shirt, though, you tried to stay calm.

Well, you tried to, at least.

"I'M GOING TO—"

And then you heard someone punching in your door’s combination, waltzing in a few seconds later. It was a girl that looked to be about your age with round eyes and a lopsided grin, followed by her parents—or they could've as easily been random fucking people for all you knew. When she saw you two in the room, she immediately introduced herself; you didn’t fail to notice her eyes lingering on Jungkook longer than necessary, though.

"Hello!" she said, stepping aside so her parents could do so as well. "I'm Noori and this is my mom and dad. You're my roommate, right?" She paused to look at Jungkook. "Is he your brother?"

You smiled at her, dropping the finger that was pointed at Jungkook and about to ram its way up his butthole. As you stepped in front of him and blocked his view, you could feel him scowling up at you.

"He's nobody, but I am your roommate! It's nice to meet you."

She tried to look past you at Jungkook, furrowing her eyebrows.

After you told her your name, the two of you discussed living arrangements and you asked her if it was okay if she got the top bunk, which she happily agreed to. From what you could tell so far, the two of you would get along, and that's all you could ever ask for. Jungkook was somehow behaving on the floor, playing with the zipper on your suitcase and farting probably. You really didn't understand why he was still here. Didn't he have anything better to do?

After Noori's parents left, she asked, "Do you want to go to the cafeteria? I'm kind of hungry."

"Sure!" you easily agreed, reaching for your wallet that had your student ID. "Where is—"

Jungkook suddenly stood up, tucking his hands into his front jean pockets. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek in that way he did only when he was really irritated and you glared at him.

"I'm sorry!" Noori said, looking between the two of you. "Do you want to come, too?"

You knew that she wanted to ask him to come the moment she set her doe-like eyes on him but didn't want to ask herself, which kind of made you angry. Just because Jungkook was good looking or whatever the fuck he was calling it, suddenly your roommate cared more about him than she did about you. If he got his creepy fingers on her, he'd just spit her out his butthole like an old fart.

"If that's okay," he replied, smiling softly.

"I d-don't mind," she mumbled to herself, cheeks flashing pink. "I'm Noori. But you probably knew that already since you w-were... since you were here when I s-said that..."

He laughed softly. "Noori. That's a cute name." Scratching at the back of his neck, you knew it was a planned move by how fast her eyes darted to his biceps. "I'm Jungkook."

Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at what you were witnessing. Jungkook was going to stick his hands up her skirt like he did every other living thing with boobs bigger than tennis balls, and then you'd have to hear about it.

But you couldn't exactly say that he couldn't come with because that was rude apparently.

And so, all you could do was glare daggers into the back of his giant head that reminded you vaguely of an elephant bird's egg. As the three of you left the room, Noori and Jungkook were walking side by side, shoulders brushing every few seconds, while you followed closely behind them. You couldn't figure out if Jungkook was doing this to irritate you or if he genuinely wanted to fuck her.

The more you thought about it, the more you would rather eat ten thousand mealworms in under sixty seconds than go to the cafeteria and witness this for the next hour and fifty minutes.

"Actually," you said suddenly and they stopped to look back at you, "I think I'm going to stay here."

Noori's eyebrows furrowed, concerned. "Are you feeling okay? What's wrong?"

You waved your hand back and forth, nonchalantly. "I'm fine but I think I'm just not that hungry actually. You guys go ahead and I'll just be here unpacking, okay? Have fun."

Shooting a glare at Jungkook, you ran your tongue over the seam of your lips in an effort to calm yourself, and then spun on your heel, stomping back to your room.

The rage was radiating off of you in waves. You didn't get angry that often but when you did, it always involved fucking Jungkook. This was supposed to be your time to get to know your roommate but here he was taking that away from you just because he fucking could. You literally wanted to kill him.

Your door slammed behind you and you paced back and forth, nibbling on your nail anxiously. You thought that with him out of your line of vision you'd at least calm down, but you could just feel the anger burning deep within your soul. So, the last thing you needed was to hear the door swing open to reveal Jungkook.

Your eyes narrowed into slits as he took a few steps closer, your upper lip curling in disgust.

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

"What?" he asked easily. "I don't see what you're so angry about."

"She's my fucking roommate and you leave her the fuck alone."

"I can fuck whoever I want and if I want to fuck your roommate," he began, walking closer to you until he was mere inches from your face, "I'll do it as many times as I fucking want to."

You let out a bitter laugh. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He shrugged, looking at you with a smirk as if he thought he won.

You were so blinded by your own rage that you couldn't swallow the urge. Without even thinking, you reached out and grabbed the collar of his button-up shirt, some of the buttons coming undone as you did. For a moment, you just breathed in and out, your breath fanning across his face in big puffs in a last ditch effort to take control of the situation before you did something really fucking stupid.

"If you fuck my roommate," you rasped out, tilting your head slightly, "I'll fuck you up, Jeon."

All it took was a quirk of one his eyebrows for you to pull on his collar until your lips slammed against his. He choked out a gasp, his hands flying into the air as if he was going to shove you off of him, but they didn't move, moving at a snail's pace downwards until they settled on your hips. You could feel your own lips bruising at how hard you were kissing him but he wasn't even responding. For a fleeting second, you wondered what was going through his head. Was he enjoying it at least? You hoped he was because this would be the only time your lips would fucking be anywhere near him.

Before you could stop yourself, you were tugging on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood—and you did as you tasted something metallic on the tip of your tongue. A few seconds later, you released it and watched as his tongue darted out to lick at where you just bit him. You couldn't quite figure out if his eyes were blown wide with the same unadulterated rage you felt or from how turned on he was.

"I didn't fucking consent to this," he breathed out.

"Yeah, but something else did,” you said with a smirk, glancing at his crotch.

The hands at your hips tightened their grip, his stubby nails digging into the skin beneath your shirt, then maneuvered you until your back slammed into your dresser. You groaned out, lips parting, and he took that as the perfect opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth. When the top of your tongue licked at the underside of his, he moaned into your mouth shakily. The palm of one of your hands smoothed over the surface of the dresser, trying to push yourself forward to take control but he only pressed you harder into it with his hips. It seemed he was more turned on than he was letting on.

"I don't... fucking t-think so..." he rasped out and trailed one of his hands up your side until his fingers intertwined with yours, moving down to wrap around your wrist and pin it down on the dresser.

Your stomach flipped at that, almost liking how easily he dominated you, but then you remembered you were the one in control and this was all to keep him and his small dick away from your roommate.

You bit lightly on his tongue and he cursed into your mouth, pulling back. Your free hand flew forward and shoved at his chest with the tips of your fingers until there were at least a few inches between the two of you. You could've stopped since you had the upper hand. You could've slapped him and told him to get out of your dorm room. You could've even grabbed onto his neck and kneed him in the crotch to prevent him from procreating in the future.

But you didn't do any of those things.

Instead, you projected yourself forward and your teeth collided as your lips touched again. You didn't stop inching forward on the tips of your toes until his back slammed against the wall and the desk adjacent to it shook, your lamp wobbling slightly. Your fingers, one by one, made their way past his hardened stomach and the veins of his neck until they tugged on some strands of ebony hair, and a groan sounded from the back of his throat.

Distantly, you heard your roommate still in the hallway asking if you two were okay. How long had it been since he followed after you and shut the door behind him? It couldn't have been more than five minutes but it felt like so much longer. You hadn't been expecting one kiss to turn into this.

"Ignore her," he moaned into your mouth. "Don't f-fucking stop."

"Why not? You seemed pretty fucking determined to get into her pants."

"If I promise to give up, will you suck me off with those cock-sucking lips of yours?"

Instead of answering, your fingers tugged on his hair again, earning another groan from him. As you stared up at him, he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on the spot where you bit him again. Your cheek brushed against his as you tugged at the skin of his ear with your teeth, then sucked on one of his piercings there teasingly.

Pulling on the black gauge, you let go as you leant in to whisper directly into his ear, "No."

And then you removed yourself from him, those last few seconds giving you enough of a clear head to snap out of it and back away from him slowly. His eyes snapped open at the feeling of your body detaching from his. With a coy grin, you glanced down at the boner straining against his jeans, humming to yourself lightly before looking back up at him with innocent eyes.

"It looks like you have a little problem," you sneered, then turned towards the door.

You smoothed down your hair, licking at your lips now that you finally had room to breathe. Just as you opened the door, you looked back at Jungkook one last time to see him buttoning up his shirt, narrowing his eyes when he noticed you staring. Turning back towards the hallway, you tried to swallow the smirk that was lifting up one corner of your lips, then found Noori standing there.

"I changed my mind," you said, walking towards her. "I'm suddenly really hungry."

"What about Jungkook?" she asked and tried to look over your shoulder at him. "Is he okay?"

He took that moment to walk through your open doorway, running a hand through his hair.

"He actually has to go back to his frat to take care of something, but maybe next time."

It'd been three days but Jungkook was still fucking furious.

Maybe he should've seen it coming, but he was also going to fucking kill you for doing it anyway. Why did he even go along with it? Why did he enjoy it so fucking much? Maybe it was the fact that the kiss wasn't a normal kiss at all. Normal kisses involved sweet pecks and the occasional addition of tongue, but that kiss was all tongue, all bite, and all shove. He still had the fucking bruises from being slammed into a wall to prove it; he could still feel you tugging on his hair and biting on his lip. He should've known you had an ulterior motive in that fucked up head of yours the second you kissed him—and he really didn't want to think about them again or he'd get another fucking hard-on.

The next time he got his hands on you, you were going to die.

After you and Noori left for the cafeteria, Jungkook was stuck there to pick up the pieces of what you did to him. How the fuck did you even manage that? Never once had he even looked at you that way. In his head, you were still the ugly sixth grader with a head brace. He would give anything at this moment to wrap that same head brace around your neck and watch you choke. And after you left, it would've been so fucking easy to just cum all over your ceiling but that's what you fucking wanted him to do.

Getting hard from a fucking kiss was one thing, but jacking off to the thought it? Hell fucking no. He wasn't going to give you the satisfaction that you messed with his head. Although, maybe you did a little bit. He hadn’t stopped thinking about that kiss for the past three days and it was driving him fucking crazy.

So, instead of doing that, he called up one of his noonas and had her suck him off until the crack of dawn.

"What's gotten you so hard, Jungkookie?" she asked, blinking up at him with curious eyes. "Was it me? Did you miss your noona so much that you got hard just so you could see me?"

Whatever helps you fucking sleep at night, he thought to himself.

"Is that okay, noona?"

She fell to her knees, already reaching for his belt buckle. Jungkook watched with half-lidded eyes as she tugged on the hem of his jeans and he helped her take off his pants, then laid down on the bed.

"It's okay with your noona," she reassured him and ran her nails down his thighs like he liked. "I missed you. I'm so happy to see you again, Jungkookie."

He breathed out a sigh as she gripped him through his boxers. It was a fleeting thought but he wondered how you sucked guys off—or more of how you would suck him off. It would take a fucking miracle for you to get anywhere near his cock, but he couldn't swallow down the urge to think about it. You'd try to tease him, but he wouldn't let you do that; he would grab your hair and force your mouth onto his dick until you were gasping for air, using your mouth as another hole for him to fuck into.

At that thought, his dick twitched and she smiled, thinking he was thinking about her mouth and not his stupid next-door neighbor's. Although, next-door neighbor couldn’t even begin to describe what you were to him. You weren’t friends, you weren’t enemies, but you were somewhere in between. Behind closed doors, the two of you would fight to death. But in front of your friends and families? The two of you were childhood friends. His parents were still convinced that you were the girl he was going to end up marrying.

Not in this fucking life would he ever let that happen to him.

Slowly, she pulled down his boxers and his dick sprang to attention, pre-cum already leaking from the tip. It wouldn't take much to get him to cum and he really fucking hated admitting to that. She licked at her lips, her mouth watering at the sight of his swollen cock about to ejaculate all over the ceiling.

"You're such a good boy," she praised, inching her fingers towards him.

Jungkook let out a whine when her fingers ghosted along his shaft in light, feathery touches. This was usually what he liked—the anticipation and slow release that had him tightening his fists around the sheets and begging to cum—but he needed to cum and he needed to fucking cum now.

"N-Noona," he choked out in a gasp, hand curling around the edge of the bed.

"Use your words, Jungkookie. What do you want your noona to do to you?"

"Touch m-me," he rasped out, then added, "please."

She smiled at that, pleased. "You always tell me what I want to hear. You’re such a good boy for me."

Not even a second later and her thin fingers wrapped around him and worked her way up and down his shaft in quick, precise strokes. Jungkook threw his head from side to side, thighs clenching.

More pre-cum glistened at the tip of his cock and she raised an eyebrow.

"Where do you want to cum? You need to tell me or your noona won't know what you want."

"A-Anywhere," he managed to say through the pleasure. "I-In your mouth, noona."

Her quick strokes slowed, watching him carefully and he knew what she wanted to hear.

"Please, noona. I want your mouth so much."

"Good boy. That's what I wanted to hear."

And then her quick strokes resumed. Jungkook's mouth hung open and his hips went to thrust into the air, wanting to get more friction but not being able to. A second later, her mouth descended on him, her lips wrapping around the tip at first before she swallowed him whole. The warm feeling of his cock settling between a pair of wet lips was something he would never get enough of; it didn't even matter whose fucking mouth it was. Getting sucked off was always better than jacking off alone in his bedroom. Why would he need to do that when his noonas lining up at his door to do it for him?

On shaking elbows, he raised himself up so he could watch as she pulled him further in her mouth, jaw slacking slightly so she wouldn't gag. Her face twisted as he hit the back of her throat over and over again, but she kept her hand on the base of his cock, rubbing her thumb into one of the protruding veins there. His head fell back and his neck glistened with sweat with every stroke.

"N-Noona," Jungkook stuttered out, panting as he felt himself about to cum.

The sad part was that the thought that threw him over the edge was you.

She kept stroking him, gradually slowing down as she worked him through his orgasm. A trail of cum leaked out of her mouth and she quickly caught it with the back of her free hand, making sure to swallow every last bit of cum he ejaculated into her mouth.

Feeling his last bit of energy escape him, Jungkook fell against the mattress and one of his arms came to rest over his eyes, breathing heavily and feeling his t-shirt stick to his chest from all the sweat.

"All better?" she asked, grinning up at him as her chin settled against the tops of his thighs.

He couldn't even choke out a reply, so he only nodded. His arm fell to his side and he stared at the ceiling, puffs of air still escaping him as he breathed in and out. One of his hands came to grab at the polyester of his shirt, tugging at it repeatedly as he let the air from his AC unit fan across his chest.

"Do you think you can go again, Jungkookie?"

Jungkook glanced over at her asleep beside him in his bed, the sheets barely covering her naked body. It was always amazing to him how many times girls could orgasm without stopping. His frat brothers would probably yell at him the second he left his room for making so much noise last night, but it was worth it.

His phone began to vibrate against his bedside table and he sat up, back pressing against the headboard and unlocking it to see who was texting him so early in the fucking morning.

MOM [12:01:43]: Good morning, sweetie.

He scrolled down to see her wishing him good luck with school, as his classes started yesterday morning. At the last message, he ran the tip of his tongue over the front of his teeth, irritated.

She was asking about you.

Just the thought of you brought back the rage of what you did to him. He'd been thinking about what he was going to say to you the next time he saw you—and he would see you soon because of what he promised your mother. Would he even be able to talk to you like normal without wanting to kill you?

Revenge is sweet but forgiveness is sweeter, was what his mom always said.

He'd forgive you when he got his fucking hands on you.

Or maybe he wouldn't.

When you first saw Jungkook walk through the front doors of the library, your immediate reaction was to take the textbook lying in front of you on the table and hide behind it—or toss it at his head to use as some distraction so that you could make a break for it because you were in trouble.

After what you did to him five days ago, you knew he wasn't going to let it go; you knew he was pissed. One thing you knew about men was they took their boners very seriously. The good news was he didn't seem to notice you and that gave you enough time to pack up your things and head upstairs where all the reference books were. Jungkook hated books and was basically illiterate, so even if he managed to see you, he wouldn’t even know how to find you

But why the fuck had you done that to him in the first place? All you could think about the past few days was how tight he held your wrist down and how his hips trapped you against the dresser. And you hated yourself for letting the kiss get that far. You had been so angry and consumed by your own rage that you just wanted to control him and put him in his place, but it went way too far.

It was supposed to be just a peck, but then—somehow—the two of you ended up slamming each other into furniture as you made out. There was so much sexual tension in that room, even after you came back from the cafeteria.

You gulped, glancing over your shoulder to see if he was still there. Jungkook threw his head back and you could hear that annoying cackle of his even if you weren't close enough to actually hear it. Maybe you were overreacting and he wasn't mad at all. You paused as you asked yourself if you really believed that. Who the hell were you kidding? This was Jungkook you were talking about.

He was probably still mad about you calling his penis small.

Without looking back at him, you made your way past students studying at booths, their laptops and textbooks laid out in front of them. The stairs were in your direct line of vision, but that was dangerous considering there was no cover. You probably should take the elevator—just to be on the safe side.

You stopped in front of it, pressing the arrow indicating you wanted to go up. The elevator dinged and you watched as it displayed which floor it was on. As karma would have it, it was coming from the very top floor. Tapping your foot anxiously, you looked to your right to see if Jungkook was still near the front door with his friends—and he wasn't. You hoped for your own personal safety that he just left with them to find a group study room somewhere.

The elevator had made its way down two floors but you still looked around the library nervously. Just as you did, you spotted him coming out of a study room. He was holding onto the side of the glass door, talking to someone inside, then laughed to himself as he closed it. Just as he turned around, he spotted you waiting for the elevator and you could already feel yourself growing pale.

You didn't dare move even an inch as he just stood there, staring at you.

And then one corner of his lips curled into a smirk.

Just as he looked back at his group members one last time, you took that chance to break into a half-jog, not exactly running because there was no running in the library, but you also didn't want to die. That bullshit you said about how you weren't afraid of him? You fucking changed your mind.

Your heart pounded against your chest, eyes darting in front of you as you looked for any sort of escape, like an emergency exit or a staircase or even a fucking crowd of incoming freshman getting a tour around the library for you to bulldoze into—but there was nothing. It seemed everyone on campus currently at the library chose this day to keep to themselves and give him a clear path.

They might as well just hold down your arms and legs while they were at it.

As you turned a corner and saw not even a fly buzzing in your general direction, you broke into a run. One strap from your backpack fell past your shoulder but you didn't pay any attention to it because all you wanted to do was live to see another day. When your eyes landed on one of the four library exits, you almost cried out in relief—but that didn't mean you were out of the woods yet.

You ran out the door, willing your short legs to carry you far, far away from him. The bottoms of your shoes slammed down onto the pavement and you frantically looked around you for a place to hide. Outside the library was nothing but department buildings, which would just leave Jungkook to chase you in another building; you needed a fucking getaway van or something.

Beginning to pant heavily, you flew past the exterior of the library and turned a corner, looking to your right to see Jungkook was still hot on your heels and you had never seen him run so fast in your entire life, not even when that punk ass kid in middle school stole his art project. People stared at the two of you as the both of you raced past them, too caught up in your own agendas to care about how this probably looked, like you'd stolen his fucking purse or something. Your eyes fell on an alleyway and—without even thinking—you turned the corner to run past the buildings surrounding it, hoping to throw Jungkook off your path.

But you supposed your luck had to run out eventually as you hit a dead end.

"Going somewhere?" you heard from behind you, voice laced in sarcasm.

He was breathing heavily, the mad dash he made from the library’s exit to alleyway seeming to take a toll on him. You were the same but your pride wouldn’t let him know that you only liked to run when you were being chased.

Although, you never thought you would actually get chased.

You ran your tongue past the seam of your lips, sighing as you turned around in pained resignation. "H-Hello, Jungkook."

He furrowed his eyebrows, feigning concern. "You seem a little bit nervous."

"I'm n-not..." you mumbled, looking past him to see if you could run past him.

"No, no. You seem really nervous," he said with a shit-eating grin. "As if you... did something wrong."

You narrowed your eyes. Maybe you could just fight him there in the alleyway.

"No response?" he asked, taking a few steps closer. "You know, my mom's been asking about you."

You nodded along. "Really? Is that what this is about?"

Jungkook stared at the ground, then, kicking a pebble until it came to stop in front of your shoe. When he looked back up at you, he was standing only a few feet away from you.

"I think you know what this is about."

You gulped at that.

"You think you're funny, huh?" he asked and his tone took on an anger that was unfamiliar to you. "Think you can just do that to me and leave me hanging?" He paused, looking at you for any sort of reaction. "After you left, I had to sort myself out without your fucking help—even though you were the fucking one who caused it in the first place."

You glanced over his shoulder at a group of people walking by, talking animatedly amongst each other. His jaw clenched and he watched you in pained silence as you returned your attention back to him.

"You could pay me fucking ten billion dollars and I still wouldn't come near your dick."

He bit into his bottom lip, chuckling lowly. "Yeah? We'll fucking see about that."

The tension in his body seemed to radiate off him in waves and you fidgeted slightly, pulling at your backpack strap to avoid looking him in the eye. A few cars drove by as they sped through a red light, but he didn't take his eyes off of you for one fucking second.

"You know," he began, stepping impossibly closer to you, "if I were you, I would lock myself in my little dorm room and make sure we don't run into each other again."

"A-And if I don't?"

He forced out a laugh. "Let's just say I'm going to... fuck you up."

You remembered how you told him the exact same thing that day and swallowed.

When he reached into his back jean pocket, you took a cautious step back until you realized he was just pulling out his phone. In awkward silence, you watched him as he unlocked his phone with a press of his thumb against the home button. The strands of ebony black tickled the tops of his eyebrows as he leant over it, eyes darting across the screen until he stood straight up.

"Chill the fuck out," he said after a few seconds. "My mom wants a picture of us together."

His hand moved to grab at the back of your shirt, then felt at your bare skin near one of your shoulders. He held his phone at an angle and could see every single reaction of yours, so you tried to keep a blank expression. After a moment, he let go of your shoulder and went to mess with the filters.

"Hold on," he muttered, mostly to himself.

You looked over his shoulder as he scrolled through them all, finally landing on one that would give you dog ears. Raising an eyebrow at him, you didn't realize he was the type to even use filters. But it wasn’t like you were impressed.

He raised the phone up at an angle again and told you to open your mouth so that the filter would give the two of you a tongue. A laugh escaped him when the app malfunctioned and the tongue came from your nose instead of your mouth. You rolled your eyes out him, moving around to fix it.

After a few seconds, he snapped a picture finally and removed himself from you. It was silent, except for the clicking on his screen as he typed out a caption and then sent it to his mother. He turned to leave, but then hesitated, looking back at you with a glare.

"I was going to say I hope we don’t see each other again but I actually fucking do, just so I can make you suffer like you made me.”

You felt a lump in the back of your throat as you gulped.

Going to your first frat party was Noori's idea.

After the whole incident with Jungkook, a week had passed, including when you saw each other at the library and he had literally chased you down as if you were an escaped convict. It was now your first weekend staying on campus and somehow, Noori managed to make some connections in that time.

As the two of you made it up the front steps, passing by some people scattered across the front lawn with red solo cups, you glanced at your reflection in one of the windows. Noori had taken charge of your outfit and let you borrow one of her skirts, and you had never felt more confident in your appearance. You just hoped no one noticed you hadn't shaved your legs for a few days.

That all went to shit the moment one of her friends let you inside.

This wasn't just any fraternity house.

It was Jungkook's.

How did you know that? Because you vaguely remembered your family forcing you to tag along to pick Jungkook up for his eighteenth birthday—and you had picked him up at this very frat. You wanted to kick yourself for not recognizing the front lawn earlier, but it was also almost ten o'clock at night.

In that moment, you had never nope'd out of a situation so fast in your life.

"I'm sorry, Noori," you said, peeking around corners to see if he was hiding behind a potted plant or something equally weird like that. "I suddenly feel—" You let out a convincing cough. "—sick."

Her eyes bulged out at that. "You c-can't! You promised you would be my date tonight!"

"But I— I can't— I—"

"Please," she begged, grabbing onto your bare shoulder after one of the straps from your loose-fitted shirt slipped into the crevice of your elbow. "You can't l-leave me here by myself."

Her big eyes seemed to stare into your soul and you caved. "Okay, whatever! Fine! I'll stay, but don’t leave my side."

"Thank you," she said as she let out a sigh of relief and let go of your shoulder.

Chewing on the corner of your bottom lip, you followed after her anxiously. Maybe there was a possibility Jungkook wasn't even here. Perhaps he got fucked so hard that he just died.

She dragged you by the hand deeper into the house, brushing past sweaty bodies as you did. The music was playing so loud that it seemed to vibrate off the walls and you really wondered why you agreed to come, not just because the thought of Jungkook lingering in some dark corner was a possibility; you just weren't the party type. You preferred to keep to yourself or hang out in small groups rather than at parties. That's not to say you'd never been to a party before, but the last party you went to was in high school and there were less than twenty people there in one of your friends' basements as you played board games and passed along a giant bottle of vodka amongst yourselves.

The two of you managed to make your way to the kitchen and Noori immediately helped herself to a bottle of rum, pouring herself a cup and then taking a big swig of it. Your mouth dropped open, wondering how such a small girl could drink so much alcohol in less than five seconds. When she noticed your expression, she raised an eyebrow, then slid you a cup across the counter.

You brought the red solo cup to your lips, taking a tiny sip, until you heard cheering coming from behind you.

"Who wants to play beer pong?!" someone shouted, and then another chorus of cheers followed.

Noori slammed her half-empty cup on the counter, wiping at her mouth with the back of her manicured hand, and then came to step beside you and drag you towards the cheers.

"I want to play!" she shouted at you excitedly, maneuvering the two of you through the crowd.

Two teams had already split up on opposite sides of the ping pong table—the girls' team and the guys' team. The two of you approached the girls and they grabbed your arms to pull you towards the front, giggling amongst themselves. One girl with strikingly red hair pointed a pair of fingers at one of the guys standing across from her, as if to say I'm fucking watching you, jackass.

"He likes to cheat," she hissed at you, taking the game more seriously than you thought she would.

"All right, all right!" one of the guys began at the opposite end of the table. "I want to see a clean game tonight. No fucking cheating—and I'm looking at you and your sticky fingers, Chang."

"That was one fucking time," you heard him mumble to himself.

"Let's flip a coin to see which team goes first and then you can determine the order amongst yourselves. Cool?" the same guy asked, standing off to the side to look at both teams.

A chorus of mumbled agreements reached his ears and he immediately pulled out a quarter. As he flipped it with the tip of his thumb nail, your team called out heads while the other called out tails. Everyone leaned forward to look at which side the quarter landed on, and it landed on tails.

"All right. Blue team goes first," he said, and then walked back to stand with his team.

You and Noori crossed your arms as they tried to quickly determine who would go first, but when they shoved a guy with black hair and a white button-up shirt forward, you loosened your arms.

"Jungkook! Jungkook! Jungkook!" his team chanted, grinning at him.

Of fucking course he would be playing beer pong, you thought.

He scratched at the back of his head after being handed a ping pong ball, then closed one of his eyes as he aimed for one of your teams' cups. When it landed in the cup in the back, you all groaned. One of the girls stepped forward to chug it, then, breathing out and smacking her lips when she finished.

At that moment, Jungkook's eyes met yours and he tilted his head, grinning.

"CHANG! WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY?!" one of the girls beside you suddenly yelled, which caused you to jump in place.

"I didn't cheat!" he yelled back, his lower abdomen ramming into the table. "I didn't! I was just—"

The table wobbled slightly and, as you were standing near the front, could only watch as one of the cups fell over and stained your white shirt. Some of the other cups fell over as well and you weren't the only girl with beer stains on the front of her shirt—the chorus of screams falling on deaf male ears.

"He did this on fucking purpose!" the same girl yelled, stepping around the table to get in his face.

As all the girls proceeded to scream and curse him out, you knew who the true culprit was. Jungkook had stood behind him and pushed him on purpose. But for what? You were about to fucking find out—although you didn’t want to.

While everyone was arguing about whether he was cheating or not—and he wasn't—Jungkook quietly made his way around the table and passed your team, but not without wrapping his fingers around your wrist and dragging you off towards the staircase near the kitchen. No one seemed to notice, except for Noori, and she watched silently as the two of you disappeared upstairs.

"Would you fucking let go of me?!" you shrieked, finally pulling your wrist out of his grasp.

"What?" he asked innocently, then looked at the stain on your shirt. "You need a new shirt, right?"

You crossed your arms, not believing him for one second. He'd planned that but you couldn't figure out why. You knew it had something to do with revenge and he was still being a whiny baby about you giving him a boner, but you couldn't figure out what he was going to do to you because of that.

"Just a shirt," you mumbled, following after him as he led you towards the laundry room.

Your mind was turning as you stared at his backside, his hands tucked in his front jean pockets. You had a really fucking bad feeling about this. There was no way he'd just give you a shirt out of the kindness of his heart; he had some ulterior motive that you couldn't yet predict. Was he going to lock you in there and leave you until someone else had to unlock the door? Maybe he would strap you down into a chair and force you to watch a marathon of bird documentaries.

Before you had time to think about it more, he was opening the door to the laundry room, gesturing for you to go in first under the guise of ladies first. You licked at your lip, narrowing your eyes, but brushed past him anyway. It looked normal enough—and surprisingly was clean, too.

As he followed after you, the sound of a lock clicking in place sounded and your blood ran cold.

"Why did you lock the door, Jungkook?"

"You didn't really think that I brought you up here just for a shirt, did you?"

You turned around, then, looking at him in both apprehension and curiosity.

"No," you replied. "But you didn't really give me much of a fucking choice."

He laughed, bitterly. "Bull-fucking-shit. I know you could've fought me off but you let me drag you up here. And you didn't come up here just for a shirt either."

When you didn't say anything, not denying what he said or agreeing to it either, he advanced towards you in quick steps. His chest pressed against your own and—one by one—you took small steps backwards until your lower back pressed into the front of a washing machine.

"I thought I told you I was going to fuck you up if I saw you again."

Instead of shrinking into yourself like you wanted to, you tilted your head up to look him straight in the eyes, feigning confidence. "And what the fuck does that even mean?"

He chuckled lowly, dropping his gaze to the wooden floor. "I guess you're going to find out."

It didn't appear like he was going to do anything, so you took that moment as his eyes scanned your face, falling onto your parted lips, to shove him forward until you could move away from the washing machine. He looked shocked, to say the least. Just as he seemed to realize what was happening, you were shoving him again, your breasts pressing into his chest, and you leaned up to connect your lips.

Maybe you'd been fucking hoping he would drag you off somewhere.

The shelves over your heads shook when his back slammed into a wall, a roll of toilet paper rolling off the edge and landing at your feet. Neither of you seemed to care as your lips smacked against each other. His mouth parted wide and he licked the seam of your lips, biting into your lower lip until you groaned in pain. You felt his hands smoothing up your sides until he tugged on your shirt, the wide boat neck making it easy to slip past your shoulders and reveal your strapless bra. That wasn't enough for him, though, as he kept pulling it down your waist until it pooled around your ankles. His breath fanned across your face, almost making you pull away from the strong smell of beer and rum.

You stepped out of your shoes and flung your shirt somewhere behind you when you caught your foot in one of the sleeves. Just as you thought things were moving in your favor, he pulled back.

"I don't fucking think so," he breathed out, then he turned you around and bent you over one of the machines and smoothed his hand over the curve of your ass, flipping your skirt over your back.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing—"

Then his hand came down hard on your ass. You cried out, trying to move against him to push him back and get away, but he trapped you against the washing machine with a firm press of his hips.

"You really think I'm just going to let you get off easy?" he sneered hotly into your ear.

Damn, you cursed to yourself.

"I want you to count each time I spank you," he whispered. "And make sure I can fucking hear you."

Was he fucking joking? There was no way you were going to fucking do tha—

His hand slapped against your other ass cheek and you felt tears forming in your eyes, mouth hanging open. It wasn’t pleasant but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant either, but you knew that you deserved it at least a little bit.

"If you don't count, I'm just going to keep spanking you," he told you.

"Jungkook," you started to say, panicking, "if you actually think I'm going to—"

When his hand came down hard on your ass again, you couldn't stop yourself from yelling out, "O-One!"

"That's a good girl," he praised you. "Nine more times."

Soothingly, the palm of his hand rubbed over the same spot he just hit and you placed your cheek against the cool lid of the washing machine. The sharp sting from the slap seemed to disappear and turn into pleasure as he continued to caress your skin over your underwear. You knew what was about to come next, though, and closed your eyes in anticipation, fingers curling and uncurling.

"Two!" you choked out as soon as he spanked you again, your ass jiggling.

"Keep it up and maybe I'll give you a reward."

It was almost as if you were getting used to the feeling, getting used to the sting from the palm of his hand—and actually fucking liking it. With each spank, your body jerked forward, the top of your head nearly slamming against the dial of the washing machine. Somehow, you managed to count off each spank and he praised you for it each time, telling you how well you were taking his hits. And with each spank, you looked forward to the aftercare from the same calloused hand that spanked you.

By the time he spanked you the tenth time, you were panting against the lid of the washing machine, relishing in the touch from his hand rubbing circles into your skin.

"Why t-the fuck did you spank me?" you managed to gasp out, still basking in pleasure and pain.

His hand stopped groping your ass. "Because you fucking deserved it."

You scoffed, pushing your ass into his crotch to give yourself room to breathe. Standing up, you groaned at the pain but somehow, you didn't exactly mind it that much—and that scared you. You needed to get the fuck out of there before you did something even worse than let him spank you.

"And where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"Away from you," you snapped back, bending over to grab your shirt. As you slipped it over your head and adjusted it over your shoulders again, you mumbled to yourself, "I can't believe I fucking let y—"

He pulled you back with a tug on your wrist and you glared at him.

"You could've stopped me at any time if you really wanted me to, but you didn't want me to stop."

"I didn't fucking e-enjoy it, you stupid—"

"Yeah, you fucking did."

Your glare softened, then you dropped your gaze to his lips.

With a sigh, he said, "If you really didn't like it, then I promise—"

"I liked it," you interrupted him and looked him in the eye. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I did."

He stared at you for a long time, grin widening. The only sound you heard in the laundry room was the distant thumping from the music downstairs and the beating of your heart against your chest.

"Yo!" someone called from the hallway, turning the doorknob. "Why is the fucking door locked?"

The answer he got back was the sound of your back slamming into the door, Jungkook frantically grabbing the hem of your shirt as he threw it back to its place on the floor. You panted into his mouth, reaching behind you to undo the clasp of your bra and throw it in the direction of your shirt and shoes. He thrusted into your clothed core, causing you to dig your nails into his shoulder and let your head fall against the door as you gasped. Cracking open your eyes, your nails smoothed past his neck to pull at the buttons of his shirt, tugging at them desperately until they went flying across the room.

"A simple no would've sufficed," you heard him grumble from the other side of the door.

At the sound of his disappearing footsteps down the hallway and the slam of a bedroom door, Jungkook slipped one of his hands under your skirt, pulling at your underwear until it slid the rest of the way down your legs. With his button-up shirt already open, half of the buttons missing, you quickly pushed back his sleeves until his chest was bare and glistening with sweat. The alcohol still pumping through your blood made you feel like you were in a daze, as if this wasn't your body. You hadn't had nearly as much to drink as Noori, but you always considered yourself a lightweight.

No words were spoken between the two of you, just heavy breathing and the occasional moan as he pulled at his belt buckle with one hand, easily loosening it enough to pull down his jeans. Your eyes followed his movements as he reached into his boxers. The outline of his hard cock was already making you feel like your arousal would start dripping down your legs in about two seconds.

"C-Condom?" you gasped out, not able to take your eyes off his dick as he pulled it out of his underwear.

"Yeah," he groaned out, pumping himself with quick strokes.

Leaning his forehead against yours, your lips tingled at his brushing your own, but not yet touching. Jungkook broke away from you for a second to dig into his back jean pocket on the floor for his wallet, producing a condom. Just as he was about to rip it open with his teeth, you brought your fist down on his head, narrowing your eyes at him. He only looked at you with a flabbergasted expression.

"Do you have something you want to fucking say?"

"Why the fuck would you use your teeth? You're going to tear a hole in it, you imbecile."

He rolled his eyes, taking the package out of his mouth and opening it properly with his fingers. With an anxious expression, you watched as he rolled the condom down his shaft, stroking himself a few times to make sure it was on properly. Then, he grabbed one of your legs, anchoring it to his hip and spread your legs even wider. As your inner folds separated, you groaned out. He grabbed himself at the base to run the tip over your wet center, skipping over your clit on purpose.

"J-Jungkook," you moaned lowly. "Just fucking—"

And then he thrusted inside.

Your mouth fell open as a silent scream escaped you, closing your eyes at the sensation of being filled. He was bigger than he fucking looked. If it was even possible, he spread your legs even wider and circled his hips—up and down, left to right—reaching every spot that he could touch with the tip of his cock. When you clenched around him, his hips stuttered, him choking out a breathless groan in response.

"O-Oh..." you moaned, head falling against the door repeatedly as he thrusted faster and faster into you. When your hand smacked against the wood beside your head, he didn't hesitate to hold it there and it felt like he was wrapping his hand around your neck instead from being unable to move it. "R-Right fucking t-there... God, why are you so—"

Just then, the bedroom door that had slammed five minutes prior opened again.

"Still going at it, huh..." he grumbled as he walked by. "Why the laundry room? I have no clean fucking underwear, you animals."

"Ignore him," Jungkook grunted, pulling out until the tip of his dick was barely penetrating your clenching hole, then pushed back in with a hard thrust. "It's just you, me, and my cock right now."

"And they say romance is dead."

When your leg still planted to the floor began to shake, Jungkook pulled you away from the wall, looking over his shoulder at one of the laundry machines with a devilish grin. He spun you around, not bothering to remove himself from your pussy as he led you to the opposite side of the room in a blur.

The sensation of your ass being placed onto the cold washing machine lid registered for a moment, and then he was resuming his frantic pounding as he chased after his own orgasm. The washing machine slammed against the wall with each snap of his hips, sounding like nails on a chalkboard and making you anxious someone would hear the two of you having sex in a fucking laundry room. You could tell by his heavy breathing that he was almost there, sweat lining his brow. You, on the other hand, could feel your orgasm but not quite grab a hold of it, the act of penetration alone not enough for you. One of your hands trailed past your breasts, stopping just at your entrance and heading towards your clit. However, instead of feeling relief from touching yourself there in just the way you liked, you only felt emptiness as Jungkook grabbed onto your hand and slowed his thrusts.

"What? Is my cock not good enough for you?"

"Jungkook, you ignorant slut."

He had to know that you couldn't get off just from his cock, but yet he wasn't letting you touch your clit, no matter how many times you tried. You whined when he slapped your hand away one last time, almost near tears at not being able to reach your orgasm like he was seeming to do.

"I need to fucking cum," you cried out, nails digging into the skin of his biceps.

"Chill the fuck out," he said, then moaned a second later at you clenching around him again. "I'll get to you in a second but let me cum first. My cock is more important."

How nice of you, you thought bitterly, glaring at him.

You moaned loudly when his cock brushed that spot in you that had your vision going white for a brief second, one of your hands blindly feeling the wall behind you until you grabbed onto one of the pipes, nails scraping against its surface. He seemed to press you even more into the machine, fucking you so hard that you could only sit there and convulse, opening and closing your mouth as if you wanted to scream but not even a single sound escaped you—or maybe you wouldn't let a sound escape you.

"What's the matter?" Jungkook whispered huskily, his lips ghosting over yours. "If you want to scream, then fucking scream. I won't tell anybody who made you scream."

"N-No," you groaned out, throwing your head from side to side as pleasure continued to shoot from where his cock brushed against your inner walls. "I'm not going to give you the f-fucking satisfaction."

He chuckled, darkly. "You already fucking are with how tight—ah, shit—y-you are around me."

The hand that wasn't at your hip then reached forward to grasp onto a few strands of your hair, yanking your head forward until you had no choice but to look at him. At the feeling of him almost seeming to go faster, hammering into you until it was a chore to keep your eyes open, he pulled at your hair again, willing you to open your eyes. You cried out and forced yourself to tiredly look at him.

"K-Keep your eyes open," he grunted, tilting his head back as you clenched around him. "Or I'll have to punish you again, and you wouldn't want that, would you? Unless you... f-fucking liked it?"

"I fucking hate you, you cocky douchebag."

He narrowed his eyes at you, then pulled you against him as if you were a rag doll until you were standing flat on your feet. With his hands on your hips, he easily spun you around until your head fell against the lid of the washing machine, the position familiar from when he spanked you earlier. A cold shiver ran down your spine when your nipples pressed firmly against the white lid, and then he was spreading your legs with one of his knees, enough for him to slip right back in. You choked out a gasp, hand feeling the surface blindly for something to grab onto as he kept bucking his hips into your ass, the skin where he'd spanked you earlier still tender and bruised, but not yet painful.

"A-Ah! God! J-Jungkook!" you cried out, then lowered your voice. “P-Please don’t stop. It feels so g-goo— oh, fuck. God... Don’t stop.”

You felt his dick twitch inside of you, his hips stuttering and abs clenching as he felt that line begin to snap inside of him. Not even giving you a warning, he busted a nut or two straight into the condom. Working his way through his orgasm, his thrusts slowing down, he finally pulled out a second later.

He tilted his head back, sighing in relief as he removed the condom, knotting it and tossing it in the trash. You, on the other hand, laid there, and rubbed your thighs together for some friction; you could still feel his dick ramming inside of you and how wet you were because of it. You were sure he heard your nails click against the surface as you waited patiently—or impatiently, depending on how you looked at it.

"Jungkook," you growled, and his eyes slowly opened, focusing in on you glaring over your shoulder.

Instead of answering you, he simply rolled his eyes. "Stand up."

Humoring him, you did as he said—albeit on shaking legs. You used the washing machine adjacent to the one he'd just fucked you into to keep yourself upright, taking in short breaths. He looked behind him for your shirt, tearing some of the toilet paper when he stepped onto the undone roll, and sniffed the beer stain as if he thought it had just magically disappeared. Opening the washing machine lid, he tossed in your shirt, some laundry detergent, and slammed it shut. As he finished twisting the dial, he hovered his index finger over the button to start the cycle, grinning at you madly, then pressed down.

"Get on."

You threw him a weird look, but listened to him nonetheless. As soon as you hoisted yourself up onto the washing machine and sat down, you could feel the vibrations shooting straight into your core. Although you didn't want to admit it, he'd already brought you close to your orgasm, so it didn't take much for you to get there. Your hand shook as you inched your thumb towards your clit, pinching and rubbing until the pleasure was almost painful, but you didn't stop.

Jungkook was pulling his boxers past his hips when he looked back over at you, your mouth falling open as the pleasure began to build and build until your legs twitched uncontrollably. Without thinking twice about it, you plunged one of your fingers into your tight hole, followed by another. At the sight of your fingers pumping in and out of you at a blurred speed, still circling your clit, his jaw hung open.

"F-Fuck! Jungkook! I'm c-cumming!"

He dropped his pants, watching your legs spasm and then fall like dead weights against the machine. Although he'd just busted a load only two minutes ago, he was already ready for round two. Your thumb kept circling your clit to ride you through it, and then you slumped against the back of it.

"Jesus Christ," Jungkook mumbled, mostly to himself. "That was so fucking hot."

Your eyes blinked open to see Jungkook grinning at you. Instead of grinning back, you hopped off of the machine with your legs still shaking, wobbling your way over to your underwear and bra. At the realization that your shirt was going to be in the washing machine for a whole hour, you sighed.

"I guess I'm fucking stuck up here until it's done," you grumbled, but didn't exactly want to yell at Jungkook since he had indirectly given you one of the fastest orgasms of your life.

"Sad," he replied, feigning concern but not doing a fucking very good job at it.

He didn't even have anything else to say, simply slid his jeans over his boxers and slipped his arms through the sleeves of his white button-up, not seemingly concerned about the missing buttons.

You glared at his backside as he undid the lock, leaving the door open behind him for all the fucking world to see your naked bottom half. Growling, you stomped towards the door, locking it behind him, and then went back to sit on the washing machine still running through its current cycle. You could’ve got yourself off again, but you were still buzzing in the after effects of your previous orgasm and the anger inside of you made it a little more difficult than usual.

His laughter sounded even in the laundry room as he paused at the top of the stairs, talking to one of his frat brothers, then followed him downstairs. You did reach your orgasm that night, but thanks to the help of a fucking washing machine—not because of that stupid idiot's cock.

The wheels were already turning in your head as to how you'd get back at him in the weeks to come. Through the vibrations of the washing machine, your single shirt spinning in its cycle and you grinding softly against the cool surface, you thought that you'd just have to deny him his orgasm like he fucking denied you yours. Revenge is sweet but forgiveness is sweeter, you told yourself.

But revenge was also always a dish best served cold, and your revenge would be fucking cold.

[recentnews18-blog]

New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/the-funny-thing-about-rachel-brosnahan/

The Funny Thing About Rachel Brosnahan

There’s a moment in the second season of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel when the title character, a 1950s housewife turned up-and-coming stand-up comic, has to work a new type of room. Until now, she’s peddled her jokes mostly to pals at parties and small crowds at the cramped Gaslight Cafe—manageable groups, filled with friendly and slightly drunk faces. This time, though, she’s up against her biggest audience yet—an awareness that hit Rachel Brosnahan, who embodies Miriam “Midge” Maisel with an almost eerie precision, like a particularly sharp punch line. “As I got up onstage to perform that scene,” she says, “I realized that it was also bigger than anything that I was used to. And then I had the realization that it’s only going to get bigger and bigger—and more and more horrifying.”

Brosnahan is laughing when she tells this story, but she’s at least slightly serious about how scary it is for her to do comedy—even now. That’s because, as she’ll tell you herself, Brosnahan is emphatically not a comedian. She is, however, an actress—old-school, Method-trained, perhaps just the teensiest bit Type A. As a kid, she spent hours crafting a PowerPoint presentation in hopes of persuading her parents to let her get a dog. And as a 28-year-old, she channels that same energy into research. While preparing to play the title character in Amy Sherman-Palladino’s criminally charming comedy, Brosnahan didn’t just immerse herself in the work of Joan Rivers and Phyllis Diller and Jean Carroll and Carol Burnett. She also made a habit of attending open mikes, so-called “bringer” shows, where wannabe comics must deliver a certain number of spectators if they want to secure a spot onstage.

Brosnahan didn’t get that dog until right before she went to college, but the care she took for Mrs. Maisel paid off immediately. The series, which Amazon has already renewed through its third season, is delightful, a candy-colored screwball throwback that easily stands out among television’s dour biggest hits (Hulu’s The Handmaid’s Tale, HBO’s Westworld, FX’s dearly departed The Americans). Season One debuted last November 29; less than two weeks later, the series earned two Golden Globe nominations, for best comedy and for Brosnahan’s performance. It won both. At the Emmys, it will compete with 14 nominations, including outstanding comedy series and Brosnahan for outstanding lead actress in a comedy series.

Photograph by Erik Madigan Heck. For additional information, visit vf.com/credits.

All that, and Brosnahan still hasn’t performed stand-up outside the confines of a soundstage. “I think that would prevent me from ever being able to do this job,” she says. “I’d be so traumatized.” Instead, when she goes to comedy shows, she dedicates herself to being the world’s most supportive spectator. “Having even had a taste of what it’s like,” says Brosnahan, “I am the one laughing the loudest at everybody’s jokes in the back, because I want them to feel seen and heard and encouraged.”

That’s true even when the comedians are practiced and the environs are significantly slicker. Case in point: this breezy June night, when she’s taking a break from Mrs. Maisel’s corsets and tongue-tripping monologues to catch a show at Caveat, a surprisingly roomy basement venue on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Once, Midge Maisel may have visited this neighborhood to hunt for Judaica and discounted leather goods; now it’s a yuppie paradise where Russ & Daughters will add a schmear of goat’s-milk cream cheese to your everything bagel for just $4. In her jeans, leather jacket, and subtly chic gold-framed glasses—a far cry from Midge’s nipped waists and full, rustling skirts—Brosnahan fits right in.

“I’m late to every party. But when I arrive, I arrive.”

When comedians Dave Mizzoni and Matt Rogers take the stage, Brosnahan is the first person in the crowd to jump to her feet. (She’s not just being nice; the three of them went to N.Y.U. together, and other friends are in the audience tonight as well.) She laughs gamely and generously as the evening unfolds, even on the occasions when Mizzoni’s and Rogers’s very targeted references—the name of this program is “The Gayme Show,” and its tagline is “Exactly what you think”—whiz right past her.

Spending 16 hours a day surrounded by Eisenhower-era culture doesn’t leave a person much time to study the complete works of Frankie Grande (Ariana’s brother) or prolific YouTuber and Taylor Swift bestie Todrick Hall—or even to keep up with old co-workers. At one point, an extended riff on the new Ryan Murphy drama, Pose, ends with a pointed crack about series regular Kate Mara. Until she hears the joke, Brosnahan has no idea that Mara—who, like her, was a regular on House of Cards—is appearing on Pose or that Pose has already premiered.

“I don’t have a TV,” she says with a sigh. “I am living in 1957.”

If she woke up one morning and decided to become an expert on the life and times of pop-star-adjacent Instagram stars, though, there’s no question Brosnahan would excel. She may not be as brash as Midge Maisel, who memorably finishes her first impromptu stand-up performance by exposing herself to a crowd of roaring Beatniks, but she’s nearly as self-assured, and every bit as capable. She’s subverted expectations on bigger stages than this one, after all.

“I’m late to every party,” Brosnahan says by way of apology to Mara. “But when I arrive, I arrive.”

Before she read the Mrs. Maisel script, Brosnahan was planning to turn away from TV and toward theater and film. After, there was no question that Midge had to be hers.

Photograph by Erik Madigan Heck.

Objectively speaking, Brosnahan is being modest. She certainly didn’t arrive late to Hollywood: even before graduating from N.Y.U., in 2012, she was steadily booking bit parts on Gossip Girl, The Good Wife, and In Treatment. The roles were small but professional all the same, as essential to a budding acting career as a one a.m. open-mike slot is to a would-be Sarah Silverman.

“I’ve played Eating Disorder Girl, Girl, Call Girl—many types of girl,” she says, laughing. “That’s my type, all types of girl.” It’s a few hours before “The Gayme Show,” and Brosnahan is picking at a giant slice of carrot cake. Crowds of pastrami-seeking tourists have foiled our original plan to visit Katz’s Delicatessen; instead, we’ve settled into a squishy booth at the self-consciously retro Remedy Diner, a dead ringer for the vintage greasy spoons where Midge Maisel and her curmudgeonly manager, Susie (Alex Borstein), talk set lists over coffee and French fries.

Simple as these starter characters were, Brosnahan was savvy enough to see their value. Being last on the call sheet allowed her to listen, and observe, and take risks in a low-stakes environment before returning to the safe space of N.Y.U.’s Lee Strasberg Theatre & Film Institute—where she could “ask questions, and study, and try to get better. And then try it again.”

As her undergraduate career wound to a close, Brosnahan’s persistence led her to the ultimate “girl” role: a throwaway part in the first two episodes of a new political drama called House of Cards, that of a nameless prostitute. Her handful of lines included uninspiring utterances like “Excuse me” and “I mean, I’m kinky, but I don’t know if I’m the girl you’re looking for.”

Former show-runner Beau Willimon saw potential in Brosnahan’s raw, arresting performance and her immediate chemistry with actor Michael Kelly, who plays pathologically loyal future White House chief of staff Doug Stamper. Soon, he expanded Call Girl into a proper part, one that had an arc and a backstory and a name. One that would, a few years later, earn Brosnahan an Emmy nomination for outstanding guest actress in a drama. Kelly, who received his first Emmy nomination the same year, credits her work with elevating his own.

“I was sitting at the lunch table when Beau said, ‘I think we got to give you a name,’” Kelly recalls.

The one Willimon settled on, funny enough, was “Rachel,” which inspired some mild protest from Brosnahan: “I was like, What?! Why?! That’s so fucked up!”

“Rachel was not afraid to not fall apart. She was not afraid to be angry and to stay tough.”

It was, as was Rachel the character’s sorry existence, which began when she was caught beside a drunk-driving congressman and ended, two seasons later, in a shallow grave somewhere in the New Mexico desert. (No wonder Amy Sherman-Palladino likes to classify Brosnahan’s pre–Mrs. Maisel parts as “the girl that someone’s tied up and thrown in the back of a van.”)

But House of Cards also offered another education for Brosnahan—taught her the ins and outs of having a significant part on a prestige series at the dawn of the peak-TV era—and gave her an outlet to display the dark side of her sense of humor, if only among her peers when the cameras weren’t rolling. She and Kelly, her most frequent scene partner, grew close enough that even filming her final moments ended up being a blast; scroll back far enough on her Instagram, and you’ll find a sweet snapshot of the two of them contentedly spooning in the dusty hole that will eventually house Call Girl Rachel’s lifeless body.

Then there’s the matter of Fake Rachel’s dead-eyed head, a silicone model designed solely to be buried. “On my phone somewhere, there are some pictures of Michael and Beau and I making out with Rachel’s head,” Brosnahan says, sounding simultaneously sheepish and proud. “It’s really—it’s dark.”

Though she couldn’t have known it at the time, this was also decent practice for Mrs. Maisel—whose surface whimsy conceals more than a hint of bleakness. The series begins at the end of an era for Midge Maisel—née Weissman—who has spent the entirety of her young life meticulously ticking every box on a very strict, self-imposed rubric for feminine success. She’s a Bryn Mawr graduate with an alabaster complexion and a 25-inch waist; she’s given her husband, the feckless but amiable Joel (Michael Zegen), two children, a boy and a girl. She’s secured the community’s most prominent rabbi as a guest for her upcoming Yom Kippur break-fast. If there were any justice, Midge would spend the rest of her days tending to her picture-perfect family, indulgently accompanying Joel on his jaunts to Greenwich Village comedy clubs until the two of them got old and gray and ditched Manhattan for Longboat Key.

And then Joel delivers his sucker punch. “I just don’t want this life, this whole Upper West Side, classic six, best seats in temple,” he tells Midge, after an embarrassing attempt at delivering his own jokes at the Gaslight. Oh, and he’s also been sleeping with his secretary, a skinny shiksa named Penny Pann. Sherman-Palladino and her husband and collaborator, Dan Palladino, asked every actress they considered for Midge to read three scenes in their audition, including the big breakup.

“Most of the actresses, great actresses, came in and broke down—fell apart, as sometimes you will when somebody walks out on your life,” Sherman-Palladino says. “And Rachel was not afraid to not fall apart. She was not afraid to be angry and to stay tough. Because the thing about that scene is it was not there to show her vulnerability. That scene was there to show that pain brought out the comic’s voice.”

Brosnahan in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

Photograph by Nicole Rivelli/©Amazon/Courtesy of Everett Collection.

Photograph by Sarah Shatz/©Amazon/Courtesy of Everett Collection.

Sure enough, shortly after Joel up and leaves—packing his things in Midge’s suitcase, a final insult to injury—Midge ends up back at the Gaslight, sloshed on kosher wine, and wanders onto the stage. Before she knows it, she’s telling a roomful of strangers every sordid detail of her wrecked marriage, but sculpting the story so it sounds amusing rather than pathetic. She heckles one dim-witted audience member; she interrupts her stream of consciousness to talk real estate with another. In the midst of explaining why she made a perfect wife, she announces that there’s no truth to “all that shit they say about Jewish girls in the bedroom᠁ There are French whores standing around the Marais district saying, ‘Did you hear what Midge did to Joel’s balls the other night?’ ” She doesn’t stop until the police show up to book her for public indecency and performing without a cabaret license, and even they can’t keep her from landing one last zinger as she gestures toward her exposed breasts: “You think Bob Newhart’s got a set of these at home? Rickles, maybe!”

The performance is spontaneous and exhilarating and very, very funny, everything that Joel isn’t—and from the moment she grabs the mike, it’s clear that both Midge and the actress playing her are going to be big, bright shining stars.

Sherman-Palladino, still best known as the creator of the fast-talking, culturally omnivorous Gilmore Girls, has no shortage of colorful descriptors for her newest muse. In her eyes, Brosnahan is simply not human: “She’s a space alien, or she’s some sort of magical creature, or—I believe I’ve described her before as a Tolkien character. She’s just, she’s just kind of not of this earth.” Then again, Brosnahan’s appeal as a performer may be even more elemental. “She’s a very smart girl, and she understands things—which is 90 percent of the job.”

Born in Milwaukee and raised in the Chicago suburb of Highland Park, Brosnahan was a shy and serious kid who spent much of her time immersed in fantasy—Harry Potter, Roald Dahl, the kiddie adventure novels of Enid Blyton. During the summers, which she spent with her mother’s family in England, she’d work her way through an entire carry-on bag filled with books before replacing them all with new volumes for the trip home.

Her family, she says, tends more toward the athletic than the arty. (They obviously have a creative side as well; one of her father’s sisters was the designer Kate Spade, who died in June.) Brosnahan herself is a snowboarder as well as a former high-school wrestler—a fact that greatly amused Sherman-Palladino—but also fell for acting at an early age: “Something about the transformational process just felt magical, like a lot of those books.”

It’s easy to picture Brosnahan as a thoughtful little bookworm, a Hermione Granger type with a slightly morbid edge. Even now, she speaks with the careful deliberation of someone who values and understands the weight of words; her diction is flawless, with crisply pronounced consonants and no trace of a midwestern twang. “You work with her on set, and then off set you’ll kind of chat with her—and then you’re occasionally reminded that she’s 28 years old,” says Dan Palladino. Sherman-Palladino had a rude awakening along those lines when she told Brosnahan that she resembled a more smiley Tracy Flick: “She’s like, ‘Who’s that?’ I’m like, ‘Election?’ She goes, ‘What?’ And I’m 100. I’ve officially—I just turned 100.”

“I’ve played Eating Disorder Girl, Girl, Call Girl—many types of girl,” Brosnahan says of her early roles.

Photograph by Erik Madigan Heck.

So perhaps it comes as no surprise that Brosnahan wasn’t the most obvious choice to play Midge, a gregarious macher who speaks as quickly as, well, a woman dreamed up by Amy Sherman-Palladino. David Oyelowo, who played Othello to Brosnahan’s Desdemona in New York Theatre Workshop’s 2016 production, said in an e-mail that his co-star was worried about Mrs. Maisel initially because she didn’t consider herself to be funny. (“She is of course saying this while we’re taking silly selfies backstage just before I had to go onstage and murder her,” he added.) Brosnahan isn’t even Jewish—though Highland Park itself was Jewish enough, she says, that she’s been to “hundreds of Bar Mitzvahs, Bat Mitzvahs. I could maybe Bat Mitzvah you.”

Going into her Mrs. Maisel audition, though, Brosnahan had two things working in her favor. The first was that she’d recently finished playing a Jewish wife and mother with a well-to-do background and an enviable wardrobe on the little-watched but very good WGN America drama Manhattan, set within the desert compound where American scientists raced to design and build the first atomic bomb. Sam Shaw, that show’s creator, remembers that Brosnahan originally wanted to play the role of physicist Helen Prins. She worried that Abby Isaacs, the part she ended up getting, “would become Wife No. 3, like signing on for seven years of making crudités or something,” he says. But while Abby was not the show’s lead, she wasn’t a background character, either. The part gave Brosnahan an opportunity to imbue a woman of a bygone era with real depth, and to learn how to navigate restrictive, period-appropriate shapewear. (“I have learned so much about undergarments,” she says, deadpan. “And I truly don’t understand how anybody survived the 50s.”)

The second thing working in Brosnahan’s favor was that she wanted the part of Midge Maisel. Like, really wanted it, maybe more than anything since her parents got her that dog. Before she read the Mrs. Maisel script, Brosnahan was planning to turn away from TV and toward theater and film. After, there was no question that Midge had to be hers. She’s the kind of character, Brosnahan says, that “I often don’t see represented on television—somebody who is unapologetically confident, who has an innate sense of self-empowerment, who isn’t afraid to pat herself on the back for accomplishing goals. And who’s unapologetically ambitious.” While Midge is charming and lovable, she’s also superficial and flighty and a breathtakingly terrible mother who measures her baby’s forehead when she’s worried it’s getting too big; a flawed, recognizably human person, rather than a plucky proto-feminist who conforms precisely to 21st-century ideals.

That’s catnip for a determined young actress—and for a viewing audience beaten down by a news cycle of ever mounting tragedy and violence, not to mention a TV landscape dominated by dreariness. Even the comedies sharing Emmy space with Mrs. Maisel (Atlanta, Barry) are as likely to punch viewers in the gut as they are to make them laugh. “It’s a pretty shit time to be alive, and this show’s like a little ant moving a rubber-tree plant,” says Alex Borstein, who plays Susie, the wannabe agent who persuades Midge to pursue showbiz in a serious way. “You want to see these two people succeed. It’s a breath of fresh air.”

That was especially true in November, when the series debuted its full first season just as the #MeToo movement was reaching its zenith. It was a moment when every Twitter refresh seemed to expose a new, horrifying story of sexual misconduct. And then came Mrs. Maisel, a burst of cleansing light—colorful, fast-paced, sunny as an old-fashioned musical, but without anyone breaking into song. Ironically, it’s one of the only female-oriented shows that was green-lighted by former Amazon Studios head Roy Price before he resigned last October, after being accused of sexual harassment himself. (Price has not commented on the allegations.) Though there’s some darkness at its core, Mrs. Maisel is, above all, the jubilant story of a talented woman who works hard, triumphing over the odds and her mediocre loser of a husband. It is, as Brosnahan points out, partly a fantasy. But what a fantasy.

Though there’s some darkness at its core, Mrs. Maisel is, above all, the jubilant story of a talented woman who works hard, triumphing over the odds.

Photograph by Erik Madigan Heck.

It’s impossible to know to what extent Mrs. Maisel’s exultant reception has been affected by fortuitous timing. Brosnahan grows more thoughtful than usual when asked whether she believes it was, noting that the show’s story would be inspiring no matter the surrounding context. But possibly, she continues, Mrs. Maisel had an even greater impact because it debuted at a time when “we’re talking about women finding voices they didn’t know they had,” and—her words coming faster now, and more emphatically—“young people finding voices they didn’t know they had. This is a theme of the moment.”

Brosnahan has given a lot of thought to The Moment and, more specifically, to its momentum—how her industry, and all industries, can parlay this surge of righteous anger into lasting change. Though she’s never been a particularly active social-media user, she’s backed away from Twitter, she says, “because it just feels like we’re all shouting into a vacuum, and I’m trying to focus more on taking those active statements out of Twitter and into the real world.”

As her star rises, Brosnahan has also found herself being more careful about the things she posts online—for practical reasons, as well as the understandable desire to keep her private life private. “As somebody who’s always felt like a pretty open book, I find myself being very protective of whatever the elusive real me is,” she says. Famous performers sometimes become celebrities first and actors second, a fate that would have robbed Brosnahan of her prized ability to disappear fully into a role. (That said, she does have a very cute Instagram largely devoted to her dogs: a Shiba Inu named Winston and a pit bull named Nikki.)

Brosnahan doesn’t just hope to keep her on-screen options open. She’d love to do another play in the near-ish future, to produce, to direct. She wants to see and make more stories that focus on the nuances of female friendship, like one of her current favorite shows, Issa Rae’s Insecure. She’s already developing a pilot with a couple of friends, one that focuses on young people in politics. Brosnahan doesn’t plan to star in the show, but perhaps it’ll be a stepping-stone to the next phase in her career—just as those “girl” parts led to House of Cards led to Manhattan led to Mrs. Maisel.

As of now, Brosnahan’s success hasn’t had a hugely measurable impact on her day-to-day life. She can walk her dogs in broad daylight without being swarmed; she can laugh at a comedian’s joke about Oprah without anyone around her recognizing that she actually knows Oprah. (Or at least said hello to Oprah from the stage after winning a Golden Globe.) The biggest shift, she says, is that people finally know how to pronounce “Brosnahan.” But if she keeps climbing the way Mrs. Maisel’s heroine certainly will, all this could change as well.

Remember, she admires Midge for being unapologetically ambitious. And when asked if she’d describe herself the same way, Brosnahan doesn’t hesitate: “Absolutely. Yeah. Yeah!” Then, after a brief, perfectly timed beat, the TV comedian turns to the magazine reporter and nails another punch line: “How about you?”

Clothing by Valentino; boots by Andreas Kronthaler for Vivienne Westwood. Throughout: hair products by Bumble and Bumble; makeup by Chanel; nail enamel by Zoya.

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Full ScreenPhotos: Marvelous Mrs. Maisel Creator Amy Sherman-Palladino and Her Many Hats

January 7, 2018

Hats off to the Sherman-Palladinos, husband-and-wife writing team.

Photo: By Kevork Djansezian/NBC/Getty Images.

January 10, 2013

A top hat in her Bunheads days.

Photo: By Frederick M. Brown/Getty Images.

March 19, 2012

With Sutton Foster on the red carpet for Bunheads (hence the angelic blue bow, we assume).

Photo: By Heidi Gutman/Getty Images.

November 13, 2017

The higher the top hat, the closer to god.

Photo: By Steve Zak Photography/Getty Images.

November 09, 2017

And still squarely in Dickens’s world.

Photo: By John Stillwell/PA Images/Getty Images.

April 21, 2003

A rare sun hat in her Gilmore Girls days.

Photo: By Mathew Imaging/Getty Images.

May 24, 2017

And an even more rare tan hat on the set of Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

Photo: By Bobby Bank/Getty Images.

PreviousNext

January 7, 2018

Hats off to the Sherman-Palladinos, husband-and-wife writing team.

By Kevork Djansezian/NBC/Getty Images.

January 10, 2013

A top hat in her Bunheads days.

By Frederick M. Brown/Getty Images.

March 19, 2012

With Sutton Foster on the red carpet for Bunheads (hence the angelic blue bow, we assume).

By Heidi Gutman/Getty Images.

November 13, 2017

The higher the top hat, the closer to god.

By Steve Zak Photography/Getty Images.

November 18, 2016

On the Netflix red carpet for Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life. Recall the fantastical dance number in the last episode of that season, where top hats had an important role.

By Alberto E. Rodriguez/Getty Images.

October 29, 2016

Moving into Dickens territory here.

By Emma McIntyre/Getty Images.

November 09, 2017

And still squarely in Dickens’s world.

By John Stillwell/PA Images/Getty Images.

April 21, 2003

A rare sun hat in her Gilmore Girls days.

By Mathew Imaging/Getty Images.

May 24, 2017

And an even more rare tan hat on the set of Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

By Bobby Bank/Getty Images.

Source: https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2018/08/rachel-brosnahan-cover-story

[brandyfields66-blog]

I Just Finished Whole30 and Lived to Tell the Tale-Here's How I Made It Through

Diets have never interested me. As a teenager, I found it absurd that some of my classmates were so concerned with what they ate. They would talk about the new weight-loss plans they were trying or their pledges to eat more of this and less of that. I listened but stayed silent and ate whatever I pleased.

Up until this past January, I was still anti-diet. I tried eating more veggies and lean protein during the week, but I never counted calories or vowed to cut dairy from my life completely, for example, as friends did. Yet after writing an article about actress Busy Philipps' positive experience doing a plan called Whole30, I became intrigued.

RELATED: The Ketogenic Diet Might Be the Next Big Weight Loss Trend, But Should You Try It?

Two friends and I discussed the article, and then one proposed something unbelievable: "We should do Whole30 together." After considering what Philipps' had to say about it, I decided to give it a try. Then Health editor in chief Lori Leibovich asked me to document my Whole30 experience with daily video diaries on Health Instagram stories, and I knew there was no turning back. I was about to do my first diet ever.

ICYMI: Whole30 is an elimination-style diet that asks dieters to ban all soy, dairy, grains, alcohol, legumes, and added sugars from their diet for 30 days straight. The point is to flush your system, so when the 30 days are up, you can slowly add different food groups back and get a sense of which ones have been secretly affecting your physical and mental health. The creator, Melissa Hartwig, also says Whole30 will change your entire relationship with food.

Food shopping and meal planning

Though I'd never tried a diet before, I knew that preparation would be the key to success. So I got copies of the Whole30 book Food Freedom Forever ($14, amazon.com) and the cookbook Whole30 Fast & Easy ($18, amazon.com) to research exactly what I couldn't eat, what emotional and physical changes to expect, and which recipes I should make.

RELATED: 3 Creative Whole30 Breakfasts You Can Make Even When You're Half-Asleep

Then I wrote down my first week's worth of meals and snacks, as well as the foods and beverages I would need to prepare them. One hectic trip to Trader Joe's and a few hours of meal prep later, and I felt ready and excited to start Whole30.

Week 1: Sugar withdrawal

I started Week 1 feeling optimistic. This isn't hard at all! I told myself. Wrong. Days 2 and 3 hit, and the sugar withdrawal was so real. In my company's kitchen, I stared at the free M&Ms longingly. "All I can think about are gummy worms," I texted my work friends. Instead of eating candy, I scarfed down a banana with sunflower seed butter and felt slightly better.

On Day 4, I reached for a beef jerky stick from Epic. I simultaneously took a big bite while turning over the packaging to read the label. When I saw it on the ingredients list, I stopped mid-chew: "honey." I immediately spit the partially chewed jerky in my garbage can. Close one. After that, I always read the labels on my food twice before eating a morsel.

RELATED: 6 Hearty Whole30 Recipes That Are Anything but Boring

This biggest success of Week 2 was attending a happy hour networking event completely sober. I headed there with a friend who was also doing Whole30, and we vowed to be each other's support system. We ordered seltzer waters together and proudly said no to the cheeseburger sliders and cheese board. Leaving the event, I felt empowered knowing I had it in me to refuse alcohol and fatty food, something I'd never tried before. Plus, I now knew I didn't have to use alcohol as a social crutch.

Week 2: Experimenting with recipes

After spending a week fine-tuning my new eating plan, I decided to add workouts back into my routine. On a typical week, I'll go to a cardio or strength class (I like boxing) once or twice and do some yoga or stretching at home another night. I dove right in and hit up my favorite boxing studio, Rumble. But I was really nervous. What if I didn't have enough energy? What if I passed out during class? What if I got so hungry I caved and bought a slice of pizza on the walk home from class?

Turns out, nothing dramatic happened. Once I finished the warmup portion of the class, I noticed I felt lighter and more energized than I normally do during evening workouts. I worked out three more times during Week 2 and felt stronger and less bloated than ever. I still didn't have six-pack abs, but hey, it was a start.

In terms of food, I kicked up my creativity up a notch in the kitchen. I tried experimenting with recipes that were a little more complex than my usual, like making pesto out of cashews and avocados and serving it over a plate of zoodles. I made blueberry energy bites in my food processor to snack on during a movie marathon and grab for a quick breakfast. I also tried new snacks, like bottled tomatillo jalapeno soup from ZÜPA NOMA and chia pudding from Daily Harvest to mix things up.

RELATED: 4 Ridiculously Easy Diet Changes to Help Kickstart Your Weight Loss

Still, it was a tad depressing to watch my boyfriend eat whatever he wanted while I was on the sideline sipping tea. "I miss sharing food memories with you," he said at one point. Sigh. So the next day, we headed to a local brunch spot, and I ordered a Whole30–compliant dish from the menu. I got a bunless burger topped with a fried egg, avocado, lettuce, tomato, and onion plus a side salad instead of fries. Let me tell you, this bunless burger tasted like the juiciest thing I'd eaten in my entire life. After nearly two weeks of cooking every meal, it was nice to have someone else do it for me.

Week 3: Major benefits kick in

I started spending more time away from my non–Whole30 friends and instead hung out with the two people who understood me most: my Whole30 diet pals. Together we made our own brunch plans at a New York City paleo cafe called Hu Kitchen. There, we could order compliant food that still tasted delicious (round of applause for sugar-free bacon).

We also talked about our meals, our struggles, and the results we were seeing from Whole30. Mentally, I felt more clear-headed and emotionally stable. I slept deeper and remembered more of my dreams, something that tends to never happen. (In one dream, I accidentally ate a slice of pizza and cried about it because if you break your Whole30 diet, you're supposed to start again from Day 1.)

RELATED: 3 Delicious and Satisfying Whole30 Recipes You Need to Try

Physically I felt lighter, my pants a bit looser, and my stomach flatter and less bloated. I also didn't have random stomach pain or cramps as I sometimes did pre–Whole30. Every time I longed for the diet to be over, I reminded myself of these bonuses, and that helped me make it to the end of the week.

Week 4: Food boredom hits...hard

I thought Week 1 was hell on earth, but boy was I wrong. Week 4 tested my patience and willpower like never before. Eating Whole30 staples like avocado and eggs became a chore. I choked down so many hard-boiled eggs during my last week, but all I could think about was how I wished they were freshly baked bagels-or even just a bowl of plain white rice. Anything but eggs.

To deal with this major food rut and disinterest in cooking, I bought my lunch every single day from Dig Inn and begged my boyfriend to take me out to dinner at a restaurant with Whole30–compliant options. As someone who typically brings lunch to work and cooks dinner on weeknights, I knew I was spending way over my normal budget, but I couldn't help myself. It was for my sanity.

RELATED: You're Finishing Up Whole30. Here's What You Should Do Next

I also tried Whole30 meal-kit options from Blue Apron, which offered recipes I would have never thought to make myself. The switch helped a little with my sense of disillusionment, but I was counting down the days.

The aftermath: reintroducing foods

While gorging on cheese and bread post–Whole30 sounds fun, it's not the way you're supposed to end the elimination diet. Instead, you want to slowly reintroduce certain food groups to see how each individually affects your body and mind. I decided to go this route because I was interested in discovering food sensitivities. And frankly, I was afraid of puking the second I came into contact with dairy or alcohol.

When the clock struck midnight, I couldn't wait any longer: I helped myself to a serving of plain white rice. I sat on my couch cross-legged, eating each spoonful with my eyes closed like one of the yogurt commercial ladies. I even smiled. The next day, I ate more gluten-free carbs, like rice and paleo pancakes. I also had wine and tequila, a grain-free liquor option. I didn't get bombed like I was worried about, but I did have a worse-than-usual hangover the next day. The fun night out was worth it, though.

RELATED: 8 Smoothie Bowl Recipes You'll Love

Since then, I've reintroduced legumes, soy, added sugar, and dairy back into my diet. Since I'm lactose intolerant, I was most afraid of dairy, but it seems as of my dairy intolerance has disappeared, which is an unexpected positive. I definitely sleep worse, though, and feel more bloated when I enjoy dairy or carbs with gluten. So going forward, I'll be eating these with more moderation than before.

So was it worth it?

Overall, my biggest Whole30 lesson is that mindful eating is possible. I don't have that urge to eat everything in sight, but I also know I don't need to deprive myself or worry about food 24/7. There's a happy medium where I get to decide what I really crave, weigh whether it's worth the bloat or restless sleep I might experience after eating it, and then say yes or no. I've caught myself thinking like this more, and so the ultimate goal of Whole30 has worked: I've changed my relationship with food-for the better.

[reynoldslevi10-blog]

I Just Finished Whole30 and Lived to Tell the Tale-Here's How I Made It Through

Diets have never interested me. As a teenager, I found it absurd that some of my classmates were so concerned with what they ate. They would talk about the new weight-loss plans they were trying or their pledges to eat more of this and less of that. I listened but stayed silent and ate whatever I pleased.

Up until this past January, I was still anti-diet. I tried eating more veggies and lean protein during the week, but I never counted calories or vowed to cut dairy from my life completely, for example, as friends did. Yet after writing an article about actress Busy Philipps' positive experience doing a plan called Whole30, I became intrigued.

RELATED: The Ketogenic Diet Might Be the Next Big Weight Loss Trend, But Should You Try It?

Two friends and I discussed the article, and then one proposed something unbelievable: "We should do Whole30 together." After considering what Philipps' had to say about it, I decided to give it a try. Then Health editor in chief Lori Leibovich asked me to document my Whole30 experience with daily video diaries on Health Instagram stories, and I knew there was no turning back. I was about to do my first diet ever.

ICYMI: Whole30 is an elimination-style diet that asks dieters to ban all soy, dairy, grains, alcohol, legumes, and added sugars from their diet for 30 days straight. The point is to flush your system, so when the 30 days are up, you can slowly add different food groups back and get a sense of which ones have been secretly affecting your physical and mental health. The creator, Melissa Hartwig, also says Whole30 will change your entire relationship with food.

Food shopping and meal planning

Though I'd never tried a diet before, I knew that preparation would be the key to success. So I got copies of the Whole30 book Food Freedom Forever ($14, amazon.com) and the cookbook Whole30 Fast & Easy ($18, amazon.com) to research exactly what I couldn't eat, what emotional and physical changes to expect, and which recipes I should make.

RELATED: 3 Creative Whole30 Breakfasts You Can Make Even When You're Half-Asleep

Then I wrote down my first week's worth of meals and snacks, as well as the foods and beverages I would need to prepare them. One hectic trip to Trader Joe's and a few hours of meal prep later, and I felt ready and excited to start Whole30.

Week 1: Sugar withdrawal

I started Week 1 feeling optimistic. This isn't hard at all! I told myself. Wrong. Days 2 and 3 hit, and the sugar withdrawal was so real. In my company's kitchen, I stared at the free M&Ms longingly. "All I can think about are gummy worms," I texted my work friends. Instead of eating candy, I scarfed down a banana with sunflower seed butter and felt slightly better.

On Day 4, I reached for a beef jerky stick from Epic. I simultaneously took a big bite while turning over the packaging to read the label. When I saw it on the ingredients list, I stopped mid-chew: "honey." I immediately spit the partially chewed jerky in my garbage can. Close one. After that, I always read the labels on my food twice before eating a morsel.

RELATED: 6 Hearty Whole30 Recipes That Are Anything but Boring

This biggest success of Week 2 was attending a happy hour networking event completely sober. I headed there with a friend who was also doing Whole30, and we vowed to be each other's support system. We ordered seltzer waters together and proudly said no to the cheeseburger sliders and cheese board. Leaving the event, I felt empowered knowing I had it in me to refuse alcohol and fatty food, something I'd never tried before. Plus, I now knew I didn't have to use alcohol as a social crutch.

Week 2: Experimenting with recipes

After spending a week fine-tuning my new eating plan, I decided to add workouts back into my routine. On a typical week, I'll go to a cardio or strength class (I like boxing) once or twice and do some yoga or stretching at home another night. I dove right in and hit up my favorite boxing studio, Rumble. But I was really nervous. What if I didn't have enough energy? What if I passed out during class? What if I got so hungry I caved and bought a slice of pizza on the walk home from class?

Turns out, nothing dramatic happened. Once I finished the warmup portion of the class, I noticed I felt lighter and more energized than I normally do during evening workouts. I worked out three more times during Week 2 and felt stronger and less bloated than ever. I still didn't have six-pack abs, but hey, it was a start.

In terms of food, I kicked up my creativity up a notch in the kitchen. I tried experimenting with recipes that were a little more complex than my usual, like making pesto out of cashews and avocados and serving it over a plate of zoodles. I made blueberry energy bites in my food processor to snack on during a movie marathon and grab for a quick breakfast. I also tried new snacks, like bottled tomatillo jalapeno soup from ZÜPA NOMA and chia pudding from Daily Harvest to mix things up.

RELATED: 4 Ridiculously Easy Diet Changes to Help Kickstart Your Weight Loss

Still, it was a tad depressing to watch my boyfriend eat whatever he wanted while I was on the sideline sipping tea. "I miss sharing food memories with you," he said at one point. Sigh. So the next day, we headed to a local brunch spot, and I ordered a Whole30–compliant dish from the menu. I got a bunless burger topped with a fried egg, avocado, lettuce, tomato, and onion plus a side salad instead of fries. Let me tell you, this bunless burger tasted like the juiciest thing I'd eaten in my entire life. After nearly two weeks of cooking every meal, it was nice to have someone else do it for me.

Week 3: Major benefits kick in

I started spending more time away from my non–Whole30 friends and instead hung out with the two people who understood me most: my Whole30 diet pals. Together we made our own brunch plans at a New York City paleo cafe called Hu Kitchen. There, we could order compliant food that still tasted delicious (round of applause for sugar-free bacon).

We also talked about our meals, our struggles, and the results we were seeing from Whole30. Mentally, I felt more clear-headed and emotionally stable. I slept deeper and remembered more of my dreams, something that tends to never happen. (In one dream, I accidentally ate a slice of pizza and cried about it because if you break your Whole30 diet, you're supposed to start again from Day 1.)

RELATED: 3 Delicious and Satisfying Whole30 Recipes You Need to Try

Physically I felt lighter, my pants a bit looser, and my stomach flatter and less bloated. I also didn't have random stomach pain or cramps as I sometimes did pre–Whole30. Every time I longed for the diet to be over, I reminded myself of these bonuses, and that helped me make it to the end of the week.

Week 4: Food boredom hits...hard

I thought Week 1 was hell on earth, but boy was I wrong. Week 4 tested my patience and willpower like never before. Eating Whole30 staples like avocado and eggs became a chore. I choked down so many hard-boiled eggs during my last week, but all I could think about was how I wished they were freshly baked bagels-or even just a bowl of plain white rice. Anything but eggs.

To deal with this major food rut and disinterest in cooking, I bought my lunch every single day from Dig Inn and begged my boyfriend to take me out to dinner at a restaurant with Whole30–compliant options. As someone who typically brings lunch to work and cooks dinner on weeknights, I knew I was spending way over my normal budget, but I couldn't help myself. It was for my sanity.

RELATED: You're Finishing Up Whole30. Here's What You Should Do Next

I also tried Whole30 meal-kit options from Blue Apron, which offered recipes I would have never thought to make myself. The switch helped a little with my sense of disillusionment, but I was counting down the days.

The aftermath: reintroducing foods

While gorging on cheese and bread post–Whole30 sounds fun, it's not the way you're supposed to end the elimination diet. Instead, you want to slowly reintroduce certain food groups to see how each individually affects your body and mind. I decided to go this route because I was interested in discovering food sensitivities. And frankly, I was afraid of puking the second I came into contact with dairy or alcohol.

When the clock struck midnight, I couldn't wait any longer: I helped myself to a serving of plain white rice. I sat on my couch cross-legged, eating each spoonful with my eyes closed like one of the yogurt commercial ladies. I even smiled. The next day, I ate more gluten-free carbs, like rice and paleo pancakes. I also had wine and tequila, a grain-free liquor option. I didn't get bombed like I was worried about, but I did have a worse-than-usual hangover the next day. The fun night out was worth it, though.

RELATED: 8 Smoothie Bowl Recipes You'll Love

Since then, I've reintroduced legumes, soy, added sugar, and dairy back into my diet. Since I'm lactose intolerant, I was most afraid of dairy, but it seems as of my dairy intolerance has disappeared, which is an unexpected positive. I definitely sleep worse, though, and feel more bloated when I enjoy dairy or carbs with gluten. So going forward, I'll be eating these with more moderation than before.

So was it worth it?

Overall, my biggest Whole30 lesson is that mindful eating is possible. I don't have that urge to eat everything in sight, but I also know I don't need to deprive myself or worry about food 24/7. There's a happy medium where I get to decide what I really crave, weigh whether it's worth the bloat or restless sleep I might experience after eating it, and then say yes or no. I've caught myself thinking like this more, and so the ultimate goal of Whole30 has worked: I've changed my relationship with food-for the better.

[psmf-diet]

I Just Finished Whole30 and Lived to Tell the Tale—Here’s How I Made It Through

Diets have never interested me. As a teenager, I found it absurd that some of my classmates were so concerned with what they ate. They would talk about the new weight-loss plans they were trying or their pledges to eat more of this and less of that. I listened but stayed silent and ate whatever I pleased.

Up until this past January, I was still anti-diet. I tried eating more veggies and lean protein during the week, but I never counted calories or vowed to cut dairy from my life completely, for example, as friends did. Yet after writing an article about actress Busy Philipps' positive experience doing a plan called Whole30, I became intrigued.

RELATED: The Ketogenic Diet Might Be the Next Big Weight Loss Trend, But Should You Try It?

Two friends and I discussed the article, and then one proposed something unbelievable: "We should do Whole30 together." After considering what Philipps' had to say about it, I decided to give it a try. Then Health editor in chief Lori Leibovich asked me to document my Whole30 experience with daily video diaries on Health Instagram stories, and I knew there was no turning back. I was about to do my first diet ever.

ICYMI: Whole30 is an elimination-style diet that asks dieters to ban all soy, dairy, grains, alcohol, legumes, and added sugars from their diet for 30 days straight. The point is to flush your system, so when the 30 days are up, you can slowly add different food groups back and get a sense of which ones have been secretly affecting your physical and mental health. The creator, Melissa Hartwig, also says Whole30 will change your entire relationship with food.

Food shopping and meal planning

Though I'd never tried a diet before, I knew that preparation would be the key to success. So I got copies of the Whole30 book Food Freedom Forever ($14, amazon.com) and the cookbook Whole30 Fast & Easy ($18, amazon.com) to research exactly what I couldn't eat, what emotional and physical changes to expect, and which recipes I should make.

RELATED: 3 Creative Whole30 Breakfasts You Can Make Even When You're Half-Asleep

Then I wrote down my first week's worth of meals and snacks, as well as the foods and beverages I would need to prepare them. One hectic trip to Trader Joe's and a few hours of meal prep later, and I felt ready and excited to start Whole30.

Week 1: Sugar withdrawal

I started Week 1 feeling optimistic. This isn't hard at all! I told myself. Wrong. Days 2 and 3 hit, and the sugar withdrawal was so real. In my company's kitchen, I stared at the free M&Ms longingly. "All I can think about are gummy worms," I texted my work friends. Instead of eating candy, I scarfed down a banana with sunflower seed butter and felt slightly better.

On Day 4, I reached for a beef jerky stick from Epic. I simultaneously took a big bite while turning over the packaging to read the label. When I saw it on the ingredients list, I stopped mid-chew: "honey." I immediately spit the partially chewed jerky in my garbage can. Close one. After that, I always read the labels on my food twice before eating a morsel.

RELATED: 6 Hearty Whole30 Recipes That Are Anything but Boring

This biggest success of Week 2 was attending a happy hour networking event completely sober. I headed there with a friend who was also doing Whole30, and we vowed to be each other's support system. We ordered seltzer waters together and proudly said no to the cheeseburger sliders and cheese board. Leaving the event, I felt empowered knowing I had it in me to refuse alcohol and fatty food, something I'd never tried before. Plus, I now knew I didn't have to use alcohol as a social crutch.

Week 2: Experimenting with recipes

After spending a week fine-tuning my new eating plan, I decided to add workouts back into my routine. On a typical week, I'll go to a cardio or strength class (I like boxing) once or twice and do some yoga or stretching at home another night. I dove right in and hit up my favorite boxing studio, Rumble. But I was really nervous. What if I didn't have enough energy? What if I passed out during class? What if I got so hungry I caved and bought a slice of pizza on the walk home from class?

Turns out, nothing dramatic happened. Once I finished the warmup portion of the class, I noticed I felt lighter and more energized than I normally do during evening workouts. I worked out three more times during Week 2 and felt stronger and less bloated than ever. I still didn't have six-pack abs, but hey, it was a start.

In terms of food, I kicked up my creativity up a notch in the kitchen. I tried experimenting with recipes that were a little more complex than my usual, like making pesto out of cashews and avocados and serving it over a plate of zoodles. I made blueberry energy bites in my food processor to snack on during a movie marathon and grab for a quick breakfast. I also tried new snacks, like bottled tomatillo jalapeno soup from ZÜPA NOMA and chia pudding from Daily Harvest to mix things up.

RELATED: 4 Ridiculously Easy Diet Changes to Help Kickstart Your Weight Loss

Still, it was a tad depressing to watch my boyfriend eat whatever he wanted while I was on the sideline sipping tea. "I miss sharing food memories with you," he said at one point. Sigh. So the next day, we headed to a local brunch spot, and I ordered a Whole30–compliant dish from the menu. I got a bunless burger topped with a fried egg, avocado, lettuce, tomato, and onion plus a side salad instead of fries. Let me tell you, this bunless burger tasted like the juiciest thing I'd eaten in my entire life. After nearly two weeks of cooking every meal, it was nice to have someone else do it for me.

Week 3: Major benefits kick in

I started spending more time away from my non–Whole30 friends and instead hung out with the two people who understood me most: my Whole30 diet pals. Together we made our own brunch plans at a New York City paleo cafe called Hu Kitchen. There, we could order compliant food that still tasted delicious (round of applause for sugar-free bacon).

We also talked about our meals, our struggles, and the results we were seeing from Whole30. Mentally, I felt more clear-headed and emotionally stable. I slept deeper and remembered more of my dreams, something that tends to never happen. (In one dream, I accidentally ate a slice of pizza and cried about it because if you break your Whole30 diet, you're supposed to start again from Day 1.)

RELATED: 3 Delicious and Satisfying Whole30 Recipes You Need to Try

Physically I felt lighter, my pants a bit looser, and my stomach flatter and less bloated. I also didn't have random stomach pain or cramps as I sometimes did pre–Whole30. Every time I longed for the diet to be over, I reminded myself of these bonuses, and that helped me make it to the end of the week.

Week 4: Food boredom hits...hard

I thought Week 1 was hell on earth, but boy was I wrong. Week 4 tested my patience and willpower like never before. Eating Whole30 staples like avocado and eggs became a chore. I choked down so many hard-boiled eggs during my last week, but all I could think about was how I wished they were freshly baked bagels—or even just a bowl of plain white rice. Anything but eggs.

To deal with this major food rut and disinterest in cooking, I bought my lunch every single day from Dig Inn and begged my boyfriend to take me out to dinner at a restaurant with Whole30–compliant options. As someone who typically brings lunch to work and cooks dinner on weeknights, I knew I was spending way over my normal budget, but I couldn't help myself. It was for my sanity.

RELATED: You're Finishing Up Whole30. Here's What You Should Do Next

I also tried Whole30 meal-kit options from Blue Apron, which offered recipes I would have never thought to make myself. The switch helped a little with my sense of disillusionment, but I was counting down the days.

The aftermath: reintroducing foods

While gorging on cheese and bread post–Whole30 sounds fun, it's not the way you're supposed to end the elimination diet. Instead, you want to slowly reintroduce certain food groups to see how each individually affects your body and mind. I decided to go this route because I was interested in discovering food sensitivities. And frankly, I was afraid of puking the second I came into contact with dairy or alcohol.

When the clock struck midnight, I couldn't wait any longer: I helped myself to a serving of plain white rice. I sat on my couch cross-legged, eating each spoonful with my eyes closed like one of the yogurt commercial ladies. I even smiled. The next day, I ate more gluten-free carbs, like rice and paleo pancakes. I also had wine and tequila, a grain-free liquor option. I didn't get bombed like I was worried about, but I did have a worse-than-usual hangover the next day. The fun night out was worth it, though.

RELATED: 8 Smoothie Bowl Recipes You'll Love

Since then, I've reintroduced legumes, soy, added sugar, and dairy back into my diet. Since I'm lactose intolerant, I was most afraid of dairy, but it seems as of my dairy intolerance has disappeared, which is an unexpected positive. I definitely sleep worse, though, and feel more bloated when I enjoy dairy or carbs with gluten. So going forward, I'll be eating these with more moderation than before.

So was it worth it?

Overall, my biggest Whole30 lesson is that mindful eating is possible. I don't have that urge to eat everything in sight, but I also know I don't need to deprive myself or worry about food 24/7. There's a happy medium where I get to decide what I really crave, weigh whether it's worth the bloat or restless sleep I might experience after eating it, and then say yes or no. I've caught myself thinking like this more, and so the ultimate goal of Whole30 has worked: I've changed my relationship with food—for the better.

from Nutrition - Health.com http://ift.tt/2C9eYLd via IFTTT