#just because he was an ass after being driven to insanity must mean he was born like that

[astral-aromance]

I feel like 99% of the Silmarillion fans forget that Fëanor was actually a very likeable guy for most of his life.

That is literally a significant part of why people followed him. A lot of people loved and admired him. He wasn't mean to random people, and definitely not "a toxic husband/father." The whole point of his story is that he was universally beloved, which is what made his fall so impactful.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

do you have any new recs for sterek with size difference? (preferably with smaller stiles)

Sure.

The Hoodie by PersePhonesDreams

(1/1 I 1,988 I General)

Stiles didn’t mean to keep Derek’s hoodie—really, he didn’t. But the oversized, ridiculously soft thing quickly became his favorite comfort item, a piece of Derek he couldn’t quite let go of. It’s not like Derek would notice anyway... right?

When Derek unexpectedly shows up at Stiles’ window one quiet night, Stiles’ not-so-secret attachment to the hoodie is exposed, leading to a conversation that changes everything.

Cue awkward confessions, teasing smiles, and the realization that maybe Derek doesn’t mind Stiles keeping more than just his hoodie.

jacked and kind by LookWhatIHaveWaitingForMe

(4/4 I 3,288 I Mature)

Stiles forces Derek to participate in the "jacked and kind" TikTok trend and this time Derek doesn't need convincing.

Be Still, My (Beating) Heart by mznaughty01

(1/1 I 3,878 I Explicit)

The time for games was definitely over. Because now? Now it was time for Derek to breed Stiles’s sweet ass.

(K)Not Tonight by slimypaws

(1/1 I 4,961 I Explicit)

Stiles had the very clever idea to go to his favourite place while in heat and during a full moon on top of that, his brain clearly having melted into a useless puddle.

He had never picked up the scent of another person, werewolf or human, here after all, so why should he start to worry now? Until he did pick up another scent after all. Everything went downhill from there.

Teen Witch by AngieNoir

(2/? I 8086 I Explicit)

Derek knows that there's something strange about Stiles and that's stirring up trouble in Beacon Hills, drawing the attention of werewolf hunters. Driven to protect his own, he believes he must kill the young witch. Yet, as he watches him, Derek finds himself falling in love, torn between duty and desire. A werewolf. A witch. And a danger that’s impossible to resist.

Wrapped in a Dream by wolfcloaks

(8/8 I 34,577 I Explicit)

He finds him in the middle of the clearing, mouth grappling with a foreign tongue, alabaster skin damp with the remnants of prior rain.

He's absolutely beautiful, Derek thinks, this creature, this boy.

Matenapped by xcaellachx

(12/12 I 36,671 I Explicit)

Alpha Derek Hale has known Spark Stiles Stilinski was his mate for over six years. The traumatized Spark had killed the rogue alpha who tried to kill his friend so many years ago and was still scarred by the experience. Now, Stiles was settled in as a magic shop owner and Derek was ready to claim him for his own. The ritual of matenapping was an old but accepted tradition and Derek had his den ready to receive his mate. It was time.

Stiles Stilinski thought Lydia was insane for thinking the sexy alpha wanted to matenap him. He was damaged by his past and determined to stay single so he didn't harm anyone. He kept his magic tightly leashed and couldn't believe that anyone could want him. Not a murderer. Even when the wolf came to see him and touched him gently, winking at him and looking at him longingly, he just couldn't accept it.

Very soon, Stiles wouldn't have a choice but to believe it. Derek was taking his mate and bringing him to his mating den where he would court and woo him until he couldn't help but fall in love with him.

The Lighthouse Keeper by tugela54

(11/11 I 75,073 I Explicit)

On a rural island just off Alaska’s northern Inside Passage, stands a centuries old lighthouse - the perfect sanctuary for its keeper to hide when the moon is full, to burn and rage through its cycle with the townsfolk being none the wiser.

But then a new resident comes to Beacon Harbour – a bright-eyed young student chasing an elusive whale species – and all of a sudden those thick stone walls seem paper thin…

Delinquents for Hire, Won’t you Let us Conspire? by skayaks

(18/18 I 89.909 I Mature)

The Sheriff slams a gun on the dining table, “What are your intentions with my son?” Stiles violently spits his water out, coughing instantly from the sheer disbelief.

OR

The one where a reluctant Stiles Stilinski goes to a very intimidating delinquent Derek Hale for help when he’s finally fed up with being picked on by Jackson’s shitty gang of wannabe jocks.

Naturally, as things tend to go for Stiles, he doesn’t have much of a fun time.

[cherryanony]

IN DEFENSE OF ELENA GILBERT: Why Do Yall Hate Emotional Women?

Vampire Diaries - Elena Gilbert pictured doing nothing wrong

HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

I started watching The Vampire Diaries back in 2016, right as it was coming to its long overdue close. To say I was obsessed was an understatement.

I would spend hours, days, WEEKS, consuming fan content, rewatching episodes and scenes over and over agin, discussing stupid plot points and writing descions that were made and throughout all of that one question has always dangled over my head...

Why does everybody hate Elena Gilbert?

Despite The Vampires Diaries being a dark supernatural teen drama filled to the brim with freaks & weirdos, murderers, psychopaths, evil forces and THE ACTUAL LITERAL DEVIL... Elena Gilbert reigns as the most hated character on the show by viewers.

But, why?

Elena Gilbert starts off the show as a 17 year old teenage girl who just experienced some of the craziest trauma any person, let alone TEENAGER, could ever go through. She was in the car with her parents when they died off Wickory Bridge and now suffers from a serious case of survivors guilt, a trait and mo motif she struggles with and must come to terms with throughout the show.

She falls for two vampire brothers who bring nothing but more hell into her life, she finds out she's adopted, her birth mother is a vampire and a piece of shit, her birth father is her insane negligent Uncle John, she's lost more loved ones than one can count over and over again, and she's constantly paranoid and never safe because she's a doppleganger with special blood that many dangerous supernatural creatures want.

"But she's whinyyy and a crybabyyy😩..."

As if one of her friends or family aren't on the brink of death every episode. Elena didn't do enough crying if we're being honest.

Elena is by no means a perfect, innocent character. A lot of people are right about her flaws; she can be very selfish with a what-about-me & and look-at-me-this-isn't-you complex and she's constantly getting away with a lot shit since she's the main character. And a lot people say she never faces any consequences but.... she does.... and it's called...

VAMPIRE!ELENA

THAT'S IT! That's where everyone says her character went completely wrong, her character completely falls apart. But I'd argue that Vampire!Elena is a culmination of all her descions coming back to bite her in the ass.

Throughout S1-3, Elena struggles with survivors guilt. She should've gone off the bridge with her parents. She's depressed, she's moody, she's "whiny" all while feeling like the supposed "love of her life" is trying to "fix her" when she's not ready.

In season 4 episode 10, Elena clearly states that Stefan looks at her like she's a broken toy that needs to be fixed. I could go on a whole rant on what I think Stefan's problems are but to sum it all up — Stefan turned into a vampire at 17 years old — a teenager — and spends his entire vampire life struggling with his heightened personality and his Ripper Gene which led him down a path to losing everyone he's ever loved.

(He killed his own abusive father, lost his best friend due to his own brother who he forced to turn with him and now wants him dead after a wedge is driven between them.)

I say all that to say I get Stefan's character. He's scared and insecure, similar to Elena, to be alone and lose everyone he cares about. However, all of his efforts to better himself and relationships only drives people away. People bring up Damon killing Elena's brother, Jeremy, all the time

(again.. HE WAS WEARING THE GILBERT RING! HE'S FINE! YOU DON'T ACTUALLY GIVE A FUCK ABOUT JEREMY, NOBODY DOES!)

But NOBODY talks about Stefan endangering Jeremy and almost getting him killed by forcing him to continue the Hunter's Mark because he thought Elena being human again would make her be in love with him again. (sorry but that's fucking insane😭😭😭!!)

Stefan wasn't only afraid of losing Elena, he was also afraid of losing her to his brother. All these efforts drove Elena away, right into the arms of the person he wanted to keep her away from.

I think Elena felt as if Stefan was just like everyone else who wanted "the old Elena" back. The person that Elena use to be before the accident that the show alludes to in the first season. But that Elena is dead and gone, she'll never be the same person she was before going off that bridge. Apart of her died that night and again when she went off the bridge for the second time and became a vampire.

Elena struggles with being a vampire and basically dying twice and instead of being supportive Stefan immediately wants to fix and change her. Damon is the only one she feels free and alive with. A statement Elena makes herself throughout the show. Despite the stupid discourse over the Sire Bond, Damon was the one she felt the safest with after that plotline was resolved.

But enough about comparing those brothers, this is about ELENA! You know who she gets compared to..?

KATHERINE

KATHERINE IS A LOSER!

Before you raise your pitchforks, I love Katherine. Great character, great villain, but she's a loser!

People LOVE to compare Katherine and Elena!

"Katherine's such a badass and Elena is a whiny crybaby." But I would argue the opposite.

See Katherine's backstory here, despite everything Katherine's been through, the show makes a point that while, yes, Katherine is a survivor, she's also an avoidant runner. She spends 500 years running from the big bad Klaus and once he fianlly lets her go she continues torture, manipulate, and harrass people.

She continues her streak of only whining and complaining about the life she never had because of the things that happened to her, which... fair!

However, despite being given several chances with a romance with Elijah, a life with her daughter as a mother, all the people she's ever wronged helping her and forgiving her on her death bed, taking over Elena's body and essentially starting over in a new life and even being THE QUEEN OF HELL... it was never enough. Nothing was ever enough for Katherine.

She was given many chances to change, to finally LIVE HER LIFE but she chose to continue down her path of destruction. Which, in my opinion, is fine for her character! LET KATHERINE BE THE SAD AND TRAGIC CHARACTER SHE IS! She doesn't have to be some anti-hero badass.

The contrast of Katherine and Elena, two girls who had their lives and innocence stolen from them at a young age thanks to tragic events out of their control and two vampire brothers, is great and executed as well as TVD writing could do (infamously known for shitty writing and plot holes but I digress).

The pieces to the K/E puzzle were so obviously placed, Katherine who was jealous of Elena living the life she never got, chose the path of selfishness and power, and Elena chose the path of love and regrowth and not letting her past define her.

But viewers missed the big picture. Katherine is a survivor but where did that get her? Dead and unloved. Besides freedom from Klaus, she didn't get a single thing she desired. Not a life with Stefan or Elijah or as a mother with her daughter or as Elena Gilbert or Queen of Hell! No! She lost everything and blamed Elena. SHE LOST! SHE'S A LOSER!

She survived, but she didn't live.

In my opinion, Elena is the real survivor. She didn't let her past consume and lead her to a similar fate as Katherine. She chose to be selfless and to love again after being hurt.

She chose to be alive.

SO BACK TO THE PROMPT....

Why do y'all hate emotional women?

"Elena has experienced more grief than anyone I've ever met." - Sherrif Liz Forbes

Every character has went through a lot and have done similar, if not worst, things as Elena as a result yet she's the most hated character?

There's a pattern of fans hating certain female characters who are more sensitive and cry instead of bury their feelings and just punch a man and suddenly get crowned "Most Badass Female Character". Characters, not just female, expressing their emotions is strong and badass and might inspire audiences to do the same and not keep grief in and become self destructive. It's healthy and natural and makes the character not so one note.

It's not fair to compare Elena's trauma and experiences to other characters (espically not Bonnie, that's topic for a whole other post). But why do other characters get a pass despite being ten times more flawed and problematic?

Why are certain characters able to cry, complain, self destruct, fuck someone over, etc but Elena can't?

Genunine question.. let's discuss...

-*- I wasn't able to fully delve into my thoughts on Elena and certain TVD characters, plot points, theme, etc because this post will be 50 pages long. This is the brief version.

***There will be a part 2 to this post where I delve deeper into the trend of hating characters like Elena.

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Cross The Line•

Summary: “And they were roommates” predictable self induldent Denki roommate content lmao. Friends to lovers, pretty fluffy

Pairing: Denki Kaminari x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Itty bitty angst, Lots o’ tension, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (female receiving), Quirk use during sex, Cumplay.

Word count: 6,984

A/N: Y'all I did it I wrote mostly plot are y'all proud of me for not being useless and horni for one fic. I mean it gets horni at the end but there is plot so yeehaw.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Son of a bitch!” You yell as you hurl the eyeliner across the bathroom, at your wits end after messing up for the third time. It hits the door with a sharp crack before it falls to the floor.

You kick the cabinet, successfully stubbing your toe in the process.

“Shit, shit shit shit.” You tumble backwards as you hop on one foot, planting your ass right on the toilet lid with a loud groan.

“You remodeling in here?” A chirpy voice says from the other side of the door.

“Fuck off, Denki.” You bark as you hold your busted toe.

He just chuckles as he opens the door and strides in, he leans back against the counter and crosses his arms while you scowl up at him.

His signature smirk is painted across his face, yellow hair sticking up in every direction. As usual, he’s going without a shirt, leaving him in just a pair of loose basketball shorts.

They hang just a little too low, exposing the waistband of his briefs, framing his defined adonis belt…

“You’re gonna need a bucket for all that drool.” He says, raising his eyebrows as his smirk grows into a smile.

“Oh please, I was noticing how scrawny you look.” You retort, letting your foot drop to the floor so you can stand.

“You got a date?” He nods at your dress, eyes lingering at the slit that exposes just a little too much thigh.

You and Denki are just roommates, that’s it. You’re also both incredibly horny, bisexual disasters. Naturally, there’s attraction, lingering stares, and moments of tension, but it never goes past that.

Just roommates. You can’t cross that line. Kirishima had introduced you two after meeting in class one day, convinced you would hit it off. You sure as hell did. You cliqued pretty much instantly, both full of chaotic dumbass energy.

Eventually, Kirishima moved in with his boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo. This left Denki with no roommate, which meant you got an invitation.

You were hesitant at first, moving in with somebody after a few months of friendship was a big step, but you and Denki just worked. Neither of you kept a schedule, you shared one brain cell, and you always made each other laugh.

So, of course you moved in. Two years later, it’s still you and Denki against the world. You take care of each other, he’ll bring you candy and a heating pad when you’re on your period, you’ll make him soup and play with his hair when he’s sick.

You’ve seen each other naked, heard each other have sex, and helped each other score hookups. You pick each other up when you’re sloppy drunk, and nurse each other through the hangover the next day.

You have not, and will not, cross the line of a sexual relationship with each other. You can’t afford to, neither of you can lose the movie nights, the screaming bad music in the car together, or the two in the morning waffle house runs.

“I did, but I’m not going.” You huff as you stomp over to the sink so you can wash off the makeup.

“I can’t get this stupid eyeliner right, I’ve tried like a million times and I can’t fucking do it.” You scrub your face a little too hard, turning your skin a bit red in the process.

“Want me to do it?” He asks, he says it like it’s obvious. It kind of is, the kid is wicked good at eyeliner, he does it nearly every day.

“If you pinky promise you won’t make me look stupid and sabotage my date.” You glare at him, hinting at a time when he did in fact sabotage a date.

“That was one time, which you thanked me for in the end, because the dude was a total fuckboy.” He holds up his hands in a defensive posture.

“You’re a total fuckboy, and you did not have to tell him I had fucking herpes.” You throw your wet rag at him, which he catches skillfully.

“I’m a whore, not a fuckboy. Big difference.” He says as he tosses the rag onto the side of the sink.

“What would that be?” You ask as you bend down to retrieve the eyeliner before handing it to him begrudgingly.

He accepts it with a grin, golden eyes lighting up as he pulls the cap off of the felt pen before giving it a good shake.

“Fuckboys are so selfish, they always leave someone wanting.” He shifts so he’s standing in front of you as you lean back against the counter.

He places one hand under your chin so you’ll tilt your face up for him.

“A whore keeps someone satisfied.” His voice drops slightly as he looks down at you.

You don’t look down at his lips, or his collar bones, or his abs…

“You’re such a flirt.” You say, crossing your arms, trying to put something between the two of you.

“Hell yeah I am, now close those eyes for me.” He winks and you roll your eyes before closing them.

His hand slides up from your chin so you can hold the side of your face, his thumb lifts your eyelid slightly.

The feeling of his hand touching your face so gently shouldn’t make your heart rate increase, the feeling of his breath on your face shouldn’t make your knees a little unsteady. Most of all, Denki being this close shouldn’t be making you this dizzy.

You’ve walked in on him jerking it, you’ve even walked in on him balls deep in somebody else. You and Denki are close, you’ve stood this close before, with less clothing, why does it all of a sudden feel so different? No, it doesn’t. It can’t.

You feel the felt tip of the eyeliner press into your eyelid, he moves so fluently. He flicks his wrist at the end of the line, he shifts and does the other eye with the same precision.

“Open.” You do as he says, blinking up at him, raising your eyebrows in question as he looks you over.

A pleased smile creeps onto his face.

“You’re real pretty, ya know?” He says softly, grabbing your chin gently so he can turn your face from one side to the other.

The compliment makes your cheeks grow warmer. Your eyes dart down as you shift on your feet a little bit.

“You’re a sap.” You grumble before turning to check his work in the mirror.

It’s perfect, just a delicate little wing that enhances your eye shape. Perfect for a first date, Denki has always been better at makeup, and it’s always driven you just a little insane.

“What else are you gonna do?” He asks, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You say as you grab your mascara and start applying it.

“Well are you gonna do anything with this?” He ruffles the top of your hair, you drop the mascara so you can bat his hand away.

“Dude, knock it off.” You say, you try to sound pissed, but start laughing when he wraps his arm around your neck so he can put you in a headlock.

“Only if you let me fix the rat’s nest on your head.” He laughs as you struggle to pull his arm off.

“I can do my own hair you sparky bastard.” You reach over and pinch his side.

He yelps and releases you from the hold, he raises his hands up and gives you a mischievous look.

“Oh, you want sparky?” Small snaps of electricity start to emit from his palms.

“Denki Kaminari, if you zap me I will suplex you.” You warn him, looking around for something you can grab to defend yourself with.

He’s much quicker than you though, and his arms around your waist in an instant. He hoists you up into the air and sits your ass on the counter. You feel the little shocks popping at your sides as he pushes you so your back is pressed against the mirror. Your senses are invaded by his warmth and the smell of Axe body spray, a smell you’ve grown to love.

“Denki, no! This shit always makes my hair all frizzy!” You protest as involuntary giggles leave your chest.

“Aw, sweetheart, are you sayin’ you can feel electricity between us?” He wiggles his eyebrows as his fingers stall.

“I will puke on you if you say any more cheesy shit.” You warn him, trying to keep your face straight, but you crack up at the melodramatic expression that crosses his face.

Then he delivers a particularly strong zap to the meat of your hip.

You don’t have time to control the way your body reacts. There’s no chance for you to keep your back arches, or the way you let out a fuck. The way you shiver is a little too intimate, your voice a little too broken. All of which Denki pays a little too much attention to.

You both settle and freeze, his sharp eyes meet yours. You’ve seen Denki Kaminari look serious a grand total of twice in the time you’ve known him. The first time was when you were ridiculously sick last winter, fever and chill with the works. The second time is now.

He watches you carefully, one eyebrow shooting up.

“Did that tickle?” He questions, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It- yeah- it also fucking hurt, asshole.” You grumble, pushing at his chest so you can hop off the counter.

You try to shove past him with your head down, desperate to get out from under the weighty tension in the bathroom. Denki grabs you around the wrist though, stopping you in your tracks.

Your eyes meet as another wave of nerves washes over your body.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” His voice is steady, but tentative.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Your voice is just above a whisper.

Though, there certainly was.

You both stand there for a brief beat of thick silence, watching, waiting. You must imagine the way his lip twitches, the way his body shifts forward slightly…

No fucking way.

You turn on your heels and make your way out of the bathroom quickly.

You’re in your room with the door closed in no time. You lean against the back of it, catching the breath you didn’t realize you had lost.

What the hell was that? And why did it feel so… good?

No. Fuck no. Not with Denki.

You get ready in a huff, positively full of angst and confusion.

You shove it all down. It’s normal, right? To have a bit of tension with somebody you know so well, live so closely with, care for so deeply. You and Denki know each other. That’s all.

Your outfit isn’t much, but it’s enough for a first day. The colors are flattering against your complexion, the fabric clings in the right places. It’s nice, just nice.

You walk quietly from your room to the living room where Denki is sitting on the couch, legs spread wide with an arm across the back. Looking absolutely delicious- fuck- no not delicious. He just looks like Denki.

“That’s cute.” He says, he motions up and down with his phone, directing his comment at your outfit.

“Thanks.” You say a little too shortly, feeling the guilt immediately.

“I’ll be home later.” You say as you grab your keys from the dish.

“Be safe.” He calls after you.

Fuck.

***

Your date is an absolute disaster, nothing short of a trainwreck. It’s one of those dates that drains you. You politely nod as they ramble on about themselves, laugh at the bad and very insensitive jokes, and indulge in the small talk. Most of all, you miss Denki. You contribute very little, enjoy nothing, and wait for the end of the dreadful two hours you set aside for this.

You pay for dinner quickly, declining their offer for drinks, giving some bullshit excuse about having to work in the morning and being tired. You’re off tomorrow, and you’re wide awake.

You’re itching to get back to your apartment, dying to tell Denki all about your date’s wet cardboard personality. Hopefully, the bizarre moment you shared in the bathroom will be ignored and buried.

Never to be seen again.

You bust into the apartment, shuck off your bag and kick off your shoes. Denki is no longer on the couch, but at the kitchen table huddled over a cup of tea. The lights are all low or off, leaving him in mostly darkness. His posture is odd, slouched, defeated almost.

“Who died?” You try to joke, usually able to earn a chuckle with that line.

Denki doesn’t chuckle though, he sniffles.

“Sparky? What’s wrong?” You’re on him instantly, feet moving on their own.

Your hands are on the sides of his face, pulling up so he has to look at you. Your heart clenches and your chest burns as soon as the small amount of light catches his face.

His left cheek is painted with a deep red and purple bruise. His bright eyes search your face as you take the sight in, and you’re suddenly filled with fiery rage when you see how heartbroken he looks.

“Who the fuck-”

“It was my fault.” He cuts you off, grabbing your wrists so he can pull your hands off his face.

“Denki, what-”

“I told him we would hook up, so he thought we would. When I got there he had a bad vibe so I tried to leave… but he didn’t like that and he-”

You hush him when his breathing picks up, when you see tears well and his lip quiver.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok.” You pull him against your chest, making a mental note to find and throttle the bastard that did this.

But that can wait. You and Denki had both returned from dates fairly busted up. The bruises were always one that were wanted though, never like this. A bad date was always laughed over, never cried over. The very thought of somebody laying their hands on Denki like this… it makes your skin crawl, it makes you want to kill.

His arms are around your waist immediately, hands grabbing as your clothes, pulling you closer. You hold each other for a long while until you feel his leg start bouncing and his fingers start to twitch.

You pull back and look down at him. He looks so displaced, so frantic and caught off guard. He needs something to do. Something to focus on. You can tell he’s not ready to talk, but he’s ready to be distracted, talking will come later.

“Will you help me get this shit off my face?” You ask gently, sliding your hand through his hair.

He blinks hard before wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah- shit- I’m sorry, how was your date?” He asks, doing a shit job as pulling himself together.

“Don’t be sorry. It was awful. All they talked about was their college glory days.” You sigh, thumb running over his forehead.

“That didn’t win you? What’s wrong with you?” He asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

There he is, or at least he’s trying.

“I missed you the whole time.” It slips out, runs away from you. You mean it though, god do you mean it.

He looks up at you with that same uneasy, distraught look. It almost makes you buckle. You feel pulled to fall into his lap, wrap yourself around him and press sweet kisses into his neck. You can’t, you know you can’t. He would probably be pissed if you crossed that line.

He doesn’t answer, he just nods silently, eyes falling to the ground as he stands up.

“Let’s get that shit off your face.”

You end up perched on the counter again as he wipes your makeup off with a warm cloth. It may seem backwards, him taking care of you, to most people it is. During your time together, you’ve learned that Denki feels useless if he isn’t helping.

When something is hurting him, he’s healed by pouring into someone else, so you let him. You’ll ice his bruise later, bring him water and medicine once you help him scratch this itch.

He takes his time with you, wiping away the makeup he did for you. The dull ache returns to your chest as he works. The soft glow of the bathroom nightlight is your only illumination, giving the room a painfully intimate environment.

He slowly wipes the cloth across your forehead one last time, laying it on the sink before bringing his hand up to hold your chin like he had earlier. You can’t help but glance at his bruise and simply hurt deep inside. You hate that you weren’t there, that you couldn’t stop it.

He breathes for a moment, looking at the planes of your face, eyes lingering in your lips for a bit too long.

“Pretty…” It’s a soft confession, something far too tender for the nature of your relationship.

His admittance settles somewhere deep within you, it wraps itself around your heart and warms it. It’s almost overwhelming and definitely terrifying.

“Do you need to eat?” You kill the building flames immediately, stamp them out with a stubborn foot.

He doesn’t mean it, he’s just vulnerable, he’s just emotional. You’d be an asshole to give into it.

“I could eat.” He sighs.

***

“This is so fucking stupid.” Denki laughs, irritated by the default plot line of the chick flick on tv.

You had ordered your favorite takeout, too much of it, to share as you watch. Slowly, you had pulled him out of his shaken state. With plenty of talk about your awful date, several good laughs, and the occasional soft spoken “you’re okay”. Denki is now settled with his head in your lap as he criticizes the lazy drama of the film.

“Why won’t they just stop being stupid and just… like each other?” He whines, gesturing at the tv with an inpatient hand.

“Dude they can’t. It would ruin the tension for them to like each other right now.” You explain.

He sits up and huffs before grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“But they could work. They could really work.” He says as he stuffs his face.

He seems so genuinely thoughtful, despite his grievances with the quality of the movie, he’s involved.

“Maybe they could.” You say, watching him instead of the movie.

He feels it when he looks at you, squeezing his ribs, trickling down his spine. The overwhelming, almost blind urge to lean in and kiss you. But he can’t, so he doesn’t.

“Could they?” He whispers.

You’re both frozen, trapped in the beam that’s suddenly shining down on you. It exposes every crack and corner of your relationship, leaving you both ripped open and afraid.

He’s leaning in again like he did in the bathroom, closer and closer and closer… until he grabs his damn drink.

Fuck.

A blush spreads across your cheeks, stomach aching with embarrassment. You pull back, shoving yourself under a blanket. You weren’t too obvious, right? You didn’t lean in too much… right?

He takes a long sip then sets the drink down harshly, not enough to make you jump, but enough to make you pay attention.

“Can we stop, please?” He says as he stands up, he runs his hands through his hair and huffs before he starts to pace.

“What?” You ask, trying to sound as oblivious as possible.

“Dude.” He turns on you, looking exhausted, eyes begging you for something.

“Denki- I, you need sleep…” You stand up and start to tidy, not really doing anything though. Just picking up cups and setting them down to look busy.

“I don’t need sleep.” He snaps before grabbing you by the shoulders. His eyes are wild, frantic, searching.

“What do you need?” You ask, hands shaking at your sides. His body sags, hands releasing you so he can hug himself.

“I don’t know.” It’s short and rushed, and he leaves you no time to respond before he storms off to his bedroom. His feet stomp, the door slams, and you fall to the couch in a heap.

This cannot be happening, not to you and Denki. You both just need sleep, you just need to brush it off and start again tomorrow. He’s emotional. He’s just emotional.

You turn the TV off, sneering at the couple kissing on it. You clean up slowly, setting dishes in the sink to be done tomorrow.

It’s ok. You’re ok. Emotions run high after bad dates, after traumatic events. It’s human nature. That’s all, you and Denki will be ok, you always are.

Your shoulders draw up when you hear his door open again, staying busy at the sink as you heard him walk into the kitchen.

“Can we talk about it?” His voice is unsteady, it tugs on your heart as you spin to face him.

“Talk about wha-”

“Please. Don’t.” He sighs as he steps towards you.

He’s too damn pretty when he’s tired. His cheeks get all pink, with glassy eyes and a shiny nose. Even with his busted cheek bone, he’s so… pretty.

Denki’s feelings have always run hot, he loves fast and hurts deeply. You can’t even begin to imagine the tsunami of emotion he must have pounding against his chest. You see it in his eyes though, something is breaking him.

“We could work.” He closes the distance between you even more, giving you no room to hide once your backside hits the counter.

“Denki…” You put your hands on his chest, trying to put something between you two, trying to cling to the line that’s been drawn.

“We could. Just- you don’t have to answer. Just think about it.” And then he’s gone again, away to hide in his room. Leaving you shocked and overwhelmed.

We could work.

You could, and you know it, you’re just not ready to accept it.

***

Sleep doesn’t come well, or even at all. You do think about it, all night. It’s the only thing on your mind as you toss and turn and huff. The sun is already peaking up into the sky, bathing your room in a hazy glow.

We could work.

Just because you could, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be foolish of you to try. This is a friendship neither of you can afford to lose. You have some confidence that it could indeed withstand an awkward attempt at a relationship… but what if the attempt wasn’t awkward? Denki had told you, drunkenly, how much he loved you. He slept next to you when you cried, held you and talked you down. He knew how many sugars to put in your coffee and how you never bothered to match your socks.

Over time, Denki had memorized you as a person, and you had done the same for him. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to have in a partner? Someone who knows you, someone who makes it safe to be known.

Knock knock

It’s a courtesy knock, something he does to let you know he’s coming in. You never keep your door locked, and he’s always allowed in.

“Mornin’.” He says with a scratchy voice as he peaks into your room.

Fucking hell. Why does he have to be so pretty all the time?

“Mornin’.” You reply

You pull the blankets up around your chest, you realize now you’re in one of his t-shirts, not uncommon, but entirely too intimate given recent events.

He sits on the edge of your bed, all messy hair and puffy eyes. He offers you one of the coffee cups he’s holding, and it smells divine. You accept it as you sit up right, crossing your legs and clinging to your blankets.

His bruise is darker, yellow around the edges with deep red and purple splotches. It gives your chest the same tight feeling, something helpless and angry.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line.” He says quietly.

“You were right, I was emotional and I needed sleep and I definitely shouldn’t have dumped it on you.”

He fidgets while he talks, leg bouncing as his fingers dance around his mug. You reach out to rub his back, but he flinches. He fucking flinches.

Neither of you speak, but you meet each other’s eyes. He looks sorry, so sorry. He looks embarrassed and scared and guilty.

Slowly, you grab both cups and set them on your nightstand. You open your arms to him, still not speaking, not opening the door for him to apologise for something that isn’t his fault.

He falls into you easily, arms around your waist with his face against your neck. He crumbles there, unable to articulate, only able to cry. You hold him close, rub circles in his back and play with his hair. You let him go as long as he needs to, sitting with him, hurting with him.

“Denki?” You tread carefully, using your softest voice.

He looks up then, with a rosey face and searching eyes.

“You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”

Something you’ve never seen before flashes in his eyes, something soft and warm, something that makes you want to fall forward into him like he just did with you.

You don’t, though, you stay still.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

Then, with all the caution and care in the world, he places a kiss on your forehead. It’s so simple, it’s been done a million times between the two of you, but it sits differently in your chest this time. It stays there, taking up space, spreading through you. That feeling of wanting to cross a line.

“Do you want to make breakfast?” He asks as he wipes at his face with his sleeves.

“Of course. You want those big ass waffles I make?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood.

His grin is slow to appear, but it does appear, and it’s as dazzling as always.

“I always want some big ass waffles.”

***

The rest of the day is spent in close proximity with each other, not unusual, but like everything else the past twenty four hours, it feels different.

You share you sit with knees touching while you eat your waffles, pee with the door open, he puts the toothpaste on your toothbrush for you. It’s all so normal for you two, but god it feels so different. It feels more important, it feels more… wholesome? Maybe? Not quite, that word isn’t entirely applicable. Neither you to Denki are wholesome in any capacity. Then a horrible thought scrambles into your mind.

It feels romantic. It feels domestic. It feels like a relationship.

It hits you while you’re helping him clean up the mess you’ve made cooking dinner. It’s in the way his hand ghosts over your waist when he slides behind you, the way he gets you more to eat without asking him to, the way makes you laugh so naturally.

Fuck.

You love him, you know this as a fact. You love him more than anyone, he knows you inside and out and you know him. You’re just now realizing in exactly what way you love him. He holds your hair when you puke, he rubs your back when you cramp, he pretends to be your boyfriend to scare off bad dates. He loves you too.

“Denki.” Your voice is quiet, your hands shake.

“Can we talk about it?”

His whole body tenses as he sets down the plate he was rinsing. He turns slowly, as if to avoid frightening you.

“Can we?” He asks gently, hopefully.

You step towards him, twisting your fingers around each other anxiously.

“This… works, doesn’t it?” You ask, awkwardly gesturing between the two of you.

He closes more of the distance, standing only inches from you.

“It does, and it could.” He says gently.

“What If it doesn’t?” You wonder out loud, fear creeping up your spine.

“Then it doesn’t.” He says simply.

“And we’ll be ok?”

“We’ll be ok.”

You stand in silence, keeping an eye on each other as you both process the information. He does that leaning thing again, like he wants to be closer. Then you panic.

“But it would be stupid.” You say as you turn away, wringing your hands around each other while you pace. He lets out a sigh and throws his hands up, exhausted with the back and forth.

“Right, because you and I would never do anything stupid.” His voice is rough, impatient, unfamiliar.

“We can’t afford to be stupid with this, dude. Can’t you see that?” You argue.

“Then we can be careful with it, we can start slow, we can ease into it.” He’s nearly begging, stepping towards you again.

“Ease into what!?” You turn on him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t play dumb.” He crosses his arms, you mirror him, both skittish, both afraid.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we won’t talk about it ever again. You have my word.” He offers, but he doesn’t want to.

You stand there, weighing your options, chest seizing as you watch his vibrant eyes search your face.

You can’t tell him you don’t want it. You can’t lie to him.

“I- Denki… I can’t lose you. We can’t fuck this up.” You feel tears prick at your eyes and a tightness in your throat, the very idea of being without your best friend makes you panic.

“You won’t fucking lose me. You have me, all of me. We won’t fuck this up if we just keep doing what we do.” He tries to keep his voice calm, but he breaks a little.

Another moment of heavy silence is spent between you, chests rising and falling rapidly, hands twitching as minds race.

Denying this any longer would be a crime, a horrible waste of time. Something snaps then, something gives in, and the line is crossed.

His hands are at the side of your face and his forehead falls against yours. Breath is hot, hands are needy, hearts are aching.

“Please, god, please.” You grab at his wrists, not to push him off, to pull him in, keep him close.

“I want you, need you, please.” You confess.

And then your soul is in flames. He shudders and his lips are on yours as soon as he can get them there. All at once, and not soon enough, the line you had both been clinging to is crossed. His hands hold your face so tightly as he works his lips against yours, kissing you with all he has left, letting loose all the times he’s wanted to before. It’s all consuming, it’s mind numbing, it’s (no pun intended) fucking electric.

He walks you back as he kisses you urgently until your ass hits the counter, his hands are on the backs of your thighs instantly. He whispers a quick jump against your lips. You do exactly that.

Now seated on the counter, you spread your legs so he can settle between them. He slides in perfectly, lips still hot and greedy against your own. His hands cling to your hips while yours claw at his back.

He breaks from you, panting with his pupils blown wide.

“Can we do something stupid?” He asks between puffs of air.

“Please, Denki, please.” You sigh, grabbing at his shirt. He grabs it by the collar and rips it off, revealing the body you’ve seen so often, but now you get to know it.

“I wanna taste your pussy.” He whispers before pressing his open mouth against your neck.

The words send a shock all the way down your body. The sparks fly and then settle between your legs where you feel his hard length pressing against your heat.

“Haven’t shaved.” You say, slightly embarrassed.

“Like I fucking care.” And then his hands are at your clothes, pulling them off and throwing them away until you’re left completely bare for him.

His skin feels like heaven against yours, warm and dewy and right.

“Gonna make you feel so good, fuck.” The last word is said with a tone of disbelief.

His hands slide up your sides, gathering your breasts so he can tease your nipples with his thumbs.

He smirks against your neck when you gasp and arch against him, pushing your bodies even closer together.

“Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” He taunts.

“You’re talking too much.” You let out a breathy laugh at his teasing before planting your hand on top of his head and pushing him down.

He gladly falls to his knees, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder like it’s life or death before finally looking at your soaked center.

“Oh my fucking god.” He sighs.

“I wanna tease you but holy hell, I gotta-” He’s on you before you can brace at all, his tongue licks along your slit slowly, almost reverently.

And then he moans. It’s something whiney, something achey, escaping from the back of his throat.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t pull away, he finds the spot that makes you jump and sets up camp. He kitten licks your clit until your hands are pulling at his hair as you gasp above him.

It’s all so much, it’s all so good. Especially when he finally presses two fingers into you. He steps a gentle pace, a soothing push and pull that feels incredible. He works and works and works until your thighs are trembling and you’re babbling praises.

“Denki- fuck- there, right there, fuck fuck fuck.” He eats you so sweetly, with so much precision.

You almost anticipated him being more reckless, more sloppy. He isn’t though, he takes his time, learning your sweet spots, finding the angle that makes you crumble.

And he does.

You reach your end when he flattens his tongue and curls his fingers, massaging every part of you. His name falls from your lips in a broken cry, hands tug at his hair as your thighs squeeze his head.

He helps you through it, licking and fingering slowly to ease you back down, letting you feel every last nerve erupt in pleasure.

“Fuck that was perfect, you’re so fucking sweet.” He sighs against you.

You don’t answer, you can’t, you just grab at him until he gets the hint to stand up.

“Need you inside me, please, Denki please.”

“That’s funny.” He says thoughtfully, pulling down his sweats and briefs to reveal his very hard, very pretty dick.

“What?” You ask, breathless as he steps between your legs. He grabs at his length and gives it a few lazy strokes before pressing his head up against your cunt. The action makes you shiver and dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Didn’t think you were one to beg.” He says with a trembling voice, body buzzing with anticipation.

Then he presses in, replacing any smart remark you may have had with a gasp. It’s definitely a stretch, but god it’s incredible. He fills you so well, presses all of the right spots as he slides in.

“Denki- shit.” Your head falls back against the cabinet, your brain turns to mush as you try to fully comprehend how you ended up here, most of all how you went so long without this.

“So fucking tight.” He pants as he bottoms out, his praise makes you clench, which in turn makes his head fall back with a sweet little gasp.

He pulls in a sharp breath through his teeth, his top lip pulls up almost like he’s in pain. You know he isn’t though, he’s just savoring it.

With a frantic hand, you reach up and grab at the hair at the nape of his neck. You pull him back down against you, both moaning into the kiss when he moves his hips back slowly.

Your lips are messy against each other, bodies working together, finally colliding the way they’re meant to. He keeps his hips moving, setting a perfect, smooth pace. His hands settle on your hips as your stay in his hair.

You’re more vocal than usual, moaning out little praises, needing more and begging for it.

“You feel so good, don’t stop, baby- feels so fucking good.” Your lips quiver as you speak, making you sound so weak and needy. That mixed with the affectionate name does something to Denki, something that names him break a little more.

He buries his face into your neck, whispering a harsh fuck that sounds strangled and desperate. His thrusts get a little faster, his hands grab you a little tighter, and all you feel is Denki.

Your whole body buzzes, in your fingertips, the backs of your thighs, you feel him everywhere.

You don’t even consider the mess that you’ll make on the counter, don’t mind the bruises he’ll leave on your hips, it’s all worth it. So fucking worth it.

“Look at me, look at me when I make you cum.” One of his hands comes up to hold your face as he speaks frantically.

His words set off a cloud of butterflies in your stomach, every sensation building, becoming more intense. You nod pitifully as you lean into his hand, chasing your high with each of his deep, filling thrusts.

The feeling of his hand on your hip reminds you of the last time he had you sitting on a counter like this. You remember how he shocked you, how it went straight to your cunt, how much you loved the feeling.

Body jolting with each thrust, your hand falls over his on your hip. You give him one look, and his eyebrows shoot sky high.

“Yeah? You want me to shock you?” His voice climbs as he speaks, so high and pretty and needy.

“Yes, fuck yes, please, Denki.” You plead, you’re so damn close, you just need that final push.

He doesn’t waste any time. As soon as you ask so sweetly, his palm starts to spark, biting at your skin. You cry out and throw your head forward, the electricity drives you up a wall, absolutely hooked on the sensation.

“That’s it, cum nice and hard for me sweetheart.” His other hand moves down to thumb at your clit and that’s all it takes.

“I’m gonna- ohmyfuckinggod- Denki! Shit!” You sob against his skin as he zaps you just a little more. It makes you delirious, you shiver and jolt as your hands claw down his back.

He fucks you through it, moans and praises fall from his lips as you crest. Your walls quiver around him, almost finishing him off too. Somehow, he keeps it together, he holds his pace until he’s sure you’re on your way back down.

“That’s it baby, that’s it.” He coos as his thrust become more shallow, “Oh fuck.”

He pulls out and jacks himself off only a few times before he’s spilling onto your thigh, painting the skin hot white ropes.

Your hand darts down to gather his release on your fingers before bringing it to your lips. You make a show of licking it up, popping your fingers from your mouth as your eyes flutter shut.

“Oh you dirty fuckin’ girl.” He muses, he gathers the rest up with his thumb so he can press it into your mouth.

You swirl your tongue around his thumb, looking up at him with a doe eyed expression.

You never dreamed you two would ever end up here, feeling and tasting each other in the filthiest of ways, but god it feels so right.

You stay there for just a moment, clinging to the high and each other, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As your breathing steadies, his hands are placed gently around your waist, thumbs playing at the bottom of your ribs.

You share a moment of silence, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Wanna talk about it?” Denki asks, a smile playing at his lips. You let out a breathy laugh, head falling forward so you can lean your forehead against his collar bone.

You start to press soft kisses across his chest, he hand slides to play with the hair at the back of your head.

“I don’t think we have to.” You kiss up his chest until you’re looking up at him.

“This works, doesn’t it?” He asks fondly, looking as stunning as ever, bruise and all.

“This works.” You confirm.

With that, he ducks down suddenly, arms sliding around you so he can throw you over his shoulder.

“Denki! What the hell?” You laugh, pounding at his back playfully.

“If we aren’t talkin’ we’re fuckin’. This isn’t a one and done deal baby.” He says as you round the corner to your bedroom, he throws you on the bed so you land with a bounce and a giggle.

“I hope you don’t have plans for the next six hours.” He falls into you, kissing all over your neck and collarbones.

“Hey.” You say quietly.

“Hmm.” He responds between kisses.

“I love you, sparky.”

He pauses, looking up at you with his luminant eyes.

“I know.” His face splits into a teasing grin.

You punch his shoulder, pouting dramatically.

He inches up the bed, caging you with his arms so he can cradle your head with his hands. He looks at you thoughtfully for just a moment before leaning down to kiss you.

It’s gentle and careful this time, slow and thought out. It makes you absolutely melt.

“I love you too.” He whispers against your lips.

It does work, it works beautifully. It was a slow and not so steady road, but you two knuckleheads did it. You crossed that damn line.

[hes-writer]

deja vu

Summary: part two of drivers license!

Warning: angst

Word Count: 1643 words

let me know if you liked it!

_____

If this was a movie, Y/N would’ve collapsed on the floor, knees hitting the ground as her legs lost the ability to keep her weight up. The corners of her lips would tilt downwards as a fusion of sadness and nostalgia bombarded her at every corner. Tears would collect at her waterline, waiting for the remarkable blink that would send each drop of salty liquid down the apples of her cheeks. Y/N imagined she would call Harry on her phone and scream at him as soon as the click sounded, signalling that he had picked up the call.

Yet as seconds passed by, none of those theatrical episodes happened.  Unlike in the movies, Y/N’s physical reactions were minuscule. Her heart ached in her chest. Her throat scrunched like a wad of tissue papers in her hand, drying up with shock and the shallow inhales she let out.  The swirling of her stomach increased tenfold as she teetered between feelings of anger and indifference.  This should not affect her anymore--or should it? It had barely been a few months since she last saw him and a little bit after when the first photos of Harry and his girlfriend went viral on the internet.

Everyone, especially him, seemed to move on from the relationship that they had shared.  Y/N felt like she needed to catch up to him, racing to throw away the feelings she still held for him and to pretend as though nothing happened.  But it was easier said than done.  There were still endless memories that replayed through her head every time she passed by an ice cream shop.  It was a hidden gem, past the popular hot spots.  Not a lot of people knew about it because of its distanced location.  And as much as Harry was a certified health nut; his guilty pleasure was a scoop of strawberry ice cream--in a cup instead of a waffle cone, of course.

Y/N still remembered those drives-turned-beach-trips.  It was mostly during his days off.  She and Harry would spend the whole day together, sharing one spoon amongst each other while they passed the cup of ice cream back and forth. The sound of the ocean encompassed them as they lay hidden around an alcove of rocks. It was a secluded area of the beach that Y/N had found way before.  The sand was grainy beneath the layer of a checkered picnic blanket that Harry kept at the trunk of his car, their bodies laying on top of it.  Eventually, Harry would proceed to just spoon-feed her, ‘accidentally’ nudging her nose with the cold treat.

.

.

.

.

Y/N could feel her shoulders slump at the flashback, body sagging as she sighed at what her phone screen was reflecting back to her.  It was her Instagram feed showcasing Harry’s profile. A picture of a haunting landscape was captured by his phone lens; it was the very same beach spot that she had taken him to.  Deja vu.

She bit her lip, wanting to smile about how he still visited it even without her.  It showed that Harry still kept a memory of her at the back of his mind.  Y/N’s heart fluttered at the thought, a sliver of hope shining through the dimness of her days. But it was impossible to keep an optimistic stance when she saw the caption.  A simple tag of his new girlfriend’s Instagram handle puckered her lips into a sour expression, brows pinching together in curiosity as Y/N continuously denied the obvious constituent of events.

“There’s no way,” She muttered, breath hitching as Y/N’s thumb hesitated on tapping the bolded font.

There was absolutely no way that Harry would bring someone else in such a coveted spot.  It was hers; she found it first and now he was acting as though it did not hold any meaning to her.  Not like Y/N didn’t spend the last few days laying on his lap, watching the sunset over the horizon. Harry’s fingers would comb through her tendrils, tucking his jacket tighter around her chin to ensure that she was warm despite him being covered in goosebumps himself. Y/N would look up to see the beginning stubbles of his facial hair as Harry looked ahead, his green eyes mirroring the artistic hues of orange, pink and purple.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Jenny asked, returning from her short trek to Y/N’s small kitchen. One hand was carrying a large bowl of chips while the other held two cans of soda.

Y/N stared at her friend with hesitance.  Was it worth bringing it up? She must be sick of her talking about him all the time.

“He brought her to our place,”

It was harder to hear it out loud.  She didn’t even recognize her own voice; void of emotion except for a strained sound of pain.

Jenny tilted her head to the side, “Who did?”

“Harry. . .” Y/N cleared her throat before continuing, “There was this place I found in Malibu. At a beach.  It’s pretty hidden and I used to go there by myself whenever I needed to think. I took him there.  It was our place, you know? Somewhere only the two of us knew and I don’t know,” She trailed off.

“You thought he would keep it between you guys,” Jenny finished off, nodding her head in empathic comprehension.

“Yeah, it just sucks,” Y/N furrowed her brows, staring at the space in front of her as she took in the gravity of the situation. “He even took her to D’Campos,”

“The ice-cream shop?”

She nodded, “It was on her Instagram story today,”

“Forget about him, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve your tears,”

“I’m not even crying,” She chuckled, slapping Jenny’s arm jokingly.

“You look like you’re about to,”

Y/N sighed, “It hurts.  Feels like he’s everywhere.  Just when I thought I was moving on, he pulls shit like this and I’m forced to remember how good it was between us, you know? I haven’t driven past D’Campos or anywhere else that I might see him because it hurts too much to reminisce what I don’t have anymore.”

It was ridiculous how much Y/N has had to change her routine in order not to feel any more pain.  She actively avoided places where Harry frequented in fear of confrontation and also because he might be with his girlfriend.  She didn’t know how she could stay stoic seeing their hands clasped together, gazing at each other lovingly when Y/N wanted that from him for herself.

“You’re doing just fine, honey.  Do you know who can’t move on? Him.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s doing fine,” Y/N said sarcastically, resting her back on the couch. “Better, even.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Jenny argued, “Out of the two of you, who’s the one always going to the places you shared?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer but a swift hand in the air caused her to halt.

“It’s him, right?” Jenny answered rhetorically.  “I do not care what you say; that man misses you and it shows.  Harry’s going to where he expects you to be, probably in hopes of running into you. Maybe even because he wants to relive the moments you shared together with her in hopes of him feeling the same way he felt like when he did with you,”

“T-that’s insane. He’s fine without me,” Y/N stuttered out, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

“First of all, you are in denial. Secondly, you cannot tell me that he doesn’t. He’s practically doing everything you guys used to do with this new girl.  Why? Because he fucking misses you, Y/N.  Hell, you’ve even got the same name.”

“It’s just a coincidence,”

“My ass,” Jenny scoffs, “Answer me something, do you still remember how it felt being there with him?”

Y/N nodded, “Always,”

“Describe it to me,”

Y/N squinted her eyes in suspicion. Where was Jenny going with this?

“Uh, as cheesy as it sounds, I felt happy and free. I could talk about anything without being judged.  He had a way of making me feel comfortable without even saying anything.  When we were together--wherever we were--I could be vulnerable about myself in front of him,”

“Would you do whatever it takes to feel that same way again?”

In a heartbeat, Y/N stated, “Without a doubt.”

“Tell me, if Harry asked you to meet him there right now, would you go?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took a moment to process the question. She had just said that she would do whatever it takes to feel the same unconfined emotion again.  So why was she saying ‘no’?

“I-I wouldn’t,”

“Exactly,” Jenny concluded with a quirk of her brow.

“You’re gonna have to explain,”

“Gladly,” Her friend quipped. “You want to feel liberated, vulnerable, and honest again but not necessarily with Harry.  That place meant a lot to you--sure.  But it doesn’t matter.  What counts is who you are with.  Who’s giving you that type of comfortability that you’re able to be just yourself around them. Do you understand?”

Y/N leaned forward in interest.

“You are well aware of that but you won’t accept it. You won’t go with him because you know that it won’t be the same anymore. That’s the first step of moving on.  Once you acknowledge that as much as you miss him, as much as you think you want him to be around, you know better than that. He’s changed and so have you.  He’s searching for that same feeling by going back to the places that you used to go to.  Thinks he will find it there but--,”

“He won’t.” Y/N finished off. “Because she is not me,”

___

[naomana]

i'm back with another one: just learnt that in just for relaxation vincenzo tells tommy about norman, "our guys on the force say there's a new detective come in - name of norman. untouchable, they think - not taking green from anyone. but everyone's got their price, even if it's the price of a bullet." now i love this because i'm pretty sure vinnie's use of the word green there, refers to the slang of calling someone 'inexperienced' so norman was as uptight as ever and i love him for it.

but also this reminded me of a thought i've been having for a wee while now, where, honestly norman must be a pretty good detective. IGNORING the fact it took him three years to figure out who killed morello (and even that was by pure chance, only because norman was such a suck up, word got round about him). but like really, have i got it all wrong, can you give any ole detective in your ranks the task of figuring out who killed a mob boss? i personally feel like you couldn't, that's a job you'd hand down to one of your most experienced and trusted detectives. like norman's really prideful, morello's case must've driven him a little bit insane because he wants to keep his good name. i feel like he would be really proud of himself for making it this far, being given a job like this. but also referring back to how i said norman must be a pretty good detective - norman is also really stupid too, like seriously, some stupid, low life mobster or something like that called him inexperienced and now look norman all the mobsters know about you dumbass. honestly how did he not die as soon as they saw how bitchy he was? or did everyone just think he wouldn't be a threat because of how bitchy he was? and because they thought he was inexperienced. backtrack, how did they know norman was a detective? did he do an awful job keeping himself inconspicuous? was he being spied on? did salieri ever know about him if vinnie and co knew about him? and if salieri did know about him either before or after the ratting did he put a hit on him in 1951 as well?

im sorry i hope you like novels im going insane

I think in this case, the way he said it, he meant Norman is someone you can't bribe

Green=money, even "Everyone has a price, even if it's a price of bullet".. basically everyone can be bribed, with either money or death.. becasue..ya know..dead people don't tend to go against you lol

But yeah, Norman is 100% inexperienced and uptight ass when he comes to LH..like..he has experience in police force ofc, but has no idea how things work at LH

You're right in Norman being good at what he does, I mean within a reason. You'd give such an important job to someone who's not gonna completely blow it or get bribed in middle of it

And when it comes to Vinnie knowing about him, Norman is such a prideful prick I can imagine him getting one of Salieri's (and Morello's) guys arrested just so he could "Send message through them to their bosses" that there's new cop in town and he means business

Or second option, both are super realistic btw, Salieri and Morello had their people in police force ( well we know Morello did have some cops under his thumb) and the information of new cop that couldn't be bought was what the two of them wamted to know, so they could take different approach

[littleoddwriter]

Don’t You Die on Me | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

"I was wondering if I could get 18 & 19 with Roman Sionis? Male reader comes across a deal going bad (could be a roman deal or some random person, guns get pulled) they try to diffuse the situation, chaos ensues, someone who works with Rom finds them and rushes them to a personal doctor or hospital, and Roman and reader have an angsty moment, make up, soft ending?" anon

A/N: I really hope this is to your liking, anon! Thanks for the request!

summary; You witness one of Roman’s meetings go badly and try to de-escalate, which had the opposite effect and got you a bullet wound in your abdomen. 

notes; TW // Hospital; Violence; Bullet/Gunshot Wound; Injury; Flesh Wound; Implied Murder; No graphic depictions of anything, though. Male!Reader; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Love Confessions; Anxiety.

Despite knowing that Roman didn't want you downstairs at the club when he was having a meeting, you went anyway. Not because you wanted to disobey him necessarily, but because you needed to ask him something that couldn't wait until he was done. You tried texting Zsasz about it, but since he took watching over Roman so seriously, he didn't see it. So you decided to come down.

When you've reached the club's backstage, you could already hear raised, strained voices and Roman's signature tone of 'If you say one more thing that I don't like, I will blow your brains out'.

Even though your instincts told you to turn on your heels and wait till it was all over, you continued on, until you've almost reached the booth they sat in.

You came closer, and that's where it slowly but surely started to escalate.

Not really thinking about it, you wanted to diffuse the situation. In retrospect, you couldn't possibly say what has driven you to do that. Perhaps it was your worry for Roman, even though you knew he was in good and capable hands with Zsasz, and himself.

Yet, you thought it smart to stir away the man's, who he was conversing with, attention from Roman as you saw a gun glint in his hand under the table.

Chuckling nervously, you touched the man's shoulder, his back was turned to you. "Excuse me? I really don't think you should do that, y'know?" Your voice was gentle, you sounded like you were asking him for directions, rather than putting down the weapon.

"What the fuck?" The man looked at you, his faced twisted in confusion; then he jerked your hand away, turning back to Roman. "What the fuck's this supposed to mean, huh? You fucker! Don't try to-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, you stupid fake fucking fuck! Zsasz!" Roman snarled, twirling his finger for Zsasz to escort the man out.

Promptly, the other businessman stood up and pointed his gun right between Roman's eyes, who barely even flinched at the sight.

Your heart rate had picked up even more than before. You were so anxious that something was going to happen to Roman, you really didn't think about your poor decision making anymore.

So, you grabbed onto the man's arm and pulled it down and towards yourself, the gun pointing to your abdomen.

Then a deafening loud BANG rang through the club.

Suddenly, it was quiet. No one moved. No one seemed to even breathe, even though you could feel your chest rise and fall quickly.

You slid to the floor, your body not supporting you anymore. As you let go of the culprit, he made a run for it. You could hear it, and as quick as he started, he was stopped. Several gun shots rang through the club in quick succession and then a dull thud, though it sounded crushingly loud in your ears.

"Fuck! Don't just stand around, for fuck's sake! You! Call the fucking doctor, tell him we're coming in with a bullet wound. And you! Clean up this fucking mess." Roman was barking out orders, you barely registered any of it.

Faintly, you could feel yourself being shifted around, lying on your back on the floor, instead of slumping weirdly against the booth. Then there was pressure on your stomach. You knew it hurt, but you didn't flinch or really feel it, as you brain was struggling to keep up.

Suddenly, Roman's face was in yours. He looked mad, concerned, and anxious all at once. Only he could display so many different emotions in only one face.

He was patting your cheek quite hard, as you lost focus. "Stay with me, baby," he murmured.

It was hard to, but you tried.

"You better not fucking die on me. Especially not when you've done something so stupid. You hear me?" You made a gurgling sound in the back of your throat. "Fuck! C'mon, sweet boy. Now's not the time. 'Kay? Not now. I promise you, I will hunt your fucking ass down and kill you myself if you decide to fucking die."

Then you were lifted up by someone, not Roman, but one of his men. He carried you bridal style outside, Roman close by, holding onto your hand. You were laid down on the backseat of a car, your legs draped over Roman's thighs, who sat there with you, keeping one hand linked with yours, loosely, and the other continued to put pressure on your injury, where someone must have wrapped it up already to put constant pressure on it.

You couldn't remember much past being in the car. It was all a rush and a blur. All you knew was that you were in a hospital bed now, hooked to monitors and an IV bag of what was probably morphine. The other thing you knew was that Roman was lying beside you, his arms loosely wrapped around your middle, above your injury, and his head on your chest. Usually that was your position, but nothing was usual about your current situation.

Lying there and remembering what has gotten you there, you winced in embarrassment. You were so fucking stupid for trying to do something about the situation at hand in the club. Fuck, Roman must have been enraged. He probably still was.

Briefly, Roman's arms around you tightened and then loosened again, as he stirred. He had been asleep then, apparently.

You desperately wanted to make a noise or move to let him know that you were awake, but you couldn't do anything. It was like you were frozen in place. Part of you was scared it wasn't real, that it would all vanish the moment you tried to make it real. Another part of you also just didn't want to face Roman after such a stupid fucking action.

Promptly though, he lifted his head and looked at you. You looked right back at him.

Palpable relief washed over Roman, lifting his features from a frown into surprise and fondness.

"You're awake," he croaked, his voice still thick and broken from sleep.

Stiffly, you gave him a small, barely there, nod.

Roman leaned up and pressed a kiss to your lips. It spoke volumes of how worried he must have actually been. He kissed you again and again, barely able to stop at all. It felt strange to you, to know that you were the reason he felt anxious about something.

Soon enough, though, he stopped kissing you over and over again, and leaned back, propping himself up on his arm that was placed on the mattress. Then he frowned at you.

"Are you fucking insane? You could have been fucking killed! Don't do that again! Fuck!" His voice broke on every other word, rising in octaves as he went on and you felt a stab in your chest.

You wanted to reply something, but as you were clearing your throat, you noticed how utterly dry it was and how it hurt.

Roman looked at you, breathing heavily with agitation. Then he realised that you wanted something and what it was. He leaned over to the bedside table on his side and grabbed an ice chip, putting it between your lips.

"Don't worry about fucking replying, 'kay? I'm sure you know how fucking stupid this was of you. And I already know that you're sorry. I can see it in your eyes," he rasped, kissing your forehead.

Then he stretched his arm to push a button, calling the doctor, as he explained by your questioning look. After that he lied down beside you again, his head back on your chest. You sighed quietly.

"Don't ever do that again. Please." That was a first. Roman never said 'please' or 'thank you'. "The next time you won't be this lucky. I don't want to have to fucking bury you, 'kay?” A pause. “When the doctor's checked you over, you'll need to rest again, I'm sure. I'll stay here, waiting for you."

A tear found its way out of your eye, running down the side of your face and into your hair. The ice chip has dissolved by then and while your throat didn't feel much better, you were sure to explode if you didn't say anything.

"I love you, Roman. I'm sorry, thank you," you croaked, a sob tearing from your raw throat.

He kissed your chest softly. "I adore you, too, my sweet boy."

[smokeybrandreviews]

Extra Credit

I’m approaching the end of my current Mas Effect play through and it’s been fantastic. As they always are. I just finished the Leviathan DLC and am about to start the Omega addition and it got me thinking about how the ME franchise has some of the best downloadable content in gaming. I’ve enjoyed almost all of them and, upon repeat completions, i figured its time i take a specific look at these extra missions and kind of work through why i love them so much. This list, some of my favorite content in the entire franchise, is definitely going to be sequel heavy because i can’t be bothered playing that first game. It’s hard to go back when you started with such a high bar.

Lair of the Shadow Broker

This one is an interesting gem. I really like the idea of the Shadow Broker but, more than that, I like Liara. She's my third favorite squad mate and that's saying a lot because this game is but on exceptions characters. You'll be hard-pressed to find one that sucks. I mean, f*ck Kaidan but everyone else leaves an impression. Liara wasn't apart of the SKWAD in ME2 and she was sorely missed. I didn't find that out until I played ME3 but, circling aback around to the second after completing my first run through the endgame, I was stunned. Liara is a boss and that Singularity is crazy overpowered. More than that, I just really liked fighting the Shadow Broker. Having a Yaag in the big chair was a stroke of genius, mostly because up to that point, we had never really seen one. Introducing them with a representative of that race being the Kingpin of Crime within the Mass Effect galaxy was amazing. Also, as kind of a cherry, their little interaction after everything on the Normandy was cute as f*ck, especially if you decide to romance her.

Omega

The Omega DLC is a whole f*cking mood. I love Omega just in general and missed it dearly during my run through vanilla Mass Effect 3. It's just something so homey about that crime infested, no man's land, of a world. A huge bonus is being able to actually, finally, play as Aria T'Loak; The Queen B*tch, herself! Because of this DLC, Aria became one of my favorite squad mates and it's a spot well earned. She's incredibly powerful, shredding through Cerberus and Adjutants alike. Similarly, Nyreen Kandros definitely makes an impression if a little fleeting. The first playable female Turian, a niche that Vetra Nyx would fill in Andromeda, I was thoroughly surprised by their design. Bioware actually out in a decent amount of effort to demonstrate the sexual dimorphism of the Turian race, unlike the goddamn Krogans. That sh*t was kind of a letdown. More that the dope character additions, just Omega, itself. Being able to actual explore areas of the station in all of it's grimy, dusty, rusty, glory is more than worth the price of admission.

Overlord

Overlord is a mixed bag but very rewarding play. The opening mission is exceptional, full of action and grandiose set piece as that satellite collapses in on itself. I loved that part. I loved what followed, less. They two missions to override the lock down were bogus as f*ck. Like, they were very clearly there to pad the run time basically. Neither one really felt necessary and I hate doing them. However, once you actually get into Atlas Station, that sh*t gets really real. I'm a slut for lore and Project Overlord is chock full of it. David shows you what happens to him, why he was treated the way he was, and when you finally free him, prepare to be absolutely horrified. The first time I saw that sh*t, I was incensed. Definitely nail that Paragon interrupt because f*ck Gavin, man! It's a happy ending for David as long as you chooses blue and do right by him. Why wouldn't you? I mean, unless you're a heartless f*cking monster, like his brother.

From Ashes

From a effect on gameplay, From Ashes is my favorite DLC in the entire franchise. Sure, you unlock Javik and he's dope, easily in my top ten favorite squad mates, but it's that f*cking Particle Rifle is a game changer. No ammo necessary. Short cooldown time. Absolutely ridiculous damage because of the continuous stream of raw, destructive, energy. A whole ass increase in power as the unit overheats. This gun is f*cking insane and I never leave home without it. Indeed, I complete From Ashes as soon as I can whenever I play ME3. This gun really makes short work of everything it sets it's sights on. As kind of an extra bonus, you get to see a bit of the Javik's cycle, too. Not a lot but, I must say, those Collectors look good in the enhanced ME3 graphics!

Stolen Memory

I love playing this thing. Aside from unlocking Kasumi, what is basically her loyalty mission, one you can do at anytime because of her DLC character nature, turns out to be a delightful change of pace. You're literally on one of her heists and it's a delight. Sure, everything devolves into Shepard shooting his way out of danger, of course it does, but even that is pretty fun to play. The cover system in Mass Effect 2 really shines in the back half of this level and makes for some rather strategic fire fights. There's one point where you can just destroy a battalion of mercs with a cannon to get out of a room and I live for that. Plus,you get to hang out with Kasumi and she is an absolute delight. Her banter is arguably the best in the game and you get a ton of it during this mission.

Leviathan

If the Citadel DLC didn't exist, Leviathan would be my favorite. This thing is an epic, lore driven, masterpiece of Mass Effect content. It's incredibly fun to play and alters the entire perceptive of the conflict you'd been fighting up to that point. The addition of the Leviathan race, itself, is a staggering revelations that alludes to so many narrative possibilities, it's hard to not to love this thing. I want to know more about them. I want to know more abut their world. I want to know more about their tech. I want to know everything and how it may tie into the original Mass Effect plot with the whole Dark Energy thing. There isn't really anything outside of that story enhancing content but I still love playing this extra mission and never pass on it.

Citadel

I mean, it's the Citadel. It's easily the best written thing in the entire Mass Effect franchise. It's the real ending to a trilogy played and I loved every second of it. Citadel is a love letter to fans and you really feel that, even after the main mission content which was filled with so much levity and tongue-in-cheek references. It's an absolute masterpiece and, as a fan, it's a must play. This is probably the shortest entry on this list but it's just that matter-of-fact. It had to be Citadel. Any other choice would have been wrong.

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x16 - What happens in Vegas... (part 2 of part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to – The hospital location.  As soon as they arrive, they figure they must have made some kind of mistake. It is in fact a Psychiatric Hospital, but it looks like it has been abandoned for years.

UBER DRIVER: Looks like you might have the wrong address…

KAI: It’s the right address, look (shows Damon his phone with last night’s route).

DAMON: Guess it is…

UBER DRIVER: Are you sure you guys want me to leave you here?

IKER: Trust us, man, after last night, it can’t get any crazier.

UBER DRIVER: If you say so. Good luck! (Drives away).

ALARIC: (Looking at the creepy place, already regretting whatever they did there the previous night) Why?! Why on earth would we come here!

DAMON: Guessing princess bride here (referring to Kai), had something to do with that.

IKER: There is no way that call came from here...

DAMON: Let’s check it out. We’ll do it fast, in and out; just to make sure Stefan isn’t passed out somewhere inside.

ALARIC: I’m getting too old for this shit…

DAMON: Oh, come on, Ric! Think of it as another one of your Indiana Jones adventures (mocking him for the photos he took in cosplay), the Last Crusade, if you like.

ALARIC: Shut up…

They go inside… the place is straight out of a horror movie.

 IKER: Okay, I’m officially creeped out.

DAMON: I say we split up; it’ll be faster and we can cover more ground.

KAI: Have you ever seen a horror movie? That’s exactly the kind of decision that gets everybody killed… Trust me, I would know.

DAMON: Fine, Michael Myers, you can come with me. 

We’ll look this way... Iker, you and Ric can search down that corridor.

IKER: Sounds like a plan. But, 20 minutes max, then we meet back here.

DAMON: 20 tops. (Teasing, as him and Kai are walking away) Oh, and watch out for the killer clown…

IKER: Yo, don’t play with that shit, man! You know I hate clowns...

ALARIC: So do you, Damon. So, if anyone is pissing their pants, my money is on you. 

(Damon and Kai walk towards one direction, Iker and Alaric, towards another).

KAI: Do you really think Stefan is here? I mean, I know he’s dark and gloomy, but this is a bit extreme… even for me.

DAMON: The only reason we are here is because your crazy ass is definitely responsible for dragging us here last night.

KAI: Yeah, probably… but still, creepy AF…

DAMON: Now you know how we feel when you’re around. But… what I am really intrigued about, is how the hell you joined our little party.

You must remember at least getting on a plane or something...  

KAI: No… Last thing I remember, I was taking a nap, and then… puff! I woke up here…

DAMON: You couldn’t have driven; so how the hell did you get here… Makes no sense.

KAI: Ooh…! What if I can do that Bonster trick?! That’d be freakin awesome!

DAMON: Of course you can’t, that’s stupid. Unless… No, no, I refuse to believe that…

KAI: What? You think Bonster...? Hey, it makes more sense than the alternatives…

DAMON: No way! Hell no! Let’s just drop this little mystery of ours and do what we came here to do… (they continue searching; suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks) Shhhhh, do you hear that?

KAI: What? No…

DAMON: Listen…

KAI: I am! I don’t hear anything…

DAMON: I thought you had vamp hearing…. Listen harder.

KAI: (Standing completely still and in total silence, trying to listen…)

DAMON: (Does a vamp speed trick, scares the shit out of Kai) Killer clown!

KAI: Jesus mother of Christ! (Damon cracks up) Not funny, asshole! 

I literally almost shit myself! And, I’m hung over, so that was a real possibility!  

DAMON: Ew, no, no, no… you’re disgusting.

KAI: Just being honest… don’t act like you don’t know what that’s about.

DAMON: Yeah, no... definitely not having this conversation! 

Come on, let’s pick up the paste; vamp speed our way through this place before we become the victims of the “based on a true story” Saw movie.

Cut to – Iker and Alaric

 ALARIC: Sorry we got you into this mess, man.

IKER: No worries. I’m used to it. These types of situations pretty much sums up what it’s like being friends with Damon.

ALARIC: Tell me about it. My life said goodbye to “normal” the day we became friends.

IKER: Ditto (they laugh in complicity).

ALARIC: He’s a good guy, though. I mean, considering…

IKER: He is… I’m really glad Bonnie gave him a chance; never seen him this happy… like, really happy.

ALARIC: Me neither… I think we both know he wasn’t truly happy with Elena. Don’t tell her I said that… but no matter how hard they tried; it just wasn’t going to work; too messy. Gotta say, it’s kind of ironic that when he “got the girl”, turned out it wasn’t the “right girl” … After all his love drama, it was about time he finally found “the one”.

IKER: It sure was… Hey, man, look…  (spots something strange ahead, vamps to it. It’s a black garbage bag; which wouldn’t be all that strange if it weren’t new). Check this out… (Alaric opens the bag, and starts taking memorabilia from iconic Britney Spears videos, which are clearly originals) What the…

ALARIC: I’m starting to believe Stefan wasn’t kidding…

IKER: Nah… you don’t think… Can’t be, right?!

ALARIC: When those two (referring to Damon and Stefan) team-up, anything is possible, so… maybe?

IKER: Oh, shit! This is getting crazier than I thought!

ALARIC: Straight out insane. Let’s go back. I’m pretty sure Stefan isn’t here, and this place is giving me the chills.

IKER: Me too… (they head back to the meeting point).

Cut back to Kai and Damon.

 KAI: We’ve searched everywhere, I really don’t think he’s here…

DAMON: You’re right. Another dead end; let’s go back. (Just as they are about to turn around, Damon spots something) Wait… do you see that?

KAI: Hell no! I’m not falling again.

DAMON: No, I’m serious. Look... (they see something shiny. Damon takes a closer look, picks it up) It’s Donovan’s badge.

KAI: So, they were definitely here with us…Anything else?

DAMON: Nop, just the badge.

KAI: Well, let’s head back, see what we all make of it. This place is really starting to freak me out… the vibes, you know?

DAMON: Yeah, I know… (they speed vamp back to the meeting point and reunite with Alaric and Iker).

ALARIC: Find anything? Cause we did…

DAMON: Stefan?!

ALARIC: No, this (shows him the bag with the memorabilia).

DAMON: What is all this?

IKER: (Teasing) You know perfectly well what it is…

KAI: All too well, sweetheart.

DAMON: At least I didn’t get married in a tutu, princess.

KAI: That princess thing got old like an hour ago. You really need to start thinking outside the box, Damon.

DAMON: That’s right! Yes! A box! I remember a box!

ALARIC: Great! And…?

DAMON: That’s it, that’s all I got.

ALARIC: (Sarcastic) Very helpful, Damon.

DAMON: Well, we also found this… (shows them Matt’s badge)

ALARIC: Interesting… still not a lot to go on, but that confirms we were all here. Listen, guys, I may have a theory…I still don’t know how, or why, but I believe we actually did go to Britney’s house, the real Britney; at some point during the night…Look at the props; they don’t seem fake… Which brings me to the conclusion, that we must have stolen them from her house. Now, as for why? … I have no fucking idea, and I can live without knowing…

KAI: The Britney Spears?! Nah, there’s no way we would be able to break into her house!

DAMON: But what if we didn’t break in… What if, and just hear me out on this, Sheriff Donovan pulled the cop card… and that’s how they let us in.

ALARIC: Matt wouldn’t do that.

DAMON: Maybe not sober, but…

ALARIC: Still, they wouldn’t have let a wasted cop and his pals in for some tea.

KAI: But if we sneaked in… let’s say, hiding inside a police car?

IKER: A police car! Yes! I told you I remembered something about a police car; it was one of those suv ones…

DAMON: We must have stolen one…

IKER: Wouldn’t be a long shot.

DAMON: Don’t those things have trackers though? They would have found us in seconds.

KAI: Not if you know how to disable a tracking device… which I do.

DAMON: Why am I not surprised…

KAI: I had a lot of time on my hands, figured I’d learn a trick or two.

ALARIC: Okay, this is getting even more confusing. I say we go back to the villa, for all we know Stefan might be back. We can check the hotel parking lot, see if we find a stolen cop car; work it from there.

KAI: Agreed. We really need to get out of this place; freaking me TF out. Uber’s on me. 

(They wait for a while, until their uber arrives. As they drive away, on one of the top floor windows, a freaky clown waves goodbye).

Cut to – The boy’s hotel villa. They walk inside, and hear the piano playing…

 DAMON: It’s that damn monkey! (They walk into the living room, only to find Britney Spears, in the flesh, playing the piano).

BRITNEY: Hello, boys…

KAI: Britney…the Britney Spears…?

BRITNEY: The one and only…

KAI: (Totally fanboying) Oh my god! 

DAMON: (Totally fanboying too) OMG! OMG! OMG! It’s Britney, bitches!

BRITNEY: Aw, you’re  sweet… 

(takes a gun out of her purse and points it at them). Now, shut the fuck up and tell me where the hell is the rest of my stuff!!

ALARIC: Wow, wow, wow… please, don’t shoot! It’s right here (hands her the bag, she looks through it).

BRITNEY: You’re lucky I like to handle somethings on my own. You’d all be dead if my security were involved…

DAMON: (Still fanboying) Lucky… I love that song!

BRITNEY: Now, where is Stefan? We need to settle this little feud of ours, once and for all.

ALARIC: Wouldn’t we all like to know…

BRITNEY: What do you mean? He was with you (referring to Damon), the cop, and the howling boy, at my house last night.

DAMON: Wait, so, neither of these guys were there with us?

BRITNEY: No… but if you had brought him (referring to Iker), maybe things could have turned out differently (winks at Iker).

Tell you what, boys, I’ll help you find him. As long as you help me get my long-awaited trophy win, on “Mr. Bon Jovi”.

DAMON: Wait… so that concert story; that was you? 

I thought Stefan was messing with me!

BRITNEY: Oh, that was me… Prick made me think he was Bon Jovi, I was totally fangirling, so embarrassing. That was before I got really famous, and I met the real John. Made me feel like a fool when I told John we had met before, and he was like: “uhm, no we haven’t”. So, as you can understand, it was only fitting that I would get him back for that.

DAMON: I’m with you, Brit, Stefan is a dick!

ALARIC: Can you give us any insight on what happened at your place? Might help us figure out where he is.

BRITNEY: I know from my security cameras that they used a police suv to gain access. Then you (referring to Damon), did some weird eye thing to my security team, and they just stood there, doing nothing. I also know from the cameras, that Stefan took my babies Justi and Kevi (referring to the baby elephant and the monkey). And you (to Damon), stole the memorabilia I had from my videos… My red leather suit better be intact, or I’mma kill you!

DAMON: Oops…

IKER: Don’t you dare say: “I did it again”...

BRITNEY: Wait… I think I might know where he is… Back when we first met, we were here, in Vegas. He took me to this spot in the desert he liked to go to; he’s such a weirdo… Anyway, maybe he went there? You know, for old times’ sake…

ALARIC: Maybe… but it’s gonna be hard to find a “spot” in the middle of the desert, and we don’t have much time; our plane is leaving in like 3 hours.

BRITNEY: Well, if you want to go back home with the rest of your pack, you really don’t have much of a choice.

KAI: There’s no way we are going to find him if he is in the middle of the desert.

BRITNEY: It’s Britney, bitch! 

Of course we’ll find him. Listen, you boys take the cop van and follow mine, I’ll lead you to the spot.

IKER: Except, we don’t know where it is…

BRITNEY: (Smirks) But I do… (shows them live cctv footage from inside the cop car) See, boys, I have eyes everywhere! It’s in the parking lot.

 (They go to the car and find Matt and Tyler inside, a cellphone in Matts hand, and a lot of empty bottles lying around. As expected, neither of them remember anything about the previous night; it’s a miracle they even know who they are. The only thing they keep repeating, and cracking up about is, Rawson Neal Psychiatric Hospital. They are clearly either still drunk or high on something. They decide it’s best they stay behind and get some rest in the villa. Damon, Iker, Alaric and Kai get in the cop car, and follow Britney to the site.)

 BRITNEY: Okay, boys, this is the spot.  (They get out of the car, start looking around. She get’s out as well, points the gun at them). Did you really think I was going to help you?! Aw, cuties…no one messes with the Brit! I gave Stefan his, now it’s time for yours …

KAI: But, Britney, what about us (referring to himself, Iker, and Alaric)? We didn’t do anything!

BRITNEY: Guilty by association… Now, give me your clothes, and the car keys… Quick, or I swear I’ll shoot! (They hand her the stuff; she gets in her car. Just as she is about to take-off, she opens her window) If you want to know where Stefan is; it’s easy, he’s exactly where he belongs… Good luck trying to find an uber to pick you up here… And, by the way, sweetheart (talking to Damon), there’s only one princess of pop, and it ain’t you. 

(Gives them the finger, and drives away).

DAMON: (Looking heartbroken) But… Britney…

ALARIC: (Sarcastic) Well, isn’t this peachy!

IKER: At least she left us our phones.

ALARIC: There is no way we are going to catch that flight, or find Stefan any time soon. I think it’s time to call Caroline…

DAMON: Shit! Shit! Shit!... Fine… I’ll do it… (dials). Care, it’s Damon… Listen ...The bachelor party got a little crazy and, well...we lost Stefan.

BONNIE: Uhm…think we might have a problem of our own…

DAMON: Bon?

BONNIE: It’s me, I think… Anyway; the bachelorette got a little crazy too, and, well… we lost Caroline.

TVD 9x16 (part 2) coming next! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =)

[hoodoo12]

Private Lesson

Dewey Finn appreciation continues! Based on an rp with the always delightful, insanely talented @beetlebitchywitch. NSFW: Dewey/f!reader. Flirting, Dewey being oblivious, the light comes on, smut! Enjoy!

⁂

“You know, Dewey,” she said, “I'm not in a rock band. But I play piano, so I've got manual dexterity, and I play saxophone so I have pretty good breath control too. I wonder if either of those things interest you at all?”

As always when the discussion of music was even breathed near him, he brightened, “Oh, you looking to join a band? Mine’s kinda just made of kids, but I’m sure they’d love a jam session with you!”

She gave him a bit of a smile, and decided to play along for the moment.

“It'd have to be a jazz band, not rock,” she mused. “I kind of like the big band sound, and some of those male vocalists? Yeah. That’s my preference.”

“I bet you’d do great at that!” he enthused. “Jazz isn’t really my thing, but as long as you’re passionate about it, you’ll make great music.”

He was clueless and adorable. She decided to up the ante. “I think it'd be fun making some music with you, if you're interested . . .”

His brow furrowed. “ . . .wait.”

She raised her eyebrows and her smile widened.

“ . . . I think I get it,” he continued in her silence.

Did he, though? “No kids though. It'd have to be a private lesson.”

“You, uh. You talking about a . . .” He gulped. “ . . .  private lesson?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed.” I don't know anything about guitar, so you'd have to show me the fingerings. You know?

A blush began creeping up his cheeks. “I . . . I do know a thing or two about f-fingering . . .”

“I bet you do, Dewey.” she agreed, licking her lip just to make it shiny. “I know that lots of guitarists have calloused fingers too--I dated a bassist, once--but that's okay. Shows you're dedicated to what you like.”

He was getting more flustered, but instead of shutting down, he choked out, “Did you, uh . . . did you like the callouses?

“Sure did! It's an interesting contrast on . . . softer skin. And since the fingertips lose a little bit of feeling when those callouses are there, a little extra attention, like a little harder suction, is needed. Musicians hands always need some massaging and care.”

He was bright red at this point, gazing at her with wide eyes as if seeing her for the first time. “Would you, um . . . Christ, sorry, forget it . . . ”

“Would I what?” she prompted softly. “It's okay, Dewey. What were you going to ask?”

“Well, I . . . it’s just . . . I’dbetyou’dfeelreallysoft . . .”

His slurred words took a second to decipher, then she grinned. "Come here and feel?"

She held a hand out to him, palm up.

He approached her slowly, his cheeks pleasantly pink as he gazed at her hand.

“O-okay . . .”

He reached out and touched her hand, and oh god, he was right, her skin was so soft. He shuddered as he traced his calloused fingertips in light circles around her palm.

She let him rub circles into her palm, even though it tickled a little and he seemed shy about such innocent contact. Smiling at him, she asked, "Do I get to return the favor?"

His eyes flitted back up to hers and he nodded softly, mirroring her gesture with his palm faced up, his hands trembling slightly.

She took a second to rub her hands briskly, to warm them, then took his hand into hers. Using her thumbs, she pushed into his palm before dragging them out, and repeating the motion. She used more gentle pulling motions on each individual finger, adding minor twists to loosen any stiffness he might have in a joint. She paid special attention to his fingertips, like she'd mentioned, applying slightly harder pressure on the callouses he'd created with the strings of his guitar.

She laced her fingers with his and stretched everything backwards, again to loosen it all, and finished after another quickly rubbing her hand together again, for the heat. She squeezed his hands lightly, when she was done.

"That would've been better with some lotion," she told him sheepishly. "Maybe next time?"

He watched her intently as she massaged his hand, putting so much care into a simple action in a way that just did something to him. God, he felt so pathetic, getting so worked up over someone just touching his hand, but something about the way her soft fingers soothed the overworked muscles sent hot pleasure racing through him. He hated to admit it, but he was getting hard in his pants from the simplest of touches, this gentle, caring gesture that just made him want to fall to his knees and worship her where she stood.

“Y-yeah . . . ” he stammered, his mouth feeling utterly dry. “Next time . . .”

"Well, I'm sure other parts could use a little attention too. I bet you store a lot of tension in that shoulder where your guitar strap digs in, and everybody's back needs some rubbing too . . . of course, it'd be best if you didn't have a shirt on for that . . ."

“Yeah, no, I can do that!” he said hurriedly, fumbling with his shirt as he rushed to take it off. The thought of those soft, warm hands on his back . . . he tried to readjust himself discreetly, not wanting to embarrass himself.

She plucked the shirt out of his hand where he'd balled it up and folded it semi-neatly. Dragging her fingertips across his now bare shoulders, she smiled.

"This might be better if you're laying down," she advised, "but the only place that would be comfortable enough is the bed. Would that be okay?"

He shivered at the light tickle of her fingertips along his shoulder, and with a soft nod, he was laying out across the bed, thankfully on his stomach so to hide his growing arousal.

She hummed her satisfaction and crawled up beside him.

She focused on his left shoulder first. working out the kinks driven into the muscle by that guitar strap. She could feel the knots there, and used heavy pressure to try and loosen them. Worried she'd go overboard, however, she left it be and worked on his right shoulder, as well as his neck.

Quietly she asked him to cross his arms and rest his forehead on them, and when  he complied, she pressed her thumbs into the muscle near the back of his head, on either side of his neck.

Then she moved down the rest of his back, using sweeping motions and moderate pressure to relax him. His back was warm and soft under her hands, and she tried to make sure not to tickle him as she worked her way to his waist.

In his lower back, she traced around the dimples she found there a few times because they were cute, then she once again used moderate pressure on the area. Her fingers dipped under the waistband of his jeans--that was a mistake, she should have had him shed those too, no one could be comfortable getting a massage in jeans!--but she didn't make it awkward.

She finished it all with very light scratches, and impulsively, she pressed a kiss right between his shoulder blades.

Fuck. Her hands were heavenly, her touch just firm enough to loosen his tense muscles. She touched him slowly, softly, and Christ it was driving him fucking wild. When her touch grew slightly more adventurous, he perked up, feeling like there was electricity buzzing under his skin. But God, when she pressed that soft little kiss on his back, that was it. He let out a pathetic, reedy moan of her name, his entire body trembling underneath her.

She laughed a little, not unkindly, at his moan. Her hands tingled. "So you're feeling good, Dewey? Anything else I can do for you?"

Teasingly, she drew one finger down his back again.

“I-I . . . yes,” he sighed, arching up into the teasing touch with a soft moan. “Christ, I’ve been hard this whole fucking time, baby . . .”

Who needed shame when a hot woman was fucking massaging him?

"Oh! Well, that must not've been too comfortable! Why don't you lose those jeans, and I'll see what I can do to make you feel better in the front too."

He perked up, looking over his shoulder at her questioningly, as if to make sure she meant it. When he saw she did, he shuffled out of his jeans as quickly as he could, struggling for a moment before tossing them away. He was left in only his boxer briefs, his cock straining obviously against the fabric.

Her eyes took him in hungrily, and very lightly, she ran her palms up him, from thigh to chest. She grazed over the bulge at his crotch with the softest, most barely-there touch.

"Those have to be tight too . . ." she told him, nodding towards his underwear. "They should probably go."

He met her gaze, his shyness melting away to pure hunger.

“Then take them off,” he said softly.

Biting her lip but smiling through it at his boldness, her fingers hooked into the elastic at his waist. With a little tug to indicate he needed to lift his hips, she shimmied them over his ass, made sure not to get them caught on his cock, and pulled them down his legs in one determined movement. She wrangled one of his feet out, but left his underwear around the other ankle, to tease.

His cock slapped against his stomach, achingly hard and begging to be touched. He stared her down hungrily, his eyes roving her body.

“Shouldn’t I get to see some skin too, babe? I mean, I am naked for you...”

He smiled slyly, his eyes clearly lingering on her breasts.

"Yes, you certainly are," she agreed.

She couldn't help but scratch lightly down his sides, over his stomach. She'd have dragged her finger down the line of hair from his belly button to his pubic bone, but it was covered by his cock and she didn't want to touch him there just yet.

"That's fair. I have a tattoo and piercings. I hope that's okay," she told him, but pulled her t-shirt off over her head before he could agree or disagree. She let her shirt drop beside the bed, and her bra followed it.

“Okay? It’s hot as fuck, babe,” he groaned, finally getting to take in the sight of her without her shirt on. “Christ . . . you’re beautiful . . . ”

His voice and eyes grew soft, taking her in like she was a work of art.

That unsolicited praise made her blush.

She crawled a little further up the bed on her hands and knees. She watched him watch her, and it made her catch her breath.

"It's not really a standard massage move--more of an advanced one--" She chuckled to show it was a joke, "--but to be thorough, I should probably make sure your lips are relaxed too . . ."

She leaned over him, and softly pressed her mouth on his.

He moaned into her lips, wrapping his arms around her waist and spreading his hands out over her back. Christ, her skin was so soft, smooth and wonderful against his calloused fingers. He kissed her back softly, chuckling a bit at her comment.

“You can drop the whole massage shtick, you know,” he said, pulling away with a little wink. “I think we’re past that at this point, right babe?”

She laughed into his mouth, her eyes bright, looking at him in amusement. "Should I go back to calling it a private lesson?"

He laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth and adoration for the woman above him.

“Let’s call it what it is,” he said softly, leaning in for an equally soft kiss. “Now . . . Christ, please touch me . . . ”

"I thought you'd never ask, lover," she replied, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Immediately she lay down beside him, hiked on an elbow, using one hand to scratch and massage down his torso. This time, when she neared his cock, she didn't bypass it.  Wrapping her hand around him, she gave him a tug, then another. She stopped watching her hand to glance at his face for his reaction.

His face crumpled as her hand moved up and down his cock. God, he was so sensitive, having been hard and waiting for so long. He bucked up into her hand with his mouth hung open, little whimpers spilling from his lips.

She liked that he jerked into her and his whimpers were sweet. That was all good, but it could be better. She stroked him with a little more intent, giving him a twist when she reached the head of his cock with each upward pull.

“F-fuck,” he moaned shakily, reaching out to brace his hand on her shoulder. Her hand was so soft, and she was using the perfect amount of pressure as she stroked him, it was driving him fucking crazy.

“Babe . . . fuck, c’mere.” He surged up, pushing her onto her back and moving to hover over her.

"Uh-uh, lover," she protested, and flipped him right back to where he'd been: on his back. "Maybe next time you get to be in charge."

To keep him in place, she quickly shed her pants and panties and then climbed up over him and sat on his upper thighs. She walked her fingers up his stomach to his chest, and she rolled his nipples.

He threw his head back with a desperate moan, bucking up into her touch as the little noises poured from his lips. This was not how he expected this to go, but honestly, he wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

She smiled down at him, loving the moans she dragged out of him. She pinched him again before stretching upward to kiss him, harder this time, slipping her tongue between his lips.

The position had moved her more onto his groin, but she held herself up for the moment. Her belly and chest on his, she wiggled against him, skin on skin.

“B-babe!” he cried out, holding tightly onto her hips as she ground down onto him. Christ, she felt so good, all warm and smooth skin under his hands.

"Mmm--that feels nice," she cooed, even as she sat up a little bit. She pried one of his hands off her hip and transferred it to her right tit. She closed his fingers over the captive bead piercing in her own nipple.

"Be nice," she said, in mock warning.

“Mmf, yes ma’am,” he groaned, kneading her breast in his hand.

He let his fingers play with the bar pierced through her nipple, pinching and twisting her nipple while gazing up at her in adoration.

"Oh, that's fucking good," she moaned.

The sharp pleasure Dewey created with his rough fingertips made her arch her back, which in turn dropped her pussy to his cock. It wasn't the perfect position, his shaft laying the length of her slit, but she ground down on him anyway, continuing to moan and giggle a little.

“Oh god,” he groaned gutturally, bucking his hips to grind the length of his cock along her pussy. Christ, she was fucking wet, all hot and slick against him and it was driving him fucking crazy. He continued playing with her nipple, loving the feeling of the metal inside it.

His movements down below made his cock rub along her clit, and she jerked like it'd been a live wire.

"Fuck--Dewey! Do that again!" she ordered, but it came out more like a plea.

He continued grinding up against her, throwing his head back with a reedy moan at the feeling of her slick warming his cock.

She dropped her head as he complied, and gave a little gaspy moan with each bump of the head of his cock on her clit.

Like before, it was good, but it could be better.

She leaned down again dislodging his hand from her now overstimulated nipple. She kissed him, then dragged her mouth along his jaw till she got to his ear. She nipped the lobe, and rasped.

"I wanna fuck you, Dewey Finn--right now!"

He kissed her back sweetly, burying his fingers in her hair. When she moved to nibble at his ear, he groaned, biting at his lower lip at the sound of her filthy words.

“Then fuck me,” he retorted.

She snorted--like what he'd said was some kind of challenge?--nipped him a little harder on his ear and sat back up. Dragging her fingernails down his chest and belly again, she reached between her legs and grasped his cock. She gave it a twisting pull, like before, then let him go and brought her hand back up to her mouth to lick it. She kept direct eye contact with the man below her as she did, then slipped her hand back down. One last time she wrapped her hand around him, this time wet, and held him steady while she rocked her hips and found exactly where she wanted him to be.

With a little resistance because yes, she'd been turned on while massaging and teasing him but with the exception of a bit of humping not much else had happened between her legs, she arched her back and pushed down onto him. Once he opened her up, her cunt took him fully, and she paused for a moment, seated at his pelvis for a moment, waves of pleasure making her moan long and low.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he groaned while she sank down onto him.

If he thought her just grinding on his cock was incredible, god, the feeling of her tight, wet pussy gripping him was almost too much to handle. He gazed up at her, and Christ was she hot, her tits just begging to be squeezed where they hung above her belly.

She sat upright on him and gently rolled her hips, keeping him deep inside her. She cupped her tits, and seeing him lick his lips as she did she leaned back down for a moment. The positioning wasn't perfect, so she asked him to sit up, and she bunched up and shoved the pillows behind him to keep him angled more upright. It was awkward for a moment, trying to balance with his cock inside her as he settled back, but once he had, her tits were closer to his mouth. She grinned and, tugging just a bit on her piercing to make the nipple stand up again, she cupped it and offered it to him with raised eyebrows.

He looked up at her for a second with eyes full of wonder before he latched on, rolling his tongue around the hardened bud and groaning against the cool metal of the piercing. He wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her as he thrusted up into her, craving the delicious slide of his cock in her pussy.

Like a circuit being completed, bliss arced through her. She wrapped her now free hand around his head, keeping him close. She'd have been happy to keep fucking him, but with his feet planted on the bed he pushed up into her, and it was divine. She cried out in time with his thrusts, his cock creating the most delicious friction even as her pussy grew wetter.

"D-Dewey!" she stuttered. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, please--bite harder, just a little harder, oh fuck fuck fuck--"

Christ, she was fucking incredible. He was in awe of her as she rode him, tits bouncing as he teased her nipple with his tongue before nipping at it, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin. He pulled away, looking up at her with dark, wild eyes.

“That’s it, baby, Jesus you feel--mmf, fuck--you feel so good!”

"Fuck! You too, you too," she babbled.

Everything was building to a peak. He'd left off her tit but that didn't matter any more, the only thing that existed in the world right now was the man below her, his cock in her pussy, his hands so tight on her skin, his dirty praise. Her throat hurt from the sharp panting and moans he pulled from her, and then it all stilled. In the next moment, she came, hard, his name choked out, every bit of her clenching as euphoria rolled in waves over her. For a millisecond of eternity, it was sublime. It took a bit before she could open her eyes again, and her ears were ringing.

Oh god. Oh god. She was utterly divine, riding him within an inch of his life, hands scrabbling for purchase on his chest and pretty little noises spilling from her lips. And god, when she came, it was all too much. Her pussy clenched around him so fucking tightly and it was all over. He gripped her hips tightly and came with a loud moan, spilling into her as absolute sublime pleasure ripped through his body.

Although there were still residual tremors of pleasure, she wasn't so far gone that she couldn't enjoy the sights and sounds of Dewey coming undone below her.

"Good--oh baby, it's so fucking good--come inside me, oh fuck, Dewey--!" she praised as he tipped over the edge of ecstasy. His hands pinched her, but it was worth the small ache to watch his face as he lost himself.

When he relaxed, she relaxed too, folding over and laying on his chest, but not lifting her hips so he stayed buried in her pussy. With her cheek on his shoulder, she drew abstract designs in the hair on his chest.

He panted softly as he came down, the feeling of his cum dripping from her pussy practically making his head spin. She was so incredibly warm and wet around him, and the pleasurable feeling fizzled out slowly as she shifted to snuggle up to him.

“W-wow . . .”

"Wow yourself," she agreed. "Thanks for all that, Dewey. It was amazing."

“You don’t have to thank me,” he sighed happily, twirling a strand of her hair in his fingers. “The pleasure was all mine . . . well, all ours I suppose.”

She picked up her head to look at him.

"It was amazing," she repeated, and kissed him under the jaw, in his scruff. "I appreciate the private lesson. Maybe next time you could show me some of that fingering you mentioned?"

He grinned, pulling her down into a slow, sweet kiss.

“Anytime, babe,” he said. “Anytime.” fin!

[ordinaryschmuck]

Top 20 BEST Animated Series of the 2010s-6th Place

…

Can someone please explain how it is possible that #6 can somehow be one of the best shows in the 2010s, yet somehow it can also be one of the worst?

#6-Rick and Morty (2013-)

The Plot: A nihilistic scientist named Rick Sanchez returns to his daughter and joins her family to the dismay of...well, everyone else. The one who gets the most anxiety is Rick’s grandson, Morty, who ends up getting dragged alongside Rick on adventures across the cosmos and even the multiverse. From there, they face dangerous aliens, Rick’s old enemies, and even evil alternate versions of themselves. Not because those threats are a danger to the universe. It's because they’re just a pain in the ass to deal with.

Now that I got the plot out of the way, I want to take the chance to briefly rant about why Rick and Morty is one of the worst things that could have come to television. It has nothing to do with the show itself (far from it, in fact). The real reason why Rick and Morty is the worst has everything to do with its fandom. I know, I know. I shouldn’t use a show’s fandom to judge it. Because if I did, then half the series on this list would be blasted into the sun. But the Rick and Morty fandom is the one exception to that rule. Because unlike most toxic fandoms that stick with being a-holes to other people on the internet, the Rick and Morty fandom actually affects real life. They take quotes from the show that were fun to say and repeat them so much that those quotes become the most annoying words created by man. This fandom also drove McDonalds up a wall because Rick briefly mentions how delicious the Szechuan sauce was, and the “fans” ended up breaking McDonalds when they briefly brought it back. But nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is more annoying than how these people react when someone says they don’t like the show.

You see, according to the fandom, “Rick and Morty operates on a higher form of intelligence that far exceeds all shows known to man. If you don’t enjoy it, then you’re just a big old dumb fjdlfjkdlfjoidsahjipfojewoitufd9gt9geijo parwfu9--” SHUT THE F**K UP! Ok?! Shut up! Just shut up! Because Rick and Morty is NOT the smartest T.V. show on the planet. It’s not even CLOSE to the most intelligent show on television. It’s smarter than most shows. I’ll give it that. But if you want to ask me which show was the most intelligent, I will more than willingly say Futurama. You know. The show is actually written by people with three PhDs and seven master's degrees. Hell, I’d be more willing to say that The Amazing World of Gumball is smarter than Rick and Morty. That’s right. I wholeheartedly believe that the show aimed for children-F**KING CHILDREN-is smarter than the show aimed for adults. And guess what, Rick and Morty fans! It doesn't require Stephen Hawking's levels of intelligence to enjoy the show. You can easily be a C+ high school student and still think the show is good. I should know because I’ve caught classmates who are C+ students watching the show while IN CLASS! AND THEY ENJOYED EVERY MINUTE OF IT! NOT BECAUSE IT WAS BRILLIANT! NOT BECAUSE IT WAS A MASTERPIECE SENT BY THE BIG GUY HIMSELF! BUT BECAUSE IT IS LIKE EVERY OTHER SHOW THAT IS AIMED FOR ADULTS! WITH LOW BROW AND HIGH BROW HUMOR, GRATUITOUS VIOLENCE, BUTT UGLY ANIMATION, AND CHARACTERS WHO ACT LIKE A**HOLES TO EACH OTHER BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT ADULTS LIKE TO SEE ON TELEVISION!

>SCREAMS WITH INSANITY<

>Huff<

>Puff<

Man, that’s twice in a row when a show has nearly driven me to the brink of insanity. That can’t be any good.

…

Aw well. Not that I’ve got that rant out of the way, allow me to actually talk about the show itself and why it actually is pretty amazing.

First and foremost is the show’s comedy. While the jokes aren’t “brilliant masterpieces,” they are jokes that get you thinking from time to time. They also come pretty fast, so even when one dies, another funnier joke immediately comes after. This show also dabbles in two different senses of humor: Absurdity and being super dark. The way absurd and dark humor works are by giving viewers no other reaction other than laughing at a situation. Because how else would you react to squirrels running the government or the idea that Hitler cured cancer in an alternate dimension? I mean, other than being confused and disgusted by things such as that. This is why humor, like most things, is subjective. Not everyone will find the same things funny, and, understandably, they don’t. I personally can’t stop laughing in most episodes of Rick and Morty, but I would never verbally attack another person for saying something different. So chill the f**k out when a person says they don’t think the show is funny! Besides, other cool pros that come from Rick and Morty.

One spectacular thing is the show’s attention to detail. And I don’t just mean in terms of animation. The stories are pretty airtight most of the time, and rarely do I find a plot hole within. The best example is the twist in “The Ricklantis Mixup.” The episode itself is already pretty good, but having prior knowledge of the final big reveal leads to looking at specific scenes in a new light. As for the animation, there’s also great detail within it. Like in the background, to be more exact. The show goes out of its way to make each new world that Rick and Morty visits look as unique as possible, which should really be the goal for a sci-fi series if you ask me. And can we give a round of applause to whoever designs the characters in this show? I mean, the characters look hideous (which is something I never understood in adult animation. Seriously, who was the idiot that thought it was a good idea that you have to make your characters look as ugly as possible to be considered for adults?), but each character in this series--background and foreground--looks unique. Usually, most shows stick to having similar models reused and redesigned to give the illusion that the background characters are different. But in Rick and Morty? There is rarely a time when one creature looks the same as the other. And when they do, it’s usually for a purpose such as an alien species that looks the same or making an identical alternate version of Rick and Morty.

Speaking of, what is by far the best thing about Rick and Morty is...well, Rick and Morty. These two not only have a great dynamic, but they even have great chemistry with each other. Because whenever a show advertises its central hook being its dynamic duo, the same pair must have perfect interactions. And boy, is it hilarious seeing these bounce off of one another. Their synergy is always hilarious, and at times it can be surprisingly heartwarming. In fact, what I love most about these two is how they sort of learn from each other. Rick is still a nihilistic a-hole to those around him, but he seems to back off the most when he’s around Morty (most of the time). And while Morty still puts his foot down when it comes to Rick’s pure unadulterated...Rickness, he also has moments where he seems to share his grandfather's nihilistic views. I rarely ever seen this, as most dynamic duos keep their intended personalities to keep audiences entertained. And while I’ve heard fans complain about how the show makes Rick more human and Morty more like a Rick, I personally enjoy how much of an engaging character study these two represent.

Unfortunately, while Rick and Morty are easily the most intriguing characters in their series, they are also the only characters worth mentioning. Summer is fine, I guess, but most of the time, it feels like the writers aren’t sure what to do with her. Is she a slacker? A cliche teenage girl? Rick’s number one fan? I don’t know because most of the time, it feels like her personality is dependent on what the writers want in an episode. She isn’t bad, but some consistency would be nice. As for other characters, there really aren't that many who are worth mentioning. Most of them are either bit characters who serve the purpose of making a joke or are just one-off villains that our “heroes” face. Now there isn’t anything wrong with that, especially considering the latter. After all, when you watch Bugs Bunny screw around with someone who's wronged him, it’s always that Wascally Wabbit you remember the most. Still, I wish there were a couple more characters the show could invest in. And I know, last time I complained about a show that had too many characters. However, the opposite extreme isn’t that great either. Personally, I feel as though a series should have a moderately sized cast, where there are enough personalities to work off of, and you won’t have to recycle ideas you’ve used with the characters you already have.

And seeing as how we’re on the topic of characters, there are two individuals that I need to talk about. In fact, these two characters are easily the worst thing about Rick and Morty (aside from the fandom). Those characters are Beth and Jerry. Sweet mother of all that is holy, these two are downright insufferable! For some reason, the writers think it would be entertaining to have a married couple always argue and bicker with each other. It isn’t. In fact, every time an episode moves away from Rick and Morty and decides to focus on these two, the show’s quality plummets on a lot of notches. You’ll want to see them get a divorce. You’ll PRAY that they get a divorce. And (actual spoilers) when they finally get a divorce in season 3, do you want to know what the worst part is? They are somehow worse apart than they are together (spoilers over). And you can argue who you think is worse all you want, but to me, the worst character is easily Beth. I personally don’t mind Jerry all that much. At his best, he’s hilariously pathetic, has a great dynamic with Rick, and I legitimately feel bad for him when the universe seems to kick him when he’s down. Can he get a little grating at times? Yes. Absolutely. But while Jerry can be annoying, Beth can be a downright psychotic moron. She will willingly endanger her family, all in the efforts of pleasing a narcissistic a**hole of a father who consistently has a god complex. And when a person points this out to her, she will insult them and point out how “great” it is to have her father back again. Even though Rick didn’t seem like that great of a father anyway. It is physically and psychologically unhealthy for Beth to have these disillusions, and it isn’t until four seasons does she actually tries to show some backbone. Which I still don’t believe because it feels like it won’t last by how quick it is.

And seeing that we’re on my own personal hang-ups with the show, there’s one last topic that I want to cover. And it’s a topic that, to my knowledge, nobody else is bothered by. This problem affects me personally, and I want to give a word of warning to those who might not actually feel the same way. And that’s the fact that Justin Roiland is not the great of a voice actor that he thinks he is. This doesn’t mean he’s a bad voice actor because he's far from it. In fact, I can’t even hear the similarities between his voice for Rick and for Morty. But there is a problem: Justin Roiland has two modes. It’s either his normal voice or his high pitched voice. Both with minimal modulation, and it’s the latter that he seems to focus on the most when he voices 80% of the characters. The problem is that I not only think his high-pitched voice is annoying but with how consistently Roiland uses it, it will always break the immersion for me. Because I’m not hearing a unique character. I’m hearing Justin Roiland doing the same high pitched voice for nearly every character he voices. Just look at Seth Macfarlane and the characters he voices. You can tell it’s him, but he at least offers different modulations for each character (If you don’t believe me, then compare some of his famous roles with Justin Roiland’s).

While we’re still talking Justin Roiland’s acting, it’s also his improv that could use a little workshop. Now, for the most part, the improvisation is pretty good in the show. Like actual good improv, it feels natural within the dialogue exchanges, and you wouldn’t know until someone else points it out. However, there are times when Roiland’s improv can feel like verbal barfing. It’s fine when he voices Rick’s drunken rants, but for the Interdimensional Cable episodes? Yeah, needless to say, it can get a little noticeable. So noticeable that even the characters point out how blatant it is within the episode. Again, this is something that bothers me personally. To my knowledge, there isn’t anyone else who complains about this aspect of the show, which is perfectly fine. I just feel like other people should get a word of warning before they dive right in.

So is Rick and Morty the godsend of a series that surpasses all other television shows? F**k no. No series that has ever been made is 100% perfect. Not even the good ones. And if you disagree, then you are in denial over how many faults a show has. For instance, Rick and Morty have plenty of issues. There’s not that many likable characters, it has the worst cartoon couple ever with Beth and Jerry, and Justin Roiland needs to work on his acting despite being an already good actor. That’s everything wrong with Rick and Morty in a nutshell. But despite these problems, the show still has phenomenal attention to detail, hilarious comedy, and the best dynamic duo in recent memory. So while it isn’t the perfect show that its fans believe it is, it is still pretty damn good. And that alone is good enough for me.

(Just do yourself a favor and avoid joining the fandom. It’s already too late for those poor bastards who are already in too deep, but it isn’t too late for you!)

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep21: Duke Puts on Duel Disk, Immediately Takes Disk Off

So last time we ended, Yugi and Tea were stranded in the middle of an ancient warfield that was hundreds of feet off the side of this cliff topped with a seldom used railroad track.

And yes, this is all somewhere in what should be one of the most populated parts of the Bay Area.

Amazed that this school uniform can go through such rugged terrain. But then again, last season it got hit squarely with a fireball, so...this school uniform is essentially a Batman suit.

But I just want to point out that Yugi didn’t take the duel disk off before vaulting up this cliff. Tea has a bag youknow...but gotta sweat up the duel disk that our entire world relies on.

It would be very funny if this season ended abruptly because Yami either dropped this thing on the ground and finally broke it, or just plain forgot he needed to charge it’s batteries.

And so now we just walk...kind of in the direction where they hope Joey and Tristan are?

I do appreciate that although Pharaoh is completely lost in a foreign country, he will not admit it.

(read more under the cut)

On the other side of the tracks, Joey is dragging his Sisyphean stone.

Please admire that this entire scene takes place somewhere in the Grand Canyon. Like it’s episode 20 and I just still can’t get past how they went to California and didn’t include a single beach.

Mai has decided she’s done screaming off the back of a motorcyle, and has decided to come over to Dartz’ lair to scream where the traffic isn’t quite so bad.

And she just rage quits.

Is this the first rage quit we’ve ever had in this show about games? Incredible.

Also, I didn’t realize you could just quit the end of the world cult in the final hours of ending the world, but I guess it doesn’t really matter much to Dartz. Whether Mai ends up killing Joey or doesn’t end up killing Joey, it’s still a soul in the Leviathan bucket so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, in the actual dialogue of the show, Dartz tells Valon that Mai’s basically going to get what she deserves and no one here needs to even do anything to change or stop it. But, it was still somewhat surprising that this 10,000 year old serial murderer world destroyer was so down to shell out some relationship advice. Almost like maybe he has somewhat of a fatherly concern for his stupid ass murder boys. Kind of. Sort of.

Enough to try and tell Valon to leave this one alone because she’s gone maniacal pixie dream girl and there’s no coming back from that.

In order to have motorcycle gangs, you have to have bearable enough traffic for said gangs. That’s why we just don’t have a motorcycle gang problem in real deal California like a lot of 70′s-80′s movies would have you think. They’d only be able to drive in like...one lane, and they’d get constantly cut off and driven off the road by Google buses.

TBH the Google bus is our true modern motorcycle gang, there are just so many of these damn buses. And also, I deleted a lot of text right now when I went off about the ongoing bus war, which is absolutely a thing here. The motorcyclists are just doing me a solid by not being a car on the road and staying out of my lane.

In a more realistic version of this show, Mai would have never made it to the desert, she’d be too busy watching only one single car able to turn right onto Octavia every light cycle because of all the damn private buses and uber cars flooding our itty bitty one way streets.

And to try and tame Mai, Valon decides to do this...motorcycle stand off?

It’s like he’s trying to catch a feral cat.

At some point one of them stops, and like I was focused too much on how good their brakes are to pay attention to who stopped first.

Probably Valon, because Mai is completely insane.

And so then he just...

Y’all I know they had to give Valon motivation to be in love with Mai, but this kids show jumped through so many hoops to make this very unhealthy relationship appear like Valons love was pure and true while still showing that this is a very unhealthy relationship. Kind of a hard balance.

It’s actually interesting how much work they put into Valon’s very tragic and problematic relationship after they’ve dodged every other problematic relationship this show has brought forth.

Like the villain with a heart of gold is a trope, but it’s a trope that works. There is no hope in the world that this relationship could pan out. They’re not a misunderstood pair like he thinks they are. They’re freakin terrible and they don’t deserve each other. But he’s gonna try and do it anyway.

We get to watch Valon bargain (mostly with himself) about how this relationship (which exists mostly in his head) is going to absolutely work out, because to him, if he feels so intensely, eventually she’s gotta feel the same. Most people haven’t murdered people, but it’s still a very relatable type of situation that the show displays without getting too preachy about how it’s clearly bad news. They just introduce it for the audience to come to their own conclusions, and I was really surprised by that level of maturity.

I’ve been sitting here saying “There’s no way this show could balance Tea with Yugi and the Ghost in his head. There’s no way they can really touch on Kaiba and that paper card. There’s no way that this show knows how to do a relationship because they don’t want to get involved with that weird gray area.” and you know what? Maybe they can.

Like they’re doing it right now. Did they just need 4 seasons of people complaining to go “Fine! I’ll write out the problematic relationship! I’ll do it!” because--this works for them. They finally did it.

Now, I’m not saying it’s Oscar worthy or developed beyond a trope, I’m just saying I’m genuinely surprised to see it on this show, and they should have done it more often. It’s a super weird pairing, but way more interesting than like...all that time we spent with Serenity because I actually have something to look forward to. (which will be when Valon inevitably dies in a ball of tragic glory)

So many romance stories give me nothing to look forward to, y’all. You have to give me something. Like, I’ve been reading a lot of not great romance in my life, and you have to have some sort of time limit in place for me to care about your couple. To have only have so much time before the other person gets married, moves, ends the world--I don't care--but man that time limit is crucial and so much romance just...forgets.

Like Bonnie and Clyde, Romeo and Juliet, and other ill fated couples, Valon and Mai end up being interesting because we just love seeing people fall into pieces. Hell, I just finished watching Tiger King and damn, what makes that show so good is that you are just waiting on that time limit to see how bad it gets. (and it’s crazy, super recommend Tiger King, although it’s very clear that they pushed the drama a little beyond realism but man. Good TV.)

Of course there’s always the chance that maybe Valon just got bored. But, youknow.

Anyway, it IS a romance on Yugioh, so we do have to very quickly drive a truck through it.

Man.

What are they DOING here?

It took me kind of a while to remember that Mai would be going where Joey would be living, which is most likely where Raphael dropped off Arthur Hawkins. But, if you don’t remember that fact, this is the most random thing ever.

Like you got this huge ass desert in the Califorizonado mesas, and then BOOM enter Rebecca Hawkins, just omnisciently lording over all of the West and just so ready to fight you.

Every girl interested in Yugi Muto has this thing where they’re normally pretty chill and then they just snap and get angry as hell.

PS she’s in a different outfit now, but I don’t feel like changing her font color. I’ve had some Photoshop.......incidents.......and I don’t think I have this plaid pattern anymore and I don't feel like making a new one yet.

I mean Valon’s got the green outline on his text, so I figure we’re good.

Also, Rebecca wears a tie clip?

This 12 year old girl wears a tie clip.

And like don't get me wrong, this was 2003-4, alt rock was big, and yes, we did have tiny Avril Lavigne ties at American Eagle. I will admit that I very much considered getting an Avril Lavigne tie at one point in my life, but didn’t want the commitment of needing to pair it with a skirt.

But either way, old man tie clips aren’t alt rock. The only thing that makes Rebecca’s outfit not exactly that alt-grunge Avril Lavigne look is that tie clip. They were SO close to making her look cool. Just so close.

Also the bifocals. But anyway...

So Valon was going to straight up ignore Rebecca, because he has a warped sense of morality and will not kill a 12 year old (but will kill a 17 year old). But, Mai did ask nicely.

Thankfully, because of Valons weird sense of morality, he did not pull out the Oricalchos. Instead he pulled out...a new mechanic!

OK.

Fine, whatever. I don’t go over cards in this show so I don’t have to even worry about this.

And Rebecca and Duke freakin lost, because Duke is never allowed to win. Rebecca may have won if Duke didn’t join this battle with his ass luck, just throwing that out there.

And Mai is like “wow, Valon is doing a really good job. He’s right, he IS amazing”

and she bolts.

And back on the tracks, we see another group of our protagonists sprawled on the desert floor.

REALLY lucky that this train track only has one operating train that is currently out of commission because you should not lie down on a track like this. Probably goes without saying that this is a great way to die. But youknow...the world is also ending so sure, why not? Getting killed by a train is probably more pleasant than the Leviathan.

And then, because we MUST talk about commuting, lets see Kaiba’s commute on this huge ass very normal plane.

I know.

That’s just a normal ass plane.

Even Kaiba needs to take a break youknow? And maybe since he hallucinated last time he drove a plane he decided to just...not drive one for a while. Probably a good move.

On the way, we get to see Seto’s form of parental advice. It was weird.

Like in the actual dialogue of the show Seto is just SO CLOSE to giving good advice and then just slips in these chestnuts where it’s like...well that’s gonna be like 12 years of therapy for Mokuba in the future Seto, thanks for that.

Also lets welcome back Seto’s dueling jacket. Been a while, big sleeves.

Also, the Aurora Borealis has also hit the plane, which is very Twilight Zone of them.

...

Correct me if I’m wrong but Alister was in Dartz’ room during that convo with Mai.

like...just a few hours ago?

Was that a hologram of Alister in Dartz’ boardroom or did the animation team forget?

Oh Alister.

Also, I just want to point out that the same day Seto sent Roland out to fix his problems, was the same day that Kaiba got hella abducted, just a few hours later. Man, Roland. Turn around for like 2 minutes and Seto’s back into cards, they’re both abducted by cultists, and they’re both half-way across the world to California. It must be hard to be Roland.

Anyway, if you just got here this is a link to read the rest in chrono order. All four seasons.

Hope y’all are staying safe in this Pandemic time, goes without saying. Been a weird couple of weeks, but thankfully the internet is still here to help us all keep sanity.

[audrey-lim]

A Rush of Bourbon to the Head - A Limlendez Fic

I am back. I am back with middle-aged ship smut fic. It’s like I never left. Tho this time it’s Lim/Melendez flavoured. And the way I see this ship is: Neil worships the ground that Audrey Lim walks upon and she permits him. Good shit. Continue reading for approxmiately 6.5k more words of that good shit. 

Title: A Rush of Bourbon to the Head

Summary: Post 2x09. Neil and Audrey meet together for bourbon and start 2x10 waking up next to each other in bed. This bridges the gap.

 A fic in which: -Audrey says the word 'fuck' a lot -Neil looks adoringly at Audrey -Bourbon is drunk -Fucking is done -Heart to hearts are had.

Teaser: 

He smiled, then reached out and gently covered her hand with his own, “You’re a great surgeon, Audrey,” he said warmly, “And you would have made a great chief.” 

“There is a lot of wisdom in this bourbon,” she teased, squinting down into it to avoid the burning intensity of his gaze.

 “You found any, yet?” 

 “I might have,” she said, mouth a little dry, still not sure if what she was thinking right now was wisdom or insanity. Maybe a little of both. 

Link: AO3

On days like today, heading in to Crowley’s bar felt more like coming home than her own place. There were few problems, she’d found, that couldn’t be improved upon by mulling them over with a glass of bourbon.

She didn’t bother looking for Neil, just wound her way through the familiar layout of tables and chairs with the same surgical precision she applied in the OR until she found him at their regular places.

Surgeons could be a surprisingly superstitious lot. She had never subscribed to much of it herself. But there were certain constants in the universe you just didn’t fuck with. Like the perfect spot in your favourite bar, deduced over years of careful experimentation and testing.  

Collapsing into the chair beside him, she signalled for another two bourbons with some curt hand gestures, then shrugged off her leather jacket. It felt strange to wear it without her helmet in tow, or her Ducati, for that matter. But it had felt stranger not to wear it at all.

“I was never gonna confront Andrews,” she said bluntly, without so much as a ‘hello’ to warm things up first. She had been stewing since Andrews’ announcement, and had worked out exactly what she wanted to say to Neil. No point beating about the bush. “I was playing you. But damn if you didn’t actually make it work.”

She didn’t add what they both knew – that if she had confronted Andrews, it was unlikely he’d have reacted with anything other than resentment towards her for challenging him.

Neil shook his head. “It didn’t work for anybody,” he pointed out, flatly. “He played us both. He set us against each other.”

Audrey sighed, looking away from Neil. That was true enough. All those years of working, of grafting, of giving her blood, and sweat, and soul to this job, and that conceited bastard was just going to ‘retain his title’.

“I think you were right,” Neil continued, pulling her out of her bitter thoughts” She looked up and met his eyes again, sipping at her drink. The familiar burn was oddly soothing, purging some of her anger.

“Even if you were just bluffing,” he paused and she raised her eyebrows at him. He’d always had a penchant for the dramatic, even when they’d been residents together. And he’d never known how to just spit something out, he had to take his time, mull it over, let the moment build. “We need to stand together.” He nodded to himself.

“Where was that wisdom two days ago?” she demanded, unable to keep the distinct note of indignation from her voice.

If she was being fair, it probably wouldn’t have made any damned difference. There was no greater power in heaven or earth that could match Andrews’ sense of self-importance. But she wasn’t in the mood to be fair. Nothing else in life bothered, why the fuck should she?

Neil gave her a small half smile and raised his glass, “Still in the bottle.”

She huffed a soft laugh and they both sipped at what passed for wisdom these days.

People called Neil arrogant, but that only showed how little they knew him. He came across that way, and he could be an ass at times. But his heart was generally in the right place, and he had the rare ability to be able to back down and admit he’d fucked up. She appreciated that.

It made it hard to be mad at him. Since she wanted to be mad at something right now, she might still have ended up taking things out on him. But it had been a long day, and she knew that he was just as upset and angry as she was. Time to stand together, follow her own advice. Even if it had been mostly bullshit at the time.

“What other pearls of genius are in there?” she asked.

“That remains to be seen.”

“Well, I for one am curious to find out.”

She made to signal to the bartender to fill them both up again. Drowning one’s sorrows was a time honoured tradition, and she approved of tradition. Whenever there was bourbon involved, anyway.

Neil put a hand on her wrist, though, stopping her. “Aren’t you on shift tomorrow in the ER?” he asked lightly. There was no judgement in his voice, just practicality.

“I know my limits,” she replied, honestly. “If we’ve reached yours I can order you a water instead,” she offered sweetly.

He laughed, “Not even close.”

There. He still had a little spark of fire about him every now and then. She could see it sparking in his eyes, that light of challenge, of competition kindling there.

When they had been residents she’d had better things to do with her time than compete with Neil Melendez. She only had to prove herself better than she had been the day before. Once they had matured into surgeons at the same hospital, though…Well, a little friendly competition with a colleague had never done anyone any harm.

It had kept them both at the top of their game. It had pushed them, and driven them, and it was fun, dammit. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d called her out as an adrenaline junkie in the OR. She was.

She lived for those thrills – the wind tearing through her on her bike, nothing between it and her but leather and skill. The intensity of a difficult surgery, catching a life in your bare hands and snatching it back from the brink of death.

Sparring with Neil gave her the same high, the same rush, the same thrill. It kept life interesting. The only thing she’d ever truly feared was being bored, and he certainly prevented that. In a number of intoxicating ways.

“Good,” she said, grinning at him.

They both knew she could drink him under a table. And a second. And occasionally a third. That had stopped being a competition years ago. Now it was just the subject for gentle teasing.

“Although,” Neil added, as she made to catch the bartender’s eye again, “The residents are probably going to be here in about,” he checked his watch, “Twenty minutes, give or take.”

She groaned. “I will never forgive you for telling them about this place,” she growled at him.

“It’s a good bar,” he said defensively, with the gall to laugh a little as though anything about this was even remotely funny.

“It’s our bar,” she countered, “This place is more holy than my OR.”

“I was passing on our legacy!” he insisted.

“You were giving away our closely guarded secrets – that’s a capital offence. Ten years, Neil. Ten years we’ve been coming to this bar undisturbed by work and you just open the door and bow in our residents? What the fuck.”

“How about I get us a bottle to go and we head back to mine and find out what’s at the bottom?” he said with a soft smile.

“Nice deflection,” she admitted.

“Must be those great leadership skills shining through,” he said, grinning. She glowered darkly at him. He had the sense to raise his hands in a gesture of surrender. “It’ll be quiet, no residents, and I’ll even let you pick the background music.”

A very good offer. Damn him but he knew her too well sometimes.

“You’re on,” she said, raising a finger, “On the condition that you’re buying.” He raised his eyebrows at her, “On account of you being an apple,” she said, pointedly.

He laughed at that, “Deal.”

She waited outside while he settled and came out to meet her. His sharp eyes scanned the parking lot as they started to walk through it then he said, “I don’t see your chariot have death anywhere. Does this mean you’ve finally sent it to the scrapyard where it belongs?”

She scowled at him, “The Ducati is at home, thank you,” she replied in slightly clipped tones.

He raised his eyebrows at her. They both knew it was her pride and joy, and that she’d rather cut off her own hands than willingly scrap it.

She grimaced. He was going to find out anyway, but damn…

“Technically,” she grit out reluctantly, “My licence has been suspended.” She paused then amended firmly, “Temporarily suspended.”

He laughed at that, as though he was begging her to stab him, “What? What the hell did you do?” he asked, automatically assuming she must have done something to deserve this. The fact that she technically had didn’t make it any less galling. “No, wait, let me guess – you were going way too fast on your death machine in pursuit of an adrenaline high?”

“They couldn’t prove shit,” she muttered darkly.

“Apparently they could,” Neil said, sounding entirely too amused by the entire situation.

“I’ll tell you what I can prove,” she snapped, rising to his bait even though she knew this was exactly what he was fishing for, “That judge was a power crazy bitch and when I’m through with her she will beg me to take her back in time so she can stop her former self from attending law school so she never has to deal with me.”

“Nice,” Neil said, grinning, “You talk to her like that, too?”

“Only after she kept me waiting at the back of her courtroom for six hours because I took one two minute phone call from Murphy and Reznick about a patient,” she snapped. “And I’ll have you know I was very polite,” she added.

“Oh I bet you were,” Neil said, insufferable smile widening as he let them into his building and held the door for her.

“Six hours, Neil. Six hours,” she said, stepping in before him and turning back to look at him, eyes flashing.

“You called her out in the middle of her courtroom and you’re surprised she threw the book at you?” he said, leaning past her to press the button for the lift. “What would you do if a patient called you out like that in the ER?”

“I don’t know, but I probably wouldn’t gouge their eye out and then lock them in a closet for spite, because I’m an adult,” she said, shaking her head.

“She put you in a holding cell, didn’t she?” he said, with the balls to sound amused as he locked himself into a confined space with her for the duration of their ride up to the top floor.

“For nine hours.” He snorted. “I saw things in there I can never un-see,” she said, leaning against the wall, Neil watching her, still smirking, “I learned things about humanity that almost made me quit medicine.”

He laughed at that, the sound bursting from him. He had a good laugh. Full, and genuine.

Another mistake people often made about him was assuming he was serious. He could be. And about some things her eighty three year old aunt had more levity. But he had a good sense of humour, mostly, and they’d always been able to talk about things like this without worrying about it coming back and biting them on the ass one day. They were competitive, but they weren’t bastards about it.

“It’s not funny!” she snapped, even though his laughter was infectious and it was taking all of her control not to crack a smile with him.

“It kinda is,” he said, his smile fond and affectionate, “Especially when I imagine you having to take cabs all over the city.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes, “They drive like old women!” she hissed at him, “I could walk faster!”

He laughed again and she whacked his chest and stalked out of the lift as the doors opened.

“Just get that damn door open and a glass of bourbon into my hand before I murder you,” she ordered.

“Yes ma’am.”

***

Twenty minutes later, with a glass of bourbon in hand, and her choice of music accompanying their evening as promised, Audrey was decidedly calmer, and was feeling reflective again.

“Did you mean what you said in Crowley’s?” she asked, turning her head to look at where Neil was sat next to her on the couch.

He was doing what passed for sprawling with him - legs extended out before him, shirt wrinkled, posture relaxed. She sat next to him with her legs curled up under her, shoes kicked off, comfortable here after all the time she’d spent with him over the years.

He raised his eyebrows at her, inviting clarification, “About us working together,” she said bluntly.

Neil considered for a moment, taking an exaggerated amount of time to sip at his drink. “I did,” he said, finally, “We’re better that way – better doctors.”

She nodded, thoughtful, “A little healthy competition between us has historically been a good thing, too,” she pointed out. “It pushes us. That also makes us better doctors.”

“True,” he agreed, “But only when it pushes us in the right direction. Pushing us apart, the way Andrews was doing, is not helpful.”

“Agreed,” she said, toasting those words with another drink.

They were quiet for a moment, Neil tracing the rim of his glass with the tip of a careful finger, “I didn’t mean what I said to you in the OR – about you being too much of an adrenaline junkie to handle the job.”

“You don’t think I’m an adrenaline junkie?” she teased lightly, too taken aback by the sudden sincerity, the light of genuine regret in his eyes as he looked at her, to think up a more serious reply.

“Oh I do,” he said, with a wry smile, “But I don’t think you would let it compromise you as chief. We all have our vices in this job – we need them to survive it. But you’ve never let them rule you. You’d have the board eating out of the palm of your hand in less than a month.” He drained his glass.

She scoffed, “Try less than a week,” she said, tone light and playful.

Neil laughed again, “And obviously your stunning humility would be a great asset, too,” he teased, leaning forward and lifting the bourbon from the table, refilling his glass.

She held hers out, and he wordlessly topped her up, too.

She idly studied the delicate tattoo on his neck that his movement had revealed. More idly still, she imagined tracing it with the tip of her finger, and had to fight a sudden mad impulse to do it right then and there.

Where did that come from?

There had been tension and attraction between them before. They were both attractive people, they could admit that. And they were close. They had flirted with the idea on more than one occasion.

But they’d always had other partners – or other priorities. The prospect was exciting, intoxicating. She’d be lying if she said she’d never considered what it would be like. She knew he had, too. The way he looked at her sometimes, as though he wanted nothing so much as to peel her out of her leathers and experiment with the delights of human anatomy on a far more intimate level than usual.

She started, jolting herself from those thoughts. Sometimes she could be an adrenaline junkie. Sometimes those impulses could even be dangerous. Maybe there wasn’t as much wisdom to be found in a bottle of bourbon as she’d assumed when they started this.

Leaning back into the couch away from him, she found herself saying, “I didn’t mean what I said, either.”  

“You don’t really think I’m a shallow poser who’s just interested in a shiny new title?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

She groaned, covering her face with a hand. It sounded so much worse when he put it like that.

“No, I don’t,” she said, keeping her tone uncharacteristically gentle, taking care not to let his levity pull her away from the sincerity of her own guilt over that confrontation.

She reached out and laid a gentle hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand, at the contact, and only looked away when she spoke again.

“I know that you care,” she said, quietly, “I know that you want this for more than the title, and the advancement, and the prestige.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “You’re a good man, Neil, and I know you would make things better.”

Feeling a little awkward she withdrew her hand and took a large gulp of her bourbon. She wasn’t good at this shit. These gentle heart-to-hearts seemed to come so naturally to him, the sincere advice, the tender understanding. It felt sometimes he could draw that from a stone. Meanwhile she was the stone.

A lot of the staff, the nurses in particular, said that her brusqueness and aloofness were responses to the pressures of the job, that she couldn’t let herself be soft or she would collapse.

A lot of what the staff said in general was bullshit, but that particular nugget took the cake.

This was just who she was. It always had been. Straight-up, practical, composed and in control at all times. She didn’t know any other way to be.

She wasn’t a robot. She still felt, still hurt, still sought out these quieter moments even. She just...Had never been great about showing any of that.  

Neil was watching her with such a kind, gentle look in his eyes that it made her want to rip his shirt off and kiss him breathless.

She controlled that impulse by toasting him with her glass and adding bluntly, “I stand by what I said about you being an asshat, though.”

He smiled, then reached out and gently covered her hand with his own, “You’re a great surgeon, Audrey,” he said warmly, “And you would have made a great chief.”

“There is a lot of wisdom in this bourbon,” she teased, squinting down into it to avoid the burning intensity of his gaze.

“You found any, yet?”  

“I might have,” she said, mouth a little dry, still not sure if what she was thinking right now was wisdom or insanity. Maybe a little of both.

He raised his eyebrows invitingly.

“Are you fishing for compliments from me, Melendez?” she demanded, rather than offering up exactly what kind of wisdom the bourbon had imparted to her.

“You wound me,” he said dramatically.

“You are a great surgeon, too, Neil. You don’t need me to tell you that,” he looked expectantly at her. She rolled her eyes and added, “And yes, you would have made a great chief.” He smiled knowingly at her, waiting for the quip he knew was coming. She decided not to disappoint him, “Just as long as you always had me there to steal great ideas from.”

He laughed again, that full laugh of his, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“You are never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope. It’s going to be in your eulogy,” she said, grinning..

“You think you’re going to outlive me?” he said, eyebrows raised, “With your mechanical ticket to an early grave? Even on temporary suspension, it’s still going to get you before anything gets me.”

“Then in that case I’m sorry,” she said loftily.

“For what?” he said, still laughing.

“For your future self - bereft, and lonely, and oh so bored without me.”

He smiled, but sobered enough to say, with all that aching sincerity he had, “I would be.”

“Hmm, the bourbon’s talking again,” she said mildly.

“I think it’s still being wise,” he murmured.  

She paused, swirling the last of hers in the bottom of her glass, considering, “That assessment is currently under review,” she said finally.

“Why’s that?”

She met his eyes. He was playing a dangerous game, teasing this out, leading them onwards. From the look on his face, he knew exactly what he was doing. Bastard.

“Because,” she said, voice measured, “It’s encouraging the adrenaline junkie and giving her terrible ideas.”

“Hmm,” he mused lightly, leaning in just a little, his shirt shifting and revealing the tattoo once more. She knew his sharp eyes didn’t miss the way hers darted down to it. “It’s making the shallow poser very interested in hearing them.”

She leaned in to him, drawn in, as she always had been, by that intensity, that single-minded focus that right now was fixed entirely upon her. “You sure about that?” she breathed, close enough to feel the heat of his breath on her lips, as welcome and inviting as the burn of their bourbon.

“Only one way to find out.”

She kissed him.

It started out as a gentle thing, hestiatant, testing, still half-convinced that they were talking about completely different things and he would pull away from her the second their lips met.

He didn’t. He parted his lips in invitation and she answered enthusiastically - enthusiastically and not at all gently. That had never been her style.

He smiled against her mouth, slid a gentle hand into her hair, coaxing her closer. He was always so damn tender. So careful, and precise.

She didn’t want careful and precise. She wanted hot and heavy like the bourbon she could taste on his tongue. She wanted him to want this, to need this as much as she did. She wanted him to lose that self-control for just a second, to stop being a doctor and start just being human, so painfully human with all of their raw vulnerabilities, and wants, and needs, and instincts.  

Just when she started to feel his restraint slip, he drew back, breathing hard.

She met his eyes, still half-afraid she would find regret in them.

“Interesting,” he said, nothing but heat in his gaze, “I think it merits further testing to establish its full potential.”  

Cautiously, he leaned in and kissed her back.

Maybe it had been too hasty to expect him to rip her clothes off at the first kiss. There was a lot of history between them, a lot of respect, a lot of trust. They had to be sure. Very sure. Lines were being crossed as she took his tongue in her mouth and sucked. Lines they hadn’t crossed in over a decade of knowing each other.

They broke apart again after their latest testing clash.

Sure. They had to be sure. They had to do this carefully, if they were going to do this at all. They should talk about it, firmly establish what was happening, plan this like they’d plan a surgery.

He looked up and she met his eyes and found such certainty in them that for a moment she forgot how to breathe. She had never thought that he would look at her like that, with so much raw lust it seared.

Fuck being careful. Fuck planning. Fuck lines and boundaries and history. Fuck thinking.

Before she had fully processed what she was doing, she had grabbed the glass of bourbon from his hand and shoved it towards the table along with her own. The glasses slid to the edge of the table, one nearly toppling.

Neil leaned forwards to fix it, but she was already crashing into him, momentum pushing him back against the couch cushions. She settled into his lap, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him again.

How had she gone so long without doing this? How had she survived ten years without ever knowing what it felt like to kiss him? How could she go another ten years without spending every second with his lips on hers, his body against hers, the heat of his skin scorching her.

Problems for another time, she decided, as he moaned softly into her mouth, and she gave up on having another coherent thought again that wasn’t solely focused on how to make him do that again.

He drew back a second later and she growled faintly in displeasure. Then she forgave him as his lips found her neck and set to exploring until he found a spot that made her arch into him. Once he found it, she slid her fingers into his hair, holding him in place. He took the hint and kissed there until she tugged sharply on his hair, cutting him off with a gasp.

“I don’t intend to be gentle with you,” she warned him, breathing heavily.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

She smiled and dipped back down to kiss him. Contrary to what she’d just said to him, she was gentle. She knew what she wanted from a partner in bed, and emotionally investing in a fuck wasn’t exactly her style.

But this was a little different. This was Neil. She figured after a decade of history, he was entitled to a little bit of special treatment from her. But only a little.

Neil lifted her from the couch without warning and she broke the kiss, startling, legs tightening around his waist, frowning down at him in disapproval even as he put a hand on her back to steady her.

“You good?” he asked, pausing and suddenly looking concerned.

She huffed irritably, blowing hair from her eyes, “A little warning would be nice,” she grumbled.

He smirked at her, leaning in and kissing that spot on her neck he’d identified earlier, “I thought you liked living on the edge,” he teased.

She growled and squirmed slightly in his arms, “Get on with it, Neil,” she growled.

“You’re very bossy, you know,” he observed.

“I warned you.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said, evenly.

A lot of men did. She found it...Intriguing that he was so seemingly comfortable with all of this.

She draped her arms around his shoulders and leaned in, kissing her way up his neck, following the line of his jaw until she reached his ear. She dragged his earlobe between her teeth until he groaned then hissed in his ear, “Bedroom. Now.”

He laughed bt obliged, managing to kick the door shut behind them as she began unpicking the button’s on his shirt. A surgeon’s delicacy came in handy in all sorts of other places in life, she’d found.

She studied him with an appraising gaze, eyes lingering on the tattoo on his neck and chest, fingers tracing delicately over it as she’d fantasised about previously. Then she found herself pressed up against the nearest wall, his lips on hers, earning a soft, approving growl in the back of her throat.

“Was that too-” he began, drawing away a second.

“I don’t want to be made love to, Neil,” she hissed, sliding her knee between his thighs and pressing herself against him, “I want to be fucked.”

He shivered slightly, and she revelled in that, pulling him against her. Cocking an eyebrow she started slowly picking apart the buttons on her own shirt, wondering how long it would take him to intervene and speed up the process. She was wagering by four buttons. He made it two.  

His fingers were deft and practiced as he slid her shirt off of her shoulders and dropped it onto the floor at their feet to pool beside his own. He took his own time studying her, eyes trailing up and down her body, a look in his eyes that suggested he was planning something filthy to do with every inch of it.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured absently.

She startled him by laughing, “We’re not in high school, Neil, you don’t have to butter me up with empty compliments.”

“I meant it,” he breathed, with such sincerity that she shivered.

He was so earnest, so genuine, so eager to please. She was going to wreck him.  

“Then prove it,” she breathed.

He put his hands underneath her and lifted her into his arms again but hesitated briefly, “You good?” he asked again, but there was a slight note of teasing in his voice.

“I’d be a lot better if you got on with it,” she said pointedly.

He carried her towards the bed, but she stopped him, suddenly frowning slightly. “Are you?”

A broad smile spread across his face before he covered it with another kiss, “Never better.”

He lowered her down gently onto the bed and then moved over her. He dipped down to kiss her again but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“I don’t intend to work under you here, either,” she said pointedly.

He smiled and nodded before relaxing and rolling obligingly onto his back. Damn, if she’d known he was going to be this eager to please she’d have fucked him years ago. And kept on fucking him for that matter.

She straddled him and ran her hands down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his trousers and starting to work them open, but he caught her wrists gently in his fingers, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t I get to have a little fun with you first before we dive in to you fucking me senseless?”

Well, at least he was prepared.

“What did you have in mind?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

In answer he coaxed her out of her trousers, leaving her in nothing but her underwear then tugged her further up the bed towards the headboard. She settled in front of him and watched him idly run his fingers over the front of her underwear, brushing suggestively over her in a way that made a muscle feather in her jaw.

“Neil,” she growled.

He laughed again, “So impatient,” he teased, “You’re a surgeon, Aud, you’re supposed to be able to maintain your focus and control even under the most testing of circumstances,” his fingers deftly nudged her underwear aside, pressing against hot, slick flesh and she hissed sharply.

“We’re not in the OR right now,” she reminded him, “But if you want I’ll go get a scalpel.”

“I want you out of these,” he breathed, tugging suggestively at the scrap of fabric between them, “And in my mouth.”

She actually groaned softly at that prospect. Lifting herself up she helped him tug off the last of her clothes then hovered over him, one hand braced on the wall behind him for leverage.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, a little breathless.

In answer, he pulled her down onto his tongue.

She gasped softly, anchoring herself with one hand on the sturdy wooden headboard. At this rate, they were going to find out exactly how sturdy it was.

She let her eyes slip closed and rocked her hips against his mouth. He had definitely done this before, and she was glad she’d let him. She hadn’t needed it, not with ten years of friction and anticipation along with their rather intense session on the couch. But she wasn’t going to dissuade him from focusing all of his attention on her if that was what he wanted. It would’ve been rude.

With a soft hiss, she threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged gently, guiding him to exactly where she needed him. He was good, but he was unfamiliar with her body. Anyway, she liked steering.

She caught his eye as she shifted him into a better position and didn’t miss the twinkle of amusement in them that clearly said: You’re bossy.

She raised her eyebrows in a challenge and he smirked against her, giving her exactly what she needed.  

His eager obedience said enough: I like it.

Her back arched as he finally found the right rhythm and she gave his hair a short, sharp tug of approval which earned her a faint groan. If he was expecting shrieks of delight and repeated exclamations of his greatness in return he was going to be disappointed.

She was rarely vocal in bed - unless it was to give instruction, but he seemed to be doing just fine with the little guidance she’d already provided.

Neil didn’t seem to have expected anything else, and read her reactions eagerly in the changes of her breathing. Once she was panting, rocking into every movement of his mouth, nails scraping at his scalp, he knew she was close, and he didn’t disappoint.

“Don’t stop,” she snarled, holding him in place, even as she felt herself coming against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

Mercifully he did as he was told, licking and sucking at her through her orgasm, tipping her into a second which finally coaxed a soft, hoarse, “Fuck,” from her.

Trembling, eyes still closed, she allowed Neil to place his hands on either side of her waist and help lower her back down over him, straddling his waist again.

Once she had control of her body again she dipped down and kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue.

“Not bad,” she said, grinning and breathing heavily.

He smirked back, one hand behind his head, the other rubbing slowly up and down her spine, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

She leaned down and kissed him again, “You have too many clothes on,” she grunted, pushing the last of his clothes from between them.

He didn’t object, and settled back down comfortably in place beneath her, eyes drinking her in like she was a particularly fine bottle of bourbon.

“Do you have-” she began.

“Top drawer.”

She leaned over, feeling him brace his hands instinctively on either side of her waist to stop her tumbling from the bed. She came up victorious, condom in hand, and tore the wrapper off with her teeth before easing it down onto him, enjoying the soft, hissing intake of breath it prompted.

“I hope you have as much self-control in bed as you do in the OR,” she purred lightly, sinking down onto him and enjoying the way he arched into her before she pushed him back down onto his bed. “Because I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

“I think I can manage,” he said, his muscles tight, but his expression composed. For now. “Can you?”

She grinned at him, “Just try to keep up.”  

He did. Mostly. He held onto her hips so hard she felt sure she’d have bruises, and gasped her name so often it started to sound like a prayer. But she came again, after dragging his hand in between her legs with a short, brusque command, and allowed him to follow just behind.

She slumped forwards, panting, head braced on his heaving chest, back bowed, eyes closed, breathing in the scents of sweat and sex that mingled in the air. Her body trembled, and she made a soft sound of pleasure in the back of her throat as he gently dragged his fingers up and down her spine.

Finally, she pushed herself off of him and collapsed down onto the sheets next to him, breathing hard, pushing her sweaty hair from her eyes.

She glanced to her right and found him watching her, eyes twinkling.

“Did we really just do that?” she said, staring up at the ceiling, pleasure still quivering through her.

“I think we did,” he said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

She’d have whacked that smug smile off his face with a pillow, but she felt too boneless and satisfied to expend that much effort right now.

“God we are such a cliche right now,” she said, shaking her head in mock-disgust, “Friends for a decade, then we get drunk and screw each other. We’re setting a terrible standard that men and women can’t just be friends with each other.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, I’m not that bothered right now,” he said.

She laughed a little breathlessly, “No, me neither,” she admitted, still grinning like an idiot.

“Besides,” he said, reaching over and stroking her shoulder, “We’ve always been more than friends.”

“Coworkers?” she ventured slyly, knowing damn well that wasn’t what he meant.

“Family,” he said sincerely, then grimaced as he clocked the look on her face.

“Nice sentiment,” she said, managing to prop herself up on an elbow to face him, “Terrible word choice under the circumstances.”

He shut her up with another kiss, which she melted into, still smirking. “You know what I meant,” he said as he drew away.

She drew in a deep breath and nodded, “Sure did.” She cocked her head slightly, smiling, “Are you this corny with all the people you fuck, or do you reserve it for family?” she said, laying a mocking emphasis on the last word that caused him to throw a pillow at her face in retribution.

She tossed it back at him, laughing. Then hauled herself up into a more dignified sitting position. “Are you good?” she asked, frowning slightly as she peered down at him, “I know I can be a little-”

He took her hand and squeezed, quieting her, “I’m good,” he reassured her, that sincere warmth in his voice again, “We’re good.”

“Good,” she said, nodding slightly. Then she took a deep breath and said, “I guess I should get going then.”

“What?” he said, looking taken aback, “Audrey, we’re not in college - I’m not kicking you out two minutes after we come,” he said, looking at her as though she’d gone mad.  

“You sure?” she said, not wanting him to build up any false expectations here, “I’m not exactly the ‘stay over and eat breakfast together in the morning’ kind of woman.”

“Did I fuck your brains out so much you’ve forgotten how long I’ve known you?” he demanded, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Cute.”

“I just mean,” he said, smiling and reaching for her hand, threading their fingers together to stop her pulling away, “That I’ve known you a while, and I figure I know what kind of woman you are by now.” She stared down at him and he smiled gently and said, “Stay. And sleep. That’s it. If for no other reason than to avoid taking another cab.”

“You do know me,” she grumbled, flopping back down beside him and pressing a lazy kiss to his lips. “Fine,” she said at last, “But I’m not spooning you.” He snorted with laughter. “And I sleep on this side of the bed,” she added firmly.

“Okay. Is that all? Or do you have a full terms and conditions package you need me to sign first?”

She threw her pillow at him and he wisely let it hit the stupidly large, smug grin on his face.

“Yes, I do,” she said, tartly, “It says ‘stop being an asshole’.”

He laughed again as she prised herself reluctantly from the inviting warmth and softness of the bed.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“For a shower, relax,” she replied, snatching up his shirt and draping it around her shoulders as she padded for the door.

She had just opened it when she heard him shift behind her, as she knew he would.

“Would you like an assist?” he asked quietly, stepping up behind her and sliding his arms around her waist, nuzzling gently at her neck.

“I would never say no to a second pair of hands.”

He grinned and she slipped her hand into his and tugged him out after her.

*************************************

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Dark Corners

Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X OFC Reader

Warnings: Smut, (comeon! This is HBC!)

Summary: The prompt is: Needing to kiss to hide from the bad guys with Bucky.

A/N: This is for HBC Drunk Drabbles night. @the-ss-horniest-book-club I went with a female reader, hope it works! 

Words:+1,700

————

This was a far cry from what you had been expecting to happen on this mission. Being cramped up in a dark alley smelling of god knew what with a less than happy ex-hydra assassin breathing on the nape of your neck in the heat of summer was no one’s idea of fun. Sweat had the tank top and shorts sticking to you uncomfortably, leaving you to only imagine how he felt dressed in pants and thick t-shirt.

"Mind backing off my ass," you growled back to the mass of overheating flesh pressing closer.

"No," his gravelly voice traveled over your shoulder, breath tickling over your ear to make you shiver. 

Ok, so maybe that was more than a shiver. Not meaning to wiggle as an all too familiar feeling tingled in your lower abdomen, heat pooling between your thighs as you pressed back into the soldier who let out a quiet chuckle.

"What’s wrong," he laughed, not budging but pressing closer to look out of the alley at the street. The two of you had been there for several hours and no one had showed.

At that point it was obvious he knew damn well what was wrong. His flesh hand falling to rest on your side to spin you quickly when the sound of a car carried from the street. This was in no way planned, especially the sharp bite of his fingers squeezing your side to push you to the brick wall. 

This caused a yelp, one that you tried hard to suppress but he succeeded by slamming his lips to yours. Teeth hitting to pinch lips, a tang of copper followed quickly as he swallowed your yelp as if a man parched. The urge to push him away occurred, hands falling to his chest to push him back but that wasn't what happened as your hands snaked over his chest and your arms wrapped his neck.

At this point you were sure the vehicle was gone, sure of-. Wait, what were you sure of?

It was apparent he refused to release your lips as you pulled back, trying to breathe as it only deepened, flesh hand moving to cushion your head against the brick wall. Unwillingly an indignant noise escaped the back of your throat at the action, your hips moving to press into his tented pants and make him grunt. 

Thankfully Bucky's grunt was enough to allow a gasp of much needed air to fill burning lungs; and a glimpse of darkened orbs before his lips took yours again. All you managed was a muffled something but blissed out mind had no clue what it was. The hand on the back of your head scratching across your scalp to send chills throughout your body. 

This time you didn't try to suppress the moan of pleasure. A rough grab to your sweat soaked thigh by metal digits had you whimpering as the soldier easily lifted it to wrap it around his waist, the other instantly doing the same as he pressed harder into you. Finally, his lips left yours, panting out to the alley as they traveled your sweat beaded jaw to the soft flesh of your throat making you try to move against him, but had you pinned tightly to the wall.

You tried to look for your pursuers, the targets-.

Wait. Who were you after?

This was not the plan, Bucky's lips and teeth on your neck making you pant out in whimpers for him. 

God, you were so fucking needy.

"That good baby," his gravelly voice growled at your throat, his covered, pulsing manhood rubbing you in the right places to make you embarrassingly burry your face into the crook of his neck. The man's sweat laden locks sticking to your equally sweaty face.

"Jesus Christ! Don't you fucking stop," you moaned out, writhing between he and the wall best you could. Twisting your fingers into his damp hair you scratched across his scalp to elicit a growl across your flesh, teeth biting to leave a mark on your overheating skin.

"The mission-," he grunted out, leveraging you between he and the wall, to snake flesh hand between your thighs to toy with you in efforts of making you more desperate.

Bucky let out a dark chuckle at the noises you made, fingers wrapping in his hair tighter in efforts of pulling him a way. The solider knew if you wanted free you could damn well do so, but you had yet to force him back. The danger had long passed, the car passing was nothing but a family of five, but your body against his had driven him to desperation. 

One possibly good curse of being a super soldier, if you called a curse good, was the ability to scent another’s arousal and yours had been consuming him for the past 3 months. It was becoming worse the more you two worked together, purposefully assuring you went on missions with him alone for this exact moment. 

"Then stop," you panted like a bitch in heat, but you didn't mean any of it as you began to return the kisses he had placed on your neck over his own. Unable to stifle the groan of pleasure erupting from the back of your throat when he worked your shorts open to run clammy hand into them. The motion had you biting the flesh under his ear to stifle your cry of pleasure.

"Fuck," he bit out as you bit down, his fingers hurriedly slipping into our heated core to curl perfect, hitting the right spot to make your toes curl in the sneakers you wore. "It's too late for that."

Those words echoing between you had you arching away from him and pressing into the wall. Looking at him through hooded lids, your lips parting to speak but swallowing it down as he worked his digits in and out of you at a bruising pace. Calloused palm pressing against throbbing nerve to make you begin to cry out, but a cool metal palm clasped over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"Can't have you letting everyone what we are doing here. They may call the cops, blow our cover doll," a dark voice gritted next to you ear, having shut your eyes moments before.

Nodding drunkenly, you had no problem with the hand on your mouth as long as he didn't stop fucking you with his fingers. Every callous on the man's hand dragged perfect over every sinful inch of your folds and wet hole. You could feel him desperately pressing his erection to the back of the hand between your thighs, sloppy kisses falling over your exposed clavicle and tops of your breast. 

Like the needy wreck you were you whimpered for a release.

"What’s that doll," he growled hot between the sweat laden flesh of your breast, kissing and licking the flesh to goad you on. Carefully he removed his hand to allow you to speak, the metal limb slipping to wrap around your throat. 

"I'm gonna cum. Please," you whimper, flesh hand pressing harder and faster between your legs as he rutted harder against you himself.

God You were fucking driving him insane!

Bucky had forgotten about the 90-degree weather, the sweat trickling between the two of you, drenching your clothes the material sticking more, all he wanted was you. He wanted your arousal to coat his hand, for you writhe against him, your own release making him dizzy as well, leaving him to wonder how you felt.

"Cum doll. I need you too," he growled, moving to suck bruises over your clavicle to make you cry out but the hand around your throat moved to warp around your mouth, silencing you effectively.

Lips falling to your neck had you crying out into the appendage over your mouth, body arching into the soldier before you as you felt the coil tighten.

"Need you to work off this one doll because when we get back, I’m not going to ruin you," he snarled at your ear, nipping the lobe before sucking on it.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t getting drunk on your scent, moves and noises. Smirking at the feel of your silky-smooth walls clenching around his fingers, but he drank in your drunken face and the sound of pants you let out through your nose. Your breath shook and fogged the limb as your orgasm took you, body seizing and stilling but for your labored breath. Carefully he removed his hand from your mouth, flesh hand working slowly to not blur the lines between pain and pleasure as you came down. 

You face, chest and neck, flush, covered in a thick sheen of sweat and bruises had him worried he may have just overheated you. Stepping back, he was sure to help you stand, going as far as to right your clothing, your arms still draped around his neck as you stumbled like a drunk with a laugh to match.

"That wasn't-," you tried to speak in between breaths, noting a wet stain on the crouch of his jeans before looking up into a sheepish gaze still dripping with lust.

"You are very--, persuasive doll, I couldn't help myself," he chuckled, sure to keep you steady as he stepped away to allow you room to breathe and the cooling evening air to rake over your sweat soaked bodies.

Letting out a laugh you propped on the wall, Bucky close as you done so. "That wasn't them was it," you laugh hinting to the vehicle that had passed.

"No, afraid not. I'm pretty sure they are long gone," he chuckled as if getting caught red handed as you braced on your knees looking him over.

"A hunch or did it come through on the comm," you eyed him suspiciously, the comms were only for you to take direction from the team and yours was tucked in your pocket while his was still in place.

"Both," he laughed, stepping close as you leaned against the wall. Looking into still lust blown orbs you couldn't deny the shiver it elicited, or the heat sent to your wet core. 

Giving a smile, "the nights just beginning soldier. What do you say we go back to the room for a cold shower-. Together?"

The look you gave must have been enough to awaken the feral side of Bucky. The soldier only able to let out a growl as he pressed you to the wall once more, making you straighten as he took your lips in haste before pulling away. 

"Lead the way doll," he growled, patting your ass as you both moved to head out of the alley, his hand finding yours in the dimming light as you two rushed down the street towards the hotel room rented for the mission. 

Looks like Sam will be sleeping in the hall tonight. 

Tags are OPEN! REBLOGS ALWAYS WELCOMED!

Tags:  @dark-night-sky-99 @gramaeryebard @reallyheckinggay @katstablook @andiyholly @jovanna-shewolf @nickyl316h @aslandia726 @furstinnajoelle @itsbqueenthings @lookwhatyoumademequeue @jazzieomega @bambamwolf87 @tomhardy41 @get-loki @drakonwild   @scorpionchild81 @moonfaery @devilbat @cherrygeek86

[dontdietwd]

Day 184

It was a pain in the ass having to have someone guarding the opening at all times. We were six people, but usually only four out there working in the area, as one had to be on the gate and either Mikki or Will commonly stayed in with Ma. Poor lady was a sweetie, she thought we were new neighbors, friends of her children. She had no idea what was happening and all of us had decided it would keep this way. I wanted to clear it all, make it safe, close the entrance, and them Ma would be able to come out of the house, walk around a little, see the trees and the birds. I thought she’d like it.

So we needed a fast solution for the entrance. Mikki and I had found the projects for the gate, but there was no material at all. What we also didn’t have was anyone who could understand the project fully and who’d know how to execute it. But either way we needed to close it all. So today we were going out there to check a junk yard and a recycling center Will told us about in the hopes of finding something useful. At least I didn’t think too many people would have thought of looting junkyards.

The town was a real cute place. The abandoned houses had American flag in front of them, porches with swinging chairs and it was like only grandmas had lived there, it was so cute. It was dead now, though, eerie and silent, nature claiming it all back. We entered a few houses just out of habit trying to find useful stuff. In one of them, I caught Merle staring at a bottle of whiskey he found in a cabinet. He didn’t see me looking as he stared at it, a hand holding the cabinet open, for long seconds. And then he closed the door, leaving the bottle there, not touching it. When he turned he saw me and stopped. I nodded at him with a proud smile.

Mikki and Will had stayed home, so it was the four of us again today, like it was before. Seeing the wooden, white house we’d been in completely devoid of anything useful, we headed out the front door.

There is such a thing as too little fear. We did not check the outside, we didn’t look around the porch, we just opened the front door and went out, and that nearly got Merle bit by the walker that was there, reaching hungrily for his arm.

“Merle!!” I yelled, but I couldn’t see more, I didn’t see if he killed the walker with his knifed hand, because in an instant there was a whole crowd of them coming from the side of the house, some pushing their way into the door, some going to Merle on the porch, separating him from us. Inside, Michonne, Andrea and I tried pushing the door closed against their force, our full weight against it, but the glass on the door broke, the shards raining down on us.

“We gotta run!” I head Andrea say when it was clear we could not hold them, their hands and arms now inside trying to grab our heads and hair.

“There’s no back door!” Michonne reminded us.

Yep, the fucking house had no back door. I mean, seriously?!

“We gotta run upstairs!” I yelled and paused before completing, “Now!”

I leaned down to take the crossbow from where it had fallen in the ground and ran. The first walker was on Andrea’s heels as we ran and climbed up the stairs, but they were thankfully slower than us so we were able to reach the upstairs corridor before they could come up, and we entered the last bedroom of the house, closing the door behind us and locking it. Seconds later they were there, scratching and groaning. Michonne and Andrea were dragging a dresser to block the door as I moved to the window and lifted it open, poking my upper body out to look for something, for Merle, for an escape.

“Merle!!!” I yelled, hoping for something. The fucking walkers had been to goddam close to him.

There was the roof of the porch right under the window and I could see a few last stray walkers crossing the street and going into the house, but they were not many, we could deal with them. Most of the crowd was already inside the house, the door of the bedroom creaking dangerously under their force.

“We gonna have to jump,” I told them both as they stood by the window by my sides.

“Are you insane?” Andrea screeched. “You can’t jump!”

“Course I can!”

“You keep forgetting you’re pregnant!” Michonne agreed with Andrea.

“What do you suggest then?!”

Before any of them could speak, there was a loud, piercing honk noise coming from the street, making them put their bodies out of the window to look at it as I was. A car came down the street, one of ours, slowly and honking like crazy, and Merle put his head out and yelled, “Come and get me motherfuckers!!!”

And surely enough, as we laughed in relief that he was fine, the walkers started going in his direction, a tide of them coming out of the house, even though their noise on our door still continued. The honking would not be enough to attract all of them. Merle kept driving slowly, making them follow him, honking and yelling and hitting his hand on the car.

But the door broke, large splinters pointing into the room as the uncountable number of walkers tried to get in though the gaps, squeezing, groaning, skins getting caught on the wood. Too many to deal with.

I pointed the crossbow at them, knowing damn well it wouldn’t be enough if they got in. “Get out! Get out!” I told them and kept my aim, not seeing them get out but trusting they would. Michonne called my name once they were out and I turned to leave as well. Just as I passed, she had the mind to lower the window closed after me. We walked to the side, away from it, and could hear them at the window now, trying to follow us. The glass wouldn’t hold for too long, maybe even less than the door did.

Months ago I’d have jumped down with no second thought, but not things were different. I hesitated, I had the big belly going on and I just couldn’t jump. Merle was still honking somewhere, we couldn’t see him anymore, but the herd following him was visible.

I placed the front of the crossbow on the roof, stuck my foot on it and leaned down to pull the string up. It was tight to pull but I was getting used to it and did it fast. Hearing it click in place I took one of the five arrows from the holster and armed it. Michonne had walked to the left on the roof to take a look at the side of the house, and I did the same to the right. The roof did not continue to neither side, so we had to stay there.

“We’ll have to wait,” she whispered. “Merle will come back.”

It must have taken over two hours. The sound of the walkers in the windows slowly diminished. The glass panes had broken hours ago but they hadn’t been able to break the wood parts, so they couldn’t get out. The three of us sat with our backs against the house, quiet, and they lost interest. The herd had disappeared too and we had to wait for Merle to come back to pick us up, but we got inpatient. We didn’t even know if he was fine, maybe he was the one who needed our help now.

I stretched my neck to the side to carefully look into the bedroom though the panes. There were six walkers in there, dormant, looking at nothing. Six was easy.

“Hey,” I whispered and they both looked at me. “Six. Let’s end’em and get the fuck outta here.”

Andrea was going to say something against it but Michonne got up just as I did, also clearly tired of being here. So I faced the window from the outside, took aim and, for the first time, was able to finally use my crossbow to take down a walker. Oh, that felt good! It was thrilling, the sound of the arrow leaving the barrel, sharply cutting the air and perforating the skull as if it was butter. I understood why Daryl liked the thing so much.

The other walkers did not understand what was happening, just groaned at the movement of the other one falling. I lowered the crossbow to cock it again and was done in seconds, and the second walker fell to my arrow. Oh, the chills on my spine! It was only then the other four noticed us and came back to the window, growling to get to us, but on each side of the window, Michonne and Andrea dealt with them with their knives as I cocked the crossbow again. One extra walker came into the room from the corridor and I shot it before it could cross the bedroom.

“You’re getting good with this thing,” Andrea told me making me smile.

We opened the window and got in again. Just inside I armed it again before bending to take back the three arrows on the walker’s heads, and then left room in before the others, crossbow raised and aiming at any threat that could come. I shot one more on the stairs and its dead weight rolled down the steps loudly, knocking down another one on its way and trapping it under its body. The ground floor was empty, apparently all the ones that had been there had followed the honks outside. This time we checked the porch before leaving the house, it was clear. Our cars where there on the street and we ran towards it, but from the corner we heard a car approach. We didn’t know it was Merle so we ducked behind a few bushes on the garden, only to get up a second later when he called out to us.

“Come on, evil triplets, let’s get the fuck outta here!”

Incredible how hearing Merle’s voice could make me feel so relieved! We ran to the cars and took off behind him in no time. I could see walkers coming out of the neighboring houses on my rear mirror but we were gone.

And then it happened again.

There had been signs of a junkyard on the road a few miles back and we were following them, heading east. The little walker driven town was far behind us and we were now approaching its neighbor town. Our car’s breaks screeched loudly when that fucking giant herd appeared right in front of us after a curve. It was big, must��ve been bigger than the one that had closed on us on the road the day Sophia disappeared. The sound of the screeches did nothing to attract them, though, they kept on trying to get over one another to get to something that was in front of them, obscured by their putrid corpses. Behind and beside my Hummer, the others started backing down with the cars slowly and silently, but I remained there.

The walkers were after something. Or someone. It they were still attracted by it; it was probably alive. If it was alive, they wouldn’t be for too much longer with that huge herd on them. Could be anyone, could be my group, could be Daryl, or could be just a person I didn’t know and needed help. So I didn’t back off with the car. Instead, I grabbed the binoculars I had in the glovebox and got out of the car, only about fifteen yards between me and the backs of the nearest ones, and climbed up the car until I was standing on its roof, and I looked.

There was a white van among this enormous circle of walkers. I couldn’t even see its cab, only the roof of it and the tallest part, and I watched as a man climbed out of the cab through the sunroof and reach down to help someone else up. They looked vaguely familiar but it was impossible to see from this distance. A woman came out, grabbing the man’s hands, and they both stood there for a second looking around and them climbed up the tallest part of the can. Now I could see them fully as they looked all over, walked from one end to another of the van, trying to find a solution. No apparent weapons on them. The man lifted his hands to his head, as if understanding they had no escape, just as the woman kicked away the hand of a walker that got too close to her foot.

I slid down from the roof of the car to the floor without any more thoughts. I stood on the step of the open door so I’d be high enough to make the other three car’s drivers hear me. They had stopped backing off from there and were waiting to see that the fuck I was doing.

“Back’em around!!” I yelled gesturing to them. “And then ya honk like a motherfucker!!”

I didn’t wait for an answer, just entered the car, which was still on, and pressed a button on its panel, turning on the cd player. I knew exactly what dc was in there, so I put the volume in maximum. The first notes of Seek and Destroy exploded on the sound boxes and I felt a huge thrill. When the second verse started my head started bopping up and down with the music and I yelled in joy. Incredible how good that felt! Smiling, I closed the door and looked at the herd. It was working, the last ones had turned to our direction and already taking the first steps to get to us. Behind me, the others honked like crazy as the I started backing off slowly, following them. In minutes, whole herd was following us, and I was having way too much fun backing out and letting them nearly get to the front of my car and them accelerating away again.

“Stop fucking around!!!” I heard Michonne yell from her car. Oh, she was mad, cursing and all. She never cursed.

Oh, let’s just quit it. I accelerated back so I’d have time to reverse the car, and then I reached the side of her car.

“My bad!” I told her.

“Are you fucking insane?!”

“Sorry!!” but I kept on before she could answer. “Let’s find a way to get around and get to them! There’s a couple, they need help!”

Merle happened to have been in the area before and thought he remembered a side road we could use. He was correct, and we returned to the road quickly, just a bit ahead from where the white wan was still in the middle of the road. We stopped near it and there was no sign from the two people. Silently, we all raised our weapons. Michonne poked me and signaled she’d seem movement from under the van, meaning there were people behind it. We went around the van, Andrea and I on one side, Merle and Michonne on the other. I had the crossbow ready and, when I reached the end of the van, took a one second breath and rounded it, pointing straight to a man’s face. He had his hand raised with a knife and, behind him, the woman did the same towards Merle.

“Drop it!” I said, pointing at his face. “Now!” He hesitated, fearful but keeping his brave stance. “We just saved you from that herd, the fuck you think we’ll do to you?”

He looked over his shoulder at the woman, both of them trying to decide what to do, and at that moment it hit me. He’d looked familiar from afar, but now I saw it. I felt like laughing, but I didn’t.

“Drop it, Morales!” I told him and his eyes widened as he looked back at me.

By my side, Andrea left the protection of the van to look at him. “Morales!” she said opening a smile, and she tried going by me to approach him. I took a step back and stood in front of her, blocking her way. She couldn’t approach anybody who had a knife raised and ready to attack, it didn’t matter if we knew him.

“Andrea?” he asked and let his eyes slide from her to me. “Sam?” his voice shook as he said it and his hand lowered a bit. I took it as a good sign and raised my head from aiming position looking though the scope.

“What’s up, Mo?” I asked, a little smile escaping my lips against my will. “It’s alright, please drop the knife, you both.

Miranda, on his back, did it first, her hand grabbing his arm to make him drop the knife and then turned to me, letting me know it was safe. So I instantly lowered the crossbow, a laugh coming out of me in a huff.

“You’re finding people you know again?” I heard Michonne say.

“Shit, Sam…” Morales said, disbelief and relief all over his face.

I hugged him with one arm. It was good to see him, but not so good it made me oversee their demeanor. The absence of their children. How thin and pained they both looked. Miranda hugged me after and I could tell she was holding back her emotions. Merle stood a bit afar, outside our little reunion as Andrea also hugged them and I introduced them to Michonne.

“The others?” he asked then.

“It’s just us,” I shook my head. “Got two more you don’t know back home, but the original group… We got separated from them months ago.”

“They’re out there,” Andrea completed. “Somewhere.”

“You got a home?” Miranda didn’t miss the implication.

“Yes. ‘Round fifty miles west. You?”

“We’ve been on the road all this time… No home.”

“You can come back with us if you want. Stay?”

They wanted to say yes immediately, a fuck yes!, but something made them both hesitate as one. They looked at all of us until their eyes fell on Merle and Mo tried to say something but couldn’t really form the words. And then he nudged me away, alone. Miranda stayed with Andrea and Michonne and Merle leaned against the van lighting up a cigarette as I walked away a few steps with Morales.

“What’s worrying you, Mo?”

“Uh, to be honest? Dixon,” he paused. “He’s… Back?”

“Yep. He’s back. He’s part of this group, real important one, and he’s staying,” I told him firmly to make to room for questions. “But I know why you’re worried. The way he was at camp, what happened on the roof. You were there, last thing you remember of Merle was that scene, I get it.”

He nodded, “Good. So… I don’t know.”

“Mo, listen. Merle’s got his personality and that ain’t changing. But he ain’t the same anymore. No drugs now. He’s got this group’s backs like it’s his family. You stay and you have his back too? He’ll have yours. You don’t have to be friends, but I assure you that we’re better with Merle with us.”

He thought for a moment and then nodded, pressing his lips together. “Ok… Okay. Alright. If you’ll have us… We’ll stay.”

I smiled up at the big man, “Good. You got a home now then. You and your wife will even have your own house.”

He looked like he could cry at any moment. I’d have to have him tell me what had happened to them in all those months, but it wasn’t the moment.

 * * *

 Morales had been a welder a few years back, he told us. He knew how to weld and thought he could make something up for out gate. A sent from the fucking heavens. So we loaded a big truck Merle found in the junkyard shed with lots of metal parts and welding instruments he guaranteed us he knew how to use.

Night fell too quickly and we decided to stay there for the night, sleeping in the cars. There were enough people to keep watch now, so it was safer. I laid on the back seat of my Hummer after we are jerky and canned spinach as a dinner, and tried to get some sleep.

Our group was growing and we did have space for that. It was a big area, 39 houses, Mikki had told us. I hadn’t counted yet, we had still to get into all of them. The land was pretty much clear now, we didn’t see stray walkers on the streets and land inside anymore. After cleaning all the houses we’d have room for lots of people. I started making a list of steps in my mind. One, set the gate. Two, finish clearing the houses. Three, set up one of the houses as storage for food and weapons, and make an inventory. Choose someone to be responsible for it. Three, clean and organize houses for each one of us. I wanted to choose my own, I’m sure the others would too. But anyone could share if they didn’t wish to be alone. Four, check the land, soil, find a gardening tools and seeds and anything else we could, as we had on out previous home, as start a planting stuff. Check is any of the trees inside were fruit trees, if not find some seedlings if there were any still alive out there. Five, built coops and find chickens or ducks or turkeys, any kind of livestock. Six, find Daryl.

With all the car doors closed, I was in silence and warm, and feeling safe with five road companions around, so I allowed myself to relax. My eyes heavy, I pillowed my head on my right arm and looked down at my own body. Down there, partially hidden by my belly, Daryl was between my spread legs, his hot, wet mouth on me, his tongue lavishing me, his low voice moaning in pleasure for having me in his mouth. I reached down to him, my fingers threading though his hair, and sit up a bit so I could see him. He looked up at me, his clear blue eyes glued on mine, watching my soul, seeing me sigh and bite my lip. Never looking away, he entered me with two fingers and I whimpered and whispered his name, feeling the warmth bubble inside my lower belly, my hips jerking against his mouth. He felt so fucking good I felt like crying, my head fell back and I closed my eyes, allowing myself to come in his mouth.

It was day when I opened my eyes and I was alone in the car, clothes on, the wetness in my panties originated from a sweet, delicious dream. And I did cry.

[caladhel-iarian]

LFC Caladhel/Kaito(Final Fantasy Edition)

What I’m Looking For: People to deal with this curmudgeon. He needs more friends, rivals, enemies, fans, and interaction in general.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV.

Server: Crystal data center, Balmung server.

Venues I Actively Roleplay In: Tumblr, Discord, Google documents.

Favorite Type of RP: I’m not entirely sure what this means, but my favourite stories tend to happen when the ball rolls “from nothing”; as in, little, one-line joke posts that snowball into full-blown story wholly driven by the characters.

Triggers: I have none, but I will respect yours if you do.

**Things I Will Not RP **(IE: NSFW, Torture, Romance, etc.): There is very little that makes me uncomfortable; I have no problems separating writer from the subject matter written and I don’t believe that if you write something, that means you--the author--endorse that topic you’ve written about. That said, I’d like to know your limits so I can work within them to help us create a story we both enjoy writing. I’m not out to make anyone uncomfortable.

RP Strong Points: I’m easy-going, patient, adaptable, and capable of writing stories both episodic slices of life and involved, epic plots. Whatever your preferences, just let me know and I will work with you. 

RP Weak Points: I probably write too much and drone on, so if you feel that way about any of my posts, please let me know; I’ll adapt them to make you more comfortable. I can also be really slow with my posts because I want to give you the best I’m capable of creating. I’m not the greatest with fast-paced posts, but I can try to accommodate if that’s what you prefer.

IC Information:

Name: To his father’s side of the family who come from Amagawa Prefecture in northern Othard, he is called Fujiwara Kaito ( 藤原介人 ). To his mother’s side of the family in Ishgard, he is called Caladhel Iarian. Although he typically introduces himself as Professor Iarian, he uses Kaito as his stage name for the band.

Race: Elezen.

FC (If Applicable; Picture Optional): Aoi (of the Gazette).

Can Currently Be Found In: When not on tour with his band, he usually divides his time between Ishgard, Yoshiwara-to, and Kugane.

Would They Be Known: Absolutely. He’s the vocalist for Discordia, a popular band loved all across the Source. In his downtime, he’s also an adjunct professor who teaches in Ishgard during the fall semester and Kugane during the spring semester.

Personality:

Introverted.

Neat freak.

Unforgiving.

Callous.

Caustic.

Cautious.

Patient.

Workaholic.

Domineering.

Vengeful.

Control freak.

Hot-tempered.

With an innate talent for frost magic and a deep, abiding love for his mother’s homeland in Ishgard, it’s no wonder why many people assume Dhel must be a snowman. Those who’ve met him often use words such as “cold,” “aloof,” and “icicle up his ass” to describe him, but he has his reasons for being harsh, biting, and slow to open up to others.

Language(s): He’s fluent in both Eorzean Common and Hingashi, and in his spare time, he studies Meracydian and Gelmorran.

Height: Eight feet. 8′. 244cm. They grow ‘em big where he's from.

Body Type: Dhel boasts plenty of lean, ropy muscle and the athletic build of a man who can outrun a cheetah on cocaine.

Eye Color:  A brown so dark they might as well be black. In the sunlight, they sparkle with hints of gold and resemble a tiger’s eye stone.

Hair Color:  Blacker than a moonless night. His hair shines with azure highlights in the sun.

Age: 35.

Notable Scars, Marks, etc:

Thick, knotty scars cover his ankles, his heels, and his soles. They appear to be the results of serrated knives.

A long, thin scar runs up the back of his left calf; it’s the result of a tree-climbing accident as a child.

His knuckles bear the marks from a stupid game of “does it hurt?” he used to play with his brothers and other students when he was a kid. The game involves rubbing a pencil eraser over the knuckles until the victim either cries uncle or bleeds.

A thin scar spans the length of his left palm. Made by Bren’s treasured pocket knife, its’ the reminder of a blood pact he made with his brothers as children.

Tattoos/Piercings: This man is covered in tattoos. Left arm:

Family crest on the inside of his forearm. It’s a massive wisteria tree on a hill with the sun rising behind it.

Infinity symbol curling around his wrist. It looks like a musical staff with several notes.

A trio of fox kits chase a red butterfly down the outside of his forearm.

Musical staff around his bicep. The staff contains notation and a few lyrics written in Hingashi.

Right arm:

Azure Ourobros on the outside of his forearm.

Slumping marionette with severed strings on the outside of his bicep.

Fleur de lis on the inside of his wrist.

A Punch ‘n Judy stage with the titular characters on the inside of his bicep.

Words from his favourite poem on the inside of his forearm.

Full body:

From his jawline to his toes, he is covered in runic tattoos that are only visible when he uses magic. They glow a vivid violet during his spellcasting and should you catch a glimpse of them, the runes come from a language thought long dead.

First Appearances:  An enormous elf in a three-piece suit with impeccable grooming. If his expression isn’t telling the world he eats lemons for every meal, then it’s probably telling you that you’re wasting his time... and his time is not cheap.

What To Expect: Expect him to be a caustic son of a bitch. Dhel is a paranoid, guarded man and he has no interest in sugarcoating anything. Expect the cold, hard truth as he sees it, expect plenty of snark, and expect him to be difficult to get to know. He’s not the sort of grump just waiting for someone to be nice to him so his ice will thaw--don’t expect him to be a sweet, loving person after only a couple of meetings. But if you do manage to get on his good side and work your way into his inner circle, expect him to move heaven and earth for you.

Where I RP: Tumblr, Discord, and Google Docs mostly. I don’t do much RP in-game.

I’ve been told I am intimidating and people are afraid to approach, but I can assure you I am insanely shy and about as intimidating as fighting a feather pillow. I am quiet and have some trouble keeping a conversation going if I think I’m bothering you or think you aren’t interested, but I’m polite and I won’t bite your head off. So if you want to RP with Dhel or any of his brothers, just send a message. Or drop a starter in the inbox. Either way.