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demensrage · 7 months ago

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g for get some fun ⚊ • . with itachi and shisui uchiha

summary: training can be fun, but it's more fun when your favorite people decide to give you their full attention. under their care, training will always be fun.

cw: threesome, double penetration, oral (f/m. receiving), fingering, breeding kink, dirty talk, tits sucking.

wordcount: 6.6k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit.

Your body trembled with pure rage, so intense that even your muscles hurts. You watched the sun rise on the horizon as you kept ranting, hurling shurikens over and over at the tree in front of you, as if those small weapons could tear away the burning anger from that public humiliation. The scene with your instructor was still seared into your mind.

"No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be anyone." Those words stabbed into your brain like a sharp kunai. How dare he say that to you? He was just a fool consumed by envy. Sure, you hadn’t awakened the Sharingan yet, but your life had been relatively peaceful. You hadn’t faced the darkness needed to activate those eyes that defined your clan.

After throwing the last shuriken, you let out a deep sigh and raised your hands to the sky, stretching. Waking up early to train hadn’t been the best idea, but you felt that need, that urgency to prove your instructor wrong. It didn’t matter that he thought you were destined for mediocrity. You knew your future would be different.

You were more angry than exhausted, and just as you walked to pick up the shurikens embedded in the tree, you realized there was nothing in front of you anymore. You frowned, puzzled, and quickly glanced around. No one was there. You clenched your teeth, biting the inside of your cheek, and cursed quietly.

Suddenly, you felt a soft tap on your head, a playful pat. You spun around quickly, ready to defend yourself, but the shurikens reappeared stuck in the tree as if they had never disappeared. And there, standing right in front of you, was Itachi, looking at you with an innocent expression, but his activated Sharingan told a different story. That intense crimson, with its perfect black tomoe, stirred a mix of admiration and envy in you. The power you so longed to have was right in front of you, and in him, it seemed so natural, as if it required no effort.

"You keep falling for the same trick," said a familiar voice behind you, full of amusement.

When you turned to face him, it wasn’t Itachi who moved, but Shisui, who in a swift and carefree motion, stole a kiss from you. It was fleeting, almost ethereal, but it left a burning spark on your lips.

Your heart skipped a beat as he looked at you with a playful smile, while Itachi stood still in front of you, calm, as if it had all been just another prank between friends.

You couldn’t understand what had changed that suddenly both Shisui and Itachi had started behaving in this strangely affectionate way. Shisui, usually playful but reserved, was now stealing kisses as if it were a regular thing, and worst of all, Itachi, who had always been colder and more calculating, didn’t seem upset or surprised, but... almost complicit.

When did it start being like this? You felt confused. It was as if overnight the dynamic between the three of you had changed without warning, and you were left stuck in the middle, not understanding the new rules of the game. You had trained with them for years, shared missions, laughter, and moments of tension, but they had never dared to cross that line.

You decided not to overthink it, letting it be, because for some reason, it felt... right. As if everything had finally fallen into place, as if this, what was happening between the three of you, was meant to be. It was a strange feeling, but comforting, as if you had been resisting something inevitable for a long time, and now, by letting it flow, everything felt in harmony.

"Did we miss something?" Itachi asked as he picked up your shurikens from the tree for you. His tone was calm, but his words snapped you back to reality. "You seem distracted." His gaze softened, and then he added, with a comforting calmness, "You know, you shouldn't pay attention to what your instructor says."

You watched him approach slowly, and before you could respond, Itachi smiled at you with a tenderness he rarely showed. With a simple but familiar gesture, he gently ruffled your hair. The usual coldness on his face had completely vanished in that moment.

Your breath caught for a moment when his lips brushed against yours with a softness you hadn't expected. It was a kiss so gentle yet deep in its intent, as if he'd been watching how you'd sought the same from Shisui and was now offering it to you on his behalf.

Your thoughts, still a bit disorganized by the sudden change in his behavior, quieted completely. Itachi's kiss had something different. Where Shisui was playful, Itachi was measured and sure.

The question surged back into your mind, like an echo reverberating in your thoughts. You had lost count of how many times those small, intimate gestures had become so commonplace. It had all started in the privacy of one of their rooms, stolen moments that now seemed not to matter at all. The brush of their hands, the glances that lingered a little longer than usual, the silences filled with meaning… Everything had evolved into something much more open, and intimacy had ceased to be a secret.

It was as if they were claiming you as part of them, as if you somehow belonged to their world. You were theirs, only theirs. Right? You always had been, hadn’t you? On reflection, there had never been another friend in their lives besides you. They never talked about other girls with that kind of closeness, and you never saw them interact with other women in a romantic way. Really, they were always where you were.

The realization clicked in your mind immediately, like a gear perfectly fitting into place. You weren’t theirs; they were yours. That idea, once vague, now shone with clarity. They were your friends, your confidants, but also something more. They belonged to you just as much as you did to them.

Itachi was only older than you by less than three months, but that had never been an obstacle. You had known each other since infancy, sharing laughter and tears in a corner of the world that had always belonged to the both of you. Then came Shisui, who joined the friendship you and Itachi shared. He fit in instantly, as if he were the missing piece of a puzzle that had always been incomplete.

Now that you thought about it, they had always orbited around you. You hadn’t noticed it at first, but every gesture and every word took on new meaning. The way they protected you, how they comforted you in difficult moments, or how they allowed you to sleep on them when fatigue overtook you. It was a subtle but profound bond, built on years of trust and loyalty.

You could remember those moments when they carried you in their arms when you asked for help, those instances of vulnerability where you allowed their closeness to envelop you like a warm coat. You tried to recall a time when they weren’t by your side, and it was like searching for a shadow in the dark: it simply didn’t exist. Not even the one time they had denied you something felt real.

They were always there, always ready to offer their support. You were the center of their world, and they were yours. With each revelation, the feeling of belonging grew stronger. It wasn’t just friendship; it was a bond that transcended simple companionship. You were important to them, and the idea that they also belonged to you began to settle deep within your soul.

With every look you shared with Itachi and every laugh exchanged with Shisui, you realized you had never been alone. And now, as you accepted that the love and intimacy they offered you weren’t just gifts but a promise, you felt yourself opening up to a future that had always been there, waiting to be claimed.

"You’re distracted again," said Itachi, frowning as if he could see through the façade you were trying to maintain. "If it’s because of what the instructor said…"

"It’s not that," you replied immediately, letting out a radiant smile that lit up your face. The sunlight seemed to reflect off your cheeks as you tried to downplay his words. "It’s just that I woke up really early."

You couldn’t simply admit that, more than ever, you liked the idea of being part of what they had agreed upon in private. It was a secret that pulsed between the three of you, a connection that felt more intense with each little gesture, each shared smile. Now that you thought about it, the idea of what was happening, though it still lacked a defined name, filled you with a warmth you couldn’t ignore.

Shisui, who had been a step behind, moved a little closer, his smile full of complicity. "Maybe we should train together," he suggested, with that playful air that was so characteristic of him. "That way we can make sure you don’t get lost in thought for too long."

The idea of spending time alone with them, training and joking around, filled you with a barely contained excitement. It was a perfect moment, an opportunity to explore that bond that was forming, that connection that felt more natural with each passing day. You knew you liked what was happening, and now that you were starting to accept it, the possibility of it all becoming something more filled you with anticipation.

You nodded immediately, feeling the excitement grow inside you. "That sounds perfect," you said, carefully taking the shurikens from Itachi’s hand, your fingers brushing his for a brief moment that sent a pleasant shiver through you.

Shisui watched you, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Are you ready to be defeated?” he asked, his playful tone contrasting with the seriousness of the training.

“Defeated? I think you’re mistaken,” you replied, feeling the adrenaline start to flow. “I’m not going to let that happen.” With every word, your determination grew stronger.

“Come on,” Itachi said, his voice firm but filled with a strange warmth. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

With a confident smile, you got into position, feeling the solid ground beneath your feet. You knew your strength lay in hand-to-hand combat, and you were determined to use that to your advantage. However, part of you was aware that, with Itachi and Shisui as your opponents, the odds were against you. Both were prodigies, and while training with them made you better, you knew you’d need more than strength to take them on.

With a swift movement, you launched yourself toward them, knowing the key would be staying unpredictable and taking advantage of any opening you could find.

You let yourself fall heavily onto the grass, exhaustion taking over every muscle in your body. Drops of sweat trickled down your forehead, some lost in the grass while others continued their path down to your jaw. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, desperately seeking oxygen to calm your body’s frantic rhythm after the intense training.

“Just five minutes, okay?” you gasped, covering your face with the back of your left hand while the other rested on your stomach. The contact with the cool air helped you recover, but you knew those five minutes would likely turn into more if you didn’t get up soon.

From your position on the ground, you heard the calm footsteps of Itachi and Shisui approaching. Itachi crouched down beside you with his usual calmness, while Shisui plopped down heavily next to you, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Five minutes, you say,” Shisui commented, clearly less exhausted than you but pretending to be amusingly exasperated. “I’m surprised you’re not asking for ten yet.”

Itachi looked at you with a small smile on his lips before gently lowering himself onto the grass as well, although remaining more composed. “You’ve improved a lot,” he remarked in his calm tone, as if the combat hadn’t affected him as much.

“I have the best trainers,” you replied with a tired smile, still covering part of your face with your arm. Even though you were exhausted, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of inner satisfaction from Itachi’s words and Shisui’s complicity. After all, training with them was a privilege, and every day made you improve just a little more.

Shisui chuckled softly, gazing up at the sky. “Of course, we’re a marvel,” he joked, though there was a hidden sincerity in his tone.

“It’s not just because of us,” Itachi retorted, looking at you warmly. “You have talent, and you know it.”

Those words made your heart skip a beat. You had heard compliments before, but when they came from them, the impact was different, deeper. You knew both of them were honest with you; they would never tell you something just to make you feel better.

You moved your hand away from your face, feeling the slight coolness of the air as you absentmindedly played with the hem of your leggings, which fit your body like a second skin. “Thank you,” you murmured softly, not taking your gaze off the clouds beginning to cover the sky, trying to maintain calm amid the intimacy of the moment.

The light weight of Shisui’s head settled on your stomach, and a shiver ran across your skin when he left a brief kiss on your thigh, his warm breath marking every touch. You didn’t say anything; you just began to tangle your fingers in his hair, playing with the softness of his strands. The movement of your hands felt almost instinctive, as if they had always been meant to touch him that way.

Itachi, for his part, was equally serene in his actions. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, using his knuckles before taking your chin between his fingers, leaning closer to you. His deep gaze captivated you, as if he were asking permission for what would come next. There was something in his eyes, a mix of tenderness and restrained desire that always managed to disarm you.

You nodded softly, barely a movement, but enough for him to notice. One of your hands left Shisui's hair, gliding down his neck, while your lips met Itachi's in a kiss that shifted from soft to intense in a matter of seconds. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, seeking entry, and without hesitation, you allowed him in, opening your mouth to feel the kiss deepen, becoming more demanding.

Shisui began to leave a line of soft, teasing kisses on your thigh, his mouth slowly advancing while the warmth of his lips spread across your skin. You felt his skilled hands lift the fabric of your top with the same calmness with which he placed each kiss, until his lips found your abdomen. A shiver ran through your body as his warm breath touched your exposed skin.

Each kiss that traveled up toward your neck heightened the anticipation in your body, until finally, his lips reached your collarbone, lingering there with a longer kiss. Itachi pulled away with his characteristic control, leaving space for Shisui to continue, but not without looking at you one last time with that intensity that always disarmed you.

Shisui's lips finally reached yours, capturing you in a kiss that was as heated as Itachi's, but different in its own way—more playful, more wild. The differences between the two had always fascinated you, the way they could complement each other, and now more than ever, you realized how surrendered you were to the delicate balance they shared.

Everything began to take a different path, one that blurred the lines between friendship and something deeper. Itachi's hands found their way under your top, his fingers soft and determined squeezing your breasts through your sports bra, creating a sensation of warmth and desire that made you hold your breath.

“You can say no if you don’t want to,” Shisui murmured against your lips, his voice low and tempting. He gently tugged on your lower lip between his teeth, sending a pleasurable shiver through your body, before licking it with a sweetness that left you yearning for more.

“You don’t have to agree if you’re not comfortable yet,” Itachi added, his tone firm but understanding, as if he were genuinely considering your feelings at that moment. His gaze remained fixed on yours, searching for any sign of doubt or discomfort, making sure you didn’t feel pressured.

“Yes, I want to,” you said, feeling the decision flow clearly in your voice. You exchanged glances with them, a mix of excitement and anticipation filling the air between you.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Itachi said, helping you to your feet with a firm yet gentle gesture. His hand felt warm around your wrist as he guided you. Shisui followed, his presence close to you reassuring, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

Itachi led the way, while Shisui stayed by your side, ensuring you felt comfortable.

Finally, they arrived at a small clearing, secluded and tranquil, surrounded by trees that offered a sense of privacy. The place was illuminated by the soft light of the sunset, creating a magical atmosphere.

“Is this okay here?” Itachi asked, looking around to make sure it was the right spot.

You turned to look at him, feeling a knot of nervousness forming in your stomach. God, they were fucking beautiful; the sunset light illuminated their faces in an almost ethereal way. “Yeah, um…” you began, unsure of how to articulate your thoughts.

Itachi, ever perceptive, noticed you had more to say. With a slight smile, he tilted his head, encouraging you to continue. “No one comes here, just the three of us, and now you,” he said, his voice calm and confident, like an anchor in the midst of your confusion.

You felt a little more relaxed at his assurance. You knew there was a shared trust between the three of you, an understanding that went beyond words. Gathering your courage, you decided to speak.

“Just… I don’t know exactly how… how to proceed,” you admitted, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or for this to change what we have.”

Shisui stepped forward, his expression gentle. “No one is pressured. We want you to feel good and safe with us. We’re here for you, no matter how you want this to progress.”

Shisui’s words were like a balm, soothing your anxieties and allowing you to open up to the possibility of what was to come.

You gathered the courage to approach Shisui, your trembling lips pressing against his as you nervously took Itachi’s hand, not wanting to leave him behind. The contact was electrifying, and although your nerves were on edge, you felt it was time to let go.

Itachi’s hands moved firmly, finding your breasts and squeezing them over the fabric of your top, his fingers sinking into you with a mix of desire and possession. Heat built up quickly, elevating the tension in the air.

Shisui broke the kiss, but only to tilt your face toward Itachi, forcing you to look into his dark, deep eyes. “Kiss him,” he murmured as he began to leave kisses and nibbles on your neck, his hot, wet lips trailing sensations that made you shiver. It was as if each touch ignited a spark of desire within you.

You let yourself go, feeling how Itachi responded to your body, his hands gripping you with an intensity that made you gasp. The pace became more frantic, the air thick with a mix of sweat and desire, and you found yourself caught in the whirlwind of their caresses.

The next thing that happened was instantaneous: your shorts and panties disappeared, leaving you completely exposed. Itachi gently pushed you to the ground, and as he removed your top and bra, you felt a chill run through your body. Your hands instinctively closed around your breasts, and you squeezed your legs together, a blush flooding your cheeks as the reality of the situation hit you.

It was the first time you were completely at their mercy, vulnerable and exposed. But as their gazes met yours, a spark of trust ignited within you. They weren’t just men; they were your friends, your protectors. With a trembling breath, you decided it was time to let them take control.

Carefully, you began to uncover your breasts, feeling the cool air caress your skin. Both of their eyes shone with a mix of desire and possession, and although their expressions were dark, you felt them consuming you with their gaze. They shared a brief knowing glance before leaning in, and in a simultaneous movement, each took one of your breasts in their mouth.

A gasp escaped your lips as you felt the warmth and wetness of their mouths on you. Your hands found their necks, pressing their heads closer, binding their lips to your body with a need you hadn’t anticipated. Each suck, each caress, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you lose touch with reality, leaving only the fire that burned in your chest.

Your breasts were a delicacy between their lips, each suction resonating in your mind like an echo of pure pleasure. Shisui focused on one while Itachi alternated between biting and licking the other, creating a rhythm that made your body respond with a ravenous desire.

Itachi’s hands slid down to your waist, exploring your skin as his lips moved with devotion, each kiss leaving a mark of his hunger. “You look so beautiful like this,” Shisui murmured, the vibration of his voice sending a wave of pleasure straight to your stomach.

As both of them dedicated themselves to you, desire took over, filling you with a need you could barely control. You arched your back, seeking more contact, more of them.

The way Itachi cheekily nibbled on your nipple and then licked it to soothe the burning sensation was pure lust. You let yourself go, feeling the pleasure intensify with every movement.

Meanwhile, hands began to make their way between your legs, and the feeling of two fingers parting your folds made you gasp. Shisui’s smile was mischievous, his mouth still busy with your breast, and you felt the tension building. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmured against your nipple, his words sending a wave of heat that made you shiver.

Itachi, wasting no time, joined his hand with Shisui’s, their fingers working in perfect sync as he moved up to kiss you with a possession that made you feel like you had no escape. His lips took over yours, filling you with a mix of desire and urgency, while his other hand twisted and caressed your nipples between his fingers.

Shisui gave your clit a pinch, eliciting a cry of pleasure to escape your lips. Before you could process it, he dipped a finger inside you, making you moan as your hips arched to receive him. “You like that, huh?” he whispered with a mischievous grin, as he began pumping in a slow, teasing rhythm.

Itachi, not missing the opportunity, began to stimulate your bundle of nerves, his fingers moving expertly as his dark eyes focused on you. “Look at you, so soaked for us,” he murmured, his voice filled with desire. The heat inside you increased as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

“See how that makes you feel?” Shisui continued, adding a second finger, increasing the intensity. “You can’t deny how much you like it, can you? Let it all flow out.”

The words made it even more intense. With each thrust, your body responded with a mix of moans and sighs, the pleasure building up more and more.

Itachi leaned closer, his lips barely touching your ear. “You want more, sweetie? Tell me,” he said in a seductive tone. “We won’t stop you, I want you to moan our name.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed as Shisui added another finger, curling it inside you and pressing that sweet spot that made you lose your mind. The pleasure intensified, and your legs spread wider, wanting to be filled even more.

Itachi’s hands gave one last tug to your nipples, a gesture that left you even more turned on. When he pulled down his pants, you couldn’t help but stare brazenly, your eyes fixed on his crotch, ready to discover what he was hiding.

“Sit on my face, sweetie,” Shisui said, his voice thick with desire. The command was a tantalizing whisper, and you couldn’t resist. Without a second thought, you moved, placing yourself on top of him as your body vibrated with anticipation.

With one movement, you dropped down, feeling his mouth find you just as you settled in. Shisui's fingers continued to pump inside you, and the combination of his mouth and hands brought you to the edge of ecstasy.

Itachi watched you, his gaze filled with desire, and that only made the situation even more intense. "That's it, that's how I like it," Shisui said, keeping up his pace as your hips moved, enjoying the pleasure they gave you.

Itachi brought a hand to his cock, fucking his fist as he watched you ride Shisui's mouth, who had his hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you pinned down on him.

You bit your lip as you felt his tongue tease your entrance, an overwhelming heat running through your body. Your gaze connected to the sight before you; fuck, your mouth was watering just watching it. "Open that pretty mouth for me," Itachi said, his voice thick with desire.

You couldn't resist the temptation. With a brazen gesture, you opened your mouth, ready to please him. The mix of sensations, of pleasure and desire, enveloped you as you let yourself get carried away by the moment.

You took him like a good girl, wrapping your lips around his length, slowly, feeling every inch as you kept eye contact with Itachi. He watched you with overwhelming intensity, his jaw tense as you let your tongue run along his length.

Shisui's muffled moans against your center only increased the pressure in your body, your legs shaking as he devoured you mercilessly, his tongue moving skillfully. Itachi let out a low growl, his hand tangling in your hair, gently guiding you as you sank deeper into the rhythm they both set for you.

You rolled your hips harder as you felt Shisui's hands squeeze your ass, forcing you even closer to his mouth, even though you already felt like you were as close as you could be. His tongue worked relentlessly, finding every spot that made you shiver, while his fingers dug harder into your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

The wet sound of his tongue moving in you and your own moans, muffled by Itachi's pressure in your mouth, created an intoxicating mix that made you lose yourself in pleasure.

You sucked harder, following the rhythm Itachi set as he looked at you with desire in his eyes. His moans were soft but deep, and every sound that came out of his mouth motivated you to keep going, to give him more. Your tongue brushed his skin with precision, tasting every part of him as you took him deep, letting yourself be guided by the heat and urgency of the moment.

"You're doing so well," Itachi whispered, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you gently. His caresses on your head were a contrast to the intensity of the moment, filled with a strange kind of tenderness as he watched you with his dark, piercing eyes.

Shisui, beneath you, increased the pressure of his tongue, causing a moan to choke from your throat, vibrating against Itachi. “Fuck, keep it up,” Shisui growled, his voice muffled by your skin, as his hands gripped your hips tighter, controlling your every movement on him.

You were so close that you couldn’t help but sob in pleasure, the sounds escaping your lips in the midst of your work. Every caress, every brush of Shisui’s tongue, and every thrust from Itachi brought you to the edge, and the heat in your abdomen grew, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“That’s it, let yourself go,” Itachi murmured, watching intently as you lost yourself in the pleasure they both offered you. His soft voice was like a balm, and even though you felt exposed, there was something incredibly liberating about letting yourself go in the moment. The combination of his words and Shisui's actions had you wanting more, more and more, as the pleasure built up inside you.

You felt it coming, that boiling point where the pressure became almost unbearable. Your hip movements became erratic, the need to release all that tension intensifying. Still, you tried to continue your work, holding yourself on the edge as you rode the rising wave of orgasm.

Moans escaped your lips, each sound becoming an echo of the pleasure flooding your senses. Shisui, sensing your struggle, increased the pressure of his tongue, while Itachi looked at you with a fire in his eyes that made you feel even more alive.

"That's it, let yourself go," Itachi repeated, encouraging you. You let yourself fall into the abyss, the wave of pleasure crashing against you, taking you with it. Euphoria enveloped you completely, and in that instant, everything else disappeared.

Itachi pulled away from your mouth, gently caressing your cheek with his fingers, his gaze filled with complicity and desire as your head rested on his thigh. The warmth of his skin was comforting, like a refuge after the storm of pleasure.

Shisui, for his part, caressed your ass before pulling away from you, leaving you with an empty feeling that contrasted with the recent satisfaction. His absence was palpable, but the way they both looked at you, with a glint in their eyes that promised more, filled you with anticipation.

“Are you okay?” Itachi asked, his voice low and soft, as he watched you carefully, as if to make sure you were comfortable after the intense experience. “Yes,” you whispered, your lips swollen and wet, voice shaky from the mix of exhaustion and desire.

Itachi smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, stroking your hair before looking up at Shisui. “Ready for another?” Shisui asked, his tone playful and teasing. “Because I see you ready for more.”

With a slight nod, you braced yourself for what was to come, the air thick with anticipation and desire. You felt the electricity between them, the way they both shared this moment, and you couldn’t help but feel anxious for what was to follow.

“Stay like that, baby,” Itachi said, moving closer until he was behind you. His hands found your wetness, two fingers sliding gently, feeling every response from your body as Shisui settled in beside you.

You felt Itachi's presence behind you, his lips and teeth leaving soft bites on the skin of your neck, the combination of pain and pleasure lighting up every nerve. Itachi held you against his chest, his hands firmly on your thighs, controlling your movements with ease.

As Shisui aligned himself with your entrance, the atmosphere was charged with palpable tension, and with a deep inhale, your body braced itself for what was to come.

Shisui's thrust was firm and deep, slowly filling you as your walls tightened around him, instinctively squeezing him. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt him push his way inside you, stretching you in a delicious way. Your hands gripped his shoulders as your legs wrapped around his waist tighter, trying to adjust to the sensation invading your body.

Itachi, behind you, continued to place soft bites and kisses on your neck, his hands running up and down your sides, fueling the fire already burning within you.

Each thrust from Shisui made your body tremble with a mix of pleasure and need. His movements were slow, but each one was deep, filling you completely and stretching the time between desire and satisfaction. Your breathing became erratic as your head rested on Itachi's shoulder, who continued to spread soft caresses over your skin, his lips tracing a path of heat on your neck.

Shisui's lips found your breast, his tongue teasing your nipple as his hips continued to thrust in a deliberate rhythm. The feel of his mouth combined with the deep movements of his hips made you moan, your body trapped between them, every inch of your skin being claimed by them.

You felt each movement with overwhelming intensity, completely filled by both of them as they moved inside you with such precise synchronicity that it left you breathless. The slow, calculated thrusts seemed to have a purpose, allowing your body to adjust to the intrusion as the pressure inside you grew with each second.

Shisui held you firm against his chest, his hands sliding up your thighs with a contrasting softness to the strength of Itachi, who behind you controlled the pace with measured movements. Each time they thrust, a moan escaped your lips, as you felt them rub against each other inside you.

“More, please.” you gasped, rolling your hips in search of more. The plea that escaped your lips echoed in the air, a sound of desire that motivated them both even more. Shisui smiled against your skin, understanding your need, and began to increase the speed of his thrusts.

Itachi, sensing your impatience, adjusted his pace, causing the two of you to move in perfect harmony. The heat inside you intensified, each deep stroke causing sparks of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“That’s good, baby,” Shisui murmured, punctuating each thrust with a possessive touch as his mouth moved between your breasts, licking and nibbling at your skin.

Itachi, ever attentive, brought a hand down to stroke your clit, adding a new dimension to the wave of pleasure washing over you. “You like it like this?” he asked, his voice soft and commanding. “Yes, yes, yes,” you whimpered in pleasure.

Your response was almost a cry of need, and that only fueled the desire that burned between the three of you. Shisui held you tightly, his movements now more intense, hitting that sweet spot that made your body arch towards him.

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he murmured as his hips slammed into you, producing a wet sound that filled the air. Itachi, noticing your growing pleasure, increased the pace of his caresses on your clit, his fingers moving with precision and firmness.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Itachi said, watching as you writhed and moaned between them. The combination of their bodies, the pressure and the friction made you feel like you were about to burst, pleasure building in your belly as they both continued to take you higher.

Heat built up inside you, each thrust intensifying that feeling of fullness that was driving you crazy. Your legs wrapped around Shisui’s waist, clinging to him as Itachi continued to stimulate your clit with forceful, precise movements.

“You’re perfect,” Shisui murmured, his raspy voice filled with desire as his hips moved harder. Your body responded to his every move, feeling your walls tighten around both of them, causing a strangled moan to escape your lips.

“Give me more,” you begged, feeling the pleasure begin to consume every corner of your being. Both men looked at each other, a spark of complicity passing between them as they intensified their pace, bringing you to the edge.

“I’m so close…” you breathed out, each word laden with need. With every hip thrust and every caress of Itachi’s fingers, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You let yourself go, and in that instant, you decided that the only thing that mattered was this approaching ecstasy.

The waves of pleasure swept over you mercilessly, your body shaking violently as your climax washed over you, drowning your moans in an almost primal scream. The contractions inside you intensified, squeezing both men with each wave, bringing you to a place where time and space seemed to fade away.

Shisui held you firmly, making sure you didn’t collapse as Itachi continued to thrust deep, taking every moment of your ecstasy. The mix of sensations was overwhelming; The heat, the pressure, and the kisses they both bestowed upon you, all came together in a whirlwind of pleasure that left you breathless.

They both filled you, you felt your walls being stained by warm jets of semen. When Shisui and Itachi pulled out of you, you felt their seeds dripping from your pussy.

The warmth of his lips on your skin made you feel even more connected to them, as if each kiss was a silent promise of care and devotion. His hands moved slowly up your hips, drawing soft circles that sent shivers of pleasure through your still sensitive body.

“Are you okay?” Shisui asked, his voice low and full of tenderness as he looked at you with those dark eyes that seemed to understand you better than anyone else.

You nodded, feeling the mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Yes, more than okay.”

Itachi leaned in to kiss you again, his mouth so soft and tempting. His warm breath on your lips made you want more of them, more of that connection that had grown between the three of you. In that instant, everything that had happened before faded away, leaving you with only the desire to be here, with them, forever.

#itachi x reader #itachi uchiha #itachi x oc #shisui uchiha #shisui x reader #itachi smut #shisui smut #naruto x reader #kinktober #—demensrage.

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ozzgin · 7 months ago

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This is something I decided to do on a whim, but I'm very fond of the idea! The Ten Commandments in reverse, featuring an obsessive Angel and the ways in which it's breaking said laws. Part 1. content: gender neutral reader, religious themes, blasphemy, NSFW, horror

They are embedded within the very fabric of creation, holding together the molecules, the neurons, the existence itself: the Ten Commandments. They have been bestowed upon humans for guidance, yet angels are different. Perfect machineries erected from spoken word - they do not have the choice of receiving these laws. It is their fundament, their core.

Thus, one would be inclined to think that there is no such concept as a disobedient Angel. Like the one sent to guard over you. The one who's been watching you from the very beginning, who loves you so dearly. It would do anything to protect you. Perhaps even go against its Father's word, against its purpose.

10. Thou shalt not covet

It stalks your movements with a pained grimace. The way you smile at your friends, the way you lean against your partner. Why, oh why, must you torment it like this? It yearns to be the one holding you instead. To be the one graced with your joyful laughter, to be the one blessed by your soft, loving voice. There is nothing fruitful to its distant benevolence.

It cannot remain hidden any longer.

9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour

"No one loves you as I do", it wails, wicked tears streaming down its face. The holy water burns the skin, leaving trails of raw flesh behind. "They're vile, these humans, their hearts impure. What need have you for deceit and barren promises?"

"I am the only one you can trust", the Angel declares, gazing at you. Its face resembles a broken marble statue, its soft features caressed by scars and wounds. Only you can mend its anguished heart, only you can soothe its mechanical soul.

8. Thou shalt not steal

One by one, your friends abandon you. Or maybe it's you who's grown distant. Their familiar cheer is now tainted by cold monotony. You've no need for shallow affections. You have your partner, and your guardian Angel.

Almost, the sacred creature grins. Its chest throbs with selfish delight, and the envy succumbs once more. Soon you will belong to no one else. It never felt such exaltation, such ardent, burning warmth: a desire fulfilled.

7. Thou shalt not commit adultery

Its blackened fingers drag themselves across your naked body, groping every curve and penetrating every hole. The hunger becomes unbearable. "It will be our secret", it whispers lowly, though the pledge is quickly drowned by your perverted whines.

It has claimed you; it has defiled you. The serpent-like tongue flicks and slurps in a maddening lust. And yet, it's not enough.

6. Thou shalt not murder

It stands above the drained cadaver, peace finally settling in its soul.

"It is the two of us now", it muses, overwhelmed by rapture. "Adam and Eve, the beginning and the end."

Its lips quiver upon speaking such blasphemy. It is a lie, it is a nonsense. It is a divine apparatus meant to serve God's will, not a human to love, and feed, and copulate.

T̷̹̹̭͖͍̗̘̄͒͗̄̑͋͜͝͠ḩ̸̛̮̖͈̹̱͙̬̰̫̾͆́̆́̃̓̀͌͐̽͜͜͝͝ͅè̸͕͉͓̻̇͐̇͌͝ ̵͍̙̀̊̈̅͗͛̊͝s̶̯̬͚̰͔͙̞͖̦̭̲̩͍̾́̀̎́̆̌̋͘̚̕̚͠͠y̸̝͚̱̪͂̄̍̆̂̽̽͗͑͆͘͜͠͠͝s̷̖͚̮̙̩̖͙̥̓t̸̬͎̟̥͓̐̃̄̅͛̈́̄̀̇ͅe̷͔̻̤̪͋̈́̿̐̑̒͜͝͝m̵̡̼̖̥̠̠͋͆́̊̑̓͌͒̽̆͠ ̶̨͈̺̯̹͉̬̭͔̜͕͎̔̈̽͜͝͝i̸̬͕̊̿̌͛̾͠͠s̷̡͙̯̫̪̝͎̖̬͗͂̂̐͒̇̊̆͋̍̉̈́̈́͘͜ ̴̛͇̘͇̱̘̯̱̜̑̌̉̓͊̋̀͘͝c̵̹̳̓̍͗̔́͌̐̒̀̍͒͌ö̷̪̣̫̘̝̋́̃̍̀̍̆̎͠r̴̢̦̰͎̜̖̗̼̿͌̾̈́̂̊͛͐̾ͅŗ̶̭̥͕̝̀̊ù̶̘̻͔̻̦̠͉̳͋͛̀͆̏͠ͅͅp̷̢͙͈̗̙͎̪̼̪͎̈́̌̀̄͒̌̄͂̀͘̕̕͝͠ṭ̵̡̽͗̓̈́̀̍́̊̒͌̃́̕.̴̨̬̝̘̜̦̭̪̩̹̫̎͆̃̌̓ ̴̧͕̪̄́̿̉̑

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist] | [Second Half]

#ozztober #yantober #monster x reader #monster x human #angel x reader #yandere monster #yandere angel #yandere #yandere x reader #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker #horror #tw religious themes

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slutoru1207 · 2 months ago

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variant!Mark x reader part 10

BANG.

The air cracked with the force of the blast.

You flinched, body bracing for impact—

But Mark moved first.

In a blur of motion, he twisted, yanking you behind him, his arms caging you in as he braced for the hit.

Then—nothing.

No impact. No searing pain.

Because the shot never landed.

BOOM!

An explosion rocked the sky as the drone that fired was obliterated mid-air. Shrapnel rained down, smoking chunks of metal embedding into the ruined pavement.

And floating above—hovering amidst the wreckage—was Eve.

"STAND DOWN!" she roared, crimson energy crackling around her fingertips, her glare aimed straight at Cecil’s forces.

The Guardians were already scrambling. Robot barked orders through the comms, Rex cursed under his breath, and the remaining drones hesitated, waiting for Cecil’s next command.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" you screamed, whipping around toward the armed forces.

Mark was still trembling. Still wired from the fight. His arms had loosened around you, but his breath was ragged, his body locked in survival mode.

If they fired again—if he thought they were attacking—

No.

You spun back to him, grabbing his face again, forcing his gaze on you.

"Mark, listen to me. You're okay. You're safe."

His pupils were still blown wide, chest heaving. His hands were curled into fists, knuckles bloodied. But he was looking at you.

Not at them.

Not at the fight.

At you.

You shook your head. "You don’t have to fight anymore. I’m right here."

Something cracked in his expression.

Like your voice was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Like the part of him that had wanted to rip and tear and destroy had finally gone quiet.

"...You’re here," he whispered.

His voice broke on the words.

And just like that—his body collapsed forward.

You barely had time to react before he sank to his knees, forehead pressing into your stomach, arms gripping you like you were the only thing holding him together.

Your heart lurched.

You ran your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, your other hand cradling the back of his neck, your own breath unsteady.

Above, Cecil's voice crackled over the comms.

"...Pull back. Stand down.”

The remaining drones powered down.

For now.

The war wasn’t over.

But in this moment, Mark was still yours. And you weren't going to let him slip away.

Not now.

Not ever.

part 11

#invincible fanfic #invincible crossover #mark grayson invincible #mark x you #mark grayson x reader #mohawk mark #mark x reader #mark grayson

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jollmaster · 8 months ago

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redesign trivia: Vox

slightly square

faceless

not only the screen, but also related elements are embedded in head and neck

an electrocardiogram line that reflects moods, emotions and anxiety level

when Vox is nervous, the electrocardiogram lines become jagged and sprawling

can change voice as he wants

died in the 1950s of a stroke

because of stroke limps a bit + left hand doesn't work well; Vox revitalises it with electric shocks through wires implanted in fingers

rubber gloves for accidental contact with electric current

CHARLIE'S GANG: Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Niffty, sir Pentious (and egg boiz), Cherri Bomb, Husk, Alastor (+ gang as humans)

HEAVEN: Adam, Eve, Lute, Emily, Sera

ADAM AND EVE'S CHILDREN: Cain, Abel, Seth, Awan, Azura

HELL: Lilith, Lucifer, Seviathan, Helsa, Razzle and Dazzle, Baxter

SINS: Asmodeus [Lust], Beelzebub [Gluttony], Satan [Wrath], Mammon [Greed] (and Fizz), Belphegor [Sloth]

LUCIFER'S WIVES: Eisheth Zenunim, Naamah, Agrat bat Mahlat

VEES: Valentino, Velvette

OVERLORDS: Zestial, Rosie, Carmilla Carmine (and her daughters, Odette and Clara), Flaming Skull Guy

FRIENDS AND RELATIVES: Mimzy, Arackniss, Molly, Alastor's mom, Alastor's father

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel: asileverse au #hazbin hotel au #asileverse #vox #vox redesign #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel redesign

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wordsvomit101 · 11 months ago

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Just some thoughts on Lucifer's chats

Credits to @shyanimeboi and their friend for sharing, cause this just gives me a newer perspective on Lucifer.

He got me confused at first because why saying the obvious, every human has a name but then he started with Adam, Eve, and Solomon

It gives a lot more nuance to him and other immortal and long-living characters. It makes him so not human but also human in a way. For me, as a normal person, I can barely remember the names of the people I meet every day, but if they stay long enough I can remember them or I will know them through someone I have a closer relationship with, who relates to those I don't have a strong connection with in some way, it's easier. Lucifer in this aspect is like a human to me, he is a dude who lives life slower and longer, it makes sense why he and most other characters addressed MC as "descendant of Solomon" because will MC stay long enough for their name to be embedded into these immortals creatures like how Solomon, Adam, and Eve did or just another fleeting memory.

The "Are you not greedy?" got me thinking for a minute cause what does he mean by that but then, I think it could be an honor thing. It is normal for people to be excited to have someone to memorize their name, like wouldn't you be happy if your favorite celebrity knew your name, your existence? You would, it is something to be greedy for and to have pride in. While his second question also makes sense, because if you're scared of someone, you would rather them never know of your existence, their ignorance of you is your bliss and peace.

And that is some philosophy Lucifer is dropping on my dumb ass, BUT, it sounds to me like he meant, the kings and the seraphim are the beings that reflect on the concept that some truths or pieces of knowledge are not learned through conventional means but are instead a natural part of our awareness and existence. This lowkey sounds so cool and so true to them being the embodiment of inherence factors that everyone has, they will have by just the mere act of becoming conscious.

And I really like that we have this route with Lucifer, getting to know each other is the starting point of every connection, it sounds so easy but probably one of the hardest stages in every relationship. Since it is the starting point, everything could go wrong or it could go great, it is unclear what to do or say and it takes time.

And I really like Lucifer in this chat, I like the slow burn of this and I think the devs did him so well, they cooked in this.

#whb #what in hell is bad #wordsvomit notes #whb lucifer #whb solomon #lucifer is quickly rise to the top 5 of my favs chars and I can't complain #he just so good

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twopoppies · 2 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/778109951598084096/but-why-do-you-always-say-italian-stalkers-then

Louis also has a very strong group of Italian stalkers. They were among those who came to Doncaster on New Year’s Eve specifically to find him. I distinctly remembered an older woman who even explicitly said that she went there to meet Louis, brought a bunch of stuff for him to sign etc. Fast forward to the Brixton show, and guess who I see hanging outside the venue? Her again! She didn’t even have a ticket, but she flew all the way there for a chance to see Louis. And I think her goal was specifically to stand outside the venue and catch him entering or exiting so he’d take a picture with her again or whatever. Because, full disclosure, I also live in Italy (I’m not Italian though, nor sufficiently embedded in the local fandom to have insider info) and I also flew to London for the Brixton show without a concert ticket (booked everything non-refundable then didn’t get a code, rookie mistake), but me and a few other girls without tickets went through the line several times in search of people with extras and succeeded (the show was marvellous, by the way, Louis sounded incredible). But that woman nor her company (I think there were a couple of younger girls with her, I don’t know if they’re family or from that stalker group) definitely didn’t do that, hence my idea that they weren’t there for the actual show, just for a chance to meet Louis again. Unfortunately for her, he didn’t interact at arrival (I was there as well and caught a glimpse of him) and left immediately after the show. Plus, and I didn’t see many people talk about it, sometime during the show a section of the road leading to the back entrance was blocked off, so the fans who remained there were placed behind a barrier quite a bit away and nobody physically saw Louis leave (he probably hopped in a car as soon as he finished the show, don’t know how it plays into the theory about Harry being there, I’m still on the fence about that).

The point of this rambling is, I have all the respect in the world for older fans, but shamelessly stalking a man 20 years younger than yourself? And placing that above his actual art? Is genuinely sick and sad, and an absolutely miserable way to spend time and money.

Oh, yuck. All of that is gross. Except for the show being great. I’m so glad you were able to get tickets after all!

But also, closing off the back entrance is super interesting to me. I remember another show he did, that H was rumored to be at, and there was a similar situation where Louis didn’t greet fans the way he usually did. Curious.

#electric brixton #harry at Louis’ shows #I can’t remember which show that was though #hmmmm

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the-winter-spider · 4 months ago

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The Last Countdown | Drabble

Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Angst, death

A/N: Posted the happy new years fic now heres the sad one

----

The call came in late that afternoon, the kind of mission no one wanted on New Year’s Eve but couldn’t afford to ignore. A rogue Hydra cell had surfaced, armed with a weapon too dangerous to leave unchecked. The four of you scrambled into gear—there was no time to waste.

“Quick in, quick out,” Steve had assured everyone during the briefing. “Minimal risk.”

Bucky glanced at you as the Quinjet roared to life. You’d squeezed his hand, giving him a confident smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “We’ll be back in time to watch the ball drop.”

He’d nodded, even though the unease twisting in his gut hadn’t let up since the mission briefing. Something felt off, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice it. Instead, he leaned closer, brushing his lips against your temple. “Be careful, doll.”

The mission started smoothly enough. The Hydra base was tucked away in a dense forest, its defenses formidable but not insurmountable for the team. Steve led the charge, while you and Bucky partnered up to dismantle a line of armed guards patrolling the perimeter.

“Watch my six,” you called over your shoulder as you sprinted toward a control panel near the base’s entrance.

“Always,” Bucky replied, firing off a clean shot that dropped an approaching guard before they could get close to you.

The four of you moved like a well-oiled machine, systematically clearing the base room by room. But as you entered the heart of the facility—a vast, dimly lit chamber housing the weapon you were there to neutralize—the operation spiraled out of control.

“Trap!” Natasha’s voice crackled over the comms as the doors slammed shut behind you and Bucky. The chamber lit up with blinding red lights, and the sound of machinery powering up filled the air.

“Y/N, get down!” Bucky shouted, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind a stack of crates just as the first explosion rocked the room.

The Hydra weapon—some kind of energy-based bomb—was unstable, and its protective casing had been compromised in the crossfire. Every shot fired, every explosion, seemed to hasten its countdown.

“We need to disable it now!” you yelled, scanning the room for any sign of the device’s control panel.

“On it!” Bucky moved to cover you as you dashed toward a console near the weapon.

But then you saw it—a Hydra operative in the shadows, raising a grenade launcher aimed directly at Bucky.

“Bucky, move!”

You didn’t think. You just acted. Sprinting toward him, you pushed him out of the way as the grenade hit its mark, detonating with deafening force.

The blast threw you both across the room. Pain lanced through your side as you hit the ground hard, gasping for air. You looked down to see blood pooling beneath you, a jagged piece of shrapnel embedded deep in your abdomen.

“Y/N!” Bucky scrambled to your side, his metal arm trembling as he pressed his hand against the wound. “No, no, no. You’re gonna be okay. Just hang on, alright?!”

Your vision blurred as the weapon’s countdown ticked closer to zero. “Bucky… you have to… disable it…”

“Forget the weapon!” he shouted, his voice breaking. “I’m not leaving you!”

Steve’s voice came through the comms, frantic. “Buck, we need that device deactivated now, or it’s taking out the whole forest—and us with it!”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand, your grip weak but insistent. “Go, Bucky. Please… save them, Ill wait okay? Il wait.”

“No!” He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “I’m not leaving you, baby. Don’t ask me to do that, please, I cant, I cant..."

But your strength was fading fast, and you knew there was no other way. “You’re stronger than this, Buck… you can, please, for me?"

For a moment, he hesitated, torn between saving you and stopping the weapon. Then Steve’s voice came through again, yelling about the countdown—seconds left now. "For you.." He breathed out

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your forehead, his tears mingling with the blood staining your skin. “I love you too, doll. Always.”

And then he was gone, running toward the device. You watched him through dimming eyes, your chest aching not from the pain of the wound but from the knowledge that this would most likely be the last time you’d see him and that hurt more than any wound.

You reached up tearing your comms out of your ear, you couldn't handle 2 more goodbyes, all you had in you was one. You could feel it, death, looming in the corners of your vision, pulling you in but you fought it with everything you had left because you wanted those blue eyes to be the last thing you saw, not some dingy hydra roof. You sighed when you heard the machine powering down. You could feel him, "I waited” You mumbled.

The clock on the wall read 11:52 PM. Only 8 minutes until the New Year. But time was the furthest thing from Bucky's mind as he cradled you in his arms amidst the rubble.

“Stay with me, baby, please,” he pleaded, voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. His gloved hand pressed against the wound in your abdomen, but it was too late. You knew it.

Your trembling hand reached up to touch his cheek, brushing away the tears streaking his face. “I’m sorry… I thought we had more time…”

“No, don’t—don’t talk like that,” he choked, shaking his head as if sheer force of will could keep you alive. “We’re gonna go home. I’ll take care of you, I promise I’ll take care of you, You’re gonna be okay sweetheart, you gotta be.”

“Your eyes….” A weak smile tugged at your lips, the kind that had once lit up his entire world but now only broke his heart. “I love you, Bucky. Always.”

The words were barely a whisper, and then you were gone.

Bucky froze, his entire body going cold. The sounds of the battle around him faded to nothing, drowned out by the unbearable silence of your absence.

Hours later, back at the compound, Steve found him in your shared room, still clutching the small velvet box he had intended to give you the next morning. The ring inside, simple and elegant, was supposed to be a promise of the future you’d never have.

“I was going to ask her tomorrow,” Bucky murmured, his voice hollow. “New Year’s Day. A fresh start. It was supposed to be my year Stevie, finally.”

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder "Buck.." He started, but Bucky shrugged it off, stepping away. “Why, Steve?” he asked, turning to face his oldest friend with tears streaming down his face. “What did I do to deserve this? Huh? What kind of life is this—watching everyone I love get ripped away from me? I—” He broke off, his hands curling into fists. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t.”

Steve tried to respond, but Bucky didn’t wait to hear it. He walked out into the freezing night, leaving behind the remnants of his broken heart and the dream of a life he’d never have.

The New Year arrived, but for him, it felt like the end of everything.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes au #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x steve

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s-i-ll-y-w-i-ll-y · 3 months ago

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I don’t understand

Professor!Will x Student!Reader

Summary: You stay behind after class to ask your teacher a question and received an answer that you could never have expected.

Tw! OOC Will Graham, low-key dumb reader but we persevere, morally wrong relationship (teacher/student), unprotected sex, car sex, classroom makeout

~~~~~~

The chattering of Professor Graham’s students faded into the distance as he began to wrap up his lesson. He slowly began to pack his bag, oblivious to you lurking on the other side of his desk. Your shadow cast across his desk as you stepped forward, the sound of you clearing your throat in the quiet classroom caused him to jump slightly.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to ask-”

A sharp chuckle slipped from his lips as he looked over to you. “Don’t you think it’s a bit..pointless to be asking questions.?” His palm planted on his desk as he leaned across, his eyes gleaming with emotion as he locked gaze with you.

Confusion.

That was the first thing you felt.

Then a small twinge of disappointment followed after, embedding itself in the deepest corners of your mind. After the long pause; after the empty silence entered the room; after the tension, you found yourself letting a small chuckle slip from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” You began, eyeing him from your position, the glare off the screen above you caressing your vision causing you to squint. “What do you mean pointless?”

The spacious room let every sound echo; the whirring sound of the projector, the chattering that echoed from the hallway, the footsteps of your professor as he walked closer-

..what?

Your professor stalked closer until a foot away from you, his eyes boring into you as he loomed down at you. His dexterous fingers winding around his glasses, folding them, then tucking them into his front pocket.

“What I mean is that you don’t pay any attention to my lectures or turn in any of the work I give out- important work, mind you. So..I say: why bother?” A trickle of snide and resentment pooled from his lips, forcing itself into your mind. “If you want to put more effort in then good, I’ll answer your questions. If not then drop out, someone else can get your spot. It doesn’t matter to me, just another face in my classroom.”

With your jaw slack you couldn’t utter a word. Shell-shock is the best term for what you were experiencing. Silence felt as if it would split you in two, nerves building within you.

His classroom felt as if it was caging you in, tension weighing heavy on your shoulders as he continued to stand a foot apart from you, his cologne seeping into your skin, drawing you closer.

Your eyes cast down, avoiding his strong gaze as you mustered up enough courage before you wept. “Sir,” you squeaked, “I don’t want to leave this course; I do pay attention, I hand things in, I don’t understand why you think I’m not doing good.” Tears brimmed in your eyes at this point, the courage had subsided and your fear got the better of you.

If he wanted you gone then you should go, no point of taking up a space someone actually smart could use better-

The warmth of his skin rubbed off into yours as his fingers hooked under your chin, tilting it up. With eyes glistening in the fading light of the projector, you could see his brow furrow. “I was not telling you off nor kicking you out, if that’s what you believe. You don’t put effort into your work and it shows; a low mark on a test or assignment can add up and show your enthusiasm for this course.” Warmth spread over your cheeks as his thumb wiped away a stray tear, a simple yet affectionate gesture which caused a sudden flush of warmth to spread to a more intimate place.

“I do care about this course, sir. Believe me, I do.” Your hand cupped his, a slither of a smile snaked its way onto your lips as he continued to stroke your cheekbone, despite the lack of tears. “I just…I don’t understand a lot.”

A tsk sounded throughout the room as he pulled away from you ever so slowly. “Why not come to me sooner?”

“I’m embarrassed to admit that I was nervous.”

“Why?”

Why.

That question hung in the air.

The answer to that question filled you with more dread than you could have ever imagined.

The answer to that question could bring the best outcome or the worst.

The lie would be that you just..couldn’t focus. Whether it was someone nearby clicking a pen or the ventilation being too loud, something was distracting you and you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

The truthful answer was that you couldn’t help but admire the way your professor looked in his outfits, the plaid shirts and trousers that hugged ever curve he had gave you something to think about late at night- something to fantasise about. That you couldn’t help but imagine how his hands would feel scratching against your scalp and pulling you in closer as he kissed your lips until they bled. That you couldn’t help but be jealous of just the thought of another girl in his class staying behind for ‘extra credit’.

So when the words came out your mouth, that you were infatuated with your teacher who was decades older than you, you were more than a little surprised when he practically pounced on you.

His lips melted against yours as he guided you onto his desk, sliding between your legs easily. Your legs wove around his waist as his hands wove into your hair just as you had dreamt.

~~~~~

Street lamps illuminated the FBI Headquarters Car Park, very few people left in the building. The night was calm, aside from the mild winds that threatened to create a small tornado with litter that had been cast to the side by those too lazy to pick it up. The gentle sway of the trees, which hid the glowing moon, caused a shifting shadow to appear over the car park. Creaking followed those pleasant pushes from the wind, and covered up the creaking that emanated from a small black car in the far side of the car park. The sway of the car and the creaks that came from them hid the array of whines, moans and groans that came from within.

A dull ache had formed in your wrists as they laid pinned against the rich leather of the car seat, your professor’s large hands sprawled out and covered yours. With legs warped around his mid-section, your back arched as thrusted deeper than you had ever dreamt of. The mewls of his name fell from your lips as he struck a nerve within you, spurring on something which had stirred and grown hours before.

His hips met yours with feverous need, a craving to feel you wear him out. The way you felt around him, the way you and enveloped his length and adjusted so well made him believe you were perfect for him. That you were perfect.

His lips crashed back to yours, sloppy and rough. Your tongue peaked out and was met with dominance from his until he pulled away, a string of your conjoined efforts connecting you.

Your eyes met, his hooded brown eyes gleaming with wanton desire for you pushed you over the edge. A wave of relief washed over you as you watched his face contort with pleasure, the awareness from you made it all more satisfying.

Your professor forced himself out of you and began to fist his cock, aiming it for your stomach. Your head rolled back as you recovered from your orgasm, watching the cloud dance in the sky, chasing the stars that seemed out of reach.

The sharp moan of your name caught your attention and you casted a glance over to your professor. Ropes of his release coated the soft skin of your stomach, painting it in a wash of white.

“Are you going to try harder in class?” A sly grin present on his face as he tucked himself back into his trousers once more.

“Maybe.”

~~~~~~~~

AN! Literally just smut…low-key ovulating, it’s fine.

Tuesday the 11th of February 2025, 9:11 PM.

#literally made just for smut #smut #s #m #u #t #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal #will graham x reader #will graham x you #x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannigram

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jintaka-hane · 4 months ago

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Asked by: @artemis162534 (sorry! I had a problem with the original ask and had to make a screenshot)

Kiss your blorbo at the New Year’s Eve event

PAULIE

Summary: On New Year's Eve, your boss overplays the urgency of some ship project, leaving you stuck working late in the shipyard. It’s all a setup to give Paulie, the shy and hardworking colleague, a chance to spend time with you. Word count: 1200 Warning: x f!reader! fluff, shy Technically, it’s still January 15th in my timezone!! My self-imposed deadline!! I’m sorry it took me so long to finish this, but once I started working again, everything got a bit complicated. Thank you for reading and for all the positive feedback you’ve given me throughout this event!! Love you all!!

Tap, tap, tap.

Brow furrowed in concentration, you hammer the nail into place before picking another from the three tucked between your lips. You’re quite the sight. Kneeling on a wooden plank in an elegant evening gown, contrasted by the rough work gloves covering your hands. You’re barefoot too. The heels you put on thinking you’d be at the party with your coworkers, are useless here.

Tap, tap, tap.

You strike again with the hammer, running your thumb over the surface to make sure the nail is fully embedded. You’ve been working on this piece for so long that you’ve lost count of how many screwdrivers have passed through your hands. Brushing sawdust from your dress, you step back to check if the piece is perfectly aligned.

“It’s leaning too much,” you hear behind you the Vice President of the prestigious shipwright company, Galley-La.

Sighing, you wipe the sweat from your brow and turn just in time to catch the square Paulie tosses your way. A couple of seconds are enough for you to confirm that, indeed, the piece leaning. Mistakes like this would normally embarrass you, but after hours of nonstop work on this high-priority project, fatigue is catching up.

Paulie makes a gesture for you to come closer and examine the blueprints spread across the table. He’s dressed as elegantly as you are, in a suit jacket with a flower perched in the front pocket. “It’s a 90-degree angle, see?” he says, tracing his fingertips along the ship’s design.

Your head nearly brushes against his as you lean in to inspect the plans. Paulie steals a quick glance at you, blushing hard before snapping his eyes back to the blueprints. He’s trying his hardest to focus on the work. But as midnight approaches, it’s getting harder and harder to keep his thoughts in line.

"Come on, I'll help you fix it," he says, slipping on his goggles as he grabs a claw hammer and crouches down to pull out the nails.

Meanwhile, from the courtyard of Galley-La Headquarters, Iceburg raises his champagne glass and clinks it against Lulu’s and Tilestone’s. Watching the workers enjoying themselves, he muses to himself whether he might have exaggerated the urgency of your current project. Okay, fine, the deadline wasn’t that tight. Maybe you and Paulie could be here right now, celebrating with the rest of the company at the end-of-year party. But he had his reasons. He’d spent far too long watching Paulie pine after you with googly-eyed devotion, never daring to take a step forward. And people tend to kiss on New Year’s Eve, right? Maybe a quiet shipyard and a little nudge would do the trick... or maybe not. Iceburg sighs into his champagne. This was Paulie, after all.

"One, two, three, four..." Paulie mutters as he counts the cast-iron screws needed to get that perfect 90-degree angle. Only twelve are needed, but he’s already counted them four times, silently cursing as his mind loops over the words he wishes he could say to you tonight.

“Paulie, can you hold this here?” You make him jolt.

"Huh? Oh—yeah, sure," he tries to sound casual as he places his hands exactly where you asked. His fingers hover just a few centimeters from yours, but to him, the distance feels impossibly vast.

"Shit", your hands tremble. You’re too tired, and you can’t quite manage to fit the screwdriver into the slot.

“Let me,” Paulie takes the tool from your hands to relieve you and give you a break.

With a brief nod, you allow yourself to enjoy your much-needed pause. Your back leans against the wall as you watch Paulie work in silence. He’s so responsible and dedicated to his job... Even though he’s in an executive position, he’s always ready to roll up his sleeves and pitch in with everyone else when there’s a tight deadline.

Your eyes focus on his hands, which seem to caress the wood, treating the ships with as much care and respect as if they were his own. But your thoughts are interrupted as you catch the faint sound of shouts and the thrum of music from some party down at the port. You uncover your wrist, glance at your watch, and smile.

“Two minutes to midnight,” you say.

"Great," Paulie leans forward, flexing his arms as he applies more pressure, pretending the screw is giving him trouble. For a moment, he works in silence, his brow furrowed and his gaze fixed on the piece of wood, until he can't hold it in anymore. "Would you rather be with the others?" His question comes out suddenly.

“Uh, what?”

“I imagine this isn’t exactly the best New Year’s Eve for you,...” he explains, his focus still on the work. “Working nonstop… and with me…”

You giggle before grabbing another screw and handing it to him. “Paulie, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend New Year’s Eve.”

You smile hits him in the split second his eyes meet yours, and he chuckles before quickly averting his eyes. He’s never been able to hold your gaze when you smile at him like that.

“Okay, this is ready now,” he says, straightening up after giving the screwdriver a couple more turns.

From the port, distant shouts, cheers, and the sharp crack of fireworks drift toward you in the night air. You glance at your watch once more, and a smile spreads across your face.

“Happy New Year, Paulie!” you grin at him, reaching out to hug him. But he freezes, the screwdriver still hovering in mid-air.

“Happy New—shit!” he blurts out, covering his face with his hands as a wild blush spreads across his cheeks. You’re used to seeing him blush, but this? This is something else.

“Paulie!! Are you okay?” you step closer to him.

“Uh… yeah, I…” you hear him mumble through his hands. His face is radiating so much heat that his goggles fog up.

“Paulie?”

"Y-Yeah, I just..." he mumbles, still hiding behind his hands, and if it’s possible, you can tell he’s turning even redder. "I-I wanted to... damn, I wanted to kiss you… b-but..." The words get stuck in his throat, and he clenches his jaw, shutting up to stop making a fool of himself in front of you.

You sigh, unable to hold back a smile as you step closer and gently take his hands away from his face.

"Paulie..." you whisper, shaking your head. His eyes are squeezed shut behind his protective glasses, but when you gently lift them off and rest them on his forehead, he slowly opens his eyes, filled with embarrassment.

Leaning in just a little, you tilt your head, and your lips brush against his, feeling them warm, shaky, and hesitant. Your mouth guides his through his nervous clumsiness in slow but steady movements, drawing from him a kiss as soft as it is tender. Paulie's arms fall uselessly to his sides, and with a clank, the screwdriver slips from his hands and hits the floor. The sound makes you jump, and much to Paulie’s dismay, you pull away and glance down.

"Uhhh, Paulie," you say, your eyes widening at his work on the floor.

"Yeah?" he whispers, unable to tear his eyes away from you.

"This still isn’t a 90-degree angle!"

................................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

#jintaka asks #jintaka stuff #x reader #one piece fanfiction #jintaka new year event #paulie x reader #paulie op #op paulie #one piece paulie #paulie one piece #paulie

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fishermanshook · 1 year ago

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LOVING YOU IS ALL I NEED!

( batter , first officer & forward relationship h/c's ) + gn!reader

# think of this as a pt. 2 to this fic , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

How these men show their undying love for their one and only—you.

꒰wc꒱ 1.1k

✦— THE BATTER

Ganji Gupta didn’t dare dream of the day he’d find his one and only, his true love, someone to grow old and tired with until his heart gave out on itself. Unfortunately, his newfound situation halted any progress he could’ve made.

That was until you arrived at the manor with a letter to hell in your hands. That was until he got to know you better. That was until you shared your first kiss on New Year’s Eve. Ever since then, he’s been completely and utterly yours.

Ganji Gupta is the type of man to show his love and devotion to you through meaningful Acts of Service. There’s little to nothing the Batter wouldn’t do for you. He isn’t above taking hits for you in matches when needed, and he will use his last ball to save you from getting sent back to the manor.

Ganji Gupta who, as much as he loves being on his own, gets a bit lonely at times. Therefore, he loves nothing more than to spend some Quality Time with you. He prefers long walks around the perimeter of the manor and also enjoys getting to rest his head in your lap as the two of you lounge about.

Ganji Gupta teaches you the recipes passed down to him by his Mother. It makes for a great way to spend time together whilst making sure he doesn’t forget them in the process. Cooking with you brings back bittersweet memories and reminds him of his Mother all too much.

Ganji Gupta frequently wakes up from relentless night terrors. He’s heard of other Survivors describing their own experiences with them but didn’t think it would happen to him. Now he finds himself waking up in a cold sweat and alone in bed with nobody to calm him down. This leads to him sleeping in your dorm room more often than not in a way to help combat these nightmares. Hopefully, he can get some rest tonight thanks to your help.

✦— FIRST OFFICER

Who doesn’t know the brave young man Jose Baden? The Sea Knight who wields a pocket watch said to have been blessed by Posiden himself, the artifact that always ensures smooth sailing? The First Officer is punctual, humble, and always knows what he wants. He just didn’t expect it to be you.

Nonetheless, the heart can guide a man better than any map can. He may indeed have fallen for you first, but you undeniably fell harder. Although, who wouldn’t with the way he constantly sweeps you off your feet?

Jose Baden is always true to his words when it comes to you, and therefore showers you with Words of Affirmation. It makes communication between the two of you much easier when there’s nothing to hide. And there are only so many words to describe his love for you, so we’ll have to start from the top and work our way down.

Jose Baden, who cannot keep his hands off you. No matter where the two of you are. Physical Affection is this man's specialty and has been embedded into his DNA. It's the simple things like his pinky finger being entwined with yours or his arm around your shoulder, holding you close.

Jose Baden isn’t afraid to show his love for you in front of others and would never shy away from it. It’s truly a gift to be head over heels, so why hide it? Why not show off what he’s got and everything that’s so precious about ‘em?

Jose Baden who can’t help but take a hit for you in games. He doesn’t ever want to see your blood spilled, and would rather have his coat on the map instead. He’s ready to face the stern talking you’ll give him after the match, but you’ll patch him up anyway.

Jose Baden doesn't like admitting the fact that he misses the sea badly. The things Jose would do just for an evening back on the ocean are wild and many. The closest thing he's got is Lakeside Village, but even the calming waves that brush upon the shore can't heal the pain in his heart. The Officer will admit his feelings to you in an act of desperation and comfort. And comfort he receives from you. From cuddling and listening to him rant about the ocean for the 100th time to peppering his face with soft kisses that seemingly never stop.

✦— FORWARD

Said to have been the creator of Rugby himself, you always want William Ellis on your team. He successfully lifts the spirits of all his teammates while headbutting into the Hunter just before they use excitement. It's the thought that counts, right?

To have William in your corner means to have someone who is with you through thick and thin. Someone who will stick by your side until the end of time itself. And until you can finally realize just how much the Rugby Star adores you.

William Ellis who can’t help but hold you close. Physical Affection is this man’s go-to for showing how much he loves you. Like Jose, he will never feel embarrassed or ashamed when showering you with his form of love and affection. He’s either got an arm around your waist or your hand in his—there’s no in-between.

William Ellis loves Giving Gifts just as much as he loves Receiving Them. While the Forward’s not the best at picking out pre-made gifts, he is the best at making ones straight from the heart. Using his clues and fragments, he’ll craft something he finds worthy of gifting you. Whether it be something like a small, red box in the shape of a heart or a bracelet that has your and his initials on it, the gifts are all made with you in mind.

That being said, William Ellis will treasure anything you gift him in return. And that can be anything. Silly little notes passed underneath the table during dinner. A beaded anklet that has left a tan mark because he never takes it off. Or a smaller version of his Ruby ball with every stitch being almost exact.

William Ellis who’s afraid he might not be good enough for you. Who fears that one day he may be forgotten by everyone he’s ever loved. Maybe that’s why he works so damn hard. To prove to himself (and others) that he’s worth remembering. Fortunately, there’s no need to go the extra mile when it comes to you. William’s proven himself more than enough already, hasn’t he?

note: a little gift for all my Ganji, William, and Jose lovers out there. made 4: @rieuvie + @williamkisser + @ch6douin +@jklovu + @5ku11h34rt

(2024) ©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

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vividiana · 2 months ago

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chapter 1

pairing: Astarion x f!Durge · word count: 4.3k

rating: M for now, eventually E (18+)

tags: modern AU, witness protection, strangers to friends to lovers (see AO3 for a more exhaustive list)

summary: It’s been over a year since Eve had to uproot her life and assume a new identity—anything to distance herself from the past she wishes she could forget. When an erratic, if oddly charming, newcomer stumbles into her place of work, she recognizes something familiar within him and the two can’t seem to stay away from each other. But Eve is not the only one running from her past. An alternative, modern take on the Dark Urge x Astarion romance, filled with friendship, secrets, healing, and ABBA.

a/n: IT'S HEREEEEE 📣 a huge thank you to everyone who hyped me up as I was working on this, you guys are the best 🫂❤️

the title is from "Like Real People Do" by our lord and savior Hozier

read on AO3 · dividers

Eve grips the edge of the sink, knuckles white as she tries to ease her breathing.

Only one more hour. One hour and she gets to go home.

Her shift started, rather unfortunately, with a birthday party: pushing together four tables, trying to keep up with the customers who constantly changed their mind about the order and deliberated endlessly on who’s paying for what and with what card, all the while their children were screaming for attention. But even worse was the mess they left, along with the few spare coins they tossed on the table as an afterthought, which somehow made her angrier than if they hadn’t tipped at all.

And then it was back to the usual, mundane torments of her job, the worst of which were the never ending comments that made her scream internally when the most she could do was a polite nod. She thought she would get used to them by now, but alas, the hundredth one was just as insufferable as the first. They were delivered by all kinds of people in a variety of tones, ranging from patronizing to objectifying to just plain stupid. They fueled countless rants that Eve’s roommate patiently listened to before noting that perhaps she should look for a job that doesn’t fill her with rage every single day.

The customers’ words echo in her mind on a loop, like a twisted Greatest Hits compilation.

“Why is a young girl like you slaving away in a place like this? Did you plan to be a waitress?”

“Why would you cover up that pretty neck with a tattoo? Don’t you know what it will look like when you’re older?”

“I’m surprised your boyfriend is okay with you working this late. I wouldn’t be, that’s for sure.”

“Does it cost extra for you to smile?”

Managing to tear her thoughts away from this pity party, she looks up, wincing when she sees her reflection in the chipped mirror. The ponytails she hates but that, without fail and for reasons she doesn’t want to entertain for too long, make people tip her more. The makeup, just enough to conceal her dark circles and soften the edges of the scar running down her cheek, but of course not enough for people to notice she is wearing any, lest they think she’s trying too hard.

And finally, the dragonfly tattoo lining her throat. The artist did a great job with the cover-up, but despite the quality of the craft, all Eve sees when she looks at it is the dagger concealed within the insect’s body, the ever present reminder that no matter how far she runs, or how much she tries to conceal it, her past will forever be carved into her skin.

She takes another deep breath, counting seconds as she inhales, holds, then exhales—one of the only useful skills she’s gained from her series of short-lived flings with therapy.

One more hour. I can do this.

Eve fixes her crooked name tag and heads out the door. She makes her way through the backroom into the kitchen, and perhaps the smell of grease would assault her senses were it not already embedded into her skin, hair, and clothes.

On the center counter, she spots a tray with a ticket for booth four. Yes, booth four she can do. It’s largely unproblematic, if a little strange. She grabs it and heads out the kitchen, past the main room to a smaller side one with the bar, a couple smaller tables, and a line of booths.

As she enters, she spots a man sitting by the bar, looking a bit lost. His hair is bleached so light it’s basically white. He’s wearing a t-shirt with a patterned sweater vest over it that’s a couple sizes too big and way too warm for May. He’s hunched over the bar counter, pen in hand, working fervently on something or other.

She passes the newcomer and makes her way to booth four, featuring her favorite regular: an older man, wrinkled beyond belief, who arrives at 4 p.m. every single day. He always comes alone and without fail, orders the same exact thing every time: a plate of chicken tenders and a Dr. Pepper. No sauce, no sides. Just the chicken and the beverage. Eve stopped bothering to take his order months ago.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” she says, placing the plate in front of him. She opens the soda can and starts pouring it into his glass. “How are you doing today?”

“Fate spins along as it should,” he says in that trademark monotone voice.

“Mhm,” she hums, trying to think of a way to stall, so she doesn’t have to return to her other customers. “Did you hear there is going to be a thunderstorm tonight?”

“That may be so.”

“Right. Well, enjoy your meal then.”

“Thank you.”

She scans the room, but seeing no one who looks like they need help, she fishes out the notepad from her apron and makes her way behind the bar.

The white-haired man doesn’t look up when she stands before him, seemingly lost in thought as he scribbles something in a journal in sweeping, messy handwriting. Through the scent of stale beer and fried food, she singles out a hint of his cologne—citrusy, fresh, and far more pleasant than anything the men frequenting this establishment usually wear, if they even bother.

“Hello, my name is Eve–”

He startles at the sound of her voice. There is a trace of panic in his eyes as he looks up at her, one that he instantly tries to cover up by straightening in his seat and donning a forced smile.

The moment their eyes meet, Eve gets the strangest feeling of déjà vu she’s ever experienced. There is something familiar in the creases of his smile lines, in the way his hair curls around his ears. It catches her off-guard, the rehearsed introduction dying in her throat mid-sentence.

“I’m sorry, do I know you from somewhere?” she asks instead.

The man instantly tenses up with a loud scoff.

“Of course you would know me from somewhere. What else did I expect?” He gestures animatedly as he speaks, Eve blinking in confusion as she listens to his rant. “Are you one of those true crime freaks? Do you want an autograph or are you content with just standing here and gawking?”

Great. Just great.

Exactly what she needed to top off this hell of a shift: entertaining a man’s delusions of self-importance. The True Crime Celebrity has to go into this month’s top three, along with The Alien Abductee and Mr. FBI-Poisoned-My-Cows. At least those guys were more polite.

“You move halfway across the country to finally get a break for once and– Fucking hell!”

He drops his fountain pen on the counter with a loud thud and slips his glasses off to massage his temples, eyes shut tight in frustration. A couple patrons turn their heads to glance their way, Eve’s cheeks growing hotter at the sudden attention.

And perhaps, after seven hours of being on edge, that was simply the last straw.

“Do not raise your voice at me,” the words escape her lips before Eve can think better of it.

The man seems genuinely taken aback and he opens his eyes, brows furrowed when he asks:

“Excuse me?”

“You seem to think you’re some sort of big deal. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. And no matter who you are, you shouldn’t speak to people that way, but especially not to those who handle your food and drinks.”

She didn’t mean it to sound like a threat, but she has no emotional energy left to dull the edge of her words.

Maybe getting fired wouldn’t be so bad. Then I’ll never have to come back here.

For a moment he just looks at her wide-eyed, opening and closing his mouth a couple times. Eventually he clears his throat and puts his glasses back on, sounding genuinely embarrassed when he admits:

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just– It’s been a long day. But still, that’s no reason to– I’m sorry.”

The anger pent-up in her body starts to dissipate at his tone. He sounds… tired. In a way she recognizes all too well.

“It’s been a long day for me, too,” she says. “Maybe we can try again.”

She turns away and takes a couple steps along the bar, then returns with a polite smile on her face to say:

“Hello, my name is Eve, I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I get you started with something to drink?”

He chuckles softly and now that his face is more relaxed, Eve can’t help but think that he is quite handsome, in a manner that feels utterly out of place.

“Well, that depends,” he says. “Do the drinks come with spit or poison?”

“You’ve apologized, so neither. But you’re on thin ice.”

He scoffs, but there is no real edge to it. He watches her intently, a hint of curiosity in his gaze that she is not sure what to make of.

“So, do you need more time?” she asks after a moment.

“Time for what?” he asks, stumped.

“To order. Do you know what you want to order?”

Suddenly, as if a prompter whispered his lines to him, he remembers they’re in a restaurant of all places, and he is, in fact, playing the role of the customer.

“Ah, yes. Food,” he says, gaze falling upon the empty bar counter before him.

Eve sighs and retrieves one of the folded menus from a holder to her right.

“Is this your first time?” she asks, handing the paper to him.

“First time here?”

“First time in a restaurant.”

“Let’s say it is,” he chuckles, grabbing the menu from her. “What then?”

“Well,” she starts, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the counter. It’s a tad sticky, but she chooses to ignore that unfortunate detail. After all, the more time she spends with this fumbling, if oddly charming, idiot, the less she has to deal with the other, less-than-savory regulars. She unfolds the menu, trying to sound as patient as she can when she says:

“Here is the list of foods, here are the prices. Here, for some unknown reason, are the calorie counts, which I suggest you ignore, for the sake of your sanity.”

“Hm,” he hums thoughtfully, eyes gliding down the list. He looks up, a curious glint in his eyes when he asks: “So, what do you recommend?”

She doesn’t have a response at the ready, mostly because no one ever asks her that. Nothing, she wants to say, but with the final remnants of self-control, she dons her best service-industry smile, the one that says: I love my job and I haven’t been dying to go home.

“Well, that depends: how hungry are you?”

“Not terribly.”

She flips the menu over to their All-day Lunch selection.

“The club sandwich is a crowd favorite.”

“Alright. But what is your favorite?”

Eve looks up to meet his eyes, their greyish blue alight with amusement, and she can feel the edge of her lips tugging up into a disbelieving smile. She finds no hint of mockery in his tone, just sheer curiosity. He seems to genuinely care about her opinion, which is a rarity in this place.

“The grilled chicken panini is not half-bad,” she whispers, like she is revealing some meticulously guarded secret.

“I’ll have that, then.”

“Got it,” she says, standing up straight. “And to drink?”

“Surprise me.”

“I can’t put a surprise on your tab. You do actually need to pick something.”

“Do you have diet cherry coke?”

Eve summons all of her mental strength to not roll her eyes at him.

“We have diet, non-cherry pepsi. Is that okay?”

“It’s a travesty, more like. But I’ll make do.”

“Great. One sec.”

She scoops some ice into a glass, then retrieves the pepsi from a small fridge under the bar. As she starts pouring it into his glass, she asks:

“So, are you visiting someone, or just passing through?”

“I actually just moved here a couple days ago,”

“Oh.” It’s not often that they see a new face around here. And certainly not one this good-looking. “In that case: welcome.”

“Thank you. I suppose I wanted to get to know the town a little more. Check out the…” his gaze wanders around the room, the flickering Coors Light neon signs, the truckers belly-laughing at one joke or another, “…local scene.”

“And how do you like it so far?”

“Well, so far you’re the only person in this place I’ve managed to have a half-decent conversation with. So yes, I suppose it’s alright.”

“Half-decent? You wound me.”

He smiles, but before he gets a chance to respond, Eve hears someone snap their fingers at her like they’re in a fucking Tarantino movie. She’s surprised they didn’t yell garçon!

“I’ll be back with the panini,” she says, and however, reluctantly, pries herself off the bar counter to attend to the obnoxious client at booth one.

The pace picks up, as it always seems to do when she is almost done with her shift. When she brings him the food, they exchange a couple more amusing if largely meaningless comments, before she has to go tend to her other customers.

Eventually the man asks for the check and pays with cash. By the time Eve comes to collect it from him, he’s gone. Opening the tab, she sees two $20 bills and for a moment she’s convinced it must be a mistake, because the total was just over $17.

But then she notices a small ink stain on the thin receipt paper and turns it around to read a note in that same sweeping font: Sorry again for being a dick. Enjoy your weekend.

Eve chuckles softly and pockets the receipt on a whim.

When she’s clocking out 15 minutes later, she hears that grating voice behind her, the one that always manages to set her on edge.

“I saw you arguing with a customer.”

“That’s odd. I don’t recall doing that,” she says, not looking away from the keypad.

“You know damn well who I’m talking about. The one with the glasses, dressed funny.”

Eve sighs and turns around to meet the man’s eyes. He’s a couple inches shorter than her, a fact he tries to make up for by puffing out his chest and glaring at her in a way that is presumably supposed to be intimidating. It’s funny, she thinks, how much of a power trip he gets from being a manager at a run-down place like this. She wonders sometimes what must be going on in his personal life that he’s trying to make up for.

“Oh, him!” she says with a forced cheeriness. “Well, he actually seemed quite pleased with the service, he left me a very generous tip. Did you hear any complaints? You know I would hate to leave a bad impression on a new customer.”

His lips tighten into a firm line as he watches her, and Eve is fully aware he has no arguments left. After a moment of tense silence, she nods politely before turning towards the exit.

“See you tomorrow, Wulbren.”

Eve frees her hair from the ponytails and runs her fingers through it the moment she steps outside. The afternoon sun cradles her skin as she crosses the parking lot and makes her way to Gizmo—her trusted 2012 Toyota Prius that has seen better days.

It’s a fairly nondescript car, what with it being a Prius and a bland beige, but she has taken to decorate the inside with some personal touches. The back is adorned with two bumper stickers: one with the logo of her roommate’s youth soccer team, the Clinton Comets, and another that reads: “My other car is a Honda Civic.” It’s a leftover gift from the previous owner that Eve is too amused by to peel off, despite how worn and faded the lettering has become.

She starts the car, turning the radio off immediately—she listens to it enough at work and right now, she just wants to enjoy the silence. As she pulls out of the parking lot, she rolls the windows down to welcome in the fresh air, warmed with the promise of summer.

It only takes her seven minutes to get to the elementary school. Surprisingly enough, she managed to leave at 5 p.m. sharp, so she still has some time before practice ends. She decides to park in the visitor’s lot and walk towards the pitch.

The shrill whistle reaches her ears, and as she steps up onto the mostly empty bleachers, she takes in the sight of 20-something children running around in navy blue uniforms, Lae’zel standing off to the side as she watches them intently.

Her thick chestnut hair looks immaculate as always, interspersed with small braids here and there, the upper half pulled into a near-perfect bun. Despite the temperature, she’s wearing a matching cream-and-black Adidas tracksuit, the light fabric bringing out the warm hue of her skin.

Suddenly, there is a commotion as an argument breaks out between two girls. Someone missed a clear shot, or something of that nature—Eve was not paying attention. Others join shortly, the bickering growing incessantly loud.

A whistle cuts through the chatter and Lae’zel waves her hand in a beckoning motion.

“Mol! A word.”

The group immediately falls quiet and from the crowd emerges a short girl with russet brown skin, her hair gathered into a high ponytail. Her expression is sour as she approaches, like she’s ready to argue further.

Lae’zel lowers herself into a squat, her eyes leveled with the girl’s. From her seat, Eve can make out most of their conversation:

“You’re the captain, Mol. You need to act like one. If you don’t have faith in your teammates, then who will?”

The girl’s defiant expression melts into one of embarrassment, her gaze suddenly very focused on the tips of her cleats.

She mutters something that sounds like: “I’m sorry, Coach.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your team,” Lae’zel says, rising to her full height, which, admittedly, is not a lot. “Now, go out there and be a leader. Understood?”

The girl nods decidedly and runs back onto the field as Lae’zel blows the whistle, resuming the game. Eve smiles as she recognizes her gift: a silver whistle with the words #1 Coach engraved on the side. Lae seemed very flustered when she gave it to her, but Eve has never seen her go back to the plastic ones she’d used before.

The game ends 2:1.

Lae’zel makes some closing strategy-related remarks, then reminds the girls about the game next week with the team from a neighboring county.

“And remember that there will be summer practice available all throughout June, and then resuming in August. I’ve emailed the details to your parents. Any questions?”

When none arise, Lae gathers the team in a circle, and on the count of three, they erupt into a group cheer, accompanied by dance moves that look awfully close to the “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” song.

“UP, DOWN, LEFT, AND RIGHT, CLINTON COMETS WIN THE FIGHT!”

The group disperses, and as the children are gathering their things and getting ready to leave, Lae’zel checks her notes and says:

“Arabella, Yenna, and Ide, I still haven’t gotten those permission slips back. If you don’t want to miss out on the last game of the season, I’ll need them by Wednesday.”

“Yes, Coach Medina,” the three girls in question say in a practiced unison.

The pitch eventually empties out as the children leave, along with some of the parents who were waiting on the bleachers. Lae’zel is gathering the orange plastic cones from the field as Eve makes her way down to help her.

When Lae turns around and meets her eyes, Eve breaks into dance with unparalleled enthusiasm:

“UP, DOWN, LEFT, AND RIGHT, CLINTON COMETS WIN THE FIGHT!”

“Do you have a problem with our battle cry?” Lae’zel asks, trying her best to look unamused.

“No, I love it. It’s adorable and so, so corny.”

“The girls wrote it themselves. I didn’t want to interfere with their creative process. It’s good for team morale and their self-esteem.”

“Of course. You know I would never question your pedagogy.”

They pick up the last of the cones and as they’re heading to Lae’zel’s office, Eve says:

“Oh, you know what I just remembered?”

“What?”

“UP, DOWN, LEFT, AND RIGHT–”

“Keep doing that and I will evict you.”

“Oh, but then who would drive you around?”

“I’ll take my chances with the bus.”

Once they put everything away, they make their way back to the car and head home.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Eve asks as she turns onto the main road.

Lae’zel picks up her phone and then directs the screen towards her.

“Her, if all goes well.”

Eve glances sideways to catch a glimpse of a Hinge profile. Jen, 25, the caption informs her. The girl in the photo sports heavy makeup and short bangs, her hair split down the middle with half-white, half-black dye.

“Pretty.”

But Lae’zel just hums approvingly in lieu of a response.

Before Eve can probe any further, her phone rings, and a message appears on the center screen: Call from: Wyll Ravengard 😎

“Hi Wyll,” she answers. “You’re on speaker. I’m in the car with Lae’zel.”

“Hello Lae’zel,” the man responds in his signature friendly tone.

“Hello. Don’t worry, I’m not paying attention,” Lae says, not looking up from her phone.

“She’s not paying attention, she’s busy texting a goth girl on Hinge.”

“Been there. Anyways, Eve, sorry to disturb your Friday evening, I just wanted to confirm that we’re still on for coffee, Monday at 4?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Perfect. And you remember that I scheduled that… consultation appointment for you at 2 pm that same day?”

Eve sighs softly. Another therapist. Agent Ravengard has been relentless in trying to find a good match for her. She’s pretty sure she’s gone through everyone within a 20-mile radius.

“Yup. I do remember that.”

“Mhm. And do you plan on attending?”

She pauses for a second, and then says, unconvincingly:

“I do.”

“Lovely. Can’t wait to hear all about it over coffee.”

“Sounds delightful,” she says dryly.

“I’ll text you the details again, just in case. It’s up in Fairview, so about a half hour drive. You should have plenty of time to be back by 4.”

“Okay.”

“Alright then, have a wonderful weekend, Eve, and I’ll see you soon, yes?”

“Yes. I– Thank you, Wyll. I appreciate you.”

“Happy to help. Bye now!

“Bye, have a good one!”

The moment he hangs up, Eve lets out a pained groan.

“You sound frustrated,” Lae’zel remarks, still typing. And when Eve doesn’t respond, she adds: “Maybe you should sleep with him.”

“With Wyll?!”

“Yes. You are attracted to him, are you not?”

“I suppose I am, a little. I mean, have you seen him? But no, that is either illegal or unethical or both.”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“Well, I do. Plus, not all of life’s problems can be solved with sex, you know?”

“It sounds like you just haven’t had great sex, then.”

“It sounds like you really want to walk home. I can pull over at any moment, just say the word.”

There is a moment of silence before Lae’zel asks:

“In all seriousness though, do you want to talk about it? This appointment of yours?”

“No. That’s the last thing I want to be thinking about right now.”

“Understood.” Lae’zel seems to ponder something, then adds: “I’m meeting her for drinks at 9, so I still have some free time. Do you want to pick up ramen and watch people be idiots on the Game Show Network?”

“Yes, please.”

Lae’zel calls the ramen place on the first floor of their building to put in their usual order. Once they get back to the apartment, she goes to pick up the food while Eve heads to her room to change.

The space is quite bare, especially in comparison to Lae’zel’s room, which is full of photos, trinkets, and memorabilia to remind her of home. Eve doesn’t have any of those, but she still tried to make her room her own, whatever that means. A couple plants line the windowsill, and her shelves are overflowing with books she thrifted: mostly non-fiction, with the occasional Stephen King novel tucked between her usual reads. There are plenty of lights, too: a salt lamp, numerous candles, and a cascade of fairy lights above her bed. Anything to not have to turn on the harsh overhead light.

Before they sit down to eat, she wants to get rid of that ever-present diner smell. When she pulls her jeans off, a piece of paper flies down onto the wooden floors. She snatches it up, ready to toss it into the trash, when she spots the now familiar, swirly handwriting.

Eve chuckles, remembering this oddly charming man, looking entirely out of place, who probably had an even worse day than she did, somehow.

She unfolds the paper fully, straightening out the wrinkles, and heads over to the small desk in the corner of the room. There is a cork board above it with a couple ticket stubs from events she went to with Lae’zel and a few holiday cards from Wyll. It’s the closest she can have to a picture board, ever since she was explicitly instructed to never allow herself to be photographed.

She isn’t sure what propels her to pin the receipt to one of the empty spaces on the board.

But it fits right in.

a/n: thank you for reading! lmk if you would like to be tagged when I update this, or when I post in general. have a lovely rest of your day/night, whenever you're reading this 💛🧡

taglist: @roguishcat ✨

next chapter · masterlist

#astarion x durge #astarion x the dark urge #durgestarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction #bg3 modern au #my fic

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 4 months ago

Text

WTFuture Evesworld

For that one anon. @fanofstuff01

Adam wasn’t sure what to make of their future selves coming back to stop Eve. Or what to make of that he apparently works for fucking Lucifer in the future.

He shuddered, no way in Hell was he going to let that happen.

Although...... His sight has been getting weird lately maybe he should get it checked just to be sure he doesn't need glasses, they don't frame his face. He looked to his right and an optometrist office was right there.

Adam: How convenient.

He went in and the doctor saw him right away and did many different tests

Doctor: Well, it's official. You have eye cancer.

Adam: WHAT!? Isn't there anything you can do?

Doctor: Well, we can do surgery or a transplant. But you're nowhere near eligible for either, you'd have to basically be blind.

Adam: So you can't fucking help me because I caught it too early?

Doctor: Yup!

Adam: .....

Doctor: ...... Sorry.

Adam left in a huff and stalked down the sidewalk, stupid doctor what good is he if he can't help him? What was he going to do he didn't want to go blind.

He was hit with a headache and leaned against the wall gripping his face as it was located in his eyes. It hurt so bad, was he crying? It felt like he was crying.

The sound of two guns clicking caught his attention, when Adam looked up he saw two women pointing guns at him and a man got out of the backseat of the car.

He knows that man......

Lucifer: Adam! My old friend, you're not looking so hot.

Adam glared: What do you want?

Lucifer: No need to be rude, I only wish to help.~

Adam: Yeah right.

Lucifer: Oh but I do. I can't help but notice your situation, let me help you.

Adam: Why would I let you?

Lucifer: It would be better than going blind, no?

How the hell did he know that? As if knowing, his vision went more blurry and the pain for worse. In this light, Lucifer looked like the devil and you know what they say when you make a deal with the devil.

Adam: I-I-I.... F-fine.

The last thing he saw was Lucifer's grin as the woman went to Adams side and picked him up.

When Adam woke up there was a loading screen.

Loading screen.

Adams hands flew to his face and he felt a visor on his face, it felt as if it were embedded into him.

Adam: No no no no no no no!!

When the screen loaded his vision was perfect, better than its ever been in his life. It looked as though he was in a bed in a lab, not a hospital.

Lucifer: Oh good you're awake now. I hope you like it.~

He handed Adam a small mirror and to his horror it was the visor that his future self had. Yellow/gold LED's for eyes.

Adam: What did you do!?

Lucifer: I helped you! You're welcome by the way. Your eyes couldn't be saved and no donor around I did the next best thing. You should be grateful old friend.

Adam glared or at least hoped he was glaring: Helped me!? There's a computer in my face! And you're not my friend.

Adam yelped when Lucifer reached forward and gripped his jaw, Adam shrinked down the best he could as those cold blue eyes looked at him.

Lucifer: You're right, we're not friends, I'm your boss and King now. I saved your life when you asked me to and now you owe me.

Motherfucker!

Lucifer: You have three options Adam, I can either rip that seeing visor out of your face letting you bleed to death, I hit a button and make you do as I say, or you be a good boy and follow my orders. Your choice. And I would much rather have you willing.~

Adam looked down, how could he have just let himself into this situation? Eve and Lilith were probably worried about him.

Well, Eve more than Lilith and they were probably making out on the couch.

Adam: ....... Fine.

Lucifer: Fine, what?

Adam grit his teeth: Fine sir.

Lucifer smiled and let him go: Excellent! And for future reference I will also accept your majesty, my King, or Red Leader.

Lucifer turned away from Adam and walked towards the door: Vaggie will be in to give you your new uniform. Oh, and Adam?

Adam looked up to see a smirk on Lucifer's face, his eyes shining like an otherworldly demon.

Lucifer: Welcome to the army.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x adam

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37sommz · 7 months ago

Text

❁ : l'amour de ma vie . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: fluff. ✼. wc: 6k.

as much as michaela adores her sister, courtney, it's hard to find joy in leaving the year behind when courtney's love life is coming home for the first time. the new year brings michaela old friends in a brand new package.

✼. warnings: general language warnings. people in love.

✼. notes: look at me being consistent. she's a writer (for real this time!!) this one was genuinely so fun to write. don't know if courtney & daniel are endgame but it might be a cute little side plot for future storylines. literally sat at my computer googling 'what do australians eat' before giving up :)

000.⠀⠀DECEMBER 31, 2020 › Gold Coast, Australia.

The Sommers' kitchen of their Gold Coast home, was aflutter with movement. Michaela's hands moved swiftly as they chopped vegetables for the New Years' Eve party. The room filled with the aroma of marinating meats and baking cookies, a contrast to the typically aroma-less existence Michaela lived in her Turin apartment. She felt a gentle warmth spread through her, a comfort she hadn't experienced in a long time. Her mother, Miriam, hummed a song Michaela couldn't recognize while stirring a pot of chili on the stove, occasionally adding a pinch of this or that from the spice rack.

Courtney, phone clutched tightly in hand, couldn't contain her excitement as she danced around the kitchen island. Her laughter was high-pitched and infectious, causing even the stern-faced Miriam to crack a smile. "Okay, okay," Courtney said, her thumbs typing away on the screen, "He's definitely on his way. Should be here any minute."

Michaela, her knife hovering over a cucumber, raised an eyebrow. "Who is this mystery boyfriend that's got you all giddy?" she teased.

Courtney giggled, her cheeks flushing. "You'll see," she sang, sidestepping her sister's question.

Michaela couldn't resist the bait. She set down the knife and leaned closer, curiosity piqued. "Is he from around here? Did you swipe right on some guy who got rich after high school?"

Courtney rolled her eyes dramatically, her thumbs still tapping out messages. "Don't be nosy Mick," she hummed, her smile still embedded upon her face.

Miriam, noticing the playful banter between her daughters, decided to join in on the bit. "She's been like this all week, Michaela," she said with a knowing smile, "It's like watching a teenager fall in love all over again."

Michaela's curiosity grew. Courtney had always been the more serious of the two of them, her Master's Degree in Chemistry from the University of Sydney was proof enough of the trait. So, the thought of her sister being swept off her feet was both thrilling and slightly concerning.

"You're not bringing an eshay home again are you, Courtney?" Ella asked, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth as she correctly used the Australian slang.

Ella Marshall had been Michaela’s closest friend since she was a teenager. The Brit was a classmate of Michaela’s when she first moved to England and they had stuck by each other’s side ever since. They didn’t get to see each other often with Michaela’s racing travels and Ella’s pursuit of her public relations degree, so the chance to share New Years’ together in Michaela’s childhood home was a welcome one.

Courtney rolled her eyes again, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth before flipping her younger sister’s friend off. Miriam scolded her daughter with a disapproving look, turning around just as Ella returned the gesture with one of her own.

The front door swung open and in stumbled their father, Tobias, with their uncle Travis and his wife Beena close behind, lugging a suitcase that was practically bursting at the seams. Quentin, their two-year-old son, was perched on Travis' shoulder, his eyes wide with excitement at the sight of all the new faces and smells.

"Look who decided to join us," Miriam said, her voice a mix of surprise and warmth as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and approached her brother-in-law and his wife. She kissed them each on the cheek before taking a suitcase from Travis' hand. "You're just in time to help set up."

Travis, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, looked over at his wife and son. "It's a miracle we made it," he said, setting Quentin down gently on the tiled floor. "This little rascal had us chasing him around Heathrow."

Michaela couldn't help but laugh. "Sounds like he's got the racing gene," she quipped, winking at her young cousin. Quentin giggled and ran towards her, his chubby legs moving at a surprisingly fast pace for his age. She scooped him up in her arms, feeling the weight of his pure joy, and spun him around. As they twirled, she felt the stress of her breakup and the looming season melt away.

Travis, his Australian accent thick despite years away in London, nodded in agreement. "He's a little terror, that one," he said with a proud smile. "But we wouldn't have it any other way." Beena, ever the perfectionist, picked away the lint from her husband's shirt as he pulled her into his side.

Michaela felt a pang of nostalgia, looking at the love between her uncle and his wife, and the easy conversation between her parents. Her thoughts drifted back to Olivier, and she couldn't help but feel the easy nostalgia turn to sadness. Their breakup had been mutual, but the ringing in of the New Year made it feel much more final. Hearing the boisterous laughter of her cousin as he bounced between adults, she pushed the feelings aside, focusing on the laughter and chaos that filled the home.

"Courtney, can you grab the drinks from the fridge?" Miriam called out, her eyes never leaving her cooking.

"On it," Courtney said, separating from her phone for the first time since Michaela had arrived home hours ago.

Michaela took a moment to study her sister. Courtney had always been beautiful, with their mother's sharp features and their father's warm hazel eyes, but there was something different about her. A lightness in her step and a twinkle in her eye.

"I don't know what's gotten into her," she whispered to Ella as she planted a kiss on Quentin’s cheek, "But she's gone a little crazy, hasn't she?" Ella could only hum in response as she found herself caught up in entertaining the toddler in her friend’s arms.

Quentin giggled and leaned into Michaela, wrapping his arms around her neck. His chubby fingers played with the ends of her hair as she spun him around again, the room becoming a blur of color and laughter. As they stopped, Courtney reappeared, her phone glued back to her hand. Quentin reached out for the older of his pair of cousins, Michaela swiftly handing him over to her smiling older sister.

"So, what's the secret?" Travis asked, his gaze bouncing between Courtney and her phone. "I haven't seen you be this excited for anything ever." Beena looked over at the chemist with her husband's words, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Michaela's eyes narrowed as she watched her sister's reaction. Courtney's cheeks flushed as she avoided eye contact with everyone, her giggle turning into a full-blown laugh. "You're all going to find out soon enough," she teased, her fingers poking at Quentin's full cheeks, receiving his loud giggles in return.

Travis glanced back at his wife, exasperated, as she chuckled in amusement. "Boyfriend?" She questioned out to Tobias who could only nod with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "She won't tell us who he is."

Michaela's curiosity was piqued even further. "Why not?" She asked, handing her father an iced tea before huffing loudly as she dropped down onto the couch next to him.

Courtney looked at her with a smug expression. "Because it's more fun this way," she replied, bouncing Quentin on her hip as she walked out of the kitchen, her phone chiming.

Michaela watched her go, feeling a mix of amusement and annoyance. Her mind raced with the possibilities of who this mystery man could be. "It better not be anyone I know," she murmured to herself.

"What was that, sweetheart?" her father asked, turning to her with a smile.

Michaela's cheeks heated. "Nothing," she said, sipping her tea to cover her embarrassment.

She didn't want to admit her fear that Courtney might be dating someone from the paddock, someone who could complicate their lives even more than they already were. But she couldn't shake the feeling that her sister's more frequent "innocent" trips to see her sister's races were not so innocent after all. Courtney had never particularly enjoyed the smell of burning rubber or the high-speed crashes that Michaela seemed to be enamored with.

The sound of a car engine approaching the house echoed through the house and Courtney's eyes lit up brighter than they had been all day. "He's here!" she squealed, bouncing an overjoyed Quentin on her hip before bolting to the door.

Michaela felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves. She had no idea who Courtney could be bringing home, but she knew her sister's taste was much different from hers. Courtney took off towards the driveway with her cousin still resting on her hip. Beena began to call after the excited 26-year-old but was quickly soothed by her tired husband.

"Let them have their fun," Travis said, his eyes never leaving his wife as he spoke.

Michaela nodded, taking in the warmth of the room as the anticipation grew. The engine grew louder until it was right outside the door, and she couldn't help but lean over the couch to get a peek through the window. She couldn't quite make out the identity of the tall figure with a dark mop of hair as he opened the door of his sleek G-Wagon. Her heart swelled for a moment as she watched him scoop up Courtney in a loving embrace that calmed Michaela's nerves. He turned to introduce himself to the suddenly timid toddler nestled in Courtney's arms, reaching out to lift him from his girlfriend's hip. Michaela felt the tension melt away from her shoulders. It was clear this guy—whoever he was—intended to treat Courtney and her family with kindness.

As Courtney and the mystery man made their way back into the house, the chatter grew more intense. The man looked up, catching her eye, and a jolt of recognition shot through her. It was Daniel Ricciardo. Her eyes widened and she sat up straight, her heart racing as she took in the sight of her sister's new love interest. Daniel was a friend, sure, but also a rival on the track. They had always maintained a close friendship, but the sight of him with Courtney was surprising to say the least.

"No fucking way," Michaela whispered under her breath as Daniel's eyes locked onto hers, the surprise etched deep into her features. She had seen the Australian driver in many different lights—behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car, in the media spotlight, and even at a couple of awkward dinner parties their teams had thrown—but never as a potential brother-in-law.

“Is that Daniel?” Ella trailed off, her almond eyes tracing over the tall figure and his dark hair.

Her father and his brother shared in Michaela's surprise, their eyes widening in recognition. Daniel had been a household name for the Sommers family, as every Australian driver before him had also been. But seeing him here, in their home, holding Quentin in his arms and he exchanged a sustained kiss with Courtney, was something none of them had expected.

The three finally made their way to the front door, Courtney swinging it open with an air of carefree happiness in her actions. Michaela felt the air leave the room as Daniel stepped into the house, Quentin in his arms, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hi, everyone," Daniel said, his Australian accent thick and familiar. He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on Michaela before he nodded a greeting in her direction. "Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and all that jazz." He held Quentin easily in his right hip, his left hand balancing a six-pack of Tobias' favorite beer and a bouquet of Miriam's favorite flowers.

Miriam was the first to recover from the shock, a smile spreading across her face as she stepped forward to take the gifts. "Thank you, Daniel, you didn't have to," she said warmly, her eyes flickering between Courtney and Daniel, trying to gauge the depth of their relationship from his gesture.

"Couldn't resist," Daniel said, winking at Quentin, who was now playing with his dark curls hair.

Michaela's brain was racing. Courtney and Daniel? She had known that Daniel had a soft spot for her sister, but she had never seen it manifest into anything more than casual flirting and banter at the races. The sight of him holding Quentin and the ease with which he slipped into their family setting was surprisingly natural.

"Well, look who the cat dragged in," Travis said, his voice booming with a mix of surprise and good-natured teasing. Daniel let out a light-hearted chuckle as he carefully placed Quentin on the ground. He then warmly accepted the greeting, firmly clasping hands with Travis in a traditional masculine gesture. As they greeted each other, Travis gave a friendly pat on the back to the Renault driver.

"You alright, mate?" Daniel asked the day trader, a member of Michaela's family he had gotten to know quite well over two years.

Michaela felt a knot in her stomach as she watched Daniel interact with her family members. He greeted Beena, a respectful kiss to her cheek as he casually recalled the editorial she had been working on the last time he saw her in Silverstone. When he greeted Michaela's father with a firm handshake, Tobias brushed it off, drawing him into a quick hug instead.

"Welcome to the madhouse," he said, his gruffness belying the affection he had for the younger more.

Michaela felt a strange mix of emotions—shock, curiosity, and a hint of protectiveness for her sister swirling in her gut. Courtney had always been the brainy one, the one who never stepped a toe out of line. To see her with someone like Daniel, a man who lived life as if it were a continuous party, was unsettling. But as she watched the way his eyes lit up when he talked to her sister, she couldn't deny the genuine connection between them.

"So, you two are..." she began, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words.

Courtney beamed, her eyes sparkling. "Dating," she said, her voice filled with a giddiness that was unusual for the typically composed woman. Michaela's eyes nearly twitched as she watched her sister's manicured fingers reach for her boyfriend. Courtney leaned into the Perth native with a lovesick expression on her face, one hand wrapped around his bicep and another resting proudly atop his chest.

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound was the sizzling of meat on the stove and the distant pop of fireworks. It was Miriam who broke the silence. "Well, it's about time you told us," she said, her voice filled with a motherly warmth. "We've been waiting for you to bring home someone special for ages."

Courtney blushed, looking down at the floor, while Daniel's grin grew wider. "It's been a bit of a whirlwind," he admitted, glancing down at Courtney who was now clutching his hand tightly. "But she's worth every second of it."

Michaela couldn't argue with that. Her sister looked happier than she had seen her in years. The way Courtney leaned into Daniel, the way he looked at her with such affection—it was clear this was more than just a casual fling.

"Well, come on in," Miriam said, breaking the silence with a warm smile. "Let's get you something to drink."

Michaela couldn't help but watch as Daniel stepped further into the house, his arm casually draped around Courtney's waist. She had seen him charm sponsors, journalists, and fans alike with his easy-going manner, but this was different. This was personal, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

As Miriam led the way back into the kitchen, the sound of her sandals clicking on the tiles, Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michaela. "Surprise," he mouthed with a wink.

Michaela felt her cheeks heat up as she nodded, still processing the revelation. Courtney had always been the more cautious of the two, and to see her so openly affectionate with someone was a shock. As they all moved back into the kitchen, she couldn't help but feel a bit like an outsider in her own home. The conversation between her family and Daniel grew more relaxed as they discussed the couple's relationship, leaving her feeling slightly left out.

"I'll be right back," she murmured to her father, who simply nodded with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, and Ella whose attention was planted firmly on the surprised couple. Michaela excused herself from the room, needing a moment to collect her thoughts, to make sense of the new dynamics that were unfolding.

Michaela stepped out onto the porch, the balmy Gold Coast evening air wrapping around her. The scent of barbeque and chlorine from the neighbor's pool mingled with the distant smell of the ocean, reminding her of childhood summers spent at this very house. She leaned against the railing, taking in deep breaths. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the rush of emotions running through her mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft thud of the kitchen door closing behind her. Daniel's footsteps approached and she felt his presence before she saw him. He leaned next to her, looking out over the well-manicured lawn that led to the beach.

"I know it's a surprise, Mick," he began, his tone sincere. "But I promise, I'm not here to mess with Courie's head or anything. I really like her." The casual nickname, one only Courtney's closest friends used, slipped out of Daniel's mouth with an ease that only increased the pounding of Michaela's head.

Michaela turned to face him, her expression a mask of skepticism. "You know what you're doing, right?" she asked, her voice a mix of protectiveness and curiosity. "Courie's not exactly the grid bunny type."

Daniel chuckled, leaning back against the railing. "I know, and that's what I like about her." He took a moment to survey the view, his eyes lingering on the horizon where the sky was beginning to lighten with the promise of a spectacular New Year's sunset. "She's got depth, you know? Makes me think twice about shit just so I don't embarrass her."

Michaela couldn't help but smile at that. Her sister had always had a way of making people want to be better. "So, how did this happen?" she asked, gesturing between the two of them.

Daniel shrugged, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "We just sort of clicked," he said, his eyes shifting towards Courtney as she chatted with Beena, Ella, and Miriam in the kitchen. "It started out as friends, you know, just catching up at races, flirting just to flirt. But she's got this... I don't know, this spark that just makes you want to be around her."

Michaela studied him, looking for any signs of deceit or insincerity, but she found none. At that moment, she knew that her sister had chosen well. Despite the initial shock, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. Maybe this was what Courtney needed—someone to challenge her—to bring out the side of her that was hidden under layers of academic seriousness and family responsibility.

"Well, don't let me keep you from her," she said, pushing off the railing. "You guys have a lot of catching up to do. I know she just got back from that big conference in Singapore." When Daniel failed to stifle a laugh, Michaela stopped to eye him skeptically.

"What?" She muttered, unamused.

"You're telling me you didn't know she was going to see me?" Daniel said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I picked her up from the airport, you know."

Michaela's eyes widened. "No, I had no idea," she replied, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. The revelation that their relationship was more serious than she had thought made her feel even more protective. "But I'm happy for her, for you both." She meant it. Despite her reservations, she knew Courtney was capable of making her own decisions.

Daniel's grin grew. "Thanks, Mick. I know we're both a bit... unexpected, but it works." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And just between us, I'm kind of relieved you're cool with this. It would really suck if you didn't approve when I've already told her I love her."

Michaela's eyes went wide, and she slapped his arm. "What?" she hissed, half-laughing. "Shut up, how long did it take you?"

Daniel nodded, his cheeks reddening slightly. "I might have jumped the gun a bit," he admitted, a sheepish look on his face. "But she's just..." he trailed off, his gaze drifting back to the kitchen where Courtney was now helping Miriam prep the table for the meal.

Michaela felt a twinge of something in her chest—envy, perhaps? She had always been so focused on her career that she had never allowed herself to truly open up to someone the way Courtney had with Daniel. The sight of her sister in love was both beautiful and unsettling. It was a reminder of what she had given up to pursue her dreams.

"She's everything to me," Daniel finished, his brown eyes glazing over for a moment as he watched Courtney approach the sliding door. The sight of him looking at her sister like that, with pure adoration, was something new to Michaela. She had only ever seen that look on her parents' faces, a look both heartwarming and disconcerting.

"Well, don't fuck it up," she said, her voice softer than she had intended.

Daniel chuckled, turning to look at her with a knowing smile. "I won't," he promised, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Your sister's got a killer disappointment face."

Michaela rolled her eyes, shoving him playfully. "That's not what I meant and you know it," she said, but her voice held no malice. The tension between them had dissipated and she found herself smiling back at him.

"I know," Daniel replied, his eyes still on Courtney. "But seriously, I'm going to make sure she's happy. She deserves it."

Michaela nodded, unable to argue with that. She knew that underneath Daniel's golden retriever persona was a genuine heart. He had been there for her countless times during the tough moments of her career, offering advice and a shoulder to lean on when things got too heavy.

They both turned as Courtney and Ella stepped out onto the porch, Courtney’s eyes searching for Daniel while Ella’s held concern for Michaela. Courtney looked beautiful, with her hair down and a flowing dress that caught the light just right. When she saw her boyfriend, she beamed, their hands involuntarily reaching for each other as if controlled by a magnetic force.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her gaze flitting between Daniel and her sister.

Michaela nodded. "Yeah, just catching up," she said, her voice lighter than it had been moments ago.

"Good," Courtney said, stepping closer to Daniel. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

Michaela felt a pang of something she couldn't quite identify—it wasn't jealousy, but a strange sense of displacement. She had always been the one who knew all the details of Courtney's life, the one her sister turned to for advice. Now, here was Daniel, fitting into their lives so seamlessly, with secrets of his own. She pushed the feeling aside, reminding herself that it was her sister's happiness that mattered.

"That's okay, hon," Daniel murmured, pulling Courtney back into his side with a shared smile.

When Ella silently pretended to gag behind their backs, Michaela rolled her eyes dramatically as they became lost in each other's gaze. "Okay," she huffed, pushing herself off the railing behind her. "We’ll go help Mum and leave you too alone."

Courtney giggled as Daniel wrapped an arm around her waist, his eyes never leaving hers. "Thanks," she called after her retreating sister, her voice filled with affectionate teasing. "We'll be back in a minute," she hummed, her eyes still focused on Daniel's.

Michaela's heart warmed at the lovesick tone in her older sister's voice though the moment was quickly shattered in typical Daniel fashion with a cheeky, "We're gonna make out for a little bit."

Michaela and her best friend groaned with a hint of genuine disgust as Courtney could only giggle in response. She turned to head back inside, shaking her head.

The sound of their laughter followed her into the kitchen, where Miriam and Beena were busy setting out plates and silverware. She felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her as she took in the scene—it had been so long since she had been part of their domestic routines. Despite the chaos of her career, the comfort of her family's warmth remained unchanged.

The evening rolled into night, and the party grew louder and more festive. The smell of BBQ filled the air as additional guests spilled onto the patio, their laughter and chatter blending with the distant pops of fireworks. Daniel had fit into the celebration so well that it was as if he had always been a part of their family gatherings. He had even charmed the toughest critic—Michaela's grandmother—who couldn't resist his charm and his genuine interest in her stories Michaela had heard about a million times.

Michaela found herself watching Courtney and Daniel from a distance, the way they interacted with each other, the way they shared a secret language of looks and smiles that she hadn't noticed before. It was clear that their relationship was more than just a fleeting attraction—there was a bond between them, a quiet strength that seemed to anchor them amidst the whirlwind of their lives. Daniel seemed to anticipate Courtney's next move throughout the night, casually handing her a napkin or a salt shaker before she could ask for it with a soft peck to her forehead and a whisper of an inside joke.

The party was in full swing, and the family had moved into the living room to watch the countdown on the television. Quentin, now sleeping soundly in Courtney's arms, had been the life of the party, dancing to the music and playing with the confetti that littered the floor. As the clock struck midnight, everyone shouted their goodbyes to 2020 and welcomed the New Year with a chorus of cheers and the popping of champagne bottles. The sound of glasses clinking and kisses on cheeks filled the air.

Michaela couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness as she watched her sister and Daniel share a passionate kiss in the corner, their love on full display. She had never felt like this before, not even when Olivier had been so distant when they were together. Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tap on her shoulder.

"You okay?" Ella’s voice was a soft rumble in her ear. She turned to find her friend’s concerned eyes searching hers.

Michaela forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired," she said, taking a sip of her champagne. Ella had become friends with Michaela in a similar fashion. An introvert lost in her thoughts as she sat alone before an extrovert forced her to open herself up, Michaela knew she could see right through her facade.

"You know, you're not alone, right?" she said, her hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "You don't need to be with that arsewipe to be loved. We're all here for you."

Michaela nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. "I know," she replied, her voice thick with unshed emotion. "It's just... different now. Everything's changing."

Ella squeezed her shoulder. "Change isn't always all bad, Mick," she said, her own eyes misting over with emotion. "Look at you—Miss McLaren. You've come a long way from giving those boys night terrors in your go-kart."

Michaela chuckled, the memory bringing warmth to her chest. "Yeah," she said, looking around at her family, "But it's weird, you know? Courie's always had her head in books and now she's got Daniel Ricciardo whispering shitty jokes in her ear."

Ella laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Well, Daniel’s not the worst person in the world for Courtney to be dating," she said, her eyes lingering on the couple across the room. "Remember when your Mum's sister started dating that comedian after her divorce?"

Michaela snorted, the memory of her aunt's unexpected romance bringing a smile to her face. "Yeah, I didn’t even know she could smile," she said, her gaze drifting back to her sister and Daniel.

As the party wound down and guests began to say their goodbyes, the family gathered around the kitchen table, the warm light from the pendant lamp casting a glow over their tired but happy faces. Courtney, now yawning, shifted Quentin in her arms, his body rigid with sleep.

"I can't believe we're already into 2021," Courtney said, her voice filled with wonder. "Feels like just yesterday we were all freaking out about Y2K."

Michaela's father scoffed in disbelief at Courtney's misguided reminiscing. "You were five years old, what do you remember about Y2K?"

Courtney shot him a playful glare. "I remember enough to know it was a big deal, Dad," she slurred, and the room was filled with laughter.

Michaela watched the exchange with a smile, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and anticipation. Her own future looked so different now—both personally and professionally. She had a new team, new challenges, and now, a new dynamic in her family. As the night grew quieter and the last guests trickled out, she found herself sitting on the porch with Daniel, Courtney, and Ella, the warm breeze carrying the faint scent of fireworks and the distant murmur of the ocean.

"So," Ella began, her voice a bit tipsy from the champagne, "What's the deal with you two? How long have you been keeping this a secret?"

Courtney's cheeks turned a rosy shade as she met her sister's gaze. "August?" She hummed, turning to Daniel for confirmation. He nodded with a knowing smile. "Yeah, since Barcelona, actually."

Michaela's eyes widened. "Barcelona?" She repeated, trying to recall the race weekend. It had been a pretty good one for her, finishing 6th after having qualified 11th. "How did I miss that?"

Courtney and Daniel shared a knowing smile. "It was the weekend you had that big meeting with Ferrari," Courtney said.

Michaela nodded as she remembered that initial meeting with Mattia Binotto. The one where he reassured her that Ferrari was keeping their options open for 2021. The meeting before he completely shattered all her dreams just two months later in Imola.

"I had a layover in Spain and just... decided to surprise him."

Michaela couldn't help but chuckle at the image of her sister, the meticulous planner, pulling off a spontaneous rendezvous. "So, what happened?" she questioned, genuinely curious.

"Well," Daniel began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Your sister showed up at my hotel room with nothing but a bottle of wine and a goofy grin."

Michaela playfully smacked him on the arm. "That's enough," she protested, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. Courtney rolled her eyes.

"You know what we mean," Ella said, poking the older of the sisters in the side. "How did it all start?"

Daniel leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. "It's hard to tell," he admitted. "We've known each other for a while, obviously. But it was just... one of those moments where everything makes sense."

Michaela nodded, understanding that feeling all too well. Her own career had been built on moments like that—instances of clarity and purpose that had propelled her to where she was today. "So, what's the plan now?" she asked, looking at the couple.

"Well, I finally convinced her to take one of my Renault polos," Daniel said, his voice filled with contentment. "But I'm hoping she'll join me on the European leg of the season."

Courtney blushed even more deeply, and Michaela felt a twinge of happiness for them. Despite her initial surprise, she couldn't deny that they made a good pair—both strong-willed, but with a tenderness that seemed to bring out the best in each other.

"You guys are going to be a nightmare at the races," Michaela teased, her voice filled with affection. "Everyone's going to know."

Courtney looked at Daniel, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe that's the plan," she said, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

Ella groaned dramatically. "Please tell me you two won't be wearing matching outfits," she said, her tone half-joking, half-horrified.

"Oh, you know it," Courtney quipped, her voice filled with playful spite. "It's going to be a sea of that god-awful yellow and black." Michaela laughed, shaking her head.

"And I’ll have that atrocious papaya car to look at," Ella muttered jokingly, taking another sip of her drink.

The conversation grew more comfortable, the three of them discussing their upcoming travels and the excitement of the new season. Despite her initial skepticism, Daniel had managed to charm his way into her good graces, and she found herself warming to the idea of him being a part of her family's life.

As the night grew late and the party wound down, Daniel and Courtney eventually disappeared upstairs, leaving Michaela to sit on the porch swing with her best friend and her mother, the three of them lost in thought as they watched the last few fireworks light up the night sky. Miriam reached over to grab her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"You know, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm happy she chose him," Miriam said, her gaze still on the distant explosions of color. "He's a good man. And he makes her happy."

Ella nodded, the swing creaking gently beneath them. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice a little thick. "They do seem good together."

Miriam leaned closer, her eyes searching her daughter's face. "And what about you, darling? How are you holding up after everything with Olivier?"

Michaela took a deep breath, the cool night air brushing against her cheeks. "I'm okay, Mum," she said, her voice steady. "It's been a tough few months, but I've got a great season ahead of me with McLaren. That's all I need to focus on."

Miriam studied her for a moment before nodding. "You know, sweetheart, love isn't just about the big moments," she said softly. "It's about finding someone who supports you in your dreams and makes you happy in the quiet moments too."

Michaela's eyes searched her mother's, finding a well of wisdom that she had missed. "I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... different without him, that's all."

Miriam leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "You're stronger than you think," she assured her. "You've come so far, and I know you'll find someone who loves you just as fiercely as you deserve."

Michaela swallowed the lump in her throat. She squeezed her mother's hand and felt the warm embrace of her best friend’s arms wrap around her, a rush of love and gratitude. "Thank you, guys," she said, her voice small. "I just hope I don't screw it up when I do."

Miriam tilted her head, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "You won't," she said firmly. "You're a Sandile. We don't screw up love, we just take our time to find it." Michaela smiled at her mother's use of her maiden name.

The porch light cast a warm glow over the three women, creating a warm bubble as the rest of the house grew quiet. "I know it's hard to imagine now, but love has a way of finding you when you least expect it," Miriam continued. "Look at Travis and Beena. They've been through hell and back, and they're still madly in love."

Michaela nodded, taking a moment to reflect on her mother's words. The thought of finding someone who truly understood her, and who could handle the demands of her career without feeling overshadowed or left behind, was something she hadn't allowed herself to dream about for a long time. But watching Courtney with Daniel had sparked a hope within her, a hope that maybe, there was room for love in her fast-paced world.

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