#early 2000s imagine

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Edward Dalton

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(human s/o)

- There’s a stretch of land outside of town that hasn’t been touched in ages. It's the discarded remains of a once busy urban neighborhood. A place that's been torn apart and left in shambles after a series of events that you weren’t around to witness. There’s a layer of dust on everything you haven’t bothered moving, like a poorly kept museum of all things mundane. It's the evidence of hundreds of peoples lives that you really don’t have the heart to rifle through; not unless absolutely necessary.

- You don’t know its story, but you’ve come to call it home. It’s the safest place you’ve found in a considerably long time: a lot of sun and not a lot of shade. You have a running hypothesis that someone, somewhere decided that turning the area into something more sustainable; particularly for the new world order of night-dwelling monsters, simply wasn't worth the effort. It's a decision that's left even it's darkest spaces uninhabited; the only signs of life being the occasional passing car.

- Though you're not as jumpy as you used to be; lured into a false sense of security by the continual absence of dangerous company, you still find yourself feeling like a deer in the middle of an empty forest. You freeze at every little sound, watch for any hint of danger, bolt at any suspicion of company.

- You wonder if Edward makes the same connection when the two of you meet for the first time. You wonder if he feels like the opposite: feels like a prowling wolf when he stands in the shadows, watching the sun glint off of your hair from his place in the absence of it. You wonder how many deer's have seen the same glowing pin pricks in the middle of the darkness surrounding them. You wonder how many of them knew that the flickering lights meant death.

- A part of you doesn’t believe it when you see the amber shine of his eyes, maybe because you really don’t want to believe it: don’t want to believe that you’re going to have to leave, to find another home after all of this time. Your stomach drops and you hope that there’s some explainable reason as to why you’re seeing those two little lights: like when you envision a body out of random clothes and furniture in the darkness of your bedroom.

- But there’s no explanation, none besides the obvious, and you’re forced to stand frozen in place as you wait for them to make a move, knowing that the two of you are equally trapped, one in the sunlight and the other in the shade.

“You’re human.” He says in surprise, glowing eyes moving as he tilts his head in the darkness, trying to look at you closer without risking a potential burn from the sun which separates you. You stagger further away, further into the heat of the light behind you, and he assures you that it’s okay, that he’s not going to hurt you. You don’t believe him.

“What are you doing here?” You question, eyes flickering around the room for a potential weapon. You’re safe for the time being, but that won’t last forever.

“I used to work around here when I was younger. The grocery store down the road, I stocked the shelves in high school,” He starts to explain, pausing to look for a sign of recognition in your eyes. You keep your expression guarded and he continues. “I remembered it the other day. I wanted to see what happened to it, that’s all.”

“In the daytime?”

“The only time I have off.” He replies lightheartedly. You don’t offer a smile.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to come here and scare you. I didn’t think I was gonna find anyone. Everyone thinks this place is abandoned.” He tries reassuring you.

“That’s kind of the point.” You reply curtly.

“Yeah, but….” His words trails off.

“But?” You prod warily.

“Well, they’re tearing it down,” He answers. “Everyone’s been talking about it, it’s part of why I came down here. They’re gonna salvage what they can and build around it. Block out the sun.”

“You’re not, you’re not gonna be safe here for very much longer. I’m actually surprised that no one’s found you yet. With all of the planning that’s been going on, there’s had to have been dozens of people coming down here and scoping everything out. How long have you been here?” He questions, though you can't bring yourself to answer him, still trying to process what he's just revealed to you.

- You'd seen it coming of course, anyone with half a brain would have seen it coming. But that was when you'd first discovered the area: when you were still hiding away from every shadow and tensing at every sudden noise. If it was going to happen, then it would have happened already: you'd told yourself. And over time, you'd actually begun to believe it. You'd convinced yourself that the rest of the world had forgotten about the deserted town, the same way they'd forgotten about you....

- The thought of dozens of vampires stumbling through the place you'd begun to call your home made you sick. The thought of them crawling through the streets and the corridors of different buildings, of their fingerprints dusting over your own on all of the same railings and door handles, of them just barely missing you....

"You should come with me." The man interrupts your inner breakdown. The idea is almost enough to make you laugh but instead, you simply look at him like he's crazy.

"I-I know you have no reason to trust me, but there's gonna be a lot more vampires coming down here. I mean, maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon. And there's nothing left around here, everything's been torn down, it's ...taken over. ...I have a spare bedroom at my place-" He rambles, urging you to listen to him, to agree to come home with him.

"Do you really expect me to take you up on that offer?" You interrupt, asking the question incredulously. He flounders for something to say, very obviously knowing that you wouldn't agree yet still hoping that you would.

"No," He finally comes up with. "But you should."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not like them."

- His efforts in convincing you to leave with him are about as successful as one could imagine. You adamantly refuse, blatantly dodging his questions and attempts to wrangle information out of you: information about what you'll do and where you'll go once the rest of his kind start to invade. He ultimately leaves you alone, though not before giving you his home address. And in the days that follow, you're forced to admit that Edward was telling the truth.

- Vampires do start to invade, and though none of them ever come as close as he did, you know that you're running out of time. You have to make your escape and you have to make it fast, make it before anyone else can discover that you're there. So with little other choice, you find yourself sneaking into your supposed allies quiet little suburb....

- He answers the door with a hint of confusion, probably because there's no one on the other side of it, at least no one that he can see. You're hiding a little ways away, your mind telling you not to reveal yourself until you're sure that he's alone; not to mention whether or not you're sure that you've arrived at the right house. He looks awestruck when you finally emerge, stilling at the sight of you before he quickly ushers you inside, looking around to ensure that no ones watching as you hesitantly step past him and through his front door.

- You're sure that your discomfort is obvious, and though he tries to hide it, Edward seems equally as uncomfortable in your presence as you are in his. It feels as though he didn't think he'd get this far, and now that he has, he's unsure of what to do next. He settles for showing you around, jumping from thing to thing as you slowly trail after him, watching as he demonstrates how to turn on the shower, and the coffee maker, and the security system, and so on.

"I uh, I drink pigs blood." He explains when the two of you reach his kitchen. He awkwardly glances from you to the bottles stacked in his fridge, seemingly hemming and hawing over how much of the shelves he should show you, worrying that he'll make you even more wary of your newfound predicament. "All animal product ...so you uh, you don't have to worry."

- He tells you to let him know if there's anything you need or will be needing in the future while he shows you to your room. He flicks the lights on and continues his tour. The room is neater than the rest of the house, lacking the stacked books and boxes of documents that seem to reside along the molding of every other wall in the house. It's simple and barren, almost sterile looking; especially in comparison to the very lived-in apartments that you'd grown used to residing in ever since humans went into hiding.

- It's surprisingly easy to get used to living with Edward. When you'd first arrived, you'd spent a week or so walking on eggshells; feeling like a nervous cat being taken home from the shelter. But it's hard to be afraid of a man who seems equally as afraid of you. It's also hard to be afraid of a man who rambles awkwardly about period products, and whether or not it's okay that he got chunky peanut butter instead of smooth because that's "all they had at the store". Not to mention, a man who's hit his head; and limbs, multiple times after being startled by your sudden arrival.

- Edward grows on you. And, judging from his recently longstanding lack of injuries, you've seemed to grow on him as well.

- You grow on him so much, in fact, that it starts to make him nervous. There’s a feeling that bubbles in his chest whenever you smile at him. It surfaces when you let him touch you, let him feel your pulse lingering beneath his fingers when he puts a hand on your shoulder or clasps your necklace. It claws at him when you stop to fix his hair in the evening before he leaves for work, or when you hand him the papers he forgot at the table. He realizes, with a feeling akin to realizing that you're at the edge of a cliff, that he's begun to fall in love with you. And thus, his inner conflict begins....

- Edward finds it far too easy to forget you're not together. His mind wanders when he's away from you, when his skin still tingles from the feeling of your touch. When you leave the room and the warmth of your body still lingers on whatever you'd been laying on. When you borrow his coat and give it back to him heated and laced with perfume. When he returns home and finds you waiting for him, his unpleasant thoughts interrupted by the sight of your face. For a few blissful moments, he allows himself to pretend that you're his: that you love him back and that you never plan on leaving, that you're not by his side purely out of personal convenience.

- He finds himself wanting to indulge you because in doing so, he indulges himself. He takes pleasure in making you happy, in knowing that he's, in some way, responsible for making you feel that way. It feels so ...domestic being able to take care of you, a bit like he's your husband. It's a fantasy that's broken when you happen to come across another human during one of your carefully planned outings.

- He watches you stare at each other from his place in the shadows. Watches you hurriedly introduce yourselves, shock, excitement, and relief flooding across both of your features. It's a sobering sight, a quick and harsh reminder that he has no “power over you”. That, no matter how much effort he puts into making you happy or how desperately he wants you to care about him, there's still nothing tying you to him. He wonders if he’d even be a thought in your head if that stranger asked you to go with them. 

- He weighs his options before he slowly steps out into the open. The sound of his footsteps drawing the attention away from you and onto him. He watches the panic rise, watches the stranger make a move to run, grabbing your arm and attempting to pull you with them; to pull you away from him. The sight makes his stomach churn, a feeling that's only partially relieved when you plant your feet and refuse to move.

- There's a hint of betrayal that crosses their features when you try to explain the situation. When the realization dawns on them; when it becomes obvious that the two of you are together, they drop your arm as though they've been burned. They don't listen as you try to reason with them, they merely back away and hurriedly leave.

"Lets go." You tell him when they're finally gone, your voice and expression giving him nothing to work with when trying to gauge how you're feeling. He apologizes for scaring them away while the two of you drive home in silence. 'It's probably for the best': you tell him and he swallows at the sound of it, wondering what you mean.

- Edward is selfless when it comes to you, but he finds himself wanting to be selfish. He wants to beg you to consider him: to consider how perfect things could be if you just gave him a chance. He knows he could make you happy: could make you want to stay forever.

- But he can't bring himself to pressure you. So instead, he settles for something smaller. Settles for biting his tongue when he finds himself thinking you'd be better off somewhere else. Settles or hesitating to respond when you mention other humans. Settles for halfheartedly advising against it whenever you ask to go searching for something or someone or somewhere. To deny you is one thing, to procrastinate and refuse to instigate is another. Isn't it?

"Maybe we should start looking for more people downtown," You suggest one night. The words make his throat feel tight and though he has a million questions racing through his mind, he remains silent and waits for you to speak again. When you do, it's with a joking tone. "I'm sure you'd like to get me out of your hair at ...some point."

"I like having you here." He says after a heavy swallow. It sucks all of the lightheartedness out of the room: far too earnest and full of restrained emotion. The moment of silence which follows feels tense, almost suffocating. He interrupts it with an almost melancholic goodnight, leaving you to overthink things all on your own for the rest of the "night".

- The house feels different after that, different in a way you can't quite place. It reminds you of when you first arrived at Edwards home, when he was always either too quiet or too talkative: watching you silently or rambling nervously in an attempt to fill the silence.

- The night he cooks you dinner is a night where he's chosen to be silent. He seems hyper focused on the meal he's preparing: deep in thought as though there's something on his mind other than the task at hand. When he cracks open an expensive bottle of wine, you teasingly ask if you're celebrating something, trying to lighten the tense mood that's seemed to permeate the air as soon as he'd gotten home from work. He gives you a tight-lipped smile and an unconvincing chuckle in response, pouring you a glass with a hand that trembles ever so slightly.

"The time I've spent with you these past few months has meant a lot to me," You've finished half of your plate by the time he's gathered the nerve to finally reveal what's been eating away at him. "And that day when we met the other human, it proved to me how much you have come to mean to me. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want us to stay together. I don't care where: whether it's here or somewhere else. I just want to be with you."

- Your throat feels tight by the time he's finished, choked with emotion as your heart hammers in your chest. His eyes meet yours over the table, shining like candlelight while you give him a shaky smile, trying to collect yourself and all of the nerves that are going haywire at his makeshift confession.

"I don't want to pressure you-" He starts when you struggle to respond.

"-You're not." You hurriedly insist, watching the way he slowly begins to smile after reading the expression on your face.

- You share your first kiss not long after. You hear him come into the room before you see him, feel his hands on your body before you can turn to look. His touch is featherlight as it glides across your skin, lingering gently on your shoulders before he slowly turns you around, stepping just that bit closer before he softly connects your lips. The feel of them is icy, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your own. He exhales harshly as he takes it in, his body shuddering pleasantly at the unfamiliar sensation. His kisses grow needier when you don't pull away, pulling every thought out of your head and making you forget what you'd been doing just moments before.

- You think you'd be okay with forgetting everything as long as he kept kissing you like that....

- Public displays of affection are sort of nonapplicable in your relationship. Since you're human and humans are considered enemies of the state, no one can know that you exist, and even if they did, they cannot know that the two of you are together. Even if you're in front of other humans, it's not wise for you to let them know that the two of you are dating: not knowing how much they'll trust you if they knew, or what kind of danger you could get into it because of it. You are; or the two of you are, for all intents and purposes, a secret.

- Edward marvels at your humanity: the feel of your heartbeat, the heat of your skin. It's been ten years since he was human and he's nearly forgotten the feeling of it, making it hard for him to keep his hands to himself. Oftentimes, his affection is innocent: caressing you and trailing his fingers down your arms and spine, watching your body shiver and react. Even before the two of you were together, he'd struggle to contain himself: wanting so badly to touch you yet knowing it wasn't his place; his hands shaking with needy anticipation every time you were close to him.

- Him pressing his lips to your forehead before connecting his own forehead to the exact same spot, holding you close to him as he savors the moment and the feel of you locked in his arms.

- You probably have a scar from when the two of you first met, and he sometimes likes to press kisses to it or smooth his fingers across the harsh line; absentmindedly trailing a soft caress against the marred skin and reminiscing about your relationship.

- His kisses have a tendency to be chaste yet they still manage to linger. There's a lasting neediness behind his affection, even when the action itself is nothing of the sort. Although, sometimes he loses himself in the moment before having to force himself to pull away, struggling to stay in control as his desires and his impulses take hold of him. You're an addiction he has to grow used to; for your sake and for his own.

- Cuddling up on the couch together.

- He has a habit of falling asleep on the couch so you usually have to poke him awake and urge him into bed with you. You also have to keep a somewhat nocturnal schedule yourself if you want to be able to cuddle with him. He's a busy man so most of the time you spend with each other is spent in bed, having him wrap himself around you from behind and murmur quietly in your ear.

- He usually just calls you by your given name or a casual nickname. He's not a sappy person; especially when it comes to terms of endearment, so the farthest he'll go is calling you sweetheart or affectionately referring to you as his heating pad or something of the sort. That being said: he has shocked you by earnestly calling you "his sun", making you want to cry with how sweet and genuine it sounded falling from his lips.

- Earnest little compliments spoken out of nowhere. You'll be doing nothing special and he'll just randomly interrupt you with a "you're so beautiful"; sometimes before you even realize he was there and/or watching you. The way he says it makes it seem as though it was something he just had to tell you, the level of sincerity in it making your heart skip a beat.

- He can honestly stare at you for ages. You've sort of become like an exotic beauty: the normal colored eyes, squared teeth, skin with more pigment than ashy paleness, etc.

- You also find yourself staring: safely indulging in the foreign beauty of something you're meant to fear. He gets a bit shy under your gaze which only ever seems to make him even more handsome.

- He's the perfect sketching partner to have if you happen to be an artist because he generally stays pretty still regardless of what he's doing; making it relatively easy to doodle away while he's lost in thought or busy with his own work.

- Parallel play. He likes being able to do his work and/or read while you occupy yourself in the same space as him.

- Having him read to you. Your boyfriend has the voice of an angel, and he kind of loves it whenever you curl up next to him and ask him to read aloud, brushing off his attempts to tell you that it's boring science stuff and that you wouldn't be interested in it. You tell him that it's "even better" and that he can bore you to sleep as you nuzzle into him, smiling to yourself as he readjusts himself and starts to speak.

- Him giving you massages. They're kind of just excuses for him to touch you for prolonged periods of time, but that's neither here nor there.

- Dancing around to the radio with him.

- Having dinner together. I feel like he'd enjoy cooking for you and though he's initially embarrassed by the idea of eating in front of you, he slowly starts to get used to it.

- Since normal food is kind of hard to come by, he probably sets up a home garden for vegetables and other edible things; not telling you about the specifics until things start actually growing so that he doesn't get your hopes up. The smile on your face when you realize what he's been doing all [this] time makes all of the trouble and the hard work worth while.

- Getting little lectures on all of his plants. Sitting patiently and listening to him explain all of the different conditions and strains of orchids that there are, and how if they get too much water they get root rot and this and that. He probably gets you potted pants more than flowers because it looks less suspicious for a single man in his "30s" to bring home a succulent rather than an entire bouquet.

- Getting brough home little treats: pastries, chocolates, etc. He always double checks to make sure they don't contain any blood, yet there has been a few incidents that you're forced to laugh off in an attempt to make him feel better and end his mortification.

- Edward is the chief hematologist of a major corporation: the man has mad money and he likes to spoil you however he can. He takes note of all of the things you like and talk about so that he can go out and get them for you.; since you're sort of incapable of leaving the house and buying them for yourself.

- He undoubtedly gets you new clothes to wear once the two of you start living together; or goes on a run with you to help you grab your old belongings, but nothing compares to when you first joined him at his home and had to wear his clothes because you didn't have any of your own. It's seared into his memory and it's very erotic for him. Like, he might have to jump you if you wear his clothes after the fact because now you're his and he can finally act on those impulses; instead of repressing them like he was forced to do before then.

- Personalized jewelry.

- Getting asked by him if he looks okay since he cant see himself in any mirrors or other reflection's. He always stays still and cherishes your little touches as you adjust things for him: smiling at you softly as you brush his hair back or do his tie for him.

- Remembering to lock up his house for him. He's notorious for forgetting to do so and getting his place consistently broken into, but he tries to be better about it now that he has you: not being able to afford the risk of someone walking in and finding you.

- You may or may not have a habit of biting him and he may or may not find it really amusing. I mean it's obviously pretty ironic given the situation, but he also likes how not scared of him you are and the teasing playfulness behind the action. It also might turn him on a little but he's not prepared to delve into those confusing feelings right now so lets not talk about it.

- He thinks it's kind of cute when you try to celebrate his birthday with him: smiling at you fondly as you peck him on the cheek and make jokes about him "looking great for his age". He probably calls you his gift whenever you make comments about not really being able to get him one, pulling you in and kissing you on the temple after blowing out his candles.

- He tries to dissuade you from smoking and drinking, wanting you to be as healthy as possible for as long as possible. He'd probably try to cut back on his own smoking as well, muttering shyly about secondhand smoke whenever you ask him about it.

- There's something so ...human about the way you tell jokes: so much so that he can't help but smile and laugh along with you; even though he's a little rusty when it comes to indulging in comedy. You have to grow used to his sense of humor as well: learn to love the dry delivery of his somewhat stunted attempts at being funny. You might not always realize he's trying to joke with you, but you get better with it over time.

- Edward genuinely can't remember what it's like to be human so he occasionally asks you little open ended questions in your more quieter moments together: questioning how your mind or body works, asking about your fears and emotions, etc. In return, you ask him to tell you about vampirism: listening intently to his words, noticing how they always seem to take a sour turn....

- Edward really yearns to be human so he'd probably try to avoid changing you for as long as possible, perhaps even outright refusing to let you go through with it if you expressed interest. It's an emotional thing for him, something he holds back and represses, yet something you can still see affecting him all of the time: the want to be you even when he's so successful and safe being him. It hurts to see, to feel it in his touches and hear it in his voice: the remorse and the envy and the agony that he tries so hard to conceal. There's a lingering melancholy that resides in some of the moments between the two of you: in the way that he comments on little things or tells you that you should do something; noticing right away that it's a sort of attempt to live vicariously through you.

- Speaking of, he enjoys watching you do things that he can't: basking in the sun, eating real food, drinking plain water, etc. There's a hint of sadness there, but you still indulge him, smiling at and kissing him before going through with it.

- Bringing things out of the sunlight to show to him.

- Secret meeting places and hideouts.

- The two of you mostly go out during the day, cruising in his car and making stops in shaded areas. It keeps the two of you safe from everyone's prying eyes and it's nice to get some fresh air after being stuck in the house all night.

- He always tries to refuse your blood: even when you insist that he drinks it because it's safer than the alternative of him going around without getting his fill; and because he's literally risking his own life when fighting to keep you safe. He still hesitates; even as you make jokes about it being humanely sourced, only following through when you tell him that it'll make you more comfortable. He gets used to it but he never gets entitled, and the puppy dog lovey eyes that he gives you whenever you give him a drink makes any pain that might come from it worthwhile. Frankie bitingly calls you his "bloodbag" when he first notices what must be going on, and it truly enrages Edward every time.

- Comforting him after his fights with Frankie.

- You probably have a couple tense moments with his brother; if he even knows you exist at all. There'd be times where he'd show up at the house unannounced and you'd sit in silence, his eyes trained on you in a somewhat predatory fashion. You'd stay stock still until Edward returned home and sorted things out, feeling the tension between the two of you boil and your stomach tie up in knots, not knowing if he'll turn you just because. He tries to be nice but regardless of his temperament and how much you may or may not arguably like him, you still struggle to fully trust him; especially since Edward doesn't seem to as well.

- Honestly though, there's probably even more tension between the two of them now because Frankie would want Edward to finally understand why he did what he did, viewing your predicament as similar to his own. Someone you love is capable of dying and leaving you all alone, don't you get it Edward? It would piss Frankie off to see him still be so conflicted: to see that he still couldn't understand, that he refused to understand. He hates to hear him say that he's not going to change you: that he didn't want to be turned so why would he force it on you? It's like pouring salt in the wound.

- Hiding away when company comes or somebody threatens to stumble across you, sometimes pressed against one another so tightly that he can hear/feel your heart beating a mile a minute. He sets up a certain place in his house where you're meant to go whenever you think someone's coming over, ensuring that no one finds you and keeping you out of harms way.

- Doing your best to protect him from the sun.

- Reassuring him and trying to help him let go of some of his guilt after he comes home from work. He goes into the office everyday and sees the tortured faces of his test subjects right before coming home and seeing your bright and cheery loveliness. It just makes his work even harder: to think that they were once like you and that you could, at some point, be just like them....

- He probably keeps your picture or a note you've written him in his wallet/on his person at all times. Yet the feeling of it seems to burn against his skin whenever he's feeling guilty: a reminder of what he's involved in; a question of how he can love you yet do that to them....

- Considering the fact that you can't really leave his house, there's not a lot of instances where Edward has the chance to be jealous over you. There might be a few fleeting moments of him getting a little annoyed with his younger brother for asking to touch you or things of the like, but it's anyone's guess as to whether that has to do with actual jealousy or just plain protectiveness. That being said: most of Edwards jealousy is retroactive. You'll mention, or maybe even introduce him to, one of your ex's and though he'll try to be normal about it, he'll find himself gritting his teeth and acting a bit passive aggressive. It's those "oh really" and "I bet he is" sort of statements that give him away.

- Edward protects you with his mind rather than his fists. He protects you by putting himself on the line for you, by keeping you out of harms way, by convincing his brother that he's going to change you when you're closer in age, etc. He's incredibly protective but due to his intelligence and careful planning, you don't get to witness the effects of it all too often.

- The two of you don't argue often, but sometimes you manage to tick him off the same way his younger brother does. He wants to be seen as the man of the house: to be respected and thought of as being in charge. When you don't listen to him or undermine him in some way, you hit a bit of a nerve. He might raise his voice if he gets really annoyed, but most of the time, he just acts a bit mockingly: smirking, and scoffing, and looking away/rolling his eyes. Occasionally, he acts impulsively and regrets it after the fact: immediately feeling bad whenever you get upset and walk away, wanting to say something to you but not knowing what.

- Silent treatments and tense houses are commonplace after arguments. Edward stews in silence when he's angry, he keeps his words short and he grits his teeth. You're dating a man with sass so expect to encounter it. If he misses you enough, he'll cut the standoff short. And, even though he's still annoyed, he'll push past it and try to talk things out.

"Sit down," He'll borderline command, wincing slightly at the way it comes out. " ...please? Lets talk."

- Edward tells you that he loves you a lot; especially during difficult times when he wants to reiterate how much you mean to him. He wants you to know that, even though he's going through some stressful things that might have him acting out of character, he still cares for you very deeply.

- Edward wants to find a way to become human for you. He views vampirism as unsustainable, unfulfilling, sometimes even dangerous. He's not happy being what he is and he wont be happy turning you into one either. Not to mention the fact that he wants a family with you....

[mischievous-thunder]

The actual slow burn in Deadpool and Wolverine is the striptease Marvel made Wolverine do

Those insane arms are the first to go bare

However, the climax (pun intended) comes with a shirtless Wolverine with his iconic mask on which is one of the most divine sights Deadpool along with each one of us has ever had the chance to witness

Wade does know how to multitask because the way he saves the world with 207 bones in his body has to be the trickiest feat he's ever accomplished.

[a1yaaaa]

thinking abt using logan howlett's lil kitty-ear hair tufts as handlebars (nsfw)........

in truth, it's hard not to while he's fully making out with your pussy, eating it up like a man starved; suckling your clit, flicking & massaging the spit-slicked bud.

anyhow, logan adores having his hair pulled, tugged on harshly by your soft fingers, as you whimper & writhe under his desperate ministrations. the sharp sting of pain at his scalp each time your hands want him closer - further - only has him groaning into your juicy folds, rutting his painfully hard cock into the mattress.

still, it usually doesn't stop you from apologizing through little gasps & mewls, shaky hands fussing and smoothing down the supple, brown strands of his hair guiltily. yet, all this really does is prove to logan that - if your brain's still capable of worrying? - your pussy must need a few more earth-shattering orgasms.

his large, warm hands will only run up your thighs reassuringly in response, bending your legs further and spreading them wider for him - a vocal lover by nature, he'd normally have rumbled with a cocky grin, "what, don't wanna hurt me, princess? afraid i'll like it?", or maybe even moaned, "fuck that, baby... use your hands, put me right where you want me," though right now? nothing's pulling his mouth away from this delicious fucking cunt of yours.

you do eventually get the message though, and its heaven for him - manicured nails clawing at his nape, fingers grasping handfuls of his hair and shoving his face right into the intoxicating scent of your arousal. the thrill of the pain mixes with the intoxication which comes from hearing and tasting your honeyed pleasure. it's all enough to have his pretty, forest-hued eyes rolling back into his head and his dick leaking pre onto the sheets.

in the end, you just might be able to force his mouth off your abused, oversensitive pussy once he's pulled at least two or three orgasms from you - of course, only after he's licked your hole clean from all the juices you've gushed for him.

it's after the fact - after logan has pounded whatever remaining energy you had left right out of your pretty self - as his thick arms cradle you against his warm, fuzzy chest, his dick still half-hard against your hip, that you let your digits explore his earthy strands once more.

this time, it's softer, delicate - he watches you through heavy, loving eyes as you fiddle with his sweaty, mussed-up hair, carefully carding it back into a pair of kitty-like tufts. "mm, there's my man," you hum with a pleased lil giggle.

his laugh joins yours - quiet & rumbling - big hands rubbing up your sides with affection, "really oughta get you this blissed out more often, babydoll..."

[iceprincehoonpark]

the real and only vampire in kpop, Park Sunghoon ❤️🦇

Park Sunghoon - 02 line!

[emmcfrxst]

um mmmhhmmmm umm thinking abt using logan howlett's lil kitty-ear hair tufts as handlebars........ tugging on em to guide him further into ur pussyyyyy

that man eats pussy like he’s been starved his whole life

[goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby]

put me and him in a room together and one of us is coming out pregnant and it’s not me

Sim Jake - 02 line!

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

The world if people stopped applying their understanding of "conservatism" and "religion/christianity" through a very modern, deeply American view onto Death Note (a manga from the Early-mid 2000s which is very much set in the cultural and societal context of early-mid 2000s Japan and all that entails):

[thefawnfallacy]

perhaps Sam should stand at the end of a dirty motel bed while Dean sits precariously on the edge, knees between Sam’s thighs in a paradigm of repentance, and let Sam hold his face in his hands. no speaking, just staring into each other’s eyes and breathing the same air and listening to the silence.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Leaked! Damon Hill's nightmare fuel:

[rassicas]

I'm working on a video going over the Splatoon story, and trying to nail down a solid time when the Ark Polaris crashed into earth. Log.exe is frustratingly really vague about it, and I was wondering if some specific wording might have been changed in translation/localization, and maybe the original Japanese text is a little bit clearer?

Here is my retranslation of Log.exe. I made this because there are a few differences between localization and JP! ... Some annoying differences at that LOL

From how i understand it, the ark Polaris had a more distant, stable orbit around earth for 10000 years. Over the span of the next 2000 years after that, the Polaris slowly gets closer and closer to earth until earth's gravity takes it in. Thus the Ark Polaris crashes to earth after 12000 years, so around the modern day in the splatoon world.

I dont think we'll get an exact time be it if it crashed, whether it was shortly before Splatoon 2 era, splatoon 1 era, or even years before that. The way i see it, that rough 12000 years= most likey sometime in the 2010s mollusk era considering the time Splatoon the Game was released. Or some time after the year 2000 of the mollusk era if we wanna be lenient when working with such a large time scale

... im honestly fine with the exact crash time being uncertain because it gives room for me to imagine it took some years for grizz to properly go insane, and for grizzco to be established and get a foothold in the inkling world... rather than if the ship were confirmed to have crashed in say, 2017, and everything happening in a few months. That's just me though.

[ohmytiredheart]

I can't explain it but Kayne's hands are shaped like this

[somewhereincairparavel]

oh I'd give anything to go back to the time I first read the pjo and hoo books :( the sense of mystery, juvenility and excitement can never be brought back again...

also I want to experience the immediate love I had for jason grace within a few chapters into hoo again, bc that felt like a once in a life time experience, battling with everyone and being quite literally one of the 'loser' people who said 'i love jason grace' lol good times

[itzmaztercom]

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting David Allen Griffin

(Not my gif) (Requested by anonymous)

(I'll try to get the dating portion of this finished in the near future. I felt like there was too much included in this scenario to put it all in one post anyway. Hope you enjoy!)

“Have you ever noticed that the older you get, the smaller you become?”

- You don’t know the exact moment you started to feel insignificant but it felt as though the minute you turned eighteen, it was magnified sevenfold. Once you got out of high school and you got your license and you started working, you started to realize just how anonymous the rest of the world really was. 

- You could pass by hundreds of people a day, and yet, you wouldn’t be able to recall a single one of them off the top of your head. You could sit on a curb for hours and no one would even bother looking your way. If you started crying, no one would ask if you were okay. If you were visibly struggling, they’d look the other way. It all just felt so …lonely. 

- Maybe that’s why you started your humble radio show. Maybe a part of you was yearning: yearning to reach out and brave that daunting gap between you and the rest of the fast paced society that was whirling around you. To speak to the people who looked a lot like yourself: like-minded individuals who just wanted to talk to someone who was willing to take the time out of their day to listen; to speak to someone who wanted to make a connection with them regardless of how fleeting that connection may prove to be. 

- Anonymity provided the people who called into your show with a sense of protection. They quickly found themselves throwing their inhibitions to the wind, allowing themselves to speak freely and comfortably, to vent their frustrations. Most of them were lonely: happy to speak about anything at all. Some were opinionated and prideful: wanting to talk about their views and passionately debate any point that you brought up that they didn’t agree with. Others were desperate: seeking guidance from another faceless person who tried their best not to judge. You’re not entirely sure where David fell on that list, though perhaps it was somewhere in the middle. 

- You worked your radio show late at night which meant that most people weren’t around to listen to it: if you were lucky, you’d get ten or so callers a night, and if you were really lucky, none of them would be perverts. Most of the time, you’d just play music for your listeners or ramble on about relevant facts or whatever else came to mind that could help you pass the time.

- David's calls were a welcome reprieve, a break from all of the prank callers and heavy breathers. You always knew what you were getting into whenever you heard his voice, knew it would never let you down. After a while, you’d begun looking forward to talking to him. 

- He didn’t call regularly and the lengths of his conversations always varied; ranging from guest speaking for a couple of minutes to practically becoming a co-host, but you were always more than happy to talk to him. That was, until his calls started taking a darker turn.... 

“Have you ever thought about hurting someone.”

- The question had thrown you off, your eyes glancing towards the line that connected the two of you. “I think most people have,” You’d answered after a moment or two. “When someone wrongs us I think it’s sort of natural to get upset and want to get even.”

“No, no. Not when you’re wronged. I mean a total stranger. Someone you don’t even know.” Came his reply. 

“I can’t say I have David. …Have you?” He didn’t speak for a moment, the silence feeling much more heavy than the ones you were used to. Finally, he let out an exhale and answered. 

“All the time.” The way he said it made you shiver: the way his voice seemed to change, shift into something a little darker, something with more depth than you were capable of understanding. 

“Why do you think that is?” You questioned earnestly, intrigued yet wary. David had never behaved like this before, and this slight crack in his facade had managed to fill you with morbid curiosity. 

“I don’t know. It’s just always been there. Something in me just wants to do it,” He’d answered, pausing for a long moment before continuing. “What do you think about that?”

- The call ended soon after, and the next call you'd had with him made it seem as though things were back to normal, but after that, there was a noticeable shift in the way that David talked to you. He still spoke about music or the same types of things he’d always brought up, but amongst all of that were conversations about far more morbid topics.

- You wrote it off as an interest in psychology or forensics, sometimes an odd way of wording things while trying to have a deep conversation, but after a while, you couldn’t deny that there was something truly off about your anonymous friend.

- In a matter of months, he’d shifted from talking about bands to telling you about his violent thoughts: about how he’d stalked a woman, about her routine, about how he’d killed her, and about how it felt. You’d let him speak about it for a while, mainly out of morbid curiosity: unsure of whether he was reciting fact or fiction. You’d answered truthfully when he asked questions, you'd pried for more information, tried to pick apart whether he was being truthful or not.

- You went to the police once you were certain, telling them everything you knew, trying your best to recall all of the details he’d told you about himself; things you’d forgotten about as time went on. They’d chosen to tap your radio station, encouraging you to talk to him and try to get as much information out of him as you possibly could without being suspicious: a taxing request which involved listening to some gruesome details that you’d rather not have heard. 

“You went to the police, they’re listening in now.” He stated with complete certainty one day. It wasn’t a question and you were sure there was no way of denying it. 

“They have my lines tapped. They tried tracing your calls but they can’t link you to any one place,” You’d answered truthfully before hesitantly asking your next question. “Does that make you upset?”

- He took a long pause before he replied. “You’ll have to do more than that to upset me, y/n. You said it yourself: all they’re doing now is listening in like the rest of your audience. They might as well be sat in their cars.”

“I guess you're right. …Is there anything you want to say to them?” 

“I don’t want to talk to them. I want to talk to you. I tried with them, but it didn't work: they didn’t get me like you do. You’re the one who understands me, who sees me. We used to have such great conversations. ...You talk differently now. I liked us better before they got to you.” Us. You weren’t sure how to feel about that one.

- Some days he’d make conversation like normal, tease the police with useless small talk, call just to check in and see how you were doing. Other days he’d spill clues: have the police rush to investigate, have them form a massive swat team just to find another cadaver and get no closer to finding him than they had before. Whenever they tried to talk to him themselves; trying to reason with him or angrily cursing at him in frustration, they’d be met with an empty line or a passive aggressive reminder that he called to talk to you, not them.

“Did you sleep well?” He’d asked one day, curious yet casual.

“I slept fine. Why?”

“No reason. …You just look a little tired lately.”

- The comment made your heart sink, body stiffening in your seat as your eyes shot over to the police man who was stationed in the room with you, finding his eyes already on you. You struggled to respond, your tongue feeling heavy and dry in your mouth as you tried to form words with it. "You've seen me.”

"I see you a lot." He answered, as if it was the easiest thing in the word to admit.

"When?" 

"Whenever I can." 

"Why?" You couldn't come up with anything else, floundering at this new piece of information. 

"Because you're nice to look at." You faltered, unsure of what to say. He hung up after a moment of silence.

- Then came the call that changed everything....

"Hi, it's me." You nearly dropped the phone. Your home phone.

"How do you know my number?"

"I know a lot of things about you.” He answered casually, almost teasing, you could practically hear the smile in his voice. 

"Yeah? So what's my roommate's name?" You wanted to call his bluff, wanted to deter him a little with the promise of someone else living in the same house as you— being there to protect you from him if it really came down to it. 

“Oh come on, y/n. Really?” You didn’t like the amusement in his tone.

“What is it?” You insisted. 

- He paused before speaking, a heavy beat of silence that felt far longer than it actually was. "You don't have one.”

"Why are you calling?" You attempted to steel yourself, trying to keep a level tone and calm your shaking hands. 

"I wanted to talk to you."

"We spoke last night." You reminded as if he could have actually forgotten. 

"I wanted to speak to you in private." He clarified and it made your chest tighten.

"Why?" You asked, though he ultimately ignored the question. 

“You never told me you had a boyfriend. In all our times of talking, you never brought it up.” His voice was more serious now, taking on a sort of grave tone which was rare for him. No longer his chipper, sometimes taunting self. 

“I didn’t?” You replied, trying your best to remain calm. Your question wasn’t too far off from what you were thinking: out of all the times you’d spoken; especially before he let his real self shine through, you would have imagined bringing up your significant other at least once.

“No,” He insisted, pausing before continuing. “I don’t really know what you see in him.” 

- You’re not sure how to reply, and so you don't, waiting for him to continue, knowing he will. “What does he think of all this?”

“I think you already know.”

“You’re right. He doesn’t like it, though that's when he’s actually around to talk to you. He doesn’t make a lot of time for you, does he? I wonder why he even cares if you continue helping the police, continue talking to me, it’s not like he’s doing much to protect you anyway.”

“He’s a busy guy.” The words feel alien, strange on your tongue. The concept of verbally defending your boyfriend to a serial killer is almost comedic. 

“So am I. I still make time for you.”

“Why do you?” 

“I’ve told you before.”

“Tell me again.”

“Because we understand each other. Because you were the only person I had, and even while being in a relationship, I was the only person you had too.… Your boyfriend might as well have been a ghost: never there but never fully leaving. He's just a namesake, you’re better off without him. At least then you'll be fully free.”

- You didn't speak for a long moment, taking in his words. “Thank you.” You hesitantly responded.

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you for being there.” You don’t know why you said it. 

“Break up with your boyfriend.” His voice was quiet but there was something deeply commanding in it, something your words seemed to have awakened. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

“Break up with him.” He repeated after a moment of silence.

“I can't do that.”

"Yes you can, you can and you will. Break up with him or I'll get rid of him myself."

“I thought you didn't kill men.”

“I don't, but I'll do it for us. I'll do it just to make sure he's out of your life.”

“Why?”

“Isn't it obvious?” 

“I want you to say it.”

“Not yet,” He replied, pausing momentarily, hanging onto the silence that formed in both your voices absences, savoring the connection between the two of you. “Goodnight y/n.”

- You don’t tell the police he called. You don’t know why. 

- It eats you up inside, and yet, you still can’t bring yourself to do it. You keep it to yourself and let it consume your thoughts, uncertainty riddling your mind. When he asks if you told anyone, you answer truthfully. When he asks if you will, you tell him you won’t. You don’t know why you do.

- He calls you at home in the early mornings. He tells you things he doesn’t say in front of the police: not things that would help them but nothing entirely innocent either. Most of the time he talks about you: about the way you look, about your day, about your connection and the things he likes about you. When he calls into the radio show, he acts as if the calls never take place, as if all the communication you have is inside that room and that you won’t be talking mere hours later while the officers are at the precinct without a clue.

- It becomes obvious that his fascination with you isn't entirely platonic, that he believes there's a deeper connection between the two of you that's brewing beneath the surface. He never outright tells you how he feels, never tells you that he loves you, but he gives you hints. When you break up with your boyfriend, tears falling from your eyes just as the phone begins to ring, he praises you and tells you that it’ll only bring you closer. He can't imagine the inner turmoil that those words bring to you.

"I want to meet you." You tell him one night. Decided.

“We already have.” He replies, referencing the times he's recalled seeing you in person, interacting with you without you even knowing.

“Not like that. I wanna see you. I wanna talk to you.” You insist.

“We’re talking now.”

“I wanna touch you.” The words come out of your mouth as if your voice doesn’t belong to you. It’s late at night, you're lonely, you don’t know why you say it.

- He’s silent for a long moment, and for some reason, you worry that you’ve scared him off, as if that's not something you should pray for and rejoice about.

“How?” He finally speaks and you know right then and there that those words were your golden ticket. His voice is deep with something and it sends a chill down your spine.

“I don’t know," You answer truthfully, faltering. "I just want to feel you, to make sure you’re real, to feel something solid, something that doesn’t disappear.”

“I want you to see me. I think about it all the time.” He comments, taking in your own vulnerable admission and giving one of his own. He trails off for a few moments before he finally speaks again, giving you an address and a time before he hangs up without another word.

- In a moment of clarity, you finally tell the police, feeling as though you’re going insane. You lie about everything else but you give them that, scared of being arrested for keeping away what they might consider crucial information. 

- The police swarm the area but they never find him and you return home later that day, shivering with nerves and feeling as though you’re walking the plank; even as the officers with you insist that you’ll be fine and that they’ll be right outside your apartment in case anything were to happen to you. 

- You almost expect it when you turn around at the sound of your bedroom door shutting, when you find him standing there, basked in the light of your apartment, far more handsome than you ever could have imagined. He stills under your gaze, shoulders squaring, standing tall as you take him in; seeming almost proud of himself. He doesn’t look particularly angry but his eyes bore into your own— as if he can read every thought you’ve ever had. It’s the most seen you’ve felt in a long time, as if you’re completely naked and vulnerable.

- When he walks closer, you’re certain he’s going to hurt you: that he’s going to kill you and instantly end whatever the two of you had after a taste of your betrayal. Instead, he grabs your face, shushing you as you try to explain why you did what you did, gazing into your eyes for a long moment, watching them shine with tears. All before he leans down and kisses you. 

- You don’t know why you kiss back….

[deepestconnoisseurmoon]

Breakfast On Pluto (2005)

Dir. Neil Jordan

[goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby]

1-800-hot-n-fun

Jake - 02 line!