#not even going to pretend that my thirsty ass bought this for any other reason dhdjdhfg

[karleksmumskladdkaka]

DIABOLIK LOVERS 不夜城VILLANS Ruki Mukami Bromide

[kexing]

Venji has always been endgame: Benji’s attraction to Victor

the first thing I really need people to understand is that Benji is not watching the show, he’s not seeing things through Victor’s point of view, and for the most part of the season he has no idea Victor is struggling with his sexuality. from Benji’s point of view, Victor is straight and into Mia. that’s how I’m going to be analyzing his thoughts and actions (well, guessing mostly because he does lack screen time and insight moments. hopefully we’ll get more of him in season two!!)

btw I’m gonna break it down episode by episode because I’m insane (and I also feel strangely connected to Benji so don’t @ me)

Episode 1 - Welcome to Creekwood

as I’ve mentioned before, you can interpret Benji’s “nice shoes!” line as interest. but even if you’re not willing to do that, I still think it’s valid to consider that he might’ve felt some kind of immediate connection to Victor (if episodes 2 and 3 are any indication of that. and the Call Me Maybe lyrics).

Episode 2 - Stoplight Party

the “Benji attempts to teach Victor how to make a espresso” scene is very much about Victor’s attraction to Benji so I don’t wanna look too much into it. also Benji comes off as (at least for me!) a very attentive and loving person, so his dedication to teaching Victor felt very genuine. but still like...... he did get lost in Victor’s eyes for a moment before the milk spilled akdjksdjjs

then at the end of the episode Benji calls Victor late at night (he even apologizes for that) when he could’ve called Victor at any other time or could’ve just told him at school. and well, (I may be reaching here but headcanons are always good!!) I like to believe Benji couldn’t stop thinking about Victor, which is why he decided to call. for some unknown reason he already feels connected to Victor and wanted to hear his voice and—

let me stop here before I write a whole fanfic because that’s not the purpose of this post.

Episode 3 - Battle of the Bands

oh boy, I’m gonna try to unpack this episode, hopefully I’ll make some sense. I’m very sorry if I fail!

so, Victor and Benji have the Call Me Maybe (cutest) moment, in which Victor tells Benji that he’s going on a date with Mia the next day.

Now. I need you to remember that Victor explicitly told Benji that he and Mia wouldn’t go to the Battle of the Bands and that Benji had already performed when Victor got there and only performed again because his band won the battle (so I’m pretty sure Victor wasn’t supposed to hear the Call Me Maybe cover). therefore this wasn’t Benji confessing his feelings to Victor. if anything, I believe it was his way of dealing with the intense and ever-growing feelings that he has for Victor through his biggest passion (music), pretty much like making a reference to something that you know no one else will understand (since for everyone else it’s just a Carly Rae Jepsen bop).

but then Victor eventually shows up and hears Benji singing Call Me Maybe and for him it’s definitely not just a Carly Rae Jepsen bop anymore. it’s their song

after the performance, it looks like Benji is going to talk to him about it, maybe to try and make it seem like it’s no big deal (since he thinks Victor is into Mia, and he himself is in a long term relationship) but Derek appears and we’re all left heartbroken (Simon & his friends included).

what I’m trying to say is: they are two halves of the same idiot. while Victor is in denial of his sexuality and attraction to Benji, Benji is in denial of his growing feelings for Victor. we love this denial duo

Episode 4 - The Truth Hurts

not much to say about this one BUT. at the beginning of the episode you can see how Victor and Benji are working totally in sync, to the point where they barely need words like the freaking soulmates that they are. honestly, I’m done pretending they aren’t soulmates because this show just kept shoving that into our faces over and over and if you failed to see it then it’s not my problem (or maybe it is since I’m literally spending my time trying to explain exactly that. but I just care too much about these two and I want people to understand why).

then Derek calls and Benji picks up lovingly because he’s a loving person and a caring boyfriend and even though he might be struggling with his feelings for Victor, he’s not about to neglect his boyfriend (shame we can’t say the same thing about Derek) (no I will not stop throwing shade at him).

Episode 5 - Sweet Sixteen

I could try and say several things about this one but for real, BENJI DREW VICTOR AND GAVE HIM THE DRAWING AS A BIRTHDAY GIFT. like! this stupidly artistic boy!!!!!!!!! this stupidly caring boy!!!!!!!!! he could’ve bought Victor literally anything or not even bothered to think of a gift At All, but he took the time to DRAW VICTOR LIKE ONE OF HIS FRENCH BOYS!!!!! what am I supposed to do with this knowledge!!!!

now I’m imagining Benji observing Victor. the way the light hits his face, how his shoulders move, the shape of his hands....... all the while telling himself it’s just to draw Victor!!!!! but that’s still beautiful and frankly thirsty nonetheless.

p.s I was robbed of a scene like that.

Episode 6 - Creekwood Nights

not much to say about this one except the show blatantly telling us that Derek can be real shitty sometimes. also, I wanna talk about Venji’s dynamics throughout the show so bad but it deserves a post of its own so I’m gonna hold my tongue.

Episode 7 - What Happens In Willacoochee

(stays in Willacoochee or maybe it will haunt your gay ass all the way to New York).

oh boy, this is where shit starts going down for real.

so Victor kisses Benji. I’m not going to defend Victor because what he did was reckless and dumb and frankly disrespectful. but I need to say that it was going to happen sooner or later because when you repress something too hard and for too long, it’s bound to come back with full force and explode in your face. I really wish it was in a different circumstance, of course, but also life isn’t always made of perfect situations and shit happens. (and nope, that does not excuse Victor’s actions).

now think about Benji. he’s been struggling with his feelings for Victor, who as far as he knows is straight and in a relationship, and then suddenly Victor kisses him. my best guess (due to his reaction to Victor’s speech in episode 10) is that he thinks Victor isn’t being serious about it, that in no moment that kiss meant anything but curiosity and recklessness, when they both have people to lose (again, he doesn’t know that Victor struggles with his sexuality, much less that Victor has feelings for him).

so yeah, I believe Benji was upset, not only with Victor though, but with himself.

(I’ll come back to this in a second)

no Benji in episode 8 so.......

Episode 9 - Who The Hell Is B

Benji decides to leave the coffee shop. Victor tells him that the kiss wasn’t his fault and Benji says that being around Victor makes him feel guilty, now why is that?

firstly because he’s not a psychopath and the fact that he cheated on Derek makes him feel guilty. but I do believe that that’s not the only thing that makes him feel guilty. deep down he liked kissing Victor. he likes Victor, he’s been doing his best to keep that buried but Victor had to go and complicate things, so now the only way to avoid making a bigger mess is staying as far away as possible from each other. so he runs back to the safety of his relationship with Derek.

(listen, I know the show makes it seem like Benji is super angry and wants nothing to do with Victor but I don’t believe that’s the case. he’s upset and feeling guilty for liking someone else, denial does make you act very hostile sometimes).

Episode 10 - Spring Fling

Benji’s denial continues but (thankfully) it won’t last much longer.

he goes to the bathroom and tells Victor that he’s read his letter and that he does forgive him for kissing him but that that doesn’t change anything, that it’s best for them to stay away from each other.

that’s until he hears Victor’s speech to Derek (which was more to Benji than Derek so). that’s the moment he realizes that Victor actually likes him, that the kiss as cursed as it was had meant something, that they both feel exactly the same thing. that’s what gives him courage to finally accept that he can’t be with Derek anymore because his heart belongs to someone else. (has belonged to Victor from the moment they met) akdjskdjsj someone please tell me to shut up

which leads us to the bench kiss(es) scene. now, these boys are a whole mess because Victor was still technically dating Mia (he did try to come out to her before, couldn’t do it so he decided to come out after the Spring Fling) (good intention, poor execution).

But I also believe this was just lazy writing and they wanted to have a scene where Mia catches Victor and Benji together. it could’ve been done better, they could’ve been just touching foreheads or something but they wanted the full drama so the kiss(es) happened. I’m taking 50 points away from the writers for this. (also does not excuse Victor or Benji since they literally met halfway. these idiots are so in love wtf!)

(I still love them though, and hope they do better in the future, for themselves and for each other).

anyway, I think that’s it! if you read up until this point: thank you so much!!!! I tried my best to understand and explain Benji since the show said fuck Benji stans. hope this helps!

— love, MJ

[marinsawakening]

Fake dating? Then they realise they're way better as a qpr, and switch to that?

This is 2000+ words and got way out of hand, hence why it took so long. Also, I changed the prompt slightly to an already established qpr (not that that comes up until the last possible second), and there’s only one explicitly arospec character, but for the record, Ed is totally nebularomantic in this. Warnings are minimal, except for extensive swearing and some sexual references. Lastly: No editing we die like men.

Summary: AU where Ed, Winry, Al, and Paninay are master thiefs planning a heist for various large diamonds, and in order to succeed, Ed and Winry go undercover as a married couple. 

This wasn’t going as planned. Or, more accurately: this was going exactly as planned, and he absolutely hated it.

As predicted, the crusty old nobles had bought the charade hook, line, and sinker, and now all that was left to do was scout the territory, grab the jewels, and vanish into the night. Problem was, neither Al nor Paninya had given the signal yet, and so he was stuck actually pretending to date Winry, exactly as they had planned.

“Your wife is lovely, Mr. Rockbell-Elric,” purred the old fuck they were planning to rob next to him, and Ed drained his wine in one swig. Winry was entertaining some socialites further up the buffet table, but she threw him a pointed glare. Keep off the wine, it warned, you have a job to do.

In response, Ed rolled his eyes.

“I see she’s not a fan of drink, though,” Old Fuck said, bemused. “Mine isn’t either. After we got married, she put me on a strict no-alcohol policy, as if I’m some child that can’t handle my liquor!”

“Must be tough,” Ed managed to spit out from behind gritted teeth. Thankfully, Old Fuck was too self-absorbed to notice a thing.

“Truly! Women, I swear, always nagging, and nagging, and nagging, as if we cannot think for ourselves! I wish my wife would shut up and think about me for once. But, well, I suppose it could be worse; after all, she does have a nice pair of -”

“Lord D’Argent!” Winry interrupted right before Ed would have been forced to smash the Fuck’s head in, with a smile that dialed up the ass-kissing to eleven. “May I express my gratitude for being invited to your party? Winry Rockbell-Elric, at your service. I see you’ve met my husband?”

“Oh yes!” Old Fuck - D’Argent, and yes he had actually known that, he just didn’t particularly care - swung an arm over Ed’s shoulder, and it took every ounce of self restraint he had not to slice if off right then and there, but he managed, and even conjured up a smile. “Lovely man, excellent taste in wine. You’ve got yourself quite a catch, Ms. Rockbell-Elric.”

“Please, call me Winry.” She held out a gloved hand for D’Argent to kiss, who eagerly complied. “After all, we’re all friends here, are we not?”

“Quite! I’ll be terribly sorry to see you go tonight.”

Us and your priced jewels, Ed thought, and the smile on his face became slightly more real.

“About that,” Winry began, voice smooth as a dagger. “I’m afraid I must ask you for a favor. See, I have been informed by one of your staff that, unfortunately, some saboteur seems to have slashed the tires of my automobile, and as I am not currently in the possession of a replacement, I will need to stay here until the garage can send men to help us repair it.”

And, just like that, Ed’s smile slipped off his face.

“I’m sorry?” Ed exclaimed. “Our car has been sabotaged?”

It was bullshit, obviously. There was no saboteur in the world who could out-sabotage Winry, and they definitely had some replacement tires hiding around the car. The car being supposedly so damaged that they’d need to wait for professional non-Winry help could only mean one thing: Al and Paninya had encountered more difficulties than expected, and now they were moving on to plan B.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart,” Winry replied, honey dripping off her smile.

Ed fucking hated plan B even more than he hated plan A.

“That’s terrible!” Lord D’Argent said indignantly, wiggling his overly large mustache. “I cannot believe some scoundrel would have the nerve to do this on my grounds! You have my sincerest apologies, Mr. and Ms. Rockbell-Elric, and of course I welcome you to stay at my home for as long as you need.”

“Much obliged, Lord D’Argent.” Winry made a quick courtesy, and, after a beat too long, Ed followed her example and bowed. “Much obliged,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “You have our thanks.”

“Nonsense! It’s the least I could do for such lovely newly weds.”

On moments like these, Ed really wished there was a God above, just so he could have someone to strangle.

///

“What the fuck?” he hissed, as soon as they’d been left in their assigned rooms. Winry was unimpressed.

“The safe was tougher than we’d anticipated, and Paninya can’t crack it. Al slashed the tires and hid the replacements so that we’d have an excuse to stay longer. I’m going to join them at the safe tonight, so that me and Paninya can hopefully break through together.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then the brakes of our car and those of the D’Argents will ‘mysteriously’ be cut, making it impossible for us to move out just yet.”

“Fuck.” Ed fell back on the bed, burying his head in his arms. “Fuck. I’d agreed to one night of fake marriage, one night.”

“Don’t be such a baby, you can last for a day or so more.”

“Our backstory can’t!”

“Then we’ll just need to work on it more.” Winry gently sat on the other side of the bed, her face softening slightly as she looked at him. “Look, Ed, neither of us likes this very much, but we need to get those jewels. You know that.”

Ed didn’t answer, and finally, Winry just sighed.

“Fine, be like that. But we’ll still need to work on our cover.”

“We married last spring, you’re pregnant, we’re naming the baby Fuck You.”

“Maybe something a little less crude, but I like the pregnancy bit.”

“I don’t.”

“Tough. I vote we name the baby Urey if it’s a guy or Sarah if it’s a girl.”

“Really? Naming them after your dead parents?”

“It’s just the kind of drama the D’Argents will eat up.”

“And what if the kid is actually nonbinary, hm?”

“Ed, we all know that in high society, trans people don’t exist.”

“Are we having a gender reveal party too?”

“Obviously.”

That actually managed to get a laugh from Ed, who promptly tried to smother it. Winry smiled down at him, her whole being radiating smugness. “See? It won’t be that bad.”

“Okay, fine.” Ed tried to hide his grin as he sat up proper. “Let’s fuck with some rich people.”

///

After Ed had accepted his cruel fate, it was actually not as bad as he’d feared.

“We’re planning to name the child Urey or Sarah, after Winry’s parents,” he said, a small but proud (and very fake) smile on his face, and he glanced at Winry from the corner of his eyes. She fluttered her eyelashes in a way that was almost cartoonish, but she pecked him on the cheek and the D’Argents practically melted in front of his eyes.

“That’s so terribly sweet,” Lady D’Argent cooed, leaning forward with a hungry look in her face. “What made you settle on them? Me and my husband have been arguing for ages about baby names, and yet, we haven’t been able to reach any consensus.”

They probably thought that they were being subtle, but if looks could kill, the D’Argent couple would have committed murder several times over during this dinner. Not for the first time, Ed wished he could break cover to yell ‘Get a divorce!’. Sadly, he had to settle for: “She suggested it, and it was so absolutely perfect, I didn’t see a reason to argue. We don’t argue all that much, honestly!”

It was a blatant, horrid lie, and Winry quickly turned her laugh into a cough. “It’s true,” she added. “It’s as if we were made for each other.”

“When did you first fall in love?” Lady D’Argent said, pointedly not looking at Lord D’Argent.

“We’ve simply never not known,” Winry answered, hanging just a little closer to Ed to emphasize the point.

“Yes,” Ed added. “She’s always felt very different than all the other friends I had. Totally. Very distinct.”

“Oh, I completely understand what you mean,” Lady D’Argent said, and she grabbed Lord D’Argent’s hand, who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to run away. “When I first saw my dear Micheal, I immediately knew he was the one.”

“Love at first sight, yes, very romantic.”

“Ed, honey, haven’t you had enough wine for the day?”

“Why, Winry, my darling, don’t you want a glass as well?”

“Oh, I’d rather drink something else, if we may excuse ourselves to the bedroom?”

“Oh, yes, of course, we wouldn’t want to keep you,” Lady D’Argent replied, slightly green, although whether it was with disgust or envy, Ed couldn’t say.

“Thank you very much, my lady.” Winry inclined her head and, leaning on Ed a little heavier than necessary, with Ed’s arm wrapped around her a little tighter than normal, they left the banquet.

Back in the safety of their rooms, Ed burst out laughing.

“ ‘I’d rather drink something else’? Holy shit, Winry.”

“Got the job done, didn’t it?” She grinned smugly at him, before quickly switching demeanor to serious. “Alright, we need to get started.”

“Right.”

Quickly, they got to work. Ed opened the bag, pulling out a length of rope he handed to Winry, who had opened up the window and proceeded to tie the rope securely around the window sill, ready to be climbed on. They were on the ground without a sound, ran across the courtyard like shadows, and ducked into the western wing like ghosts, making their way to the safe perfectly unseen. Al and Paninya were waiting for them, just as planned.

“You lovebirds getting busy?” Paninya asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Apparently, Winry’s thirsty tonight,” Ed replied in deadpan.

“And Ed’s too drunk to stop me from ravaging him,” Winry agreed, also in complete seriousness.

“Guys, can we please make jokes about Ed and Winry fucking after we’ve stolen the priceless treasure?”  Al said, desperately.

“Al, don’t you know that love is the greatest treasure of all?” Paninya placed a hand over her heart. “I cannot believe I’m in cahoots with such a heartless monster.”

“Next time, I’m vetoing the marriage cover. For my sanity. I do not want to think about my brother having sex ever again.”

“How about we just swap you and Ed, then? You get to fake date your childhood friend!”

Al stared at her, completely unimpressed. “Right,” he said. “Because of course, sending in the aromantic to pretend to be in love will go way better than last time.”

Last time, there had been an on-fire clown.

“Fair enough,” Paninya rescinded. “And anyway, you’re right. We’ve got work to do.”

“Finally!” Winry exclaimed, putting on the safety goggles with a gigantic grin on her face. “Stand back. This’ll get hot.”

Dutifully, Ed stood back, and watched the show.

///

The diamonds in the safe were as big as his fist, and well worth the stupid charade. They even managed to get out of the mansion without too much of a fight.

“I can’t believe you bust your arm up again,” Winry muttered, looking at the mess of wires hanging out of his elbow. “They only shot five times!”

“You were in the line of fire for that fifth shot! Be glad I saved your life!”

“I’ll be glad when you stop giving me more work!”

“Lovebirds, could you tone it down? I’m trying to sleep.”

“We’re not in love!” came Ed and Winry’s chorus. Paninya just snorted.

“Right. Shut up either way, please.”

///

Truth was, Ed didn’t hate romance covers on principle. They could be fun, if he was allowed to turn them up to eleven just to fuck with people; if he was allowed to exaggerate, they could be quite a bit of fun to act.

Mostly, he hated the doubt that came after.

In their little shack, Al and Paninya took the two beds to sleep, while Ed and Winry took the first watch. They were in the middle of nowhere, forest stretching out endlessly across all sides, the starts shining bright in an onyx sea.

“Winry?”

“Hm?”

“So, in the hypothetical scenario that we’d ever get kids, what’d we name them?”

“Nothing to do with our dead parents. That’s just creepy.”

“It’s -” Ed hesitated for a second, shifting awkwardly. “I’m serious.”

Winry stared at him for a second, and he looked away. “You actually want to get kids?”

“I mean, I don’t know? I probably wouldn’t be parent of the year, with one deadbeat dad and one normally dead mother, but you know, I think I’d kind of like to try?” He knew that he was rambling at this point, but didn’t stop. “And I mean, is it even possible? I mean, what we’ve got is already weird, but I definitely don’t want it to be romantic, but I don’t know if you can get kids together without it being romantic?”

“Ed,” Winry cut him off. “When have we ever followed the rules?”

Looking at Winry, whose eyes twinkled like diamonds in the moonlight, he slowly grinned.

[dancingwithdylan21]

Thirsty - College AU

Summary: The reader tries to convince Stiles to go out drinking and they both get more than they bargained for.

Pairing: Stiles x Reader 

Word Count: 1,739

~

“Come on, Stilessss.” You whine dramatically, latching on to his firm bicep as if that will influence your life long best friend.

“Y/N, I can’t!” He huffs snatching his arm back.

“Dude...what kind of college kid are you?!”

“The kind that’s failing metaphysics class.” He groans. “If I don’t get at least a B on the test tomorrow then I’m screwed."

"Meta what?” You say confused.

“Exactly!” Stiles throws his hands up in the air. “Some stupid philosophy bullshit.”

“What…why? You’re a criminology major.”

“I forgot which day we had to sign up for classes. By the time I remembered, there was nothing good left. So I got stuck with a shitty three hour class every Friday.”

“Oh, Stiles. I don’t know how you get through life.” You tease him, only getting a dirty glare in response.

“You know I can’t sit still for that long, Y/N.” Stiles complains, dragging his hand through his dishelved brown hair.

“There’s this annoying girl who wears a ton of dark eye makeup. She looks like a fucking raccoon! And she legit follows me around. I sit in a different spot each class and she always fucking sits near me!”

“Well, it’s hard to resist all this charm.” You gesture towards him and move to settle down onto a futon, you know Stiles isn’t done rambling. Once he gets frustrated about something - forget it. He needs to rant.

“Hooking up with her would be a risky move.” Stiles spits out. “There’s no fucking way any sane guy would touch her without at least two condoms on."

"This is why we’re best friends, Stiles. Because you’re such a people person.” You snicker loudly.

“Oh, shut it.” He barely mumbles.

Talk about opposites attract. You’re the upbeat, easy going chick who’s always smiling. Stiles’ the grumpy, impatient dude with a heart of gold. But for some reason the dynamic works, you both definitely balance each other out.

“I have to start getting ready. I’ll be at The Emerald if you change your mind, ok?”

“What the hell is The Emerald?” Stiles scrunches up his handsome face.

“I already told you about it, man.” You roll your eyes. “It’s a new club. Everything is emerald green and silver. It’s a cool looking place!”

“Sounds…interesting.” Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“Whatever, buddy.” You laugh as you start walking out of his dorm room.

“Y/N, wait!” He jumps up in a panic. “How are you getting home because I know you’ll be too drunk to drive…”

“Lydia’s boyfriend is driving us. I’ll just find a ride with them or über if I have to.” You shrug in his direction.

“An uber?” Stiles feels almost offended. “No. If you need a ride, I’ll come get you.”

“No, Stiles! You need to study and rest up for tomorrow. Plus I’m going to my parents house and not coming back until Monday.”

“Um, were you gonna tell me that? Or just disappear for three days and see if I notice?” He snaps without thinking.

“You’re so needy, Stilinski.”

“Am not!”

“Are you sure you’re not hiding a vagina under those sweatpants?” You smirk while he plops back down at his desk.

“Oh honey, you couldn’t handle what’s under these sweatpants.”

“Really.” You deadpan taking a step closer.

“Really.” Stiles challenges leaning back in his computer chair with a smug smile.

“Oh well, I’ve gotta see this then. Drop em.”

“…What?”

“Show off your glorious cock, Stiles. Don’t be shy.” It makes your friend slightly blush and you can’t hold back a giggle.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense, Y/N. Stop distracting me with your dirty mind.” He pretends to be annoyed.

“Whatever you say, you big stud.” You crack up. Stiles rolls his eyes but he has a huge smile on his face. He crumbles up a piece of paper and throws it at you, hitting you right on the forehead.

“Score!” Stiles exclaims throwing up his arms.

“You’re twenty going on twelve, kiddo.” You shake your head at him.

“I’m freaking adorable.” Stiles sticks his tongue out at you. “What time should I pick you up?”

“Stiles..”

“No, Y/N. I’ve made up my mind.”

“But…”

“I know your parents live like 30 minutes away. It’s fine. My test isn’t until noon tomorrow. If your parents don’t mind, I can crash there and then leave early in the morning.”

Sigh. You know you’re not gonna win this.

“Fine. But if you fail the test, don’t you dare blame me! And my parents will be away this weekend so you can obviously stay over.”

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.” Stiles grabs a can of Pepsi from his mini fridge.

“Make sure you eat something too.”

“Yes, mom.” He says with a crooked smile.

“Shit.” You mutter at the clock. “I need to get ready. Have fun studying.”

“Yeah, I will.” Stiles pouts while he watches you leave his dorm room.

You’ve only been gone for thirty minutes and Stiles already feels left out. He wills himself to focus but he keeps wondering if you’ve left yet. Hearing a light knock, his head snaps up to see you peeking in through the half open door.

“Hey you.” Not waiting for him to answer, you stroll on in and it makes Stiles’ heart practically stop.

You look amazing. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t hear you talking to him. His mind wanders as he pictures you dancing at the club. You’ll be looking sexy as hell under those green lights and Stiles is pissed that he’s gonna miss it.

“Hello?” You snap your fingers in front of him. He shakes his thoughts away and gives you a sheepish smile.

“Here. Eat this, you weirdo.” You hand over a medium pepperoni pizza from his favorite pizza joint that’s near the campus. Thank god they deliver.

“Woah, Y/N.” Stiles grins wide pulling you in for a tight hug. “You’re the fucking best!"

Your phone starts vibrating and you see a text from Jeff flash on the screen. He’s one of those on again, off again guys who literally drives you fucking mad. It’s like he thrives on playing games and messing with your head.

"Who’s that?” Stiles asks even though he has an idea based on your reaction.

“Jeff. He said he’ll be stopping by tonight to say hi.”

Stiles’ jaw immediately tightens and he definitely wants to go with you now. He hates Jeff. The bastard is no good for you and he is always breaking your heart. Then Stiles’ the lucky one who has to pick up the pieces.

“How about you skip the club? We can eat pizza and watch a movie.” Your best friend suggests with his brown eyes boring into you.

“You have your test, dude! What’s wrong with you?”

“Me? Nothing’s wrong with me. Jeff’s just a piece of shit.” Stiles growls unable to control it. With a roll of your eyes, you ignore him and start reading a text from Lydia. You glance up and notice that he’s eyeing you with a weird look on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Stiles shrugs with an attitude as he continues watching you.

“What? Tell me!” You cast your eyes down. "Does my outfit look bad?“

”…Don’t you have a longer skirt that you can wear? And a top that isn’t so tight.“ Stiles wonders staring at you.

"Seriously?” You scoff as he continues looking you up and down with a puss on his face.

“I know it’s on the slutty side but whatever. Hopefully I’ll get hit on by a hot guy cause I’m horny.” You finally answer grabbing a piece of pizza.

“Uh…”

“And then you won’t have to waste your time picking me up.” You add completely oblivious that Stiles is internally freaking out. He mutters under his breathe but you’re unable to make it out.

“What’d you say?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He spits out at you, now shooting daggers at his laptop.

“Stop pmsing, Stilinski. It’s unbecoming.” You snort at him. Stiles spins around on his computer chair, studying you with his arms crossed.

“Stop being grumpy. I bought you pizza.” Instead of replying, your best friend races over to his closet and then begins searching for something on his iPhone.

“What’s happening here? Should I be concerned?” You ask sarcastically.

“I’m googling to see if the stupid emerald place has a dress code.” Stiles answers over his shoulder so he misses it when your mouth drops open.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski! Sit your ass back down and fucking study!” You demand with your hands on your hips.

“Oh, yeah. You’re real intimidating, Y/N.” He laughs. “Your hot pink top makes you extra scary.”

Before you get a chance to respond, Stiles rips off his shirt and starts changing in front of you. Damn it. You become distracted by his hotness but snap yourself out of it and stalk over to him and shove him in the chest.

“You were fine until I mentioned Jeff. I already told you I’m done with him for good. So relax, ok?” You try to get through to the stubborn man but he just starts whistling.

“I’m almost ready.”

“Stick with the original plan. You’re not going.” You state firmly watching him fix his messy hair.

“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.” Stiles lazily shrugs.

“Did you just quote The Notebook?!” You gasp. “Who the fuck are you?"

Stiles chuckles and walks back to his closet to get his boots,"I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He deadpans.

“That doesn’t even have anything to do with this.” You roll your eyes.

“Yes it does. It means if you’re going then I’m going.”

“No. It means…that he’ll do whatever she’s doing because it’s what she wants…or something.” You add now confused.

“You just proved that I’m right. Like always.” Stiles flashes a cocky smile.

“This isn’t what I want! I want you to go back to being Responsible Stiles. He was just here. Like friggin thirty minutes ago!”

“Responsible Stiles has left the building.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“You can’t take your test hungover, dear.”

“I’ll only have a couple of beers since I’ll be driving. Besides someone needs to be the voice of reason when Jeffrey fucking shows up.”

“Whatever.” You groan knowing that he won’t change his mind.

“Let’s get this shit show on the road!” Stiles announces, slapping your ass on the way out of his dorm.

~

Masterlist 

[thatbluegibson]

CH 41

“If it were any warmer, this would be Malibu,” Dave bent to pick up a shell at his feet before looking it over and handing it to Liz.

“What a fresh hell that would be,” she scrunched up her nose and looked down the beach, counting just a few other people with their dogs on the mile long stretch of sand. They were completely alone at the far sound end of the cape and a mild breeze came in off the waves, but it was warm enough to walk barefoot in the sand. Her phone buzzed in her back pocket and she pulled it free.

I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he would go straight to the bar.

She sighed and tapped out a reply to Travis.

It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting him. We’re cool.

Liz put her phone in her sweatshirt pocket when Dave bumped his shoulder into hers. “Travis says he’s sorry,” she said.

Dave shrugged and looked over her head to the rock sea wall behind her. “If you weren’t in any danger then he has nothing to be sorry for, right? Isn’t that all he signed up for?”

Liz was surprised he understood the situation so well when she barely grasped it herself, “Are you my voice of reason now?”

“I’m just saying that if you have that reaction every time you’re around the guy you’re supposed to be co-parenting with, I’m going to die an early death. A very happy early death, but early all the same.”

She flipped the shell he had given her around her fingers, smiling at his words. “I just wasn’t prepared for it,” she muttered. It wasn’t the sight of Kyle that freaked her out as much as it was him seeing her with Dave. She wasn’t ready to have the ‘who is he to you’ conversation with someone she had been devoted to for an entire decade and she wasn’t even sure what Dave was to her. After the night before, she felt like they had evolved into something more than whatever it was they had in LA, but it had been so long since she had dated that she wasn’t sure what exactly it was. On top of all that, she didn’t know how Kyle would react to her moving on. It had always been Kyle leaving her for someone else that inevitably lasted a couple weeks, maybe a month before he came back and she stupidly let him back in. And Kyle had a bit of a temper when he felt threatened which Liz was really trying to avoid. 

“Is that a ship wreck?”

Dave’s question pulled Liz from her thoughts and she looked up as they approached a point in the cape that reached out into the sea making a natural sea wall between two beaches. The tide was receding, revealing several blackened tree stumps in the water.  

“That’s the ghost forest. We only get to see it when a bad storm comes through,” she turned back to the rock point and looked for any signs of storm damage.

“A shipwreck would have been cooler,” Dave replied, turning away from the waves to put his arms around Liz.

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, “Those tree stumps are 4,000 years old! There’s a wreck just north of here, but a storm is coming.”

Dave looked out to the clear, bright horizon, “I think whoever predicts the weather smokes far too much weed.”

“Give me his number so I can send him some product,” Liz mumbled into his sweatshirt before looking up at him, “For real, we should head back.”

*

“How the hell did you know a storm was coming?” Dave yelled over the wind as they ran up the steps to her house.

She unlocked the door and hurried inside, rain dripping from her clothes as she flipped on the gas fireplace. “My collarbone was screaming at me,” she grimaced, rubbing her shoulder a bit. “Doesn’t your leg hurt when the weather is about to change?”

“I guess it hurts a little, but I figured it was from walking, you weirdo,” he peeled off his soaked sweatshirt, giving her a quizzical look.

“I was told it’s something to do with the pressure in the air, but I like to think that the guy that my bone graft came from was a meteorologist,” she laughed a little and jumped when large gust of wind crashed against the house.

“You have a dead guy’s bone in your body?”

“That’s what she said,” she grinned and grabbed his sweatshirt from him, crossing the tile floor to the hallway that the laundry room was in.

Twenty minutes later they were bundled into her bed in their underwear, listening to the wind and rain outside while Dave flipped through the channels on the TV.

“Ugh,” Liz grumbled as her face briefly flashed across the screen.

“Ooo what does the outer world have to say about you today?” Dave teased, flipping the channel back. She lunged for the remote, but he held it above his head and out of her reach as video clips of Liz on various red carpets and in interviews played in rapid succession.

After finalizing her divorce in May of last year, she was seen cozying up with several different men throughout the summer…

“Slut,” Liz grumbled sarcastically as a series of candid photos of her in various social situations vaguely near another famous human male appeared.

Ben Affleck

“Producer of the last movie I was in and also, no thank you,” she shook her head, annoyed.

Chris Pratt

“I buy beef from his ranch... not a euphemism.”

Jason Momoa

“Fuck, I wish,” Liz laughed when Dave glared at her.

Aaron Rodgers

“He bought me a drink and I told him Russell Wilson is my favorite quarterback.”

Valentino Rossi

“His interpreter didn’t believe me when I said I ride and I almost fought him.”

The pictures then changed from candids to two separate photos stitched together and Liz rolled her eyes, “Now they’re just grasping.”

Leonardo DiCaprio

“I’ve literally never even met that man.”

Harry Styles

“I… don’t know who that is.”

Pictures of Liz and Johnny at their many Disney premieres scrolled by.

But the actor and sometimes rocker that claimed most of her attention last summer seems to have fallen out of favor for a different rock star…

A grainy cell phone shot of Liz and Josie staring up at the stage at Dave’s show appeared, then immediately changed to a blaring commercial. Liz looked up at Dave, but his eyes were glued to the screen.

“And here I thought my only competition was Radar,” he muttered, flopping back against the headboard.

“Please tell me you don’t honestly believe that dumpster fire of a show,” Liz said, sitting up on her knees beside him.

Dave just shook his head, but he was beginning to fully understand what Taylor had meant about the unwanted media attention. She was a big deal right now, one of the most sought after celebrities and her disappearing from LA the week before the fucking Oscars only made the media more blood thirsty. It wouldn’t be long before they were pounding on his door asking about her.

“That,” Liz jabbed a finger towards the flat screen mounted on her bedroom wall, “is not me. That’s not anybody. They have twenty four hours of air time to fill so they make shit up.”

“I know.”

“So stop looking at me like that.”

He again remained silent as the commercials ended and Liz’s picture popped back up on the screen.

… Colbert seemingly left the Hollywood rebel in the dust while falling into the arms of the ‘Nicest Guy in Rock’

A picture of Liz and Depp on set gave way to a closely cropped version of the picture of Dave and Liz in the hotel lobby before Liz gently took the remote from Dave’s hand.

No sightings of Colbert as Oscar week heats up and sources say she’s hiding out to prepare for her next big role which is already generating Oscar buzz for next year. Here’s hoping the Best Actress favorite appears before they announce her name on the big night.

“I’m quitting the industry,” she said quietly, pressing the mute button.

Dave felt his heart skip a little, “What? Why?”

“I hate it. I hate that,” Liz tilted her head towards the TV, now displaying paparazzi shots of Dave and Liz leaving the show on Saturday, her neck still streaked with red scratches. “I like acting, but it’s not worth it.”

“What about all the projects you have coming up?”

“Most of them are so far out that I can bail without legal consequences, but I have hard commitments to the next three films.”

“And how long will that take?”

“At least a year and a half,” she sighed, leaning back against the headboard next to him. 

“Principle photography starts in London in three weeks on the first one, the other two are in Vancouver.” She looked over at him when he remained silent. “And you? Any big plans?”

“Just my usual post-album depressive state. Taylor, Chris and Nate have other projects lined up, so we’re on hiatus for a bit.”

“You’re breaking my little fan girl heart, Dave,” she cried, clutching her chest with a smile. 

“It’s fine. I’ll take the girls to Disneyland every other day and pretend like it isn’t eating my soul from the inside out.”

“Hey, those soul sucking Disney trips paid for this house!” Liz laughed. She was happy to change the subject, but didn’t like where this was headed. 

Dave looked down at the sheets between them. “I’ll probably write, maybe call Josh and Jones to do something,” he shrugged.

“Dave,” Liz said, suddenly serious, “Are you telling me you’re making another Vulture’s album?”

He looked over at her, a shadow of a smile on his face, “You’ll have to force that one out of me.”

Liz narrowed her eyes at him, “Challenge accepted.” She slid off the bed and disappeared in the walk in closet, returning a moment later and tossing a small bag and lighter onto the sheets next to Dave.

He picked it up and suspiciously eyed the professional packaging, “Selkirk Cannabis Company.”

 She climbed back into bed and sat across from him, taking the bag from his hands and tearing it open. “This is a late season harvest,” she mumbled, slipping the joint between her lips and lighting it. She inhaled slowly before handing it back to Dave.

He stared at it for a moment before laughing a little, “The last time I smoked, Taylor fucking Swift had to come save my ass.”

Liz exhaled sharply with a smile before taking the joint back from him. “I heard about that,” she mumbled, her voice a little raspy from the smoke and crawled up the bed until she was inches from his face. “She’s a customer of mine,” she said, slipping her arm around his neck and taking another long drag.

“She smoked out Bieber that night,” Dave replied distractedly, his eyes focused on her lips. He was fascinated with how she could go from adorable to seductive so quickly.

Liz smiled and dipped her head, shotgunning her drag to Dave. He pulled her closer as soon as their lips met, running his hands up the backs of her thighs.

“I can almost guarantee it was my weed she did it with,” Liz said when she pulled away, smiling when Dave took the joint from her hand.

He took another drag, tasting her vanilla chapstick on the paper and leaned back against the headboard, “So how does one grow good weed?”

Liz shrugged. “Years of trial and error, I guess. It all comes down to sex.”

Dave’s eyebrows shot up and he coughed a little, “What?”

“Female plants produce the bud and what they want is a male plant to send them some pollen, so they produce more sticky resin to try and capture any that might be floating through the air.”

“O… kay?” Dave took another drag, trying to follow along.

“So I did a little experiment in college and found out that if you have a male plant nearby, but not close enough to pollinate, the female plant goes crazy and produces more and more resin. Therefore, sexual frustration equals great product.”

“Very scientific,” he replied, already feeling his head swimming a little.

“If you call a bunch of broke and stoned college kids scientific,” she laughed, watching his eyes close just slightly. “You ready to tell me about that album yet?”

“I’m not saying a word,” he laughed.

“Oh, no?” Liz smiled and took the joint from his hand, leaning over to set it on a glass tray on the nightstand before reaching back and unsnapping her bra. She slowly pulled the straps off her arms, holding the fabric to her chest to keep it from falling, “How about now?”

He grinned and shook his head slowly, relaxing back into the bed. His smile faded as she tossed her bra aside and his hands shot up to touch her, but she grabbed his wrists to stop him. Her slow smile returned and she kissed him lightly before snaking her way down his body. Dave sat perfectly still in Liz’s bed, his eyes wide and staring straight ahead at the fireplace mantle as he felt her hand slip into his boxers and her hot breath against him, “We’re making another Vulture’s record.”

[katrinapavela]

Is  Rowan Trying to Bring Olivia Back to the Light, or Irrevocably Shutter Her in Darkness? #Scandal

Let me start by saying that I have a well-known history of not seeing it for Rowan, since 301. I didn’t even wanna write this because it seems boringly obvious to me (and other folks who see through this man’s behaviour), and I just want it to be over. I’m tired, even more than Olivia seems to be. I never bought into the idea back then that this man was trying to help save his daughter from destruction and danger brought about by Fitz. That he was going to extraordinary lengths, and showing “tough love” like a strong, black father. 

The short version: Rowan is an abusive person. He has been an abusive person since we met him through Jake. Abusers always need the abused more than the abused need them. Without an object to play games with, the abuser doesn’t really exist. His “games” have gotten more and more intense over the seasons, switching tactics and acts like the shapeshifter he is. Rowan is trying to complete the process of eliminating Olivia’s chewy centre (her soul, her humanity) by eradicating ties to those for whom she has the greatest vulnerability. Except him. Fitz and Quinn have been used tactically this way. The ultimate point is for Olivia to have nothing and no one but Rowan (”You never choose one of them over me” (407); “If I have to choose between [my father] and you [Fitz]; you will lose” (611). Rowan sees Olivia as his only connection to humanity. Jake is just another “son” he created. Olivia is “[his], [his] child, the thing [he] made” (310). Everyone needs someone. Rowan’s soul is lost. He can’t have a genuine relationship with anyone. So he’s compelling Olivia, through control, manipulation and domination, to be that someone instead of working for it. 

The reasoned version:

Y’all want me to believe that Rowan is simply a stern father who sees Olivia’s potential, and is practicing ‘tough love’, so that she can be the “championed” he raised? That Rowan has been transformed by his encounters with Ponytail and Peus? That Rowan is the old, feeble, victim now?

Y’all can forever and a day miss me with that messed up psychology. I have too many receipts listing the ways in which that kind of thinking is fucked up. The moment Rowan became an active presence (seen or unseen) in Olivia’s life, the level of death, destruction and alienation has increased, not decreased. I cannot think of a single thing Rowan has done for his daughter that did not require she give him something in return. That’s the definition of transactional, not family. Anyway, let me get to it. 

HELL NO ROWAN IS NOT TRYING TO SAVE OLIVIA!

It makes no sense. Every single time Rowan has intervened in Olivia’s life, it has been to his primary benefit, which he manipulates her into thinking is also to her benefit (hold on to that because it’s relevant). Think about it. Can you name a single parental, altruistic thing he’s done for her? Even paying her goddamn student loans, before she knew he was Command, required her to report for weekly Sunday dinners in exchange (302). 

Rowan: “People are predictable. Unchanging. Monotonous. They use the same language. They offer the same excuses. They make the same mistakes. People are endlessly disappointing because you hope they won’t be…” (413, “No More Blood”)

There is no way on god’s green earth that Shonda could write anything that would justify the levels of abuse Rowan has  perpetrated directly upon Olivia himself, and through his prostitutes, Jake and Russell. I’m not gonna bother to list them all because it’s too great. Plus, Olivia, in her 707 monologue to Rowan, already alluded to the ways in which he has destroyed her life so that she is almost unrecognizable to herself.

But what is it that Rowan ultimately wants from Olivia? Why does he keep doing this?

Olivia actually said it best herself, in 409:

Olivia: “You’re not leaving. You’re never leaving. You can never leave me alone because you have no place to go. The only life you have is the sad, twisted one you built here. The one where you lurk in the shadows, pull puppet strings and pretend the world couldn’t exist without you. You can’t disappear, become a normal person because, dad: you are not normal. You’re a sick, lonely man who only knows how to lie and call it love.” 

Maybe that hot truth she spat reaffirmed to him why he needed to let the kidnapping happen to her. 

Because every word above is true. In fact, we can say Olivia has inhabited some of that ow, too. Change is a verb. I haven’t seen Rowan change anything, except the act he puts on in order to manipulate, people. Case in point: the dialogue @Jarmstrong05 on Twitter dug up.

Rowan did that because he wanted Olivia to run B6-13. Why the fuck would Rowan want Fitz’s soft ass heart to run B6-13? That was just another manipulation of Olitz love, just as Rowan’s trip to Vermont. Rowan started cultivating Fitz as an asset the moment he was on house arrest in the White House, in 6B. Rowan knows that if he went about convincing Olivia to be Command directly, Olivia would run back to Zanzibar. Just like he knew not to directly suggest she take on Mellie’s campaign, but instead created the circumstances to point Olivia in that direction. 

/Pause for the cause:

(I am seriously wondering if he promised Mellie that Olivia would make her president in exchange for Mellie letting Tom out of prison, too (506). Because what incentive would she have to let Tom out? Mellie is thirsty for domination, short-sighted, and is too busy wanting to be the mammoth who gets the glory, so that she doesn’t see the stronger mastodon running circles around her)

pause for the cause\

But why wouldn’t Rowan just want to run B6-13 himself? Is he just trying to take it back from her? 

Rowan switched up his tactics when Olivia was with Fitz in S5. He started cultivating her as daddy’s girl, instead of the usual “against me, you will lose” adversarial rhetoric he used with her in S3-4. Allow her to think you are both on the same side, and you get what you want from her more quickly. In fact, Olivia has been making the transformation to Rowena after 509. It is in 510 that we see the colour red premier (rowan means red). 

If he tried to run B6-13 as Command Olivia would make it her mission as CoS to fighting him. Low key, Rowan has already been running B6-13 indirectly, by using Jake to undermine Liv’s decisions and go behind her back. Jake is a tin man with no brain of his own. He needs orders from someone, a mission. Like, I’m sure Olivia doesn’t know Lucy is B6-13. Rowan has basically allowed Olivia to borrow power (that’s the real ‘something borrowed’), and think that she was controlling the world. It’s easier than fighting her. If Rowan took back direct control, against Olivia’s wishes, she would dedicate Mellie’s whole administration to fighting him, which is tiresome for us and Olivia, but not Rowan:

Huck:“I never considered it before. But, yeah, you were made. Just like us. By him. Why wouldn't you have a guy? ... No. You don't have a guy. You don't need one. You have your father. He is your guy, and he is always out. And you really do need him, because as long as he is by your side, nothing you do seems bad in comparison. Your guy is always out, and he is the biggest, hungriest monster on the loosest leash in the world. ... A monster does not change. A monster is always hungry. Do you not understand that when the monster gets hungry, he will turn around and eat you?”

What I think Rowan has been doing this season, is cementing Olivia as both his replacement, and his permanent companion, until he dies. Rowan is trying to eat Olivia this season. His consumption of her keeps him alive. It’s either she dies or he dies. You already know the option for which I have advocated for 4 seasons now. 

Rowan: “You are like looking into the window of my past. You are me. No matter how much I tried, all I could create was me. There is a reckoning coming for you, Olivia. You think you have it under control. You think you have all the power buttoned up inside you behind your eyes, lighting you up. But one day you'll glance into a mirror, and you will discover that some of that power is missing. The lights are going out. Then? You'll have some difficult decisions to make. Do I want that power back? Who am I willing to hurt to get it? Now I can say this because I know You cannot have it all, Olivia.” (701, “Watch Me”)

Rowan doesn’t make predictions. He engineers them. Of course she never had it under control because with him around, she will never be in command of her life. As long as she thinks life is defined in the parameters her father as given her. Of course she can’t have it all, because he never did. 

Wait, so why did he try to get Fitz to save her?

lmaoo, Rowan doesn’t give a good goddamn about Olivia’s soul. He’s been trying to make it as black as his. The performance Rowan gives depends on his audience. He told us (and Jake) as much in 406. He needed Fitz to come back to DC in order to test Olivia’s chewy centre. Referring to Fitz as “son” (703, 704) and instructing him on how to “lure her into a cage” (704) all indicate Rowan’s cultivation of Fitz as a deputized B6-13 prostitute. That tactic would never work because Fitz has a genuine connection with Olivia and doesn’t need B6-13 tools. In any case, Olivia eventually passed the test and sent Fitz packing. (I can now see in her own way that she wanted him gone so he wouldn’t be used against her, and so that she can keep up her bad bitch facade. It’s harder around people who actually see you as a person, not just what you can do for them)

When Olivia tried to punish Rowan by taking away his livelihood, something he genuinely enjoyed (his BONES!!!!!!!), he was done playing. You don’t take Rowan’s things. He has a transactional relationship with everyone. Olivia took Annie, so Quinn now gets taken. A person like that is not tethered to reality (which is why Maya laughed incredulously when Olivia told her what Rowan did). Rowan doesn’t need to actually kill Quinn to achieve his goals. He needed to test Olivia's centre. From Olivia’s reaction to those gun shots, her time as Command is dead, to me. When QPA connect’s Quinn’s abduction (I know there are a lot of parallels with her and Olivia, but that’s another post), Olivia’s relationship with them is as good as done (Rowan hopes). Fitz and QPA are the last real connections Olivia has, even though she’s treated them shittily since becoming CoS and Command. 

Lessons from the Alternate Universe episode (610)

(does anything I’ve written above make sense?)

Rowan’s influence goes back to the Defiance decision. The AU showed us the contrast in Olivia’s life when her father  was not in it (and, by extension, Jake). She had more agency. She smiled. She loved her work AND her friends. She actually stayed and tried in her relationship with Fitz. She was in Command of her life, it wasn’t in command of her. So, in what world would the man who brought darkness into this girl’s life be the one to save her? Change is a verb, and I have seen no action from Rowan. And I need to seem some action from Olivia in the opposite direction. Otherwise, she will be eaten alive by the monster under her nose. 

Some of this might be

So y’all tell me. 

What do you guys think is going on?

[thedeanthomas]

Homecoming Out

He’s lying on his couch when he hears it, and Dean hates himself for how quickly he jumps up. He’d recognize that voice anywhere-it was as familiar to him as the ache it now caused in his heart to hear.

Seamus.

Through the peep hole on his door, Dean can see the back of Shay’s head and he watches as he bends over to pick up something on the ground. He hates himself for staring at his ass.

“Yeah I’ve got like two more….”

He’s moving out. Like Dean knew he would. Dean’s frozen against the door, hating himself for every second he spends pressed up against the door, just desperate for a glimpse of his….well, Seamus wasn’t his anything anymore, was he? Still, Dean watches, but soon, Ginny and Luna leave with boxes of their own, coming back right after each other…..sans Shay. Was this a new low? Or had his low not moved? He grabs his phone.

Dean: I know you’re down in the parking lot. Come up. I just wanna

Delete.

Dean: you’re seriously moving back home? Over talking to me?

Delete.

Dean: you could’ve at least said hi, you prick.

Delete.  Frustrated, angry, and honestly disappointed in himself, Dean punches the door, leaving a dent and causing him to yelp. He really needs to stop doing that-he was pretty sure his antics from the past two weeks had at the very least fractured his knuckles. He sighs, and goes back to watching more non consequential television, zoned out until he hears a knock on his door. Dean knows it’s Luna before he even opens his door.

“What’d you want, Lune?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Well hello to you too.”

Dean sighs.

“Sorry. Hey.”

“Hey. Gin and I are going to get sushi tonight, you wanna come?”

“Be the third wheel on the lesbian tricycle? Nah, I’ll pass.”

Luna rolls her eyes.

“You wish.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something, to tell her he’s not even sure he likes women anymore, but he closes it. He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about the two of them plus him…and he’d at least still had the decency to feel bad about it after. Thinking about it right now excites him, what the hell did that mean? Why did this all have to be so confusing?

“Dean, you alright?”

Luna’s leaning against his doorframe but her expression turns into one of worry as she watches him.

Dean shakes his head.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. Just don’t feel like going out yet. With you two…all in love or whatever. Because of Lav.”

He honestly had not thought of her for days until right then. That seemed so long ago, a lifetime ago, being heartbroken over Lavender. He hadn’t even know what heartbreak could be like until he woke up alone that morning in Greece.

“Oh. Right, yeah. She came by, didn’t she? Cleaned you out.”

Luna looks over his shoulder to see everything stripped and bare-Lav had taken most of the decorations. Dean hadn’t had the energy to care or be upset about it, but in hindsight it was pretty shitty.

“If it’s any consolation, I never liked her, Dean.” Ginny appears with a grin, her hand sliding easily around Luna’s waist as she joins her girlfriend in the doorway.

“You invite him?”

“He said no.”

“He did.” Dean chimes in, deciding to partake in the conversation. “Because he doesn’t feel like it, not because of anything deeper or whatever the fuck it is you two are concocting.”

Ginny laughs. “There’s no cocks, of the con type or any other, in this relationship.”

“Ha.”  Dean rolls his eyes.

“I thought it was funny.”

“It was babe.” Luna presses a kiss on her cheek. “Dean’s just bitter. Don’t take it personally.”

“Are you two done? Can I go back to my peace and quiet?”

“You mean stewing in your own depression?” Ginny looks over his shoulder into the apartment. “Jesus, she took the fucking curtains? What a douche.”

That makes Dean laugh and Ginny seems proud. He’d always liked her, and the way that Luna’s smiling at her-so gone for her-well that makes Dean like her all the more.

“She is a douche. And I’m not going to be sitting here-I have a date tonight.”

It was true. Well, date might be a loose term. Callum, this guy Dean had been talking to for a few days on Grindr, was coming over.  They’d been sexting pretty heavily, and Dean was both excited and terrified-hoping he could live up to it in real life. Luna’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs.

“A date?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Lovegood.”

Ginny leaves after a few more minutes of banter and Luna’s about to too when Dean asks what he’d been avoiding, worried about the direction the queestion would in

“Hows living together going?”

Luna’s smile breaks his heart.

“Amazing. Thanks Sugar Daddy.”

“Do not call me that.”

“Sugar Deanie?”

Dean winces visibly, and Luna pauses, he can feel her watching him.

“Don’t uh-call me that.”

“Because Lav did?”

He knows her well enough to know when she thinks something is total bullshit, and he can hear it in her voice now. Dean keeps his own voice low and steady.

“Yeah.”

“Shay got his stuff today.”

Dean tries not to react, knowing it’s what she wants from him.

“That’s great for him. I’m glad he has the ability to pick things up. I don’t care, Lune.”

She sighs.

“Yes you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Dean look, whatever happened, you were really vulnerable, and your feelings are just-“

“Stop telling me how I feel!”

That surprises both of them. He doesn’t yell, not really, but there’s a force in his voice that he’s never used with her before. Dean knocks his fist softly against the door frame, mad at himself.

“Sorry-“

“No, I’m sorry. You’re right. I need to butt out. I just-I can’t stand the thought of you two not talking anymore. It’s sad.”

Dean pulls her in for a hug so Luna can’t see the sadness on his face.

“It sure fucking is.”

She pulls back and gently touches the sides of his face.

“Well, if your date goes to shit, sushi invitation still stands. And if you need any help with clean up in the morning…it’s been a while since I pretended to be your jilted girlfriend.”

Dean laughs, remembering his old go to escape plan.

“I’ll let you know.”

“Is it…that same girl? The hottie from the bar?”

Who? Oh. Right. Rowan. Luna didn’t know.

“No, just someone from online. I don’t think we’re gonna be each other’s soulmates or anything.”

Luna laughs, heading back across the hall to her place.

“Who knows, though? Stranger things have happened.”

~

Callum: can’t wait to fuck you

It’s this kind of romance that Dean had gotten acquainted with over the past two days. That’s how long it had taken Dean to build up the courage to ask Callum over, and something inside of him, now that he was waiting for his door to open, was regretting this choice. Too late to back out now, and Dean knew it was just nerves. He’d felt like he’d had a giant light up sign that said “GAYGAYGAY” hanging over him when he’d bought condoms and lube at the corner store, before he remembered that those weren’t exclusively gay things. He couldn’t sit still now, waiting and pacing for Callum to show. Dean had added a bio to his grindr after his encounter with Noah, and it had proven to be quite the conversation starter. But now Dean was worried that “If you’re nice enough I’ll let you fuck me-but I don’t want to be your boyfriend” might be getting him into deeper water than he was ready for. If Dean was being honest with himself, he was liking all the extra attention, nearly every person he swiped right on had matched with him, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying. If Dean was continuing to be honest with himself, he’d admit that the only reason Callum was on his way was because in the right light, he could be Shay’s twin. Or relative at least. Dean was just so desperate for Shay-any part of him, any imitation- that Daniel’s weirder texts didn’t even matter.

Dean takes a deep breath when he hears a knock at the door and he’s beyond grateful that the girls are out. He won’t have to explain this to them if they don’t see. Callum is just as cute as he is in his picture when Dean opens the door, and there’s something about his smirk that makes butterflies erupt in Dean’s stomach.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Before Dean can get any other words out, Callum is in his space. He grabs the sides of Dean’s face roughly and starts to kiss him. Dean’s thrown off at first, but he quickly catches up, letting out a soft groan as Callum’s hands boldly move down to grab Dean’s ass, using this leverage to pull Dean closer to him. Callum falls onto the nearby couch and pulls Dean down onto his lap, not pausing for air or breaking away at all, biting at Dean’s lips and feeling up his ass with abandon. Dean feels himself grow harder already and Callum must be able to too because he finally pulls away to laugh.

“Jesus, you really are a bottom, huh? So thirsty for it.”

Dean isn’t entirely sure what to say so he just laughs a bit uncomfortably-but it turns into a gasp as Callum bites his neck, sucking a mark there.

“Oh….”

Callum smirks before bringing their lips together again, and his hands move up to hold Dean at his waist, skimming his hands across the bottoms of Dean’s shoulder blades. They keep kissing, and the hands keep moving up until they’re pressing on the tops of Dean’s shoulders. At first, Dean thinks it’s just Callum moving around, but then he presses down on his shoulders more aggressively, as if he’s trying to get Dean onto the floor.

“What are you doing?”

Callum pulls away fully to study Dean, looking at him like he’s grown a second head.

“I want you to suck me off.”

Dean laughs again, though there’s no humor.

“I don’t-I don’t do that.”

Callum scoffs.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah…”

Dean really doesn’t like the condescending tone that’s being used.

“Some fuck you are, huh?”

It’s Dean’s turn to scoff.

“You can leave, you know.”

Callum kisses him. It’ too aggressive and wet.

“No, no, come on baby I’m kidding. You’re so fucking sexy. I need to get you to bed.”

I’m not your baby.

It feels rehearsed, almost forced, but Dean gets up and shows Callum the way to the bed. Callum pushes Dean onto the bed backwards and pulls his own shirt off over his head. Dean does the same, undoing his jeans and pushing them off with his briefs. Callum whistles low under his breath looking at Dean naked on the bed below him.

“Fuck, you’re fit huh?”

Dean isn’t sure how to respond and it doesn’t really matter because Callum is naked and on top of him before Dean even really has time to think. This is different, and not entirely in a good way. He’s still turned on, but…well it sounds stupid to say it feels impersonal, given the people Dean’s been seeing naked lately, but that’s the word for it. Dean just feels like a means to an end, he doesn’t feel connected to Callum, or even like there’s anything to this beyond just sex. It’s totally meaningless-that’s what Dean had wanted, right?

“Lube?”

Callum snaps him back to reality.

“Nightstand.”

Callum lubes up his fingers and enters Dean without much fanfare. He moves his fingers too fast-or maybe there isn’t enough lube, either way, Dean has to keep from wincing as Callum stretches him out. He’s quiet for him-gasping only on the few times Callum brushes his prostate.

“Turn over.”

Dean’s more than happy to, not wanting to look at Callum more than he already has to. He was starting to regret this, but he wasn’t going to stop. Just keep it meaningless. Meaningless. It keeps playing on loop over and over again in Dean’s head, even as Callum’s cock enters him. He starts fucking Dean at a pace that’s too fast, but Dean just takes it. It feels different…did he put a condom on? Dean feels panic swoop in him as he’s trying to remember, but he honestly doesn’t know. He tries not to panic as Callum roughly plays with his balls, but his answer comes in a way that Dean hadn’t expected.

Callum pulls out roughly and with a loud grunt, comes all over Dean’s back and ass. Dean feels his cock go limp as Callum falls next to him on the mattress.

“Was it good for you?”

What a loaded fucking question.

“Yeah…”

Callum yawns loudly.

“Good. You might wanna go clean up.”

Dean nods absentmindedly and gets up on auto pilot, feeling horribly gross. He digs his phone out of his jeans on the floor and heads to the bathroom connected to the bedroom. He hasn’t used the tub by himself before-the last go at each other he and Lav had had was in that very tub a week before the wedding-but he doesn’t know what else to do. He slides in once the water is high enough.

What did this even mean? He’d hated that. Was he even gay? Was that just bad sex? Was it his fault? It grows dark outside according to the small window in the bathroom, and Dean can hear a faint snoring coming from his bed. He’s not going back in there. No way. The water from the tub slowly drains but Dean doesn’t move. The questions keep playing around and around in his head, second guessing everything he’d thought he’d learned about himself these past few weeks.

God, he missed Seamus.

Hours later, he’s naked in an empty bathtub and he’s lonelier than he ever felt possible. He must have drifted off to sleep, because the next time he glances at his phone, it says it’s just past eight am. Dean can still hear the snoring, and he knows what he has to do. He has to-he can’t keep this to himself anymore. Dean opens his phone to favorites and clicks Luna’s name. He’s surprised when she answers.

“Hey star shine.”

She sounds smug.

“You need a clean up crew?”

Dean nods for a moment before realizing he has to speak.

“Uh-yeah.”

“Dean? What’s wrong?”

He puts his head back on the porcelain of the tub. It’s cold. It feels good.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Okay?” She sounds really worried.

“I um….it’s a guy. That I have over here. I just need you to uh-I’ll tell you when-“

“I’ve got you, okay?”

She has no idea how much hearing that just makes him feel worse.

“Okay.”

It’s only a few minutes later that he hears her key in the front door. She’s really laying it on thick and if Dean were in a better mood, she’d probably be making him laugh.

“Honey? I’m home, my love. I’m so sorry, I just crashed at the office last night. So much work. It’ll come in handy though, with the baby coming and all. Dean?”

“Shit.”

He hears it coming from the bedroom and then the sound of Callum scrambling to find his clothes.

“Dean?”

She’s closer now, and when Luna enters the bedroom, she lets out a blood curling scream that Callum replicates. That does make Dean smile. Luna’s voice carries over the din.

“Another one?! He promised he was done cheating!”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry-“

“Get out- get out!!”

Dean hears the front door slam and then Luna’s voice grows soft.

“Dean? He’s gone.”

She pokes her head into the bathroom and sighs sadly.

“Oh honey.”

Dean just nods.

“Can you get dressed?”

“I uh-“

“Oh, right. Here.”

She rummages around in his dresser before she tosses a sweatshirt from their school and a pair of sweatpants into the bathroom.

“I’ll be on the couch when you need me. Do you want some tea?”

He nods again. It take a long time for him to get out of the tub, and every inch of him feels stiff from the tub and from the rough way Callum had handled him. He pulls on the clothes and when he gets to the living room, and Luna offers him a small smile. Wordlessly, he lays down with his head on her lap and starts to cry. Luna doesn’t say anything, just lightly drags her fingers across the top of his head she can reach. They stay like that for a long time, until Dean’s cried out.

“We fucked.”

Luna’s fingers don’t stop moving on his head.

“I mean I figured.”

“No…”

Dean sighs, taking a beat before he says it.

“Seamus and I. We fucked. That’s why…that’s why everything’s shit now.”

Luna’s fingers stop.

“You and Shay had sex?”

Dean nods.

“Oh. What-I mean, what happened?”

Dean sits up and faces her, Luna takes his hand gently.

“We uh-were at that club in Greece and he was trying to find someone for me to snog-so Lav wouldn’t be the last one. And we couldn’t find anyone, so on the walk home, Shay kissed me. And then he got all weird and kept saying sorry but then when we were up at the hotel room I kissed him. And we….yeah. And I liked it so much. And then he left me-“

His voice breaks, hating how much it still hurts. Her thumb rubs small circles on his palm.

“And I uh-got drunk and I got mean and I called him that worst things I could think of. He hasn’t talked to me since. But Luna…I don’t know who to be now. Not without-it hurts more than Lavender. Not having him. How fucking pathetic is that?”

“You’re not pathetic.”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Right.”

“You’re not. I get it, I’d be the same way. So you’re….are you bi, you think?”

“I don’t fucking know. I really-god this is embarrassing, but I really like fucking dudes. More than with girls. But last night was awful…”

“All types of people have bad sex, Dean.”

Her voice is gentle, not malicious.

“Oh.”

“And bisexuality is a sliding scale, babe. I’m bi and I like girls and boys pretty equally. Ginny’s bi-“

“Ginny’s bi?”

“Mhmm. See? She’s only ever dated women, but she still could see herself with a man. It’s not 50/50 for everyone.”

“Oh…so yeah. I guess. I’m bi.”

He kind of smiles when he says it, and she reaches up to cup his cheek.

“I’m proud of you.”

“You wouldn’t be if you heard what I said to Shay.”

Luna sighs and stands, offering Dean her hands to pull him up.

“Well, if we’re going to talk about that, I’m going to need some coffee. And Gin’s making a pot.”

Dean dutifully follows her across the hall. Ginny’s lack of surprise at the state of him tells him that Luna has already filled her in-and Luna takes Dean to their bed, crawling in next to him.

“Alright Thomas. Spill.”

He smiles sadly at his friend.

“You’re not going to leave? Even once you know what I said? You won’t hate me?”

Luna squeezes his hand.

“I might be sad for you, or disappointed, but I’ll never hate you. I promise.”

Promises are getting harder and harder for Dean to believe. “Yes I’ll marry you.” “We’ll talk in the morning.” But one look at Luna, and Dean knows he’s safe. And when Ginny crawls in next to the pair of them and listens too, as his friends let  him cry and offer him advice-it’s the closest Dean has felt to home in a long time.

[braidsfanfiction-blog]

Wanna Bite (v.2)

sorry for the big-ass titlecard!

Characters: Dean Winchester & WOC!Reader Summary: The reader is going on a diet and Dean wants to make sure she’s okay. Works for Plus-sized reader (like myself lol), but really we are pressured into body insecurities? Wordcount: 2100-ish Warnings and Ratings: Fluffy, romantic flirting, sexy talk; Body insecurity, little bit of angst A/N:  I made a few changes to my racially-neutral version. This was fun to write. Would love to hear your feedback - pushing myself to finish and share more of my SPN story ideas.

Happy Reading, shoetingstar*

**** "Wanna bite?" Dean's voice nearly echoed through the quiet of the Bunker Library. He holds out a fork full of pumpkin pie to your mouth, playfully teasing you with the creamy harvest orange creation, daring you to give in. You want a taste of something alright, but he's not offering that just now. You do get a tiny thrill from his little wicked smile, as you make him wait. "Nope. I'm on a diet," you announce. "Since when? Come on, I need your opinion." Dean had bought 6 different pumpkin pies, including Patti Labelle's brand, for taste testing. "Plus, I told you where I'm from we eat Sweet Potato Pie." But you can't bring yourself to break his Pie-loving heart. You open you mouth for Dean and catch the pie on your tongue. "Mmm...I give pie number three 4 stars outta 5...I know, you probably can't tell..." He must be surprised in some part because of the pizza you chowed down on with him last night. And now this. You couldn’t resist - you have to live, right?! You ignore the tiny bit of guilt that is clinging to your conscience. "But yeah, I have to do something." "About what? What’s wrong with you?” His eyes scan your body from head to toe, for the thousandth time since you’ve known him. He catches your eyes and frowns in disapproval. He's not co-signing your dieting decision.

"Isn't it obvious?" You reply in confusion, why did you decide to even discuss it with him? It was a sensitive topic that you never discussed with anyone.

"What's obvious is that you are too hard on yourself," Dean replies. "Takes one to know one." "Yeah, you told me before. Now, I'm giving the favor right back, Sweetheart. Okay, try this one." He lifts up another bit of pie to your lips. "How dare you use my words against me," you joke, to smooth over the awkwardness. You had no idea you would be discussing your health and body issues with Dean Winchester, but here you were. You taste pie number four.“Mmm...This one is better. Might be my favorite of the bunch.” "I'm just sayin' there are things about you to appreciate," he says. "Well, I appreciate that, but..." "No buts...There are things that I appreciate about you," he said firmly."But since you started it... You definitely have a great butt," he paused when he saw your wtf look. "If you don’t mind me saying so." "I'm strangely...not offended," you admit carefully. "Okay then, Y/N has an amazing butt. It's law." His hand slammed the library table to make it official and reaches for pie number five. "I thought you were a boob guy," slips out of your mouth before you can take it back. You had accidentally found one of his "special magazines" in one of the bathrooms once before. You said nothing, and but later that day they were gone, never to be seen in public again. "Not going to lie, I do. But when I see your body...It's like...You're into Art, right? You appreciate each painting for different reasons...Just because you like the Van Gogh, it doesn't mean you don’t enjoying Caravaggio." So he actually listened when you babbled on about Art? "You want me to go into detail about your frame? The background, the foreground, the color scheme, body placement...?" Shit, he was paying attention. You felt a bit more self-conscious, out of habit. You were so used to downplaying your body and staying away from the spotlight. You couldn't argue with Dean's "art theory" though. He went on before you could accept or deny his offer. "This wasn't because of the other night, I hope?" Oh that….You were hoping to forget what happened and was hoping he had as well. You get up quickly. "Can I get a drink before you stuff more pie down my throat? A beer maybe?" You make an attempt to change the subject as you head toward the bunker kitchen. Dean follows you. "Oh we are definitely talking about this. You don't even like beer." "Well, I'm thirsty. And someone has been drinking my wine faster than I can." "What can I say? You inspire the softer side of me." You try to ignore this comment, one of his many flirty remarks toward you. Was he staring at your "amazing butt" as you tried to get away? You definitely would be locked onto his backside if the roles were reversed. You reach for the orange juice, the one beverage outside of the consistently well-stocked beer arsenal in the Winchester fridge. Dean is so close on your heels, you bump into him when you turn around, the orange plastic juice jug hits his chest. It doesn't even faze him, he's like a dog with bone.   "...Now back to the other night..." He says. You let out an involuntary groan while you sit a glass down at the table and pour. Now that you've finally stopped moving, he catches your gaze, keeping you hostage. He would be so pissed if you were doing this to him. But usually, he would consider what you said and you had to do the same. You didn't have to like it though. "Okay, you mean when we were at The Rusty Fork and I made a fool of myself? That place? That night? That's what you want to talk about?" "I knew it bothered you more than you let on! That hipster douche was just a drunk asshole and I took care of him." Whatever Dean said or did, didn't take away the sting you still felt. That jerk had been stealing your attention all night, talking to you, laughing at each other's jokes. You thought there was a connection. "I only remember the part where he admitted to talking to me just to get to my "hotter friend" aka the much taller and skinnier, Talaya." Talaya was a sweet girl, but when you were around her, you felt invisible, or worse. She even got Dean's attention. That hurt the most though you had no rights to him, technically. The facts were that you two were getting closer, he practically made you move into the bunker since the Wraith had killed your roommate, and he openly flirted with you. It all just watered your growing crush until your feelings bloomed into scary level of intensity. The only way forward was down, the only direction you expected any romantic attachment to Dean to have. And that night had been a huge learning experience. No one should go after someone who doesn't feel the same. It was emotional suicide. "You conveniently forgot some of the facts," Dean said. "Like that other douche you exchanged numbers and social media accounts, and who knows what else with early in the evening." "You mean Barry?" "Yeah, Barry. Another bearded, hipster that you were attached to, before the other stuff went down." "Well, we there was a lot to like there," you admit, sheepishly. You could feel yourself blushing, if you were paler Dean would see it too. "He's an illustrator, he has two cats - AND his apartment might be haunted by some ghost kid. So I got us a case as well.. I was working, multi-tasking." "Honeybunch, you were working it alright. And I had a front row seat." If you didn’t know better, you would think Dean was...jealous?! You had nearly forgotten about Barry, his sweetness was overshadowed by later events. Plus, you thought he was just being nice, nothing more. "We just played pool," you say defensively. "And he lost because he was so distracted by you." "First of all, he was just sucked at pool. And wait - how did you see everything? You were busy with Talaya." "Don't you know by now that I always keep my eyes on you? Nothing's going to happen to you on my watch." "Well, I wasn't in danger and you were pretty busy." Why was he challenging your memories, what was his point? "I don't trust anyone around you, especially at a bar. And Talaya - We drank and we talked. What else did you see?" It had been simple just minutes ago. Jerk Douche pretending to be interested in you but really wanting to meet Talaya. Jerk Douche calling Talaya "the hot one," to your utter embarrassment. Later, Dean left the bar with Talaya.  Barry had been long gone and forgotten by then and you got out of there as fast as you could and into your own car. "You left with her!" You considered that your mike-drop and walked to the tv room, "Her friend that does Uber picked her up. She so was wasted. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. When I came back you were gone. How did you get pass me?" "I went out the back way." You sat your glass on the coffee table, and the two of you sat on the brown leather sofa that was more comfortable than it looked. "I called you! I even called Sam." Shit. He had called you. You didn't know until the next morning. You had been too embarrassed to bring it up. "I came home and saw you were in bed, got outta my clothes, and binge-watched Luke Cage until 4 in the morning." "Good show choice," you approved. You were a little distracted. The visual of Dean stripping off his clothes was fighting for attention. "So Dean...What are you trying to tell me?" "What I'm saying is don't feel bad, because of one fucker who doesn't deserve you anyway." "Thank you. That's very sweet." And you mean it, he's so serious and earnest about it, you accepted his compliment, for once. It seemed important to him. "Also, Confession Time: I'm doing it for myself. Heart problems run in my family and losing the weight helps. You know being around you guys is enough of a health risk!" "True that...So it's not about Bearded Douche?”

“Nope. fuck him.” “Good. If that's what you want. I'll support it. I'm proud of you." “So you support me fucking him?” you play dumb. “Fuck no. I support your thing - your diet thingie. I want you to be around a long time.” You beam in the light of Dean's encouragement. There was one more thing that was bothering you though. "So who deserves me? I'm almost afraid of your answer!" He turns his body towards you. He took a moment to think and then said: "No one. “Ouch!” “No, silly. I mean you’re up here…” He lifted his hand in the air, above his head. “So I’m some cold bitch who’s destined to be alone?” “Jesus, will you stop looking for something negative, Woman?! The space between you gets smaller as he moves a few inches closer. “Look, the guy who always looks out for you….The guy who likes you right now, the way you are...The guy sitting here who wants to do some taste-testing on your lips...down your neck... travel  to some other places, many other places. Maybe you can give him a shot?" You feel thoroughly chastised, and it is a good thing in this case. "Well, that guy should come over here so we can work this out." Then he's leaning into you, no more space between the two of you. It’s like a light switch went from dim to full light, bright, electric energy. He brings a hand to your back, works up to the nape of your neck, messages the sensitive skin there. His other hand slowly rubs your thigh. "How will you support me? I don't need the food police, okay?" You enjoy the delaying him a bit more. "Nah, Sam is good with the healthy eating. Now, me....Cardio is good for the heart, right?" "I believe so.” Your thinking is fuzzy, nothing insightful can get through now. "I'm sure I can get your heart rate up." "Show me," you whisper into his waiting lips as they hover over your own. "You sure you ready? I don't want you to quit on me, when things get nice and hard, and deep..." "I’m all in." You barely know what you’re saying anymore. "It's better if I show you." He demonstrates in the most convincing way possible. The kiss began slow and sensual, but only heightens your mutual thirst and hunger. "Aren't we skipping a few steps here?" You weakly protest between smooches. "We can stop now..." "No!" You said louder than you intended to... He smiles into your mouth, lips still attached to yours. Now I can teach you the rest of my workout program. We have to get these knees up first..." THE END.

[jj-ktae]

Hotel California (2/2)

Title : Hotel California

Pairing : Mark x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Romance

Summary : Mark is a night-shifts receptionist in his own hotel and it sucks, until one of his client turns up to be a pretty, annoying girl.

There will be an Epilogue :D Thank you for the messages and notes everyone ! 

PART I 

PART II 

“So you’re here to sell a software? How is it going?” Mark was munching on his slice of pizza, legs crossed on one of the small chair in the office.

The girl wiped her mouth, trying to swallow the huge piece she was gulping down with hunger “Yes. If I succeed, it will be my biggest collaboration. It didn’t go as planned though.” She put the slice down, tapping on her chest to help the food go down.

Mark opened a water bottle and handed it to her, nodding “How come?”

“I had a horrible hangover, and I might have, you know, crashed one of their computer. A super expensive one.” She made a face and he chuckled.

“That’s why drinking is a no-no in business.” He stated, wriggling his pizza slice toward her.

“I wasn’t planning to. I just got carried away.” Her pout was A plus level, Mark thought. She was actually a nice person. Given the fact that their first encounters were a tad complicated, Mark was surprised to find an out-going girl, with a sense of humour.

“I can’t believe you’re watching this.” She spoke once more, nodding toward the television and Mark turned his head toward the small device.

“Frasier is my best friend.” He shrugged, not the least ashamed by his poor hobbies.

“Is it that boring working here? How did you end up working night shifts in a hotel?” She tilted her head and Mark took a minute to answer. Option one: tell her he owns the hotel and maybe freak her out with embarrassment. Option two: Lie and take the backdoor, like a thief.

Mark liked the idea of being a thief.

“It’s an easy job. It pays well” If you consider the fact that I have no social life at all.

She looked like she bought it, and Mark found himself a bit ashamed of himself. If anything, he hated deceiving people, and this girl was way too pretty for him to become a douche when he clearly wasn’t one.

“Are you from Cali? Considering you booked an hotel room, I assume you live quite far.” He added.

She shook her head. “I live in San Diego, but it’s easier and cheaper to pay for a room in Los Angeles since it’s a week-long business.”

So she wasn’t living that far…

Mark saw somebody on the little screen and got up “wait a minute,” he said, getting up to grab a key and almost threw it at whoever dared disturbing his precious time. He came back shortly after and saw her struggle with a piece of cheese, almost staining her white blouse.

He took a napkin and gave it to her “You sure eat well for somebody who wasn’t hungry.” He joked. She looked up to him and made a face, a piece of cheese hanging from her pursed lips.

“I can never say no to pizza.” She mumbled, trying to remove the annoying string of melted cheese and he laughed at her.

Mark leaned a bit and reached for it, pulling on the string and making her blink. He ate it rapidly and smiled. “Preach” was all he said, before looking at her puzzled face. For a short moment, it felt like she was destabilised and he didn’t move. She was slowly blinking, eyes wandering all over his face and pizza still in her hand.

Mark was torn. Kissing her was tempting, mostly because she was adorable, and also because she was looking at him with the same spark, the one you give to people you fancy. It was a good sign because it was mutual, but at the same time, it was danger.

He knew himself too much to pretend he would forget about it all by tomorrow if he tried something now.

“Still here?” her slice of pizza waved in front of him and he snapped out of his thoughts.

“I am, yeah.”

She got up and he backed up, surprised. “It’s getting late…I should probably go.” Her voice sounded disappointed but firm and Mark nodded, coughing.

It took a second for her to disappear and he found himself alone with Frasier again, cursing himself for being such a weakling.  After all, maybe it wasn’t a good idea. Maybe his crush was just one of a bored man in need of affection. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

Wait, since when did I became so dramatic? His inner self said and he tilted his head at his own remark. He was too young to sulk in front of a creepy sitcom, and too old to chicken out in front of an attractive girl, as annoying as she might have been.

“Well, fuck this.” He took a small red sign from his office and rushed out, letting it fall on the reception’s counter.

Will be back in 5 minutes

And for the first time ever since he started managing the place, he hoped he wouldn’t be back in only 5 minutes.

She had just closed the door behind her and threw her bag on her bed, cracking her neck. This guy was already back on her mind, like the plague. She sighed and opened a water bottle, drinking slowly to calm her raging heart. She needed to focus on her job, and forget about the hot human being downstairs.

It was crazy, she couldn’t be this attracted to this receptionist. He might be hot, but it was insane, just like the whole situation. She had been nothing more than a pain in the ass with him, and yet he had invited her to a meal. Maybe he wanted to be polite, but then again, you don’t eat a piece of cheese from somebody’s mouth if you want to be polite.

Or maybe he was overly friendly?

She sighed. In fact, she was looking for excuses because he was beyond her league. She couldn’t even remember the last time she kissed somebody. She was able to avoid any sort of intimate skin ship the other night because she knew it was a mistake, but now they were both sober.

A knock on her door made her turn around rapidly, praying all the living gods that it wouldn’t be him. Another knock made her rush to the door and she opened it, barely processing any information as hands grabbed her face and lips landed on hers.

It didn’t feel as panicking as she thought it’d be, because she recognized the smell of peperoni on his lips, and it made the kiss even more delicious. Mark’s body was moving on its own, like he was a puppet. He knew the unspoken rule of the three seconds during which it was an all or nothing so he didn’t press it, merely waiting for a slap or a push. He felt nothing though, and slightly kicked the door behind him, before pulling on her nape to tilt her head up and get proper access to her full mouth.

He breathed in heavily when she opened her mouth, granting access to her tongue and he complied, because Mark was a man of duty. He stroked the soft muscle a couple of times and heard a small noise, signalling she was enjoying it.

It felt good, if you ask Mark. It felt good kissing somebody, and he finally realized how badly he needed it. All these nights in this tacky hotel had turned him into a living zombie, and this was bringing life back into his soul, like a puff of oxygen. Until now he had never really cared about his clients, except from a couple of stares he received from the numerous thirsty women he had to deal with regularly.

She tried clinging to his neck for support, tiptoeing and felt him wrap his arms around her to stick her body closer to his.

“Jump” he breathed against her mouth and she complied. She wasn’t the daring type, but even her body was surprised when he lifted her like a feather. Her legs went around him and Mark grabbed her butt a bit too eagerly.

He was glad he knew the rooms like his own place, and he instinctively walked to the bed, placing her gently and bending over her, like a predator. She was then trapped between the mattress and his heated body, breath heavy and tongue trapped against his lips.

Mark was enjoying it. No, he was loving it. If by now she was still kissing him back, then it was a full bingo for him. Her hands went to his tee-shirt and he felt her hesitant fingers brush against his stomach. It made him automatically hiss and she away from him, afraid that she might be a bit too fast.

“Sorry.” She said as soon as he looked at her and it took a lot of willpower not to tear her annoying blouse out of the way when two scared orbs appeared before him.

“I’m not like…I mean, I don’t do this kind of thing-” She blurted, coming back to her sense, lips and cheeks red.

“I know.” He didn’t. He really didn’t but it didn’t feel like she was the type of person who’d do this regularly, which was even more exciting. It meant she really wanted him, Mark the receptionist.

He leaned to kiss her again but she stopped him, hand firm on his chest.

“Wait. What’s your name?” she asked, ashamed for not asking earlier.

“I’m Mark, nice to meet you” He chuckled, leaning on his elbows, “and I already know your name.” he mocked and it made her smile back. Mark should stop smiling like that when his face was so close.

The young woman was the one who grabbed his face this time and the proximity of their bodies sent shivers through her body, like an electric shock.

They wouldn’t be able to tell how long the kissing session went, but at some point, her hands were roaming his back, almost scratching when he started kissing her neck, licking the skin from time to time.

A beeping noise made him freeze and she stopped moving, waiting.

What now? Mark’s mind whined and it beeped again.

“is it your phone? You should answer.” She said, head falling on the mattress and he shook his own against her body.

“Maybe somebody’s waiting for you downstairs?” her voice was steady but also hesitant.

Mark rolled his eyes “Let them wait. I wait every night.” He bit her and she squeaked.

“Seriously, you’re going to get fired at this rate.”

“I’m not, I’m really not.” Damn him for not telling her he owned the damned building.

The beeping noise wouldn’t stop and at some point, she stopped him.

“Really Mark. You can’t ignore it. The noise is kind of annoying, too.” She breathed and he leaned for another soft kiss, before parting.

Whoever was calling now better have a good reason.

“Just…go. It’s okay.” It was obvious that he was disappointed, because he knew he wouldn’t come back now that the moment was broken. It would be way too awkward anyways, for both of them.

“Sleep well, then.” He whispered and she was surprised by his sudden change of tone. Mark escaped like a thief and suddenly, her bed felt way too big for her.

*-*

“So you’re telling me you need shower gel?” Mark repeated to an angry customer who was almost scolding him at 2 in the morning.

“Yes, how can you forget to put it in the rooms!” The guy was really furious over a shower gel, Mark thought and he went to the maintenance closet, taking a small blue bottle before handing it to him.

“Happy now?” he said, not the least pleased by how he had missed on a great moment for such a trivial matter.

“If you’d do your job well, I wouldn’t complain! Now it’s too late to wash, anyways. I just wanted you to know.” The man said, letting the bottle fall on the floor and Mark blinked, before taking a deep breath.

“Do you know what you just did?” Mark asked and the customer raised a brow, confused. “Now, you just made me lose the chance to –maybe- get a proper life. Do you think I’m happy like this? Do I look like I wanna stay here with you complaining for a damn shower gel? I was about to have a damn good time but no, customers are always right so I have to run for your ass in the middle of the night for a shower gel you obviously don’t need. You better use it and scrub your body until you shine, so I won’t regret moving for you. Get it, customer?” His voice was like a threatening whisper and the man choked.

“Are you really going to talk to me like this? You’re about to lose your damn job, kid!” He smiled and Mark shrugged, unaffected by the now common threat.

“Go ahead, complain all you want as long as I can be in peace!” Mark concluded before storming out of the hall, stomping in the stairs. Why do they all want him fired? Does he look like a high schooler or something?

When his old colleague arrived the next morning, Mark didn’t even try talking to him and rushed out, in need of peace.

Damn hotel.

The day after that was hell. The young girl had forgot an important file back in her room and wasn’t even able to present her project fully to her potential customers, which had resulted in a total mess. This was an important contract for her, and seeing how it went, it was 99 percent sure she had lost it to another bigger, better society.

It was saddening, but then again, it was not that surprising. No matter how hard she had worked, there was always a bigger society to win the contract over, leaving her with nothing but money loss and regrets.

She came back to the hotel after a long walk around town, her mind torn between what happened the night before with Mark and how she was going to be in serious need of money now. Since she wasn’t needed anymore, she might also try to get a refund and cancel her room for the remaining days here.

She stopped by the reception and found herself in front of a familiar old man in a suit. He had a warm smile and was talking to another customer who was fuming, yells echoing in the hall and making the old receptionist a bit embarrassed by the situation.

“Your employee talked to me like I was nothing! Does he know we pay to stay here? If you know what’s good for your business, fire him!” The young girl made a face and decided to wait patiently for her turn.

“I’m sorry about what happened, care to explain in detail so I can comprehend?” He looked like the manager here, but his face didn’t look that shocked upon hearing what the customer had been through the night before.

“I needed something and called him, and then he started insulting me like we were friends! He’s a young boy, thin, with an arrogant face and dressed like a student.” It got her attention and she bit her lip, hoping it had nothing to do with the call Mark received yesterday night.

“So I am telling you to fire this man! He is incompetent!” With that he threw the key on the counter and readjusted his tie, rushing out of the hotel.

The old man simply sighed and took the keys, before facing the young girl, a smile never leaving his peaceful face.

“Do you also have a complain?” He tried, remembering the morning when she had handed him the note, complaining about the exact same person.

She was quick to answer, biting her lip “No, no! I just…would like to cancel and get a refund for the three remaining days.” She tried.

“Oh, you were not satisfied with the services?” The man leaned on the counter and she shook her head, eyes big and worried for the poor Mark.

“No, the services were okay! I don’t need to stay anymore.” She explained and the man didn’t miss the sad look on her face so he didn’t ask more and decided to grant her wish, even though it was rare to refund such a late cancellation.

“Sure, when would you like to go?” Steady fingers started typing on the small laptop hidden behind the counter.

“Tomorrow morning?”

“That’s a very late- oh you’re here.” The old man’s attention went to somebody behind her and she turned around, facing an exhausted Mark, with a backpack.

He walked toward them both and entered the small office, letting his bag fall on the floor and went out, hands in his pockets. He looked like he didn’t want to be here.

“We just had a customer coming and complaining about you.” The old man mocked and the girl was surprised to see him smile when he should be angered by the situation.

“Was he smelling good? He better did.” Mark mumbled, and the girl did her best not to look at him, even when the only thing she could feel was his eyes boring into hers.

“What kind of question is that? He wants you fired.” The old man continued and Mark started panicking. She didn’t know he was the manager, and if the old receptionist were to talk, he’d be dead.

“Done. You can go tomorrow morning, young lady.” She smiled at him and Mark walked closer to the laptop, looking at the screen.

“This young miss cancelled her room so I gave her a refund, is it okay for you?” The old man asked and Mark nodded, before looking at the girl’s surprised face.

Why was he asking Mark if it was okay for him?

“Sure, you don’t need to ask.” Mark laughed awkwardly and she tilted her head. Maybe Mark was crazy.

“Yeah, anyways. I’m off for today. Try not to anger another client or else you’ll have to fire yourself at some point. Also, you should really find a suit, so people don’t confuse the boss for a part-timer.” He tapped a shocked Mark on the shoulder and laughed, before heading to the office.

Mark pursed his lips and tried looking at the girl who was still standing, mind full of information she never thought she’d have to discover.

Did it mean Mark owned the place? He was the damn manager?

“G’night, boss.” The old man took his jacket and walked toward the exit, a small suitcase hanging from his hand and Mark wanted to smash his head against his own counter.

Silence covered the air and the girl blinked rapidly at Mark, silently asking for answers.

“Yes. I am the manager. Don’t look at me like that.” Mark put a hand over his forehead and rubbed his tired face, sighing. Great, just great.

She didn’t answer and he found himself fidgeting, fingers tapping on the counter.

“You’re going tomorrow?” Mark tried changing the subject and she finally snapped out of her maddening trans.

“You’re the fucking boss?” She shrieked and Mark nodded.

“Well…welcome to my hotel.” He lifted an arm jokingly as if to show his most precious creation and her hostile eyes made him regret his notorious arrogance instantly.

She wanted to kick his cute little ass.

“You own this hotel, Mark?” She was speechless. It didn’t make any sense.

“I do. But there is a good explanation as to why I didn’t-” He started but she lifted a hand toward him.

“It makes sense now. Oh my god, I’m so dumb.” She said, closing her eyes. Of course, it was making things easy for him.

“Why?” He tried, brows lifted and she laughed bitterly.

“Must be easy to get stupid girls in a hotel. Do you do this often?” Her voice was back to calm, and it was even more scary.

“What? No! Wait this is not-”

“Of course. There are plenty of rooms here. That’s what hotels are for, in a way.” She concluded and he shook his head. How did it turn this way?

“It has nothing to do with me trying to get girls. Do I seriously look like I do this regularly?” He pointed at himself. If anything, he wasn’t a player.

“Stop bullshitting me. Look, I had a horrible day and I don’t feel like arguing with another boss today.” She parted from the counter and he took a step toward her.

“Wait. I can’t let you go thinking I took advantage of the situation, this is ridiculous.” He joked.

She stopped walking to turn around, facing him. “Hell yeah, I am ridiculous.”

This was really not going as planned, Mark thought. Of course she could misunderstand, but to the point of telling him he was using his position to get into her pants. Maybe she was going a bit overboard.

He walked toward her and grabbed her arm, trying to prevent her from escaping the building.

“Listen. This is really far from being what it looks like. I didn’t tell you because we started on not so solid grounds. I didn’t want us to be uncomfortable and I didn’t think it would be this important. I’ve never did this, not even once. I don’t enjoy being here, I took over my father’s hotel because it was easier than study for another job I wouldn’t like anyways. Please don’t think I’m doing this for the sake of taking advantage of girls.” He pleaded. It was a thing to be treated like a liar but it was frustrating to be misunderstood this much. She sighed heavily, and her body relaxed, like she believed him.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going away tomorrow anyways.”

“You’re going back to San Diego, not to fucking Iceland.” Mark answered. Why are girls so dramatic?

She scoffed “And so what? Want me to book a room regularly to make out? I don’t sit my ass in a dingy office all night, binge watching some ridiculously old sitcoms. I have a life.”

Mark was quick to laugh at her witty comment. “And I’ve got all my days off, and a driver licence, and a car.” He mocked and she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“This man was right; you really are arrogant.” She stated and Mark acquiesced.

“I know, but I’m the boss here.” He emphasised the word before pulling on her arm, bringing her strained body back behind the counter and into the office.

—

As I said, there will be an Epilogue. I hope you liked it and thank you for reading~! 

[seyoou-blog]

after rosa, he swears he’ll never spend another paycheck on a girl ever again. 

ㅡthat is, until he meets baram in bucheon.

baram is by far the prettiest girl seyoon’s ever laid his eyes on and the first time he sees her, he has to do a double take. he doesn’t mean to be creepy like this, watching a girl from afar, but he can’t help but feel his eyes being drawn to her like he was meant to find her for some reason. when she notices him, he doesn’t shy away and pretend he’s innocent -- instead, he simply smiles. baram seems to smile right back at him as if she doesn’t mind being watched. it’s the beginning of a tradition. baram always seems to be smiling. he notices this when he’s walking by a few days later, and again the following day, and again the following week. at times when the boy disappears from his social circle in seoul, he sometimes finds himself in new neighborhoods, lost among the streets in which he knows so little and lost among his thoughts. baram, whose curls he sometimes catches swaying in the wind, is always there to welcome him with a glance if nothing more. 

on a random wednesday, seyoon tells baram he thinks she’s beautiful. baram kisses him with tongue but says nothing when he departs, her eyes fixated on his waving hand. he’s glad for their connection though she isn’t much conversation. he doesn’t mind that. seyoon is enough conversation for them both and wishes he could really spend some time with her in order to get to know her better, but baram is always busy in her father’s shop and baram’s father is getting pretty tired of him coming in just to say hi to his daughter.

he says this one day.

“you’re really getting on my nerves, you know. you come in here every other day but you don’t buy anything. you just come in to pet the dog.”

seyoon replies with a shrug, bending over to greet the animal in question. she’s dirty, he notes. she still hasn’t gotten the bath she’s needed for weeks now. “well, she’s a beautiful dog, sir. i can’t help it. what breed is she again?”

“buy something or get out. the dog isn’t here to get attention.”

“she really seems to like the attention, though. dogs need a lot of attention.”

“i said get out of here!” the old man, who seyoon decides definitely has a stick up his ass, shouts. at the same time he’s smacking at the counter top with a rolled up newspaper. baram flinches and backs away from him, which doesn’t go unnoticed by either men. “you always come in here asking questions and making accusations, like i can’t take care of my own dog or something! she’s my dog! have some respect.”

seyoon stands and holds his hands up in surrender, not wanting to cause any trouble -- especially not if it’s going to make baram uncomfortable. “i’m sorry, sir, i didn’t mean any offense. i’m really not accusing you of anything. i just... i just came in to see your dog, that’s all. i will leave now.”

and seyoon does leave, though he promises baram with a look that he’ll be back. 

(it’s a promise he keeps.)

when seyoon returns the next week, however, baram is nowhere to be seen. seyoon peeks inside through the door but doesn’t dare to step inside to investigate, not interested in crossing paths with the old man who most definitely has some kind of painful infection from having that stick up his butt for so long. seyoon can’t seem to find another reason why the man might be so unpleasant. he’d offer up some advice to see a physician for that if only he didn’t know the man was abusing his dog-ter -- a word he used to refer to baram once, a dog daughter. the man had rolled his eyes at him then, told him that the dog was just a stupid animal, and asked him to leave if he wasn’t going to buy anything.

after some investigating, i.e. asking the ahjummas down the street whether old man kim still has his dog or not, seyoon feels somewhat more at ease. baram still seems to be alive, according to a woman who had spotted her recently, but the man hasn’t been bringing her by the shop anymore. seyoon has a feeling he has something to do with that, though he imagines many people stop by to greet the dog on a regular basis. the dog in question should be at old man kim’s house, he’s told. this he later confirms when he stops by the man’s place of residence, spotting the dog tied in place, completely alone.

“hey, baby,” the boy says as he combs his fingers through her matted hair.

she’s hot and she’s thirsty, he observes, as she’s been in the sun and has no water. an immediate search for a water bowl around the area proves fruitless. seyoon runs to the nearest 7-11 to purchase a bottle of water and lets baram drink out of his palm, the whole time telling her what a good dog she is and that he’s going to save her from ‘mr. stick butt.’

when mr. stick butt comes home, seyoon is there waiting. 

mr. stick butt is not happy about this. “you again? what the hell are you doing on my property? get away from her before i report you for trespassing.”

“i’m sorry, sir, but i just wanted to ask you something.”

“what?”

seyoon beats around no bush. “i wanted to ask if i could have your dog.”

mr. kim simply laughs at him as if he thinks that’s the most hilarious request ever, then tells seyoon to get lost again. “don’t be ridiculous. she is my dog. she is my property. get away from us or i will really call the police and tell them you won’t stop harassing me.”

“but a dog shouldn’t be your property,” seyoon says, though he does give the man some distance. he might be trying to save baram, but he’s also not trying to go to jail. “a dog is an animal with feelings and love to give. i know it’s hard to understand that since they are only small parts of our lives, but think about it, sir. to baram, you are everything. you are her life. it makes me sad to see her out here by herself. i even had to buy her water since she seemed to be dehydrated. leaving her out in the sun all day without water is only going to make her sick...”

“you nosy kid. what i do with my dog should not be your concern.”

“but it is,” seyoon says, wishing the man could understand. “please, you shouldn’t leave her out without any shade. with her fur, she can overheat too quickly. i don’t want her to be sick. dogs can get sick easily.”

the old man walks up to his door and unlocks it, tired of listening to the boy’s pleas. “i said she is my dog, my property! i won’t listen to this for another minute. leave now or else i will force you to leave. and don’t come by here ever again.”

seyoon leaves once more, though he promises to be back again.

(it’s a promise he keeps.)

again, the man wants nothing to do with him. again, seyoon doesn’t care.

“what if i gave you money for her? bought her off of you?”

“how dare you come here suggesting i’d want your money. i don’t need it.”

seyoon nods in understanding. “i know that, sir. i’m not saying you need it, but if it would make you more interested in giving up your dog, then i will gladly offer it to you. it seems fair, right? you’d be doing me a favor, after all. i’ve really wanted a dog like her.”

“there are plenty of dogs like her in pet stores. go spend your money elsewhere and leave me alone. she’s not for sale.”

“but why not? do you even love her that much? she’s just a dog, right?”

the old man offers him up a glare. “she’s my dog. she belongs to me.”

“and how much for her to belong to me?” seyoon asks. “name your price.”

mr. kim humors him with one. “1,000,000 won.”

seyoon frowns. “oh, come on! nobody’s going to pay that much for a dog.”

“well, then i guess you should look elsewhere. you cannot afford her.”

“mr. kim, please...” seyoon shifts his weight from one leg to another, feeling desperate. he’s never had a pet before and doesn’t know anything about caring for one, but he’s wanted to have one for so long now. he knows that if he had one, he’d take care of it to the best of his abilities. he wouldn’t starve it, hit it, or let it get sick like mr. kim does baram. if baram was his, he’d give her a bath and make sure she had too many toys to know what to do with. of course he knows his own situation isn’t ideal now, and it definitely isn’t ideal to be having a pet to take care of when he can hardly care for himself, but he knows baram would be better off with him. he wants to prove that to the old man, whose infection must be so bad that it’s a wonder that he isn’t dead. “give me a fair price. i will really buy her off of you. then you won’t have to see us again.”

the old man seems to really think about this. “you really want her?”

“yes! yes, i really want her. i do.”

“fine. 200,000 won for her.”

seyoon blinks. “wait, really?”

“do you want the dog or not?”

“i do, i do!” the boy nods, a smile replacing the frown on his face. “i will pay the 200,000. just... i don’t have the money right now. not on me.” seeing mr. kim’s expression change, seyoon quickly continues. “i mean, i have the money! i do! it’s just in my account. if you’d just let me go to the bank, i can take the money out from the atm and bring it here to you.”

“no, no. if you don’t have the money now then i can’t give her to you.”

“i have the money! i can give it to you in fifteen minutes!”

mr. kim shakes his head and waves his hand at him dismissively. “i said no. you’re not taking her. get out of here before i really call the police on you. and don’t think i won’t. you’ve been showing up at my place of business and my own home too, harassing me about my dog. i won’t stand for it.”

“even if i can get you the money?”

“go, i said!”

“how about 300,000?”

mr. kim stops. he seems to really consider this. then, “i told you to get out of here.”

“honest to god, mr. kim, i will pay the money for her. if you want 300,000, i will give you 300,000. just... please let me take her?” seyoon begs. “i won’t stop asking until you say it’s okay.”

“and if i give you the damn dog, will you finally let me live in peace?”

“yes, of course i will. you’ll never see my hideous face again.”

mr. kim nods. “fine. 300,000.”

seyoon smiles and bows his head in gratitude. “thank you. thank you so much, sir. i will really get you the money. i can be back in twenty minutes for her.”

“then what are you waiting for? go get it.”

seyoon doesn’t waste another second. with a nod, the boy disappears down the street, a sense of relief flowing through him. truthfully, seyoon has no idea what the fuck he’s going to do with a dog after he’s done paying for her -- with money that he really can’t afford to be spending, anyway -- but he’s always been a bit impulsive like this. he can’t, in good conscience, leave baram with such a cruel man who clearly can’t care for her well. even if he can’t care for her permanently himself, he’s sure he could find a better home for her where someone else could watch out for her. it’s the least he could do, he feels. seyoon wants to feel like he’s doing some good for once. he wants to make a positive difference in the world.

the man, however, seems to have changed his mind by the time he gets back. try as he might, seyoon can’t seem to reason with mr. kim. this breaks his heart. when he tells mr. kim this, the old man simply tells him to get lost and quit coming around. baram isn’t for sale now and never will be, he says. it’s pointless to keep stressing over such a pointless animal. he will be calling the police if he doesn’t leave.

“but mr. kim...”

“go.” the man steps into his home with a scowl. “i’m calling them now.”

seyoon promised himself he’d do whatever it took to help baram have a better life, though does not want to risk being arrested. he’s promised himself that he’s going to do his best to be a model citizen and stay out of trouble. it has to do with the whole hating himself thing -- if he acts like a good person for long enough, maybe he’ll become one, he thinks. maybe then he might feel like he deserves to be alive too, just as much as baram does. perhaps for this reason baram is not just a dog he wants to rescue. perhaps baram means a little more than that. perhaps her freedom is just as big as his, and he’s doing this for a slightly selfish, slightly delusional reason. he doesn’t know and, quite frankly, he doesn’t care either. the point is, baram needs to be away from mr. kim and he isn’t sure how to make that happen.

again, seyoon has failed.  

when he leaves, this time it’s with a sense of defeat. each time he’s been turned away, he’s promised to be back. this time he promises he won’t be. though he knows that baram won’t understand that, he still feels guilty anyway. she’s just a dog, he tells himself. she doesn’t know anything. nothing except mr. kim. it hurts him to know that she won’t understand why she’s being abused, and won’t understand that life is more than just abuse from men with sticks up their butts. she won’t understand why seyoon failed her either. he tells himself he should find comfort in that -- comfort in knowing she won’t know he gave up on her -- but again, the guilt eats at him. tired of letting people down, even non-people people, seyoon swears he’ll try one last time to get baram to safety.

when he returns, breaking the promise that he won’t be back, mr. kim is nowhere in sight. the police aren’t either, so seyoon has to assume the old man hadn’t called anyone considering he’d actually left the premises. baram is there, however, still tied up and still alone. quietly, seyoon approaches her, keeping an eye out for any watchful gazes from inside as he offers the dog a pat over the head. baram is, as always, happy to see him. they share grins as tradition and seyoon lets her lick his hand before he stands with a sigh.

he has absolutely no idea how he’s going to reason with mr. stick butt.

then a thought occurs to him that maybe he doesn’t have to.

“baram-ah...” seyoon begins, voice no louder than a whisper. “you want to come home with me, right? you want to leave this place and never come back?” baram again says nothing, which is so typical of her. “i know you don’t want to live here with this mean man and his butt stick. do you want me to take you away from here?” baram’s panting is answer enough to him. “come on, then. oppa will take care of you.”

seyoon carefully unties baram from her post and lifts her into his arms. though he tries to be quiet, he accidentally knocks over one of the man’s potted plants. mr. kim is outside in an instant, already on alert for any suspicious activity. 

“you! what are you doing with my dog?”

“i’m sorry, but this is for her own good,” seyoon says. 

then he takes off into a sprint.

mr. kim takes off after him, though he only makes it about halfway down the road before he gives up altogether, yelling obscenities out to him. seyoon thinks if there was ever a time that mr. kim would need to call the authorities, it would be now that he’s stealing his dog. it’s one of the craziest, riskiest, most illegal things he’s ever done before and it feels great, though it also feels terrifying. seyoon’s never stolen anything in his life before -- not since he was a kid being dared by other kids to steal some chocolate, anyway -- and the adrenaline leads him several blocks away before he stops to catch his breath.

baram is silent throughout the entire journey, which is again so typical.

“i can’t believe i just stole a dog,” the boy says, not believing the words coming out of his own mouth. “i just stole a fucking dog. i’m a dog-napper. oh my god. i am... definitely going to go to jail for this. i’m a criminal. i committed a crime.”

but it’s worth it, he thinks. she’s worth it.

but again, the guilt is eating at him. sure, baram is safe with him now, but was kidnapping her really the solution? instead, he could’ve threatened to report mr. kim for animal abuse. he supposes there were many other things he could’ve done, including just let go and accept that baram isn’t his responsibility, but at the time fighting for her had felt right. kidnapping her, though a spur of the moment decision and really not one of his brightest, really felt like the best option considering he meant well. now, however, he’s wondering whether he’s just made things worse for the both of them.

“i don’t know if you know this already, baram-ah, but i am really an idiot.”

baram smiles and licks his chin. this makes him smile too, even though he knows he’s about to get in a whole mess of trouble.

“i hate to say this but maybe i should take you back there.” though he’s afraid of what the outcome might be, he’s even more afraid of the what the outcome could be should he just keep her. if the police are really looking for him, they’re bound to find him eventually. maybe if he returns her now, he can apologize and avoid being charged for animal thievery. in any case, the police will be aware of the situation and he’ll be able to explain that what he did was only in the best interest of the animal and that mr. kim needs to be investigated. surely they won’t let the old man keep her after that, right? unfortunately, seyoon isn’t so sure. he isn’t sure of anything except that he needs to return her one way or another.

the next time he shows up at mr. kim’s place, it’s with baram in his arms and a look of conflicted remorse on his face.

“you’re a thief,” mr. kim says. “what you did is illegal, you know.”

“i know, and i shouldn’t have done it. i acted on a whim and it was irresponsible of me.” seyoon sets baram down on the ground, though she does not return to mr. kim even when he orders her to. instead, she simply sits beside seyoon as he continues. “look, mr. kim, i know i’m irritating and probably seem crazy to you, but i just really care about your dog and i don’t want to see her hurting here. we both know you don’t take care of her well. what i did was illegal, yes, and i’m sorry about that, but animal abuse is wrong too. if i had to, i would do whatever it took to make sure you got in trouble for the things you’ve done to her. i have proof that you can’t care for her adequately. i will make sure she is taken away from you, even if she can’t be with me.”

mr. kim is silent for a long time. then...

“why do you care so much about a damn dog?”

“because i just do, sir. i don’t know how to explain it. i just do it.”

“you really took her from here with no disregard for your own well-being. even at the risk of being arrested for kidnapping her, you still took her. you are a stupid, stupid boy for doing such a thing for such a worthless animal.” mr. kim gives him another famous scowl. “you’ve come here multiple times, and to my shop as well, to harass me, even when i’ve asked you to leave me alone. you know i could have you escorted off of my property by police force.”

seyoon nods. “i know.”

“you stole my property from me. you destroyed my plant, too. you’re a trespasser who should be arrested for everything you’ve done.”

“i know that too,” seyoon says, nodding again. “i am so sorry about that.”

“you know this is all going to get you into trouble. why are you still here?”

“i came here to apologize to you and ask you to see reason. i hoped you would understand me when i explained why i did what i did. it was a mistake to take her without your permission and i acted irrationally. however, i did so only in baram’s best interests. i hope you can understand that to some degree, even if you don’t agree with me.” seyoon bows his head again, deep. “and i ask for your forgiveness as well, and ask that you don’t press charges against me for what i did, as i didn’t mean to cause any trouble for you. i was doing what i thought was right.”

mr. kim sighs deeply. “you have really been a thorn in my side...”

seyoon nods again.

“but, seeing as you did return her and apologize to me, i suppose i can offer you some understanding.” the old man shakes his head, as if he can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth this time. “you’re a stubborn kid and though your persistence is incredibly annoying and worthy of a police report, i can appreciate it anyway. you remind me of my wife. she was stubborn too. she never let anything go. it’s... why i didn’t call the police on you today.”

“wait, what?”

“that’s right,” mr. kim says, nodding. “i didn’t call them.”

seyoon is beyond confused. “what do you mean you didn’t call them? why not?”

“son, if the dog really means so much to you that you’d steal her from me, from my own home, then you must really want her. and frankly, i was getting tired of you and your whining. it makes no difference to me whether she’s here or not. it wasn’t my idea to get her in the first place.” eyeing the dog, he sighs again. “it would be one less thing for an old guy like me to have to worry about if she were out of my hair. so, i’ll let you keep her. i don’t want to see either of you ever again.”

“...really?”

the man nods but says nothing more. seyoon doesn’t know what to say.

“oh my god. thank you. i-i don’t know what to say.”

“then don’t say anything. i’m sick of hearing your voice.”

seyoon releases a breath. “what about... the money, though? do you want it?”

“i just want you both to get the hell out of here before i change my mind.”

“we can definitely do that, yes.” seyoon nods, bending down to scoop baram into his arms again. he is rewarded with a lick on the cheek and a smile, which again is so typical of the prettiest girl in bucheon. “thank you, sir... seriously. thank you. you’re really doing the right thing.”

“get the hell out of here.”

“yes, sir,” seyoon says with a smile. “i am going now. i promise.”

later, after an emergency bath and a visit to the pet store to purchase some necessities (food, a dog bed, one toy to start with, and most importantly, a collar and leash), seyoon finds himself sitting on a park bench, baram lying at his feet. he’s taken care of a dog before when he’s agreed to petsit for a friend, but this is the first time he’s ever really had a dog to call his own responsibility, or any pet at all for that matter. he has no idea how he’s going to pull this off being that he’s technically homeless and everything, but with a new job and a newly reliable source of income (however much), he believes he’ll manage to pull it off. baram needs him, after all, and he needs her too. 

“you’ve got a new life now, little baby. you’re a new dog.”

baram doesn’t budge at all. she’s busy sleeping.

“maybe we should give you a new name then. what do you think? since you’re a new dog and all. you’re my dog now. baram was your old identity from your old life. baram was unhappy. but you, now... you’re going to be safe and healthy from now on, and happy too. i will make sure of it. i’ll really do my best for you.” he pauses to think of some suggestions. “princess? no... beauty? vivi? hmm... i don’t know. coco?”

baram suddenly seems more alert. it could be because she sneezed, though.

“coco? do you like coco?” when the dog blinks up at him, seyoon smiles. “okay, so coco it is then! i like that too. it’s very cute and very simple, but pretty enough. coco. it suits you, because you’re a pretty dog.” when he reaches a hand down to scratch behind her ear, coco kisses it. “and you’re so sweet, too. i think everyone is going to fall in love with you. do you want to meet my friends too?”

coco says nothing, but her silence is more than enough for him.

“good, because i’m sure they’ll love to meet you. and i love you! i’m going to love you forever, okay? i promise you that. for as long as i live, i will do what i have to to make sure my coco is happy. i promise.”

(and this is yet another promise he plans to keep.)

[orindasfinest]

Critical Theory is a Disease and I Ain’t Got the Cure (versus the People on GWH)

Hello,

Interesting that a semi-serious post could arise on this platform at such a time of internal strife. I considered posting on Medium instead but then I heard something about George Soros and got scared.

Anyway, engaging in good faith with just about anything produced by Barstool is a fucking fool’s errand. I’m talking sending your court jester to go pick up a carton of eggs - level fool’s errand. He’s just gonna come back with yet another box of decorative scarves!

But as wave after wave of disaffected former college students combine their half-baked critical reasoning skills and desperate need for online attention into “hot takes” that really just serve as Rorschach tests for the mistakes your parents made when they were raising you, it was an inevitability that one of these Bad Posts would come into my orbit and irritate me enough so that I’d make my own dumb emission and accidentally invalidate the sentient ziploc bag filled with swamp ass that fell zip-seal first onto their keyboard enough times to churn out a thing like this.

What sort of thing am I talking about? Hah, well, a thing like this thing right here: https://www.barstoolsports.com/barstoolu/the-ponytail-harvard-guy-from-good-will-hunting-won-that-argument (go ahead, I already gave them my pageview, and you won’t even recognize your elementary school if you go back because the passage of time doesn’t give a fuck about your existence). I don’t mean to spoil your dessert, but: it’s a bad take! And as stated, debating this it at face value, especially when it comes from a company like Barstool Sample (really sure no-one has done that before), is just setting yourself up for a raft of meaninglessness.

Unfortunately, I can’t let this Bad Post slide. It features the sort of willful textual misreading that’s allowed narratives such as “Ryan Gosling is a cornerback in Remember the Titans” to become embedded in the cultural consciousness. So I’m gonna embrace Francis’ debate or whatever and tell you why this cute little bit of contrarianism is actually a sign of fourth-degree brain rot. And, as always, it’ll likely be very mean, as I am a big baby.

-OF

Title: The Ponytail Harvard Guy From Good Will Hunting Won That Argument

Already off to a bad start. I think much of Francis’ confusion here -- aside from the general problem he faces of not knowing his ass from his elbow -- is that he thinks Will and Clark (yeah, the guy has a name, which you would know if you watched the scene, but wouldn’t know if you just so happened to be the physical embodiment of an old-looking anthill in the outfield of a shitty little league diamond) are having some kind of university roundtable on the evolution of the market economy in the Southern colonies. They’re not. Clark is forced by Will to pivot from a broad display of learned knowledge into a broader ideological discussion about methods of information acquisition and the general value of academia. That is another thing you would notice if your head wasn’t filled with dyslexic cat food.

Interregnum: [EMPTY BARSTOOL PLOT POINT SYNOPSIS DONE WITH ROSEART CRAYONS]

Point one: Will only jumps in because he’s trying to impress a girl

Aaaaaand WELCOME to another broadcast of Major League Projecting! Francis, m’boy over here, strides to the plate, currently batting a crisp .482 at unwittingly copping to the fact that he sees all conversations held in the vicinity of a woman as an opportunity to weasel into her pants. He eagerly points to Will’s “thirsty smile” at Skylar’s -- rebuke of a universally acknowledged douchebag? -- and that’ll be another trip around the missing-the-point bases by our mainest man!!!

Dear god. Yes, Will displays his relentless horniness by not introducing himself to Skylar in any way, barely looking at her during the confrontation, and then capitalizing on his victory by ignoring Skylar for the rest of the night to the point where she has to come over and chastise him for not following up on his finishing maneuver. IT’S SO CLEAR WHY DIDN’T I SEE IT BEFORE, ALL I HAD TO DO WAS REPLACE MY EYEBALLS WITH PUDDLES OF JIZZ

In fact, the only thing that may be more off-base is Will’s claim that Clark’s out to impress some girls. The familiarity and exasperation with which Skylar says Clark’s name indicates that they have a long history with nary a positive note. Clark is not going to “win over” Skylar by bodyslamming a wayward townie. This is a classic macho pissing contest. Chuckie is trespassing in Clark’s yard by entering a college bar and passing himself off as a student, and it’s an insult to Clark’s tenuous sense of identity that such a thing would occur without some sort of consequence.

Will’s fierce sense of loyalty is what drives him to enter the discussion and bail out his overmatched friend. To be fair, though, it’s easy to miss that character trait which is absolutely integral to understanding Will as a person provided that during every other scene in the movie you shove forks in your ears and then shove that new apparatus into the nearest electrical socket.

Point two: Will also plagiarizes the works of authors.

The dictionary defines plagiarism as (emphasis mine) “an act or instance of using or closely imitating the language and thoughts of another author without authorization and the representation of that author's work as one's own, as by not crediting the original author.” The dictionary goes on to say, “Oh, Francis? Don’t even fucking talk to me about that dude. He tried to tell me that rigatoni was a fleshlight.”

Plagiarism involves passing off someone else’s work as your own, which is why any researched assignment ever requires a works cited page so your professor can see whose ideas you decided sounded the smartest when you were slamming 99c shooters and yelling through your bedroom door that you’d be out for the pregame in a minute. If you’d like to learn the difference between plagiarism and not plagiarism, I’d recommend examining an instance where one person pretends that they’re having original thoughts but are really just wholesale quoting more reputable sources, while another spouts direct lines from textbooks and then immediately attributes the author, book title, and page number. If only there was a way to witness such a dichotomy...

Point three: Will threatens to fight him.

Here’s where that pesky misunderstanding from earlier really rears its ugly, looking-surprisingly-like-Francis head: we are not witnessing an intellectual debate, no matter how much Francis would like to pretend we are and would also like to pretend that his “friends” don’t just feel bad for him every time they let him pick where they’re going to go out to dinner.

The only statement made to the given topic is made by Clark in his opening salvo. After that, Will and Clark are not having an honest discussion about the economic modalities of the colonies, but are having an argument about the value of academia first through the surrogates of researched theories and then outright through class-and-value-based accusations. There is no point to be won in this scenario. Clark places value in his education because he knows it will lead him directly to a financially stable future; Will ridicules spending an exorbitant amount of money on something he can learn for free because he was raised in a blue-collar environment and has been conditioned to disdain such frivolous expenditures. Neither is going to leave this confrontation with their viewpoint changed in any appreciable fashion. Will understands this, and digs in further to his rough-and-tumble roots by inviting Clark to take it outside. He’s made his point and is now transitioning to the earlier issue: Clark was fucking with Chuckie, and if that’s going to continue, then there’s going to be a problem. Wow, I just went like a whole paragraph without taking a cruel potshot! Sheesh, that was maybe five or six sentences. Shame that Francis can only read two per day or his itsy witsy peanut brainy brain has to power down completely and he dookies right into his pants in feeaaarrrrr

In conclusion, I am everything I hate, and perhaps Francis and I share the same central consciousness, leading me to shame him for his traumatically bad comprehension skills in the hopes that he decides to stop watching movies while upside down and spooning Frosted Mini-Wheats up his nose until they blow out with such force that they crack whatever screen is displaying the motion picture. Will did not lose the argument, because there was never going to be a winner in the broader scope of the debate that was actually taking place; he did not enter the arena to impress a girl, but to help his friend, who was in danger or being embarrassed, being thrown out after caving in Clark’s face, or both; he did not plagiarize, because he cited his sources while only using them as a cudgel to belabor Clark’s phony intellectualism; and he lost no credibility for issuing the challenge to fight at the end, because he demonstrated his intelligence and then displayed the nature of his violent upbringing, which makes him uhhhh a three-dimensional character that can’t be qualified by reductive maxims like “That’s thuggish behavior” ya fucking dafty.

By all means, though, go the fuck in on the “How Do You Like Them Apples” scene because that has been and will always be one of the cringiest sequences committed to film. It’s right up there with a clip of Francis going around the office holding a red Swingline he bought off Amazon using a Kinja Deals code and asking people if they’ve seen his stapler while doing a reprehensible Milton Waddams impression.

Anyway im gonna go jerk off for twelve days or whatever’s left lol whole foods is putting RFID chips in your celery because they know you won’t even notice with all the $35 hummus you’re slathering on that bitch