#because i cannot fucking dodge for the life of me

[nervousenby]

Playing Blasphemous and I *still* haven’t gotten past Our Lady of The Charred Visage. It’s been like a week of me fighting this bitch, losing multiple times, having to take anti-rage-quit breaks, coming back the next day, AND LOSING AGAIN. AND AGAIN.

[steine-druff]

who tf designed the fucking. camel looking motherfucker divine beast I JUST WANNA HAVE A NICE AND FRIENDLY CONVERSATION WITH YOU

[raeathnos]

.

[clare-875]

Summer (Ace x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Ace x Female Reader Description: Summer was the only time you avoided Ace's touch, much to his dismay. Warnings: Fluff, Clingy Ace [One Piece Masterlist] _____

You adore your personal heater more than anyone in the world. In the depths of cool winters, the blizzards amplified by the ocean's relentless winds, he is heaven on your skin. The ardency that seeps within you slowly, and his strong embrace that forces it to remain is like no other feeling than that of comfort and utter warmth. It's in the swift movement of his hand as he goes to reach for yours that lay on your side. It's in the quiet envelopments of his form on your own as you try to go about doing your daily tasks. It's in the privacy of chambers; the hands that roam your skin, his soft lips touching yours. It's him, feverous, addictive, warm and completely in love with you. You adore him, him and his warmth; his heat.

Just maybe not now... in the middle of a fucking heat wave.

If there is ever a time Ace loathes, it is the depths of summer. When the glowering sun once brought contentment as it gifted countless days of youth spent playing and swimming and running, it now brought only the feeling of dread. It was now known to him as a time when you would dodge the embracement of your form within his, something you usually love; something he now desperately craves. His devil fruit powers confine him of you, as now he can only watch wistfully and with a fierce flush on his face as you join other members of the crew in the crisp cool ocean; adorned in a bikini he could only regard safely ashore. It was a time that limited your touch and it was a time that limited your presence, things that Ace would literally cling to for all his life if he could. Ace didn't care if he was being overdramatic, because it was true, and it was here: summer.

He would hate anything that takes you from him.

It was now reaching midnight, and the bed was bare. You wore clothes that scarcely covered your form, trying to find sleep in fitful increments. Ace, though the only member of the crew who could not complain about the heat, found himself the same way. He had endured your absence from beside him for eons it seemed, even if it had only been the past week. He was used to cradling your form to his, to find peace in your scent and your heartbeat, but now it was taken from him, like everything summer seems to take from him. He has now given up on rest and his sullen eyes now look to you. He sees the sweat rise from your skin, sees you turn relentlessly trying to find a moment's comfort in the retched heat. Ace feels a sinking weight within him, as though by no means his fault, he wishes to take your discomfort away just as much as he wants you by his side once more.

"I can feel you watching me."

Ace perks up at your words and meets your gaze now half-awake as you look to him. Ace pouts and you are surprised to see genuine hurt in his irises. "C'mon [y/n], it's been so long already, just let me touch you." You pause for a moment before letting out a breathless laugh of disbelief. "No way, do you see how much I'm struggling here?" You hear him whine out in frustration, pout deepening as he tries to get you to give in and join his side of the bed. Despite usually having given in to his demands, you being weak to his puppy-like stare, you cannot tonight. The heat is like a furnace and it makes you feel like you can't escape your own sweat; your own fever. It touches you wherever you go and it was nothing like Ace's embrace during winter, it was mulled and murky and impossible to escape.

"Please~" Ace is now frowning more deeply, whining like a child at your stubborn form laying still in place. "No, no way, you'll be the death of me." You say lightly, rolling your eyes at his behaviour, but you would be an idiot not to see his actual desperation, more the pure obviousness of it. It almost made you laugh once more. You weren't the only one who noticed Ace's blatant pent-up and forlorn form as you dodge and maneuver his touch. Members of the crew had also seen and had taken the chance to tease the second division commander much to his embarrassment. "But I'm the one actually dying here," Ace says glumly, "my own girlfriend doesn't want to cuddle with me." You sigh deeply but remain rooted to your spot, away from the heater that hopes to embrace you. "I promise there'll be cuddles after this bloody heat wave."

Ace groans sleepily but is torn between giving you your comfort and allowing his selfish tendencies to win. You, observing his frustrated state, sigh once more but decide to gently reach out. He is surprised when he feels your prying hand take one of his own on his side. As expected there is an instant warmth to his touch that adds to the heat already clinging to your skin, but you decide you would sacrifice one hand for the sake of him. Ace feels his heart flooding with a different type of warmth with the familiarity of your soft hand within his; the touch that he so craved. He grins widely and gives your hand a light squeeze. "This is all I'm willing to give right now." You say through a yawn, as somehow his mere touch and warmth are enough to help lull away the uncomfortable heat of the world around you. "You know, you would feel so much better if you just agreed to sleep nake-" You yank harshly at Ace's hand who yelps out before letting out a breathless laugh, grinning at the feeling of your "forgotten" touch.

Nevertheless when the heat-crazed week passed and the beginnings of clouds finally touched the sky, Ace not once let you out of his embrace. It was much to the further amusement of the crew as they shouted and teased him of his enamoured state. A week ago Ace would release you of his form to chase and silence the teasing, but he found himself uncaring as he felt the warmth of you. You, struggling to get through the day with the distraction of him sigh but in his contentedness let him be. At least, until the sun's rays become too much once more and you dodge his desperate touch. Ace could not wait for fall to reach the air and rid of the gruelling summer. Most of all he couldn't wait for the cool touch of Winter and ironically your desperate touch as it brought the constant presence of you.

[rottenpumpkin13]

HEY ZACK WHAT HAPPENED TO THE VLOG?

SOLDIER Vlogging Shenanigans pt. ???

[The camera turns on showing Zack, wide-eyed, with his face pressed against the camera in a nervous expression. A commotion is heard in the background along with breaking objects and screams]

"Okay!" Zack smiles, "Probably a really bad time to vlog, but—

"TWO HOURS," Angeal's voice interrupts from the background, "THEY WERE IN THE OVEN FOR TWO HOURS. YOU COULD'VE BURNED THE APARTMENT DOWN. I TOLD YOU TO WATCH THEM!

Genesis' voice follows. "OH, DON'T BLAME ME. YOUR COOKIE RECIPE HAD ITS FLAWS BEFORE IT EVEN WENT INTO THE OVEN!"

And then Sephiroth. "GENTLEMEN, THE COOKIES ARE STILL ON FIRE AS WE SPEAK."

[Zack laughs nervously, glancing over his shoulder]

"So, uh, life updates! Right, let's see... Training's been super intense lately, but I'm hanging in there!"

[He ducks as a spatula flies past his head, but maintains his smile]

"HOW DARE YOU BLAME MY MOTHER'S COOKIE RECIPE!" Angeal screeches.

Genesis scoffs dramatically. "I BLAME IT BECAUSE IT DOESN'T ACCOUNT FOR THE PROPER BAKING TEMPERATURE AND RISE TIME! THEY'RE UNDERCOOKED!"

"IT ENHANCES THE FLAVOR!" Angeal screams back.

"FIRE!" Sephiroth's panicked voice continues. "DO YOU PEOPLE NOT SEE THE FLAMES?"

[Zack nervously adjusts the camera angle as he begins to talk faster]

"Anyway, we had this mission last week, and let me tell you, it was wild. We were dropped off by helicopter in the middle of the desert and—"

[The sound of Sephiroth avidly beating the fire with a dish towel makes Zack lose his smile]

"THE FLAVOR IS SHIT!" Genesis continues.

"Ha!" Angeal screams back. "YOU WOULDN'T KNOW GOOD FLAVOR IF IT BIT YOU IN THE ASS!"

"THE JOKE IS ON YOU, MY FRIEND, I LOVE BEING BITTEN IN THE ASS!"

[The camera blurs as Zack dodges a baking tin that flies past his head. And then fire alarm starts blaring]

"So, uh, what else? Oh! I finally tried that new pizza place here in Sector 0! Their pizza is to die for. You guys gotta check it out!"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU INSULTED MY MOM'S RECIPE! AND THEN INSULTED HER BY LETTING THE COOKIES BURN!"

"THEY'RE RAW, ANGEAL, RAW! THAT'S WHY I LEFT THEM IN LONGER!"

[Zack has abandoned his eye contact with the camera lens. His head is now turned as he watched the chaos off-frame]

"NEITHER ONE OF YOU PAID ATTENTION DURING THAT INTERDEPARTMENTAL FIRE SAFETY ASSEMBLY, AND IT SHOWS IN A GROSSLY DISRESPECTFUL MANNER," Sephiroth screeches as he continues to beat the flames with a dish towel.

Angeal ignores him. "THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE SOFT AND CHEWY, GENESIS, THAT'S THE FUCKING POINT!"

[Zack blinks back at the camera and smiles weakly]

"So I bought a new beanbag chair for my room! It's super comfortable!

Genesis groans loudly. "THEY CAN BE SOFT AND CHEWY WITHOUT CAUSING SALMONELLA!"

[Zack looks back at the camera]

"Who's Sal Minella?"

[Sephiroth's scream makes Zack jolt, the camera blur, and then film Zack's horrified expression as he watches the scene unfold off-frame]

"YOU KNOW WHAT?" Sephiroth shouts. "I LOVE FIRE. I'M NOW APPRECIATING THAT WHICH CANNOT BE CHANGED. FIRE IS INSPIRING. FIRE IS BEAUTIFUL. THE FIRE WARMS ME IN A WAY HUMAN AFFECTION NEVER CAN."

[Zack looks back at the camera and grins]

"And as you can see, we're still one big, happy family!"

"I HATE YOU!"

"I HATE YOU MORE!"

"W A R M T H"

[Zack's eye twitches as he continues grinning at the camera]

"This is why Cloud refuses to hang out with us," he says through clenched teeth.

[Angeal and Genesis' fight becomes audibly physical, and Zack makes it his cue to pan the camera around to catch them going at it while Sephiroth gazes appreciatively at the oven, which is engulfed in flames]

"Hey guys!" Zack yells. "Say hi to the vlog!"

[Angeal, Genesis and Sephiroth slowly turn their heads, horror written clearly on their faces for a split second before they rush to look presentable. Genesis and Angeal separate—with Genesis quickly preening himself and smoothing his coat. Angeal steps in front of the flames, trying to hide them]

"I thought we agreed on no more vlogging," Angeal says as he walks towards the camera.

[Sephiroth steps aside and gestures to the fire]

"Zack, come film the fire and how beautiful it is—"

[Angeal quickly rips the camera from Zack's hands and turns it off. The video ends]

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 1 - Creation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

This is my first-time writing fanfic but I literally cannot get the stories out of my brain so…why not make everyone else suffer. This is part one of a story I’ve been rolling around some time. I feel setting a good foundation for the reader/main character is super important, so I PROMISE this story gets better. Be prepared for the usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness (Lucifer), fluff, eventual smut (yes horny readers bear with me we need some plot), and of course 18+ because….it’s Hazbin what do you expect?

Summary: f!reader finds themselves in Hell. Unable to accept your horrible fate you make it a point to continue being a bright soul surrounded by the darkness of Hell. With some higher advice, you create a list of rules to live. A short list to keep out danger and continue helping the lower sinners of Pentagram City. It’s the ONLY way you can survive (right?). Your list begins to crumble when you start helping Lucifer’s daughter with some hotel and a dream to redeem the same sinners you want to protect.

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

1.5k Words

Part 1 (You're on it!) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Rumor was all sinners would spawn in hell with attributes related to their life and (untimely) death. Your gift power was proof of that.

“Everyone get inside! Come on before the exorcists see you.” You hurry the last of the smaller sinners inside a building. It kills you to see such fear from the souls. “Lock the door. I'll lure them away.”

How foolish you were. Somehow a heart of gold followed you to these depths after death...ironic how even the nicest people end up in hell. God really does have his favorites I suppose.

But that foolishness led you to the best thing to happen to you, so you thought. Dodging through the streets, maneuvering, anything to lead the "angels" away from even the worst of sinners. Cursing praying for their safety. It was only your second extermination, but you already caught onto their game. It was all too easy to get around their sloppiness. Needing a breather, you weave around some cars and dive behind a dumpster. Idiots can't even keep track of my thickass? Pathetic!

A few moments pass as it grows quiet. Your breath begins to steady when the softest whimper catches your attention. As quietly (and non-threatening) as possible, you turn the corner to approach a crying dark mass curled on the ground. Seeing their blood pooling sends your stomach into flips. Not another one. Fearing the worst you gently reach out. “Hey hey...shhh..." you utter, feeling her wince ever so slightly. "No don't panic I'm here to help. Where are you hurt?"

The young girl slowly uncrumples herself to show her wound...a massive "X" sliced hips to neck. It was so deep you couldn't believe she was still breathing let alone even moving. Fuck she's lost too much blood. "Come here let me try to stop the bleeding" you lied. You knew she had no chance. But your chest hurt at the thought of her dying (again) alone in some shit alley. With the last of her strength she curled into you, her white hair tickling your face. She had her textured locks pulled back tightly and black horns accenting the top of her head. Her tired red eyes relaxed, slowly closing as she leaned into you. Such a beautiful girl falling to such a terrible fate. With one hand on part of her wound, you used your other to softly stroke her head. “I'm so sorry young one...just breathe in and know you're not alone.” As her breathing shallows you gently kiss her forehead, bidding her soul a gentle goodbye.

The second your lips touch her skin, pure fire floods through your veins. Every nerve in your body feeling ripped apart. You spasm from the pain, clenching onto the girls now limp body. Just when the pain starts misting your vision you see flashes of...pink? "What the fuck!!" You grit through your teeth. What felt like hours of pain was merely a few seconds and it quickly dissipated from your body as did the pink light. Shit shit shit, there’s no way the exorcist didn’t hear OR SEE that! You stay perfectly still...listening to the silence with your mind reeling over what just happened.

A gasp breaks the deafening silence, pulling you back to reality. The young girl jolted out of your arms, gasping in as much air as she could. Looking down you notice her wounds were gone, only dry blood and tattered cloth remained from the laceration. You look at each other in panic and shock.

After inspecting her stomach she snaps out of her daze, remembering you two were still not safe.

"It's too dangerous to stay out here. Come with me - we aren’t far from the safehouse. I am sure my mother will want to meet you."

You follow without hesitation. Trust has always been a weakness. As you make your way through the city, she explains how she was out collecting angelic weapons with her sister when they got separated. After getting cornered she just accepted her fate...then you found her. "The name is Clara by the way. Clara Carmine. I usually just go by CC though."

You never intended to get into the Overlord game. You were merely trying to make the best, quiet life in hell if that was even possible. Guess things change when you save the daughter of Hells most prestigious Overlord. Who could say no to being taken in and protected by THE Carmilla Carmine.

Carmilla immediately began preparing you after hearing of the power you possessed. The power to heal with touch...of course it’s not that easy…it required pure intensions, coming from a place of love. Who the hell (pun intended) wrote this cruel joke for a sinner? How did the lowest of low get given such power just a few short years after arriving? It was your most precious secret. It had to be. If anyone of ill will found out - and come on, it's Hell - your soul would have been the most sought after in the pride ring. You wouldn’t last a day. Carmilla was indebted to you for saving Clara, so she made a deal to give you protection and mentorship as repayment. The first of many deals you’d make in Hell, growing the power you held.

In the years you've been under Carmilla's watch, you created a short list of rules to keep yourself out of harm’s way -

1. Never trust another Overlord

2. Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have

3. Never bring anyone too close

4. Never let your weaknesses show

It was a simple enough list that had worked for you so far.

You chose to make deals with those who needed protection or help while navigating the dangerous afterlife. In your deals each soul was bound to secrecy as to who you were and what you provided. Contract details and fine print were your specialty. Your soul count was the highest Carmilla had ever seen for someone so new, so merciful. She would often mention only one other sinner ever rose the ranks as quick though his methods were…less than savory. She never bothered to say who. Every Overlord meeting the rumors spread of some "Saving Grace" sinner making their way into powerful ranks. A shadow giving vile hope. But just as quick as those rumors appeared - they were put to rest when no new faces ever appeared. Of course you were there - you needed to attend for information just as much as the next guy, but you never sat as an Overlord. Carmilla granted you a place off to the side as "the help" to serve tea or make notes as needed. No one ever batted an eye to someone considered just a worker bee in Carmilla's hive.

Every meeting was the same, though it seemed unease was rising after each extermination. Six years had passed since you fell into this hellhole (har har). Another extermination, another meeting. Sitting in your designated corner, you twirl your pen as the Overlords began taking their seats. Might as well be invisible - but you preferred it that way. As your mind slightly wonders to less important things, the quiet buzz of conversations around you fades away from your ears.

"—yes I know I’ve been absent some time. I'm sure you've ALL been wondering!"

Your attention snaps back with the sound of this charming new voice. The demon was dressed to the nines - red suit jacket, gloves, freshly pressed slacks. Your already preoccupied mind raced. Who the hell is that? Where has he been? Why does he have that shit eating grin?

He must hold some power to be sitting here after all these years…

"Not really. But welcome back in any case."

That dismissal from Camilla was enough for you to put aside any questions you had of the demon. You knew this meeting would be tense. Can't afford distractions when you needed to be all ears. As you began writing you felt something in the pit of your stomach. Was someone staring at you? You try to shake the feeling when Velvette made her grand entrance. With a sigh and eye roll you set aside your notebook. God damn this woman, no respect, no couth. Gonna be a long one today.

The sinking feeling returns, this time you catch the culprit. The (new to you) demon Overlord is staring at you as if you’re the only one in the room. You make eye contact hoping he moves his gaze, but it only fuels the intensity on you. That smile never faltering. Your ears ring and static pricks your ear drums. Can I fuckin help you sir? Wait no, you're just the help. Lower sinners would never even dream of speaking to an Overlord like such. Thankfully the eye contact breaks when Velvette tosses the head of an exorcist on the table.

Ah I suppose this will be quite a fascinating meeting…

[feroluce]

NO OK BUT I'M STILL NOT OVER BOOTHILL AND DAN HENG AND THE JADE ABACUS IN ENA'S DREAM!!!!!

For some extra context, I have a whole henghill manifesto I wrote over here, but the tl;dr is that Dan Heng decides to use the Jade Abacus of Allying Oath to save the Express Crew the first time. Boothill urges him to think it over carefully, but he doesn't stop him. And then, the second time Dan Heng decides to use it, we get this instead:

And just! That's so!! so!!!

Because like. We see in the first battle against Sunday that that Jade Abacus is effective, like we really do just get an entire army lead by a whole-ass Emanator of The Hunt right to our location and ready to fuck shit up. It's important. It's incredibly valuable. That is a huge amount of power to hold in the palm of one's hand.

But Tiernan's relic works the same way.

Galaxy Rangers are terribly dangerous. Boothill comments on this when discussing Acheron's motives, because he can't believe anyone would be stupid enough to get The Hunt on their asses. They're considered to be on a level even above The Annihilation Gang.

And now, with the burial relic, he has a way to get thousands of them, almost immediately, and all in one place.

And you can't tell me that wouldn't be something extremely useful to Boothill, like literally life-saving. He's wanted by the IPC. He makes his living as a bounty hunter. His whole driving motivation in life right now is to do whatever he can, up to and including throwing away his own human body, to ruthlessly hunt down one man and kill him in revenge. Like that has to be dangerous, the IPC is a massive entity with far-reaching influence and money and power and weaponry. He surely must have already had some close calls.

Like can you imagine it? Galaxy Rangers are solitary creatures. If Boothill were to find himself near death, he would probably be all alone. Do you think he had regrets? Did he wonder if anyone would find his own burial relic? Did it feel the same way it did when they melted his flesh, replaced it with metal? Did he lay there with his vision slowly blacking out until he thought of home, and family, and the little daughter who he never even got to hear her first word, until he was so full of fury that he could prop himself up on his rage like a crutch and find help?

Tiernan's relic would have been like a get-out-of-jail-free card. Just for one time, no matter where Boothill was, someone would find him. The Galaxy Rangers aren't sociable or organized between themselves, but they help their own. Someone would save him.

He chooses to give all of that up to help Dan Heng.

And I just cannot get over it, especially the wording of it, the pause before he speaks, the gentle way he tells him to hold onto his once-in-a-lifetime treasure...!! He wants Dan Heng to leave this to him! He wants him to keep this precious item that will help him save his companions again in the future! And maybe it's just...wishful thinking, me reading too much into it? But I mean. Just the way he says it...

I really do think it comes from a place of deep kinship and respect. That there's a lot of thought and feeling behind that statement. Something from one Pathstrider of The Hunt to another. Boothill fought for his home and his family, he fought really really hard! But. Sometimes that just doesn't matter. And now he's watching Dan Heng fight for his, too.

When he made that decision the first time, Dan Heng was in the parlor car of the Astral Express. He was completely removed from any danger. He could have chosen to get the hell out of Dodge and not look back. Obviously we know he would never even consider such a thing, but it was technically an option, and Boothill watched him decide to go back into the proverbial lion's den for his friends anyway. And I'm sure that was part of what sealed his decision, to later use Tiernan's relic instead of the Jade Abacus to summon enough people to disrupt Ena's Dream. Because he greatly values ideas like righteousness and justice and saving people, and Dan Heng so beautifully embodies all of that and then some.

Boothill doesn't have people to protect anymore, only ghosts to avenge.

And there is just something so endlessly endearing about him wanting to help Dan Heng, to make sure his friend doesn't go through that the way he did.

[uchu-no-bashira]

PLEASE, let me nerd out with my OG Gyomei moots.

Mod here! Long read/rant about he big guy under the cut. Tagging @himejima-san @otomesass @the-axe-and-flail IDK ANY OTHER OG GYOMEI PEOPLE, SORRY-

You know what I love about Gyomei? And bear with me, because I'm not the best writer and it's so hard for me to be normal about this man and talk about him without stimming profusely - ANYWAY.

As a person who read the manga front to back and read about the descriptions of Gyomei's breathing style, movements and fighting style on the wiki, it is so exciting to see him animated, and it confirms all f the head-canon's I had about him fighting!

Sorry if I get a little nerdy or whatever, but I absolutely love, that I was right about one thing. ONCE HE STARTS, HE CANNOT STOP. Also, his weapon is NOT JUST DEADLY TO DEMONS! He is also a danger to HIMSELF! I mean, obviously, but just think about that! It's so cool! He has to simultaneously listen to the reverberations of his chain, get a mental image of his target and attack with INSANE accuracy, All while dodging his own axe and flail.

If you go frame by frame - yes, I did because I'm a nerd and have been waiting for this moment for like 2 years or whenever the Hashira meeting episode was first aired - you can see Gyomei using the chain as a BATTLING ROPE!! THAT IS SO COOOOOLL!! (calm down mod. deep breath) THIS MEANS, that he has to maintain a constant flow of momentum. And let's face it, he has the lower and upper body strength to do it! WHICH ALSO EXPLAINS WHY HE'S SO BIG!

I wondered, from the moment I read about his flash back or any of the little tidbits about him, why he wend from being thin to being extremely Jacked. One, it's because he believes a robust lower half is essential to maintaining stability, power etcetera - and he's right, because you're (supposed) to lift any and everything with your legs.

And, if you keep watching, he uses his chain, axe and flail as Nunchaku! Meaning the more momentum he has, the deadlier the attack. AND, you'll se him do a jumping side spin, which means he is JUMPING OVER AND DUCKING EITHER CHAN THAT HE IS USING. One, to not get hurt, Two, SO THEY DON'T GET TANGLED! Because you'll see him use his neck as well.

I IMPLORE ALL OF MY OG GYOMEI STANS - if you haven't already - TO GO BACK AND WATCH THAT SCENE FRAME BY FRAME. Because it is truly amazing and I just... Ahh~ I love him and his strength and resolve! And he did it so fluently! When we saw Tengen do some of the same (no shade because Tengen is fucking amazing too) He was screaming to the top of his lungs against Gyutaro.

Gyomei just did it, like he 'bout that life. UGHSRLGL;S I cannot. There are so many other things I'm missing, but that was the one that made me do the flappy hands, internal scream combo.

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 13 [PART 1]

I wonder what Joris's opinion on Tristepin abandoning post is. It'e either "thank god I don't have two Iops to wrangle" or "well at least the the one that's less likely to be killed is here" or "FOR FUCK'S SAKE NOT THIS FUCKING GUY"

Stealth mission with an iop by your side sounds like a whole new type of hell on earth.

It's very brief, but at this moment (5:50 in the episode), we can see Joris and Goultard going up the stairs.

The demons in my head are, once again, telling me to keep screenshotting him.

Trying to get her out is a pretty delicate balance, considering his strength. Joris is probably quite aware of the possibility that he might accdentally hurt her.

There's no fucking way Joris doesn't want Goultard to die a gruesome, violent death.

He's imagining Goultard's face instead of the rock... Seething and malding in silence.

GET SCARED.

DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE TIME TO DODGE. HEHEHEHE

at least he's a good teammate, when he's not calling Joris slurs as a joke.

Not him looking down at them. BITCH WORK!!

Once again, I am compelled to take screenshots. It cannot be helped.

I will be honest, the sudden influx of content where Joris and Goultard are portrayed as friends — like drinking together, or going on missions together — in the fandom has been very weird, because I think what became very clear in this season is that Goultard is an iop who treats people in an iop way (for iops it's just normal to roughouse each other) while Joris is a man who has been infantilized for 600 years, doesn't want to be friends with anyone except people who never question his intelligence (like Yugo and Amaliaa), and wants to kill himself whenever his height is pointed out. and also has 2 drinking buddies already (who shower him in praise at how righteous and heroic and smart he is).

Literally fundamentally incompatible personalities. Joris can barely stand to be here, and the only thing uniting them is "we're immortal and don't want the world to end". If he could, Joris would slip rat poison into whatever Goultard is eating or drinking — because he knows that while it will not kill him, it will make him feel Bad. 😭

Maybe I'm weird, but I don't really like it when characters' discomfort of being treated cruelly is taken as something cute or funny or a Friendship thing...

(Attention: I am not bashing anyone, but expressing my personal opinion)

DFGJSDFKLGHSDKJFGHDSFKJG

you can tell that Joris is not having a good time. he's at his fucking limit. first he let loose with a "if you only knew :) how many people :) have degraded me the same way :) for all my life :)" and now an explicit "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!"

I really do think he's imagining Goultard's head here.

:)

As someone insane enough to have drawn maaany comparisons between Nora&Efrim and Joris this season, I think he has a soft spot for her by now. She's been through a lot...

And I think Joris understands what it's like, to feel guilty, because of something horrible happening — even if it's not necessarily your fault; besides that, I think they both have very closely matched temperaments — they're both introspective and a bit embittered.

In a kinder universe, Nora and Joris could have been besties. And Nora could have gone to his house for tea. The two of them could probably speak very quietly to one another about some interesting, sad things.

And then Kerubim could have a post-divorce stress disorder-related heart palpitations due to seeing a pink haired woman IRL inside his house unannounced.

Basically, I NEED NORA&JORIS FRIENDSHIP FANART HI?!

Basically: I have crazy levels of brainworms about this (and about Eva trying to sacrifice herself for her family, but there are so many screenshots in this post already...)

Of COURSE he'd stand guard for her.

I'm fucking CRAZY and INSANE.

HIS SMILE HERE!! HE'S SO PROUD OF HER!!! HE BELIEVES IN HER!!!!!!

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter four: the party

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!SHIElD!reader

masterlist

summary: being a SHIELD agent, you have a knack for analysing people, particularly when it comes to attraction. you have everyone figured out, sorted away into the boxes you've created. But there's one man you can never seem to figure out, the very bane of your existence -- Bucky Barnes. On the field, he is a saint, helping you dodge bullets and taking knife wounds in your name. Around the building? Public menace number one, always poised to insult or to spar with you.

After being sent on a 6-month-long torture-cum-vacation with the very man, could all this change? Could you finally figure out what has been bubbling beneath the surface for years between the two of you, the juggernaut that you know you cannot stop?

warnings:  language, mention of Bucky having a nightmare, mentions of sex, FLUFF!!!!!

word count: 3.1k

taglist: @cjand10 @mcira @calwitch

PREVIOUS PART

A/N: its been a long time coming...SORRY I got into med at my top choice uni so life's been a bit busy recently!!!! pls comment and reblog and lmk what you think!! <333

“Hey doll, can you help me a minute?” You’re lounging in the living room, watching women try their best to sell cardigans that look like they’d fall apart in the smallest gust of wind, not really paying much attention. You’re too busy thinking about Bucky, fiddling with the hem of your dress. About how good he looked at dinner last night, how you could swear his hand was softly touching your face in the middle of the night, when you decided to sleep in his bed because of his nightmare.

And the way it was making you feel. Stirring something inside your chest and between your legs like never before, butterflies and raw desire and hardcore want — it’s almost too much. It’s been a week since his birthday, since you called a truce. And you cant stop thinking of anything that isn’t him, much like when you’d first met him. His hair, his eyes, his voice, his hands— fuck. You don’t know what these past couple of weeks have done to you. Maybe it’s because you’ve gone so long without sex, yes, maybe the depravity is getting to your brain and channeling feelings that you’ve killed and fought and suffered to bury deep down so they never—

“Doll? You okay?” Bucky stands at the door, shirtless and shaving cream over half of his face, watching you. You realise you’ve been blankly staring at him the entire time, and immediately snap out of it. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. What do you need help with?” He shuffles as you straighten, walking over to him and stopping just a metre away. It’s almost too close. 

“My arm is acting up again, I can’t finish shaving. Could…could you do it for me? Please.” You nod, reaching forward and grabbing the razor out of his hand. Your fingertips brush and you swallow your stuttering heartbeat at the contact. 

“Yeah, of course.” This is the second time this has happened, that his arm has been acting up to the point where he can barely move it. He won’t show it, but you know the pain must be excruciating. You try not to dwell on it, or your urge to soothe him as he leads you to the bathroom.

“Sit down on the edge of the bathtub for me.” You use your commanding voice as you fish out his shaving cream from the medicine cabinet. As you turn to face him, you catch him wince. You can’t stop yourself.

“Does it hurt a lot?” You keep your voice and face devoid of any judgement, lest he believe your question to be mockery. He looks away, down at his lap.

“Sometimes. I hate it, it makes me wish…” You close the distance between the both of you, lace your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, and gently tug, pulling his face upwards.

“Look at me when you’re talking to me, Bucky. What does it make you wish?” His pupils dilate to a new diameter you once thought impossible, at your authoritative voice. He likes it. It makes him realise that being controlled doesn’t always feel evil and torturous. Sometimes it can be desire awakening, and cause that familiar blanket to gloss over his brain and eyes, the blanket that only leads him to think of you. 

“It makes me wish I had arms like yours.” You gently manoeuvre your right hand to slip a finger between vibranium and the weird skin-like rubber stretched on top of it, and freeze at his words. 

You offer him a soft smile. “Arms like mine?”

“Two well-functioning arms. Not dependent on some metal hunk to do the job for you. You can feel everything in a way I’ll never be able to, no matter how advanced Wakandan technology gets. Arms like yours.”

You curl the fingers in his hair, feeling the soft silkiness against your delicate skin. You affectionately stroke his scalp as the both of you sigh in tandem at the new, yet not unpleasant, feeling. “The grass always seems greener on the other side, darling.” You try and convince yourself you’re just practising calling him names so you can play it off at the housewarming party you’re having later tonight. You fail.

“You’ve seen the state of my arms, haven’t you? Every single scar on them comes alongside the most horrible memories of a night I’d do anything to forget. I—I can’t believe I’m saying this— I’ve always been a bit jealous of your vibranium arm.  Not how you got it, of course, but of how fucking cool it looks. How strong it makes you, can you imagine the things I could do if I were as strong as you? And I like the black and gold…Over the years, it’s become such an inherent part of you, it made me sad to watch you walk around with the human skin sleeve thing on. But I know how you got it, and the memories that you would do anything to forget, and I’m almost never there when it starts acting up, or when the phantom pains make you double over. Just like how you don’t know I can barely stand the sight of myself in a mirror, because of all of those scars.” You focus on slowly peeling the skin sleeve off as you speak, avoiding eye contact. You’ve become the one thing you hate the most — vulnerable.

The rubber skin finally pops off, and his face finally shifts away from yours to focus on the mild relief seeing vibranium brings. “Is that any better?” You’re changing the topic. He knows you’re changing the topic, but he doesn’t argue with it or fight to get back, he knows what a big thing it was for you to admit all that you just did.

“A bit. It might be better if you detach my arm.” You nod, eyes still not looking at him, but rather, following the intricate lines and details you’ve so sorely missed. 

“Then I’ll go get you an ice pack.” 

When the cool gel pack presses against his skin, he immediately relaxes, letting out a shaky breath. Dear God, he must’ve been in agony. You gesture for him to hold his right hand over the top of the pack to press it to his ache, so you can focus on other activities, like shaving. When your hands brush, this time, you can’t help but stare into the cerulean abyss of his eyes, temporarily letting your maddening affections be known. His eyes glance at your lips like the lack of space between you two is the one thing he’s been waiting for, and you let your eyes drift downwards too. Letting yourself enjoy the bright pink curve of his lips — how can anyone’s lips be this colour? How can he have such a pretty mouth that you want nothing more than to kiss, and taste and feel on your—?

“So do you want a clean shave? Or do you want me to leave some parts?” 

His heart sinks. He should’ve known the way you’re looking at him might be a last minute resort to cure the depravity that must ail you, instead of you actually desiring him. He shouldn’t have let his fantasies get carried away.

“Clean shave is fine.” You nod, carefully testing the razor on your arm to gauge the pressure you should apply without hurting him. He can’t help but melt at the small gesture, and his arm winds around your waist as he pulls you onto his lap. 

“It’ll be easier this way.” You try to think nothing of it. Especially, the way his hand feels splayed across your lower back and cementing your entire front to his. You’ve never realised his hands were so big until the tips of his fingers reach your hair and thumb rests respectfully just below where your bra begins. You nod, trying to calm your breathing.

He notices. He keeps silent, wondering what your next move will be. He certainly doesn’t expect you to cup his jaw so delicately and, more of note than that, so fondly as you begin dragging the razor down his face, watching it glide and reveal smooth skin than the blue eyes that seem to have no interest in anything that isn’t your face. 

“Lift your chin up for me a bit, that’s it. Good boy.” The last part slips almost out of habit, but you don’t register this until it’s too late. He’s looking at you and you’re looking at him and he fits against you so perfectly that you can’t resist meeting his wonderful blue eyes. He watches you, lips parted.

And he can’t hold back anymore, breathing in the scent of shaving cream and perfume and your fucking pheromones. He glances between your eyes, searching for any inkling of hesitance in the beautiful colour he’s painted his wall back home. 

Then he grabs your face in his one hand, sliding into your soft hair and your eyes close in instinct, letting out the smallest relieved sigh ever. Because you are. It feels like every interaction you’ve had with Bucky in the past 8 years is finally coming to a boil, and your conscience is tired of suppressing the deep attraction that you feel towards him. Sexual, romantic, all of it. All of it. 

His soft, sweet, wanting mouth meets yours, half-open in desire, for a languid kiss. It is full of longing and lust and pining, almost a decade’s worth of it. Your hand finds his head again, grabbing onto the short, soft locks and keeping his face pressed up against yours. You can’t help it, you want more. You’ve always wanted more, and searched for it in everyone but the one man you crave. You know, just to torture yourself. That’s the reality of what you’ve been doing, the circles you’ve been running in, around and around and around him. Avoidant attachment, anxious avoidance. You don’t know what on Earth to call it, all you know is you want nothing to do with it anymore. And just as your lungs begging for oxygen out-win your heart’s greed, you realise what you’ve just done, the domino you’ve just toppled.

You rest your forehead against his, staring deeply into his dilated pupils. So pretty.

“Bucky…” You never did revert back to James once your tongue became familiar with his nickname. “We can’t be doing this…if they find out,” you say, gripping his shoulder ever so desperately. “They won’t let us work together again.” His eyebrows scrunch up in immense pain, like to hear that is more excruciating than any torture he’s ever been subject to.

“Don’t say that. Don’t give me a taste of everything I’ve been wanting for the past fucking, like, decade and then rip it away from me. They’ll understand, just—Please, don’t say that. Please.” He grips your face a little tighter, not wanting to let you go. And the desperation in his voice breaks you. Severely. 

You kiss him again, more fervently like you’d die if you don’t taste him again. He tastes like the strawberries he was eating for breakfast, and you moan. Unabashedly. Because he is everything you’ve been wanting, and you’re tired of denying it to every bastard haunted corner of your mind. His eyebrow furrows when he realises that you want him just as bad, and he hasn’t been making it up for these past long years. It wasn’t all in his mind. You’re real, you’re sitting in his lap and kissing him like your life depends on it. Dear God, how is he ever going to deny you anything you ask of him ever again? He won’t and he won’t want to. Ever.

He moans every nickname he can think of when you kiss him so feverishly, he makes every sound under the sun at the feeling of your soft lips and soft body and soft everything that makes him go fucking feral. 

And then he moves his left arm to grab at you, if only to watch how beautiful you look with the black and gold against your skin, forgetting that it currently lies on the bathroom floor, and a nauseating pain flares up again. 

“Ah, shit.” You’ve known him long enough to recognise when he’s in pain. You pull away, ceasing grinding against his erection to seek veracity in his face. “Did I hurt you, darling?” You gently touch his cheek, relishing in the way he leans into it.

“No.” His eyes flutter closed as you stroke his marvellous cheekbone, already so sick with affection for him. “My shoulder…I—I wanted to touch more of you, but—.”

“Oh, it’s okay. It’s okay, Buck. Really. Here, let me help you. Shit, I should’ve thought of that before I leaped at you. Sorry.” How is this so easy? You’ve never been this affectionate with anyone before…Maybe it’s the privacy, and the intimacy of being in the bathroom with him, in his lap. 

“Don’t apologise for that. It might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He smiles bashfully as you laugh stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, gently pressing the now lukewarm icepack against his shoulder. 

“You have an incredibly low bar for ‘best thing to have ever happened to you’.” 

He kisses your cheek, and your eyelids flutter. “Maybe you’re just that amazing,” he whispers against your ear, kissing it. You gasp.

“Is this all it takes to get you to not hate me? Kiss you?” You eye his lips once again, already reminiscing the feeling of them. Golden, like daylight. 

“I’ve never hated you.” Your eyes dart up, knowing he’s lying. He can’t be serious.

“What do you mean? You hated me from the get-go. Why do you think I stopped being nice to you?” 

“I felt like I didn’t deserve you. That’s why. I know it’s not an excuse for the horrible things I’ve done, like my birthday, but I truly felt that way. I felt so evil, so unworthy of any goodness that anyone offered me, but especially you. I’ve been I—obsessed with you since the second I saw you, but I guess it was a form of self-sabotage to deny myself of it. And by the time I felt worthy enough to try to win you over, I was too late.” He swallows some of the pain, and you hand shifts to cup his face. “So I thought, maybe if I keep you hating me, at least you’ll feel something for me, like a sick form of validation.” 

You smile softly at his confession, feeling your heart swell at his reddening cheeks. “You are the first, and only, person I’ve ever had romantic feelings for. They were so intense, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know how to act around you, and when I thought you hated me, I thought it was for the best. Maybe it would help me get over you. But instead, I’ve spent pretty much a whole decade trying to convince myself that I don’t have any feelings for you. I was, so wrong. I’m so sorry. I said so many horrible things to you, and you never deserved any of it. I knew that, but I was too caught up in myself to mind. But you deserve good things, amazing things even. You always have.” You kiss him again, passionately yet shortly, sealing your words with the action.

“So we wasted 8 years?” You nod, resting your head against the crook of his neck. “Not wasted. I’d rather argue with you than be with anyone else. That…is abundantly clear.” He laughs, and you stand, extending your hand to him. He gently grabs your fingers and stroking them, before he flips it and kisses the back of it, looking up at you through his lashes. A silly, lovesick grin takes over your features as he pulls you into him wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his head on your stomach. You soothe him, and enjoy the silence.

“I’d rather have you hate my guts than be in love with anyone else.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The party goes as expected. Buck had pulled you into his lap while you were doing your makeup, just silently watching you. You’ve never felt more wanted, and you realise that this was the one thing you’ve always craved, deep down. To be wanted, to be loved. Recently, more specifically to be wanted and loved by Bucky. The two of you are nowhere near that stage right now, but the want and desire is there. His chin on your shoulder, poised to angle his head to press kisses to your neck as you apply your favourite blush, or him stroking your waist when you lean forward to apply mascara. Obsessed, enamoured, unabashed. 

The both of you also determined a common distress signal while you were applying lip gloss, to converse in Hindi when you want to convey information in plain sight. A language nobody here would know, but it allows your words to go almost undetected — appearance vs. Reality, you suppose.

Senator Parker was just as sleazy as you expected, leaning into you and trying his best to stare down your dress when he thought you weren’t looking. Once Bucky noticed it, he’s kept himself glued to your side at all times, sparing no expense in calling you his beautiful wife. You asked the Senator why he was away for so long, and he engages in conversation.

“Well, you see, sweetheart, I was looking for a new right-hand man.” You hand fists the back of Bucky’s shirt at the nickname, and he holds you a little tighter in response. You’re lucky he knows how to read you so well, to keep you on the task at hand.

“Is he showing up tonight?” Bucky asks, gently stroking your back to keep you grounded.

Just then the doorbell rings, and you seize the chance to leave this conversation. You don’t think you can handle a man twice your age eye-fucking you any longer.

“I’ll go get that. You’ll have to excuse me.” You offer Parker a tight-lipped smile, before turning and pressing up to your tiptoes to press a light, affectionate kiss on Bucky’s cheek. He blushes, grinning. “Be right back,” you whisper, for his ears only. He’s the only person you’d ever want to come back to.

You open the door with a polite smile on your face, only to be met with, quite literally, the man of your nightmares.

Your blood runs cold.

“It’s been too long, lovebug.”

NEXT PART

[whimsical-roasting]

You reblogged that Sam gifs post and it reminded me of that headcanon i have of being Sam’s friend but you’re feisty and take no one’s shit. Like he’s always takes the high road and you’re like when they go low i go lowER. I would fight that Akufo dude for him no questions asked.

hi wifey <3 you are absolutely right!! i fucking love that idea of Sam having a bestie who'd throw hands for him.. it's on sight all the time.

special thanks to @sokkigarden for bouncing ideas off me, love you bby. okay, i wanna write about being friends w the AFC Richmond boys more, so if yall have ANY thoughts on being friends with ANY of the lads then send me requests on it so we can DISCUSS

OKAY BUT BEING BESTIES WITH SAM OBISANYA

he's such a wholesome and loyal friend... a breath of fresh air yknow?? Dani is more of that 'unconditional sunshine' energy, but Sam is positive whilst still keeping it real w you

and sooo you're hella loyal to him too. well, you're loyal to everyone you care about. you'd take a bullet for them, no questions asked, but probs a lot of cussing involved (same, but i'll come back to this)

sharing an airpod each if yall go out on a walk or join the team on a bus ride - if you're dating jamie then he NEEDS you next to him on the ride back, probs uses your shoulder to sleep on and has an arm around your waist so you can't leave, but that's a diff post ahahaha

having a shared spotify playlist that you both keep adding music too...the vibes are all over the place. "Y/N, I was trying to jam out to J.Cole, and then Adele came on??" "Oh yea, I was sad bout something earlier"

blanket forts and microwaveable caramel popcorn for when he's missing home

playing as him in FIFA when you're with the lads and yellin "YEA THATS MY BESTIE" every time you score as him

pinching his earlobes like his dad would for good luck on the days of a big match/when he's really nervous

since opening OLA'S, you join him when he attends small business owner conventions, but that's mainly to try the free food

since i'm vegetarian, telling him that his menu looks great but you can only stick to sumn like the jollof rice.. so next month when he invites you over to his restaurant for a catchup dinner there's a whole new lil section for vegetarian dishes on the menu (or whatever dietary inclusivr thingy etc.)

warning Sam about Afuko because "a man simply doesn't feed you pasta and lobster and send you a stack without something in mind" and him being like ??? what and you groan, "did you watch the tiktoks I sent you??"

hearing about how the Afuko rejection went and Sam only focusses on "he called me medium talent??" and you're SEETHING

you're like "what the living F U C K" and he's like "oh hey Y/N, don't worry, I know I am not medium talent" and you're like "what? no, shut up, obviously not, but that's not the POINT here. how did that ASSHOLE have the audacity to speak to you like that?!!"

you're searching up flights to Nigeria and opening a google map from the airport to Afuko's business residence or something, and Sam is like, "seriously, forget that guy. bullet dodged." and you're angrily muttering about how Afuko's gonna have to dodge the bazooka you're gonna smuggle onto the plane

"We cannot be best friends if you end up in jail because you tried to smuggle a bazooka onto the plane." "I just wanna talk to him...with a bazooka." "No." "Pleas-" "No."

telling Sam you might be getting feelings for Jamie and being nervous he'd be mad because of their relationship in S1, but you promise he's changed, and Sam is like, I know

wearing the Obisanya jersey and the rest of the boys are like 'hey why don't you ever support our merch' so like every match you're switching out jerseys before texting a pic to the groupchat

running into that Francis guy who's Afuko's right-hand man and "accidentally" stepping on his foot real hard like OOPS

giving him updates on your love life and vice versa. "Y/N, please tell me this one is not a loser." "Um, Sam, shut up; you know my rizz only seems to work on losers??" "hey, Jamie told me that telling a woman my favourite movie is Ratatouille is a bad idea... is it?" "just bake her a lasagna or something and say that's how you learnt to cook." "I am not doing that." "dammit, I thought we'd get lasagna for dinner"

doing random tiktok trends or challenges - the baking one where one person is blind, one is deaf, and one is mute, but they all gotta work together to bake a cake!! sam (tape around his mouth) x you (blindfolded) x jamie (loud ass headphones on)

jamie: pass the FOOKIN sugah!! *back turned to yall as he stirs the mix*

you: WHAT. WHERE. *randomly smacking shit, picking up the salt and dropping it on the counter and onto a spoon*

sam: mmmhnph! *waving his hands in your face like NO but you can't see*

you: *turning to jamie with a spoonful, which he probs tastes absentmindedly whilst stirring* OI TASTE THIS

jamie: FOOKS SAKE

[mystra-midnight]

Hello again miss Ash!!!

I DID have a different idea, but the 'Lamington' looks like too much fun 😂 so I guess here's an incredibly flattering self description, if it's not too muc trouble of course!!!! And again, I'll never stop saying how good your stuff is!!!! 😘

Let's see...🤔

I'd say I'm incredibly stubborn with a bit of an aggressive personality diametrically opposed to my emotional reservedness and shyness when first met, I have a dark sense of humor and I'm very petty. I can be a touch arrogant but deep down I care about others. I'm very giving and protective of my friends. I can be a bit prickly and have been referred to as moody 😅 [hope that's thorough 😂]

As for fandoms, I like both Supernatural, The Witcher and the X-Men, with no particular preference. I genuinely look forward to what your beautiful mind decides!!!

Vicky, my love, my life, my soul, thank you so so much for your support! And thank you for joining in the celebration; I cannot express to you how much it means to me. <3 <3 <3

I hope you enjoy this sweet treat! Also, tagging your new blog <3 @melpomenes-garden

I ship you with . . . Logan Howlett!

Logan is a man who isn't black and white but shades of grey, yet there can be no mistaking him. He doesn't speak for small talk but to get to the point.

Some people think he's aggressive, and maybe he is, but he doesn't really give a shit. He is who he is --- you know how that saying goes, old dog, new tricks.

He isn't afraid to butt heads with you --- in fact, he'd absolutely give you a run for your money when it comes to stubbornness and aggression. The man is a menace.

"Again," you snapped, chest heaving with heavy pants as you glared at him. Logan was smiling at you, no, not smiling — fucking grinning. God, you wanted to smack that smug expression off his perfect face.

"What's the matter, bub? You tired already?" He taunted, his voice a low rumble, casual like you were sitting at a bar flirting instead of in the Danger Room with sweat dripping from your brow. You clenched your fists, knuckles bruised and aching from the number of times you'd hit him. He'd shrugged off every hit as if it was nothing. You knew he was holding back — you could see it in how he moved. He'd dodge your blows just a little too slow, making it look like you were getting closer when, in actuality, nothing you did made a difference.

"I said again," you barked, feet shifting as you squared off, pulse thrumming in your ears. Every nerve and fibre of your being screamed for a break, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you quit. Not now. Not when he was pushing every single one of your damn buttons. Logan let out a chuckle, low and lazy. He rolled his shoulders as if sparring with you wasn't anything more than a warm-up.

"You keep glaring at me like that, and I might start thinkin' you don't like me."

You lunged at him, throwing a wild punch, and he quickly sidestepped. His claws were restricted, and his arms were relaxed. Fucking prick. He could have ended the fight in seconds, which was the worst part. Logan was toying with you, pushing you to your limits without breaking a sweat because he enjoyed seeing you flustered. "Logan!" You growled, spinning on your heel to face him again.

His blue eyes narrowed, his grin softening for just a moment before his hand shot out as quick as a flash. He grabbed your wrist mid-punch and twisted you around effortlessly so that your back was pressed against his chest. His grip was firm but not painful.

"You're fightin' angry," he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You couldn't fight the shiver that coiled down your spine. That's how you lose."

Despite his gruff exterior and his acting like a surly old man 90% of the time, the dude cares — like a lot.

So if you’re feeling a little shy, he’ll tease you just for the fun of it, just so he can watch the way you get flustered and blush. He finds the difference between the shy you and the extroverted you incredible.

But is someone else teases you, and you don’t like it? If someone else makes you uncomfortable? You can bet your bottom dollar that his scary dog energy is going all the way to eleven. He’s all bite, no bark when it comes to you.

You pressed yourself against the bar, desperate to put some distance between yourself and the stench of liquor on his breath. He doesn't seem to notice. You don't know him, but his presence is suffocating, the heat of his body too close for comfort. His words slurred together as he leaned in, mumbling something about how pretty you looked in your little red dress, and you felt a chill crawl up your spine. The room suddenly felt too small, the crowd a blur of faces too absorbed in their own worlds to notice what was happening.

Instinctively, you curled your fingers around the counter's edge, gripping it tightly as if to ground yourself. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, flickered over you. It was as though you could feel the weight of his stare, the way he was undressing you with his eyes. Your heartbeat quickened, each thump somehow louder than the hum of music, and a familiar sense of panic began to settle it until —

"Hey," a voice cut across, pulling your attention from him and his from you. You could cry at the sight that greeted you — Logan Howlett in his leather jacket and cowboy jeans. He looked angry, fuming, but it didn't worry you. His presence was like a lifeline, his gaze sharp, locked on the man who dared to get too close to you. He flexed his knuckles. "Get lost, bub," he growled, his voice low, rumbling with an unmistakable danger and an unmissable possession.

The stranger flinched but stood his ground, his alcohol-fuel bravado pushing him to challenge someone he didn’t fully understand. Logan could break him oh so easily. “What’s it to you, man?” he asked, words slurred, eyes bleary, and swaying where he stood. You saw Logan’s jaw tightening, a muscle jumping near his temple. He didn’t repeat himself — he didn’t need to. The atmosphere around him screamed danger.

“Last chance,” he warned, and you knew there wouldn’t be another one. The air seemed to crackle with tension. Logan flexed his fingers, claws threatening to unsheathe at any second. His entire body was coiled, every muscle taut, waiting for an excuse. The stranger’s bravado finally cracked. You didn’t need to see his face to know that a flicker of fear spread over his features. He mumbled something before stumbling away, disappearing into the crown with a soured and defeated mood.

As soon as he was gone, Logan shifted his attention to you. His anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface of his skin like wildfires, but it wasn’t directed at you. “You alright, darlin’?” He asked, his voice gruff but with a gentleness reserved only for those he cares about. It makes your heart ache to know you’re among those people.

The weight in your chest lightened at that moment, but your hands continued to tremble—the adrenaline still pumping. You nod, releasing a shaking breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Logan stepped closer, brushing his hand against your arm. He was familiar — the smell of his cologne, the leather he wore — his mere presence pushing away the fear.

“You don’t gotta worry,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

And let's say you're feeling extra bratty. Maybe a little mouthy. Or perhaps you've had a bad day, and you're taking it out on him because, let's be honest, Logan can take anything you throw at him. You can rest assured he'd be the one to fuck the attitude out of you.

Logan might be arrogant and cocky, sometimes overbearing and unbearable, but rest assured, he doesn't just talk the talk; he walks the walk. His confidence comes from years of experience, battles fought and won, lovers lost, and a lifetime of experiences.

So when he finally musters up the courage or rather lets go of his hesitations, and he gets you in bed, you can bet your bottom dollar that he's going to keep you there all. night. long.

His hands were warm, one holding both your wrists above your head, pinning them to the mattress. Logan held you there, keeping you spread out like a pagan sacrifice, his actions sacrilegious as he ravages you. All you can do is take him, keening loudly beneath him as his rigid length spears through your still-fluttering walls.

His grip tightened, the rough pads of his finger pressing into your skin as he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans. Each ragged breath he takes reverberates through you, matching the rhythm of his hips. You gasped, back arching off the bed as his thrust deepened, his body demanding your submission, pushing you to the brink of delirium.

You felt it building — that familiar pressure between your hips. Your legs shook, thighs trembling, toes curling, spreading wider at his silent command. Logan roamed his free hand possessively over your body as if committing the feel of you to his memory. He traced the swell of your breasts and the curve of your thigh before pulling you closer.

Logan moved with purpose, like a predator savouring its latest kill. The bed creaked beneath the force of him, a testament to his lust.

“Again,” he demanded, and the sound you made in response was lost to the storm brewing outside — rain pelting the windows, thunder rumbling in the distance. He was taunting you, using your words from the sparring match against you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless plea for mercy, but he only chuckled in response, his lips ghosting over your throat as his teeth grazed your racing pulse.

There was something dangerous in his touch, a wild hunger that threatened to consume you both. And still, you offered yourself to him, mind and body unravelling under his unrelenting control. You felt yourself letting go, a third, no, wait, a fourth orgasm ripping through you, punching the air from your lungs as you came undone beneath him. 

Logan was unrelenting, more beast than man, wild and untamed. But you didn’t mind, not at all. You were content to float in the clouds as he loved you.

—interested in joining? check out the menu and send in your order!

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five

TW: abuse of authority, harassment, cops

The next day, you are driving home from a long shift in the wee hours of the morning when you see the dreaded flicker of blue and red lights flashing behind you. There’s hardly anyone else out on the highway, so there’s little chance they’re not directed at you. 

What the hell? You weren’t even speeding. You are exhausted. Did you drift over the line? Fuck. A ticket is the last thing you need right now. You make your way over to the side of the road, hoping you don’t get a flat from all the extraneous bullshit that peppers the asphalt. There really is no one around, and a little thrill of fear tightens your chest. Being a woman alone late at night in this situation isn’t exactly what you would call ideal. 

You know you don’t exactly look threatening, but you’re still careful to place your hands in full view on the top of the wheel. You glance in your side mirror at the black Dodge Charger parked behind you, momentarily blinded by those stupid flashing lights. However, when you set eyes on the figure who emerges from the driver’s seat, your heart plummets to your stomach. 

That motherfucker. 

He approaches your open window with all the swagger of a rooster, long legs and broad shoulders. Doesn’t look much like that burn is bothering him now. You know part of the bulk of his chest is a vest (and you’re glad he’s wearing it, considering his habits) but it still manages to fry the aesthetic center of your brain as you watch him. 

He bends down slightly to peer in your window, blinding you with his flashlight. So unnecessary. 

“Really?” you grouse, squinting at the bright light. 

Ignoring your complaint, he offers that shit-eating smirk. “Know why I pulled you over?” 

He leans on your window, and you know you stare at that large hand distractingly close to your shoulder for a beat too long, utterly betraying your thoughts to him. “No idea,” you sigh, tired, and pissed off, and you hate to admit it-entirely too titillated by his newest form of harassment.

Again, it occurs to you how very alone you are out here, at this time of the night. Even if there was another car driving by…there’s no way they’re stopping to help you. 

“For driving while adorable.” 

Of all the things he could have said in that moment-and you cannot help but remember the way he trussed you like a christmas turkey and said such filthy things in your ear that one time you treated him-it’s so cheesy it almost makes you smile.

“Are you kidding me?”

“And you were going 7 miles over the speed limit.”

This was LA. You took your life in your hands for not speeding at least fifteen over most of the time.

“You’re writing me a ticket for going seven over?” 

He doesn’t actually have the ticket book in his hand, and he looks around the deserted highway as though thinking about it. 

“Well. I don’t have to…”

Here it comes. 

“I’m not going on a date with you to get out of this. Write it up. Fuck it. I don’t care.”

He pays you a little frown, because he’s trying to be cute, but you’re just not playing his game. You imagine a man like this isn’t used to women not playing any games he asks them to. He has no idea how stubborn you can be. 

When he honest-to-god makes a pouty face, pushing out that beautifully full lower lip it’s all you can do not to reach out of the car and slap him-or maybe punch him in the dick-because it’s charming, and it melts your heart a little, and you so do not need this. You’ve been dreaming about him nearly every goddamn night since you first treated him and this is only going to throw gasoline on the fire-fuck!

“Did you forget that I have a boyfriend?” you remind him, for yourself as much as him. Maybe it’s not wise, to poke the bear while he’s actually almost being sweet-but you are mad.

His eyes narrow at you, and why do you get such a thrill from that? 

“Do you? Because the two of you seemed a little…awkward, together. Not sure I buy it.”

“Things are just new,” you defend. “What, do you want to hear about how he rubs my feet on my break?”

The glint in Officer Ludlow’s eyes is like a bared blade. “Just your feet? Honey, if you were my girl I’d rub you all over. For your health.” 

Fuck if that doesn’t send a spear of heat straight to your center, your heart thumping painfully in your chest. You hope he doesn’t notice you shifting in your seat, trying to relieve some of the absolutely diabolical ache between your thighs.

“Well…the break room has its limits.”

“Wouldn’t stop me.” The images that is going to give you when you lay down to sleep. 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t. But Julian is actually a gentleman.”

“Yeah? Pretty sure that’s code for boring as fuck.” 

“He’s not boring. He’s sweet. He’s taking me to coffee on Saturday morning, and you know what? I’m not going to think about you at all.” 

A greater lie was never told.

It almost feels like you finally scored a hit. His expression turns stony, unreadable, and you know it’s crazy but you almost feel bad about it. At last he straightens from practically leaning into your window, hooking his thumb in his belt. “Alright, sassy girl,” he says, patting the top of your car. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time.” With a final dark look he swaggers back to his Charger. 

It’s possible you watch him go in your side mirror-it’s really not fair, that God gave a man that annoying such a biteable little muffin of an ass.

[starsandgutters]

ok, look, give me a fake dating with kevaaron and my life will be YOURS. (Please)

okay, LISTEN- 😭

It’s actually a travesty I haven’t written this already considering it’s like my fave trope ever. Like I want to read the fake dating KevAaron fic I would write too fr LMAO

I actually !! Have !! A loose !! Concept !! For one !! But I haven’t written anything yet so I cannot offer you an excerpt for WIP Wed 😔 I can give the overview tho

Set when Aaron’s in med school/maybe his residency, and Kevin is playing pro.

Also welcome to the SALU (Shannen’s Aaron’s Literary Universe) where a Frequent Fixture is now his hugely queer biology study/friend group that Katelyn dragged him into. Like, as much as I am a big believer in Aaron & Seth & Matt being bros if given the chance, the unfortunate reality of the situation is Seth’s being deceased before they made amends makes that quite difficult in canon settings. And Aaron is just too much of a skeptic to be cracking the ouija out. Now with Matt, I think they did get on really well when they were roomies, but their lives head in separate directions after college. So. I want Aaron to have friends. That are not connected to his family. And I use OCs very sparingly as I know the reason people come to fanfic is for familiarity and characters they already know/love, but Bio Bunch™️ were well received and consequently I will be recycling them forever thanks (Aaron dated nurse Dylan in my sapphic WIP, Miles’ family adopted Jean and Elodie in my KevNeil AU so now he’s Jean’s lil brother, like literally they’re my standby bonus characters now)

All this to say. Aaron very much appreciates having friends. He was not very good at making them when he was little and going through the worst of Tilda’s abuse, and his teens were lost to a haze of drugs and pain where he had people he would speak to at school/on the team, but no one he was really friends with. Then he gets a brother! But oh no. Andrew doesn’t want him to have friends either and also Aaron kind of feels like he hates him so he’s still alone ☹️ - so to finally be at a point in his life where he has a close knit group of friends, people who actually like him and want to spend time with him for some reason!, it means a lot to him. He would not want to risk damaging those friendships. Especially because he’s not sure how to make new ones, he kind of just absorbed these ones via osmosis through Katelyn.

Which is why he panics when Dylan asks him out.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” he had asked, and Aaron, thinking nothing of it, had said: “No.” Because he doesn’t. He hasn’t dated anyone since Katelyn. Like, he’s been on his med school GRIND, y’know? Who has the time. And who can compare to her anyway?

“Would you maybe like to go out with me sometime?” Dylan then said, and listen, it’s not like Aaron is proud of what he did, but he panicked. He saw his friendless future flash in front of his eyes because he hurt Dylan’s feelings and it’s all awkward between them now and Aaron ends up iced out because he wrecked the vibe, and he panicked!!!

“Oh. Uh. I have a boyfriend though.”

And why the fuck did he even say that what the fuck what the fuck?!

But y’know it worked because Dylan got a sad little smile but nodded and said “lucky guy” and Aaron was like PHEW! Y’know, bullet DODGED! Except somehow this gets around their group, because wow one thing about having friends is apparently you’re not allowed secrets 🙄 (not that his relationship would usually be a secret but considering it is NONEXISTENT he would have appreciated people NOT KNOWING)

Of course Katelyn is on him like a rash because when has she ever let him get away with anything ever there is no peace in this world for him as long as they share space (he loves her more than anything). Immediately quizzing him on WHO he could be dating, because she knows he doesn’t really talk to anyone outside their friend group (because she knows everything about him shit how is he going to lie to her), and she is DYING to know who he has been hiding! (Like shit Kate me too guess we’re gonna find out together)

Consequently the panic continues as he speed skims through his mental catalogue of all the people he has ever actually communicated with who are not A) his family or B) already in committed relationships. And, listen, ok, here’s the thing. There are just not an awful lot of people in Aaron’s life who fit the cross reference of those categories. Really the only person he can think of is Kevin, and then he’s blurting out his name before the consequences of that action occur to him (🦋🦋🦋) because Katelyn KNOWS Kevin so there really should have been a C) someone Katelyn doesn’t know (though on reflection Aaron’s search results would have thrown up entirely blank with this addition)

“Aw, you always did have a crush on him.”

“What are you talking about?” No, because what is she talking about??? “No I didn’t.”

“You’re dating him now, why are you getting so defensive?”

He’s not getting defensive. He just thinks it’s an absolutely insane implication to suggest he has or ever will have feelings for Kevin Day. Except he can’t say that. Since that’s his fictional boyfriend now. Fictional on the boyfriend part. Kevin Day is unfortunately very real. A fact that has plagued Aaron’s existence ever since Wymack first brought that broken stray back to PSU.

Enter Kevin, truly baffled by this entire situation.

“Why didn’t you just tell him you’re not interested in guys?”

“Well, Katelyn knows I’m bi, so I couldn’t say that. Maybe he asked her first. Or she might mention it if it comes up.”

“Wait, you’re bi? Since when?”

“Since birth probably, can we focus on the actual issue at hand here.”

But like. This is Aaron. Aaron has never particularly been one to mince words. Kevin doesn’t know why he doesn’t just tell Dylan he’s not into him. Kevin’s been on the receiving end of Aaron’s attitude and bad manners more than often enough. 🤨 But after the truly painful and pitiful display of Extremely Emotionally Constipated Asshole Aaron Minyard trying to explain his newfound value for the Powers of Friendship, Kevin eventually agrees to be his fake date to a party with his friends. Like, whatever. It’s a small event with some med students, it’s not like they even have to be overly affectionate, or that this will get out anywhere. Then they can use Kevin’s busy work schedule as a reason he’s never around, and after a few months Aaron will just pretend they broke up. Easy.

Except photos get leaked to the media, outing Kevin. Instead of the career suicide he expects, he actually gets positive feedback. His PR rep encourages him to bring Aaron to a charity gala for a children’s mental health charity, thinking it could be positive rep for the kids to see a happy older queer couple as queer kids have higher rates of mental health issues. The team are doing some outreach with the actual kids before the gala - going down to play some games with them - Kevin doesn’t expect Aaron to come to this. He can just show up to the event, y’know, it’s basically just a free night out. They’ll just postpone their fake break up another couple of months.

But Aaron is like, uhm, excuse me. Did you even think to ask if I would want to come along to meet the kids? You know I’m going into peds, right? I’d much rather come hang out with the kids than have to rub shoulders with your snotty famous rich friends all night. Of course I’m coming to both of them.

So Aaron does come. Where Kevin is awkward and fumbling and never quite sure of the right thing to say (he never interacted with kids even when he was one???), Aaron is a natural. He’s excellent with them. They all love him within the first ten minutes, and it’s weird, because who is this? This is not an Aaron that Kevin knows. This is not a side of him he’s ever seen at school or around their family. It’s making Kevin feel all weird inside. In SOFT and GUSHY ways.

So they go to the Gala and both get a little tipsy, and whoops. Of course everyone thinks they’re a couple, so they’ve been given a room with one bed (because one bed trope supremacy ALSO 🙏🏻). Kevin thinks Aaron’s gonna be mad or upset, but Aaron’s giggly as he undresses. Which. Oh. Okay. Usually Aaron had weird hang ups about changing outside of the locker rooms. But now he’s. Shirtless. And his body has changed since college. Obviously. He doesn’t spend five days a week training anymore. He’s still kept some of his muscle in his arms and shoulders, and his legs have always been naturally strong, but he’s gotten a bit softer. Which Kevin realises he actually quite likes. And. Oh. Shit. Okay. He might actually be a bit attracted to Aaron. But. That’s fine. That won’t be a problem, right?

Right? 😐

ANYWAY THAT’S ALL I GOT FOR NOW. I simply can’t start another WIP until I finish some of the ones I got running. Like it would be fine if I could write things of a MODERATE length but I’ve never been chill about anything ever in my life and it’s too late to start now so I write excessively and I just. Cannot risk not finishing things by starting something else.

BUT SOME DAY. MAYBE. PROBABLY.

[boiledbirdy]

BRAD FUCKIN WAYNEEE

headcannons i have abt this sweet himbo fratboy

This man is the largest in the family, like 6’6 and built like a non-green hulk. He can easily pick up and fireman carry Bruce and Jason

Is the guy in a frat party to sit with girls and hear about them bitch about periods and now carries a little pack with him everywhere that has a few tampons, pads, hand-warmers (for on the go heating pads), and Tylenol and Advil

Where does he keep this stuff and the random assortment of weird things he has, you ask? He wears a fanny-pack

read it and weep y’all he wears fanny-packs, usually the cool way over his shoulder, but mostly around his waist since he carries a backpack almost 25/8

He drives a beater truck (just an old car whose been through like three accidents and is still going strong) specifically a 1991 dodge D250 truck with a scratched up white paint job where there are dents, scratches, and a few patches of off white paint on dents that was sorta DIY-ed

his keys 🔑 have a weird ass mesh of keychains on it like: Ally flag keychain and a flag keychain for every single label a person has come out to him with, also a keychain from every museum, tourist spot he’s ever been, also a beer and bottle opener he’s a frat boy duhhh, he has a little bracelet that is made of sparkles and purple beads that steph gave to him but it was too small so he put it on his keys, a collage logo keychain, a keychain from his local gym and one with rugby on it etc

the keychains and keys are never ending

HE PLAYS RUGBY, argue with the wall.

getting a bachelors and masters in sports medicine

he makes sure to give Duke, Damian, Cass, Steph, and Tim copies of his keys first (the rest of the fam too they just get priority)

A) because they are the kids, and he wants them to know that he has an open bed any time

B) cause he’s the sibling to not get mad if they are intoxicated in any form and will cover for them

This next one is so important to me

He takes Tim to his first midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, same with Damian

He pretty much eats at the Wayne mansion every night but sleeps at his apartment

Shows Damian some good rock’n roll ex Red Hot Chili Peppers, Sublime, Ramones, The Clash, Oingo Boingo, Ghost, Blonde, Foo-Fighters (i can make a playlist if wanted)

Just will sit and have a beer with Jason and sit in silence or talk about weird things that happened today

Steph and him have study sessions together

He will watch any ballet practice Cass wants him to see and he never misses a competition or performance

he sends Tim stupid skateboard tricks and fails videos (tiktok or insta reels) daily and then once a month they take Brad’s truck to a park and Brad sits on a ramp and cheers Tim on like its the Super Bowl

Watches Dick’s dog when he’s away from home and they both watch Barbie movies together

He gardens at Alfred’s request, yes he sucks but this man cannot not say no to the tidbits of Alfred’s life story he learns

Can kick back like 4 kegs of beer with no fucking consequences, he has a liver of steel thanks to Brucie Wayne

He’a the high guy in the bathtub at frat-parties and will give shitty or good life advice its 50/50 honestly

Does stupid white people fraternity things that would kill a normal person but he just is quirkily busting it down and Death just cannot vibe with him

makes (and i cannot stress this enough) the best and i mean best, (Alfred and Ma Kent can’t win in this one) brownies. Whether they are edibles or not they are the best.

has done the Tide-Pod challenge and survived

He is the Frat God of Gotham

Him and Duke are like the best duo

They blast Rock and Rap so that all five cars in every direction can hear it

Duke has the habit of putting weird ass bumper stickers on Brad’s desk and bed frame (at his apartment, they Do Not fuck with Alfred) Brad smiles fondly every time he finds a new one

Brad = Mark, ya know the tiktok sound

Him and Harper simp over women 🙏 together

In his fanny-pack, truck, and various rooms he has stim toys/do-hickeys bins or sections

bc he has Nerodivergent siblings and he was just trying

he asked kinda rude blunt questions, he didn’t know anything and he kinda (really) sucks at subtlety and reading a room but he was just trying to understand

He will take Damian to amusement parks and zoos pretty much bi-weekly

The girls can put on a horrible outfit and makeup and he will think he looks fabulous and no one will ever tell him that he’s sporting fashion and makeup crimes

has a small hidden bookcase of Wings of Fire, Warrior cats, Land of Stories, etc.. cause Damian is embarrassed to admit he actually likes reading them

Watches the trashiest brain rotting tv shows like Dance moms or keeping up with the Kardashians

Goes to any march or parade his siblings or friends are going to so: A) he can be that decked out ally tank of a man passing out water bottles and granola bars B) so if the police are back on their BS he can protecc atacc and throw that tear gas bacc

*Sniff 🤧* I have something I need all of you to know, I say this with a heavy heart *holding back tears 😥* Brad is a former highlighter kid— *single tear falls*

This fucking himbo stud-muffin has slept with, kissed, crushed on, and went on dates with men, but still doesn’t realize that he’s Bisexual

his favorite flavor ice cream is pistachio and carmel

KNOWS NOTHING and i mean nothing about zodiac signs

Has been caught in the middle of Gotham Rouge and does not understand what the fuck is happening

He either Teddy Bear fratboy golden retriever energies them to friendship or friendly acquaintance or annoys them to the high hells of mosquito bites on your butt

^I can expand if wanted

His phone you ask?

Screen cracked like rice crispys

apps more disorganized than the random shit drawer in someone’s house

he has a model 6S and will not upgrade or replace it to save his life.

he has an otterbox case and we all know it, no more denial

Okay thats my time yall see ya

[mixelation]

some itachi + romance meta for reborn au ->

so, my personal headcanon for itachi is that he has a lot of little idle romantic fantasies about a nondescript fantasy partner, but it takes a pretty big push for him to go "oh, i love this person." he's open to sex if his partner wants it, but he doesn't really care about it otherwise. in other words, he'd be into a romantic partner if he happened upon one (and, like, he didn't have four thousand other high-priority problems the relationship would be incompatible with), but he's not actively looking and he doesn't really need one to be happy.

in an AU where the massacre didn't happen, I think he'd be open to dating. but in mutagenicity, he DID live through the massacre and being in akatsuki, and he IS mentally 20+ years older than he looks, and oh my god, please don't make him talk to children. especially uchiha children he killed in previous life. please.

i don't think all ninja clans necessarily cling to old fashioned traditions about marriage and bloodlines, but i like the idea of some of them hanging around for Shenanigans. like no one would really care if itachi were gay, as long as he quietly kept his boyfriend as a boyfriend and married someone capable of childbirth and made that new heir. they don't even care if the heir is female! progress :)

but also itachi has a mysterious genetic disease so they're like. hmm yeah okay you may marry outside of the clan. (desperately start researching if there's some sort of Test for sharigan babies)

mikoto has of course Noticed itachi just like.... isn't interested? in even talking to other teens?? so she wants to get him started kind of early. listen itachi, marriage will be SO much easier if you've dated your bride and figured out someone you actually like. also if you don't find one i will simply find one for you at some certain age and you will have no say in the matter.

the first few times she sends him on dates she just socially manipulates a situation where somehow he ends up alone with a girl mikoto likes. the girl is almost always very accomplished for her age, polite, pretty. literally nothing is wrong with her except she's 16 and itachi hates strangers. like, he's fine with them. he can put on a smile and be polite for a limited amount of time. but Inner Itachi is so fucking mean and fucked up, getting socially close to people almost always makes them hate him (for valid reasons) and then also his date is 16. so mikoto keeps putting him in a position where he's inevitably going to make a poor teenaged girl cry because he told her she'll never get promoted to jounin because her mission completion rate is mediocre, which he does often feel bad about, but also he cannot do anything about his horrible personality and cannot help himself. and then even if he likes her, what is he supposed to do? be like "yeah i'm just going to tell you my opinion and it will come out blunt and mean and also i'll be right and refuse to apologize, it's because of my deeply fucked up past life where the state told me i had to pick between murdering my entire family or letting my family destroy everything i care about, sorry about that." no! obviously he can't do that!!!

and his feelings about mikoto in general just, like, insane. she had her hand in supporting the coup in his previous life, but she raised him and loved him, but also she let him kill her so he'd see it in his nightmares constantly, and this mikoto didn't do any of that but he still sees her in his dreams and she is EQUALLY socially manipulative in this timeline, and honestly this is sort of making his feelings about her even more insane, but obviously he can't talk to her about it. so he needs to figure out way to dodge this whole dating situation in order to avoid uchiha massacre #2

so one day he's stealing dango right off tori's plate while she's in the bathroom, and he's like. holy fuck. tori is a girl, and she's not even going to get upset i'm about to do this to her. and then she comes back and is like "why the fuck did you steal my food" and he tells her it's because she did a disproportionately low amount of substandard work on the mission and hence deserves less of the mission budget. and she DOES rub the inside of his sleeping bag down with poison ivy but she also doesn't fucking cry.

itachi, flipping his sleeping bag inside out: perfect. we're dating now. <3

tori is NOT mikoto's top pick because she's a wild card and not the easily controlled nice girl mikoto was aiming for, but. at least itachi seems to actually like her? and she hasn't come crying to mikoto about how her son horrible yet, so. she's even got a decent amount of social clout for (checks note) a defector from another village who seems to go out of her way to be annoying and unlikable. mikoto isn't really thrilled but she backs off

dating is basically nothing like itachi's idle fantasies because tori is also deeply messed up, and also itachi spent a VERY long time in the other timeline convinced she was going to blab his secrets and Ruin Everything and he really wanted to kill her, but also that DID translate into a weird sort of respect pretty early on in this timeline, and they can have actual conversations about stuff. she helped him kill danzo, no questions asked. they like watching bad movies and dragging them to pieces together. she willingly reads his favorite book. they say mean shit to each other and it's fine because they've mutually accepted the other is just like this. it's comfortable. also pointing tori'a ability to ruin everything for everyone is so nice when pointed at someone itachi doesn't like

so even once itachi is old enough he can date Actual Adults, tori is like, "hey are you going to break up with me?" and he's like, "........no?" and she's like "okay." and they move in together and have separate bedrooms and tori attempts to kill him at least twice over burning food so bad it won't come off the pot, but it's comfortable and they're both happy

(and also itachi realizes tori fucking loves going along with bits, so if he tells her he wants to do some stupid romantic thing, she will just go along with it and have fun. wild)

i think they get married kind of late For The Setting (like very late twenties) because it takes tori years to figure out their illegal test tube baby and they just don't really see the point without the baby. mikoto finds this immensely frustrating. but at least they're on the same page, even if it's the WRONG PAGE