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nahoney22 · 3 months

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Hi ! Congrats on reaching 4000 followers, I'm so proud of you and you totally deserve it ! ❤️

Can I request a Crosshair x fem!reader one-shot with the prompt "every time i see you, i fall in love all over again" with Crosshair saying this to the reader after seeing her do something silly/cute (and they've been married for a few years already) ? I just feel like it'll be so cute 🥰

4000 Prompt List Celebration

Crosshair X Fem!Reader

word count: 1.2k

prompt

• “Every time I see you, I fall in love all over again.”

Warnings: Fluffy goodness, married couple, female reader, kisses, reader is a terrible cook, baking chaos, pet names, soft crosshair.

Authors note: so sorry for the wait my darling! @coraex , hopefully this is fluffy enough for you! Enjoy 💜

Life on Pabu was a paradise. The weather was always idyllic, the beach pristine, and your husband, well, he was nothing short of perfect. Yet, amidst this perfection, there lingered one imperfection: your baking skills, or rather, lack thereof. However, fate bestowed upon you an opportunity to fix this flaw while your husband ventured off on a supply run for the people.

And so with meticulous precision, you measured each ingredient, ensuring nothing fell short of perfection. You had even ventured to local vendors and handpicked the finest ingredients to craft a savoury delicacy introduced to you by Phee so naturally, you had to make it. Or give it a go, at least.

As the oven worked its magic, you stepped onto the balcony to your home, allowing the warm breeze to tousle your hair and the sun to caress your skin. Your gaze wandered to the sky, where the familiar silhouette of the Havoc Marauder emerged.

Remaining on the balcony, you observed as the men and the lone girl disembarked the ship. Crosshair, as always, locked eyes with your shared home, a smirk adorning his features. With a wave and a beckoning gesture, you invited him to join you inside.

As soon as the door hisses open, you eagerly dash across the threshold and leap into his arms. The man staggers momentarily before finding his footing, wrapping one of his long arms around you. "Missed me, pretty lady?"

"As always," you grin, leaning back to plant a kiss on his lips. "Even if it has only been a few hours."

"At least I got a hug this time," he chuckles, placing your feet back on the ground and bestowing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

Stepping back, you let Crosshair settle his belongings and smile fondly at him. "Well, last time, you went 'what? No hug for me?'" You recall, earning a playful eye roll as he places his helmet on a table next to a framed holophoto of your wedding day. Every time you look at it, nothing but fond and loving memories fill your mind.

"Very well," he declares, launching himself onto the couch, kicking his feet up on an ottoman. He pats the spot beside him, and you gratefully accept, snuggling into his side. "So, what are you trying to bake this time, then?"

"How did you know I was baking something?" you inquire, a hint of surprise in your voice, as you glance towards the kitchen where you were certain you had hidden any sign of evidence of you baking.

Then, he leans forward and as you think he’s about to steal a kiss, a mischievous glint dances in his eyes. His thumb playfully swipes across your cheek and nose, leaving behind traces of flour and sugar on his finger that he holds up that makes your face flush with embarrassment. "Ah," you chuckle, realising the source of the sensation.

He chuckles too, but his amusement is tinged with concern as he sniffs the air with a subtle frown. "How long have you been cooking for?"

Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, then back at him, you reply, "About two hours now. Should be ready in the next hour or so." Your grin conveys eagerness, but his expression remains neutral, a hint of skepticism lurking in his eyes.

“Babe, I think it’s already done.”

Again, you blink at him, momentarily taken aback. "Huh?"

“I smell burning.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the shrill sound of the smoke alarm fills the air, and you wince at the piercing noise. Cursing above the noise, you rush towards the kitchen, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and urgency.

“Gloves! GLOVES!” Crosshair's urgent voice rings out, but you're focused on the task at hand and it falls on deaf ears. Ignoring his plea, you yank open the oven door, confronting the billowing clouds of black smoke that engulf the kitchen. Fetching your hand inside the burning oven, you grab a hold of the tray of the baked goods, yanking it out with a small yelp.

Crosshair springs into action, swift and decisive. In a matter of seconds, he's by your side, checking on you with a mixture of concern and determination etched on his features. But after you insist you’re fine, he shifts his focus to the task at hand, pushing open the window to let the smoke out and silencing the alarm with a practiced hand.

“Come here, run your hand under the tap quickly,” he instructs, his voice gentle yet firm as he guides you towards the sink. Switching the water on, he ensures the temperature is just right before gently urging your hand underneath the cool stream.

“Crosshair, I’m fine. Honestly,” you assure him which was not even a lie because you were. It was pretty much a miracle you somehow didn’t burn yourself but as for the savoury treats… burnt to a crisp.

Crosshair moves away from you and inspects the smoking tray, blinking at the almost incinerated food. “Well, maybe they taste better than they look.”

“Oh, stow it,” you retort at his sarcastic comment, though you know he means it playfully. Disappointment paints your features as you glance at the charred remnants of your baking attempt. “Why can’t I cook anything?!”

“You can. Just, badly.”

“If you’re trying to hurt my feelings, you’re succeeding,” you pout, flinging water droplets from your hand at him before switching the tap off and folding your arms over your chest in annoyance.

Crosshair comes back your way and drapes an arm over your shoulder, using his hand to tilt your chin up to look at him. “Don’t worry about it. You can try again?”

“What’s the point? I’ll probably burn our home down.”

“That’s true.”

You playfully slap his hand away and begin to tidy up your mess, Crosshair helping you along the way by washing up the tray before you move back to the sofa and faceplant onto it with a heavy sigh. The soft cushions provide some comfort as you let out a frustrated groan.

You hear the running water switch off, a small clang of him putting the washing away, and then faint steps towards you.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he starts, quickly earning a loud and unwilling-to-listen whine before you ask what about.

“That every time I see you, I fall in love all over again.”

You roll onto your back and stare up at him with narrowed eyes. “Why are you being soft?”

He laughs, warm and soft before he scoots you into his lap, taking a seat and peppering kisses over your cheek. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

“I don’t care,” you giggle as you let him gush over you, “you are.” You grin at him with bright eyes. “But why did you say that?”

“It’s true,” he shrugs casually. “You may try and burn our home down all the time, but I love you all the same for it.”

You playfully squint at his jokey insult, but instead of trying to be smart and think of a retort, you kiss your husband and tell him exactly how you feel too, cherishing these moments of love and laughter.

“Let’s go out for dinner. It’s on me.” Now that’s an opportunity you won’t pass up on.

Masterlist

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#crosshair x reader #the bad batch reader x crosshair #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch #nahoney22 writes #crosshair the bad batch #late night post #tbb

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theunaveragepsychoticbitch · 1 year

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Well-Behaved

[AFAB!Barbatos(obey me) & AMAB!Scaramouche(genshin impact) x AMAB!Reader. Dom/Sub, blowjobs, Bratty Scara? Ish kinda, threesome, character on character, cross over fic, rawdogging, creampie, fingering, overstim, Barbatos spitroasting, multiple orgasms]

You lean back on your hands, sinking further into the soft bed as you admired the way moonlight danced across your boys' skin.

Your erect cock stood tall and proud in front of them, a bead of precum at the tip. Spreading your legs wider, you can't help but be amused by the anticipation that thickened the very air between you three.

Barbatos, ever an angel (ironically), leaned slightly forward with his hands rested politely in his lap. Hunger and adoration shone in his gaze as he eyes the throbbing veins of your cock.

Scaramouche, ever an asshole, sat ramrod straight with his fists clenched and a glare to wither any hopes or dreams that dared enter its path. His teeth were clenched to the point of uncomfortability, but his twitching, leaking cock and hard, pink nipples told a different story.

You smirk, tilting your head and peering at Barbatos through your lashes, making him immediately perk up. "Darling, would you start?" You say.

He's all too enthusiastic to do so, a "Yes, Master" only barely managing to flee his lips before they latch onto your cock. They're soft as they kiss the head, his tongue swirling several tantalizing times before swallowing you deeper. His tongue presses against the underside, and his cheeks hollow out. Already, you can feel the heat pooling in your abdomen.

You sigh, head falling back as the sensations wash over you in waves. The warm wetness of his mouth and his skilled tongue, confident against your cock, had your legs trembling and left your hips thrusting into his throat every now and then. The gagging sounds when you did made your head spin and your dick throb, and Barbatos could feel it against his tongue.

He wanted to feel it in his throat.

Behind him, Scaramouche scowled. His dick was twitching hard at the sight of your cock opening his counterpart's throat, and the way Barbatos' hole kept clenching around nothing right in front of him, pouring arousal practically right onto his lap...

A drop overflows and spills downwards at an agonizing pace, and he watches with rapt attention.

At that very moment Barbatos moved, trying through tears to fit you down his throat, and sent the string of his arousal off course and onto Scara's cock.

In Barbatos' eyes, you could see how close he was too.

Pathetic is what Scaramouche thought when he came. Anger and ecstacy like a thunderstorm over his mind as pearl-colored spurts hit Barbatos' ass and pussy, surprising him enough to choke around your length. Your toes curled as his throat fluttered, the edge so close you could practically see it.

You never want to leave a sub unsatisfied though, so you- somewhat reluctantly -push Barbatos off your cock and glance slyly at Scaramouche, a smirk playing at your lips. "Cumming untouched, how... cute. It is Barbatos waving his ass in your face though; I'm surprised you didn't cum sooner, honestly." You chuckle as pink dusts their cheeks. Barbatos' head lies on your thigh, spit covering his chin and tear stained cheeks finally drying. His sweat-dampened hair sticks to his forehead, giving him a well-worn look. However, you're far from finished with him.

You reach over him, scooping some of the cum off his ass and fingering it into his hole.

He gasps, a sultry moan soon following as he ruts into you. Scara tries to look away, still embarrassed at his reaction, but you grab his chin. He knows better than to close his eyes, and watches, mortified, as your fingers fuck Barbatos open with his cum. Barbatos moans loud, pushing his pussy closer to Scara's flushed face in a desperate attempt to meet your fingers in the middle.

"Look, Scara. He's beautiful, isn't he? See how well he spreads for me, for us?"

Your fingers leave his hole, earning a pitiful whine from the demon in your lap. You spread him open, juices glistening sinfully in the silver light.

"You wanna fuck him, right?"

He scowls, though it's far less so intimidating and much more pathetic. "Of course not. That dick-whipped idiot may fall over your every word and action, but I refuse to be your whore."

You chuckle, expecting such a stuck-up response. Gripping his chin, you kiss him hard. Your hand moves to his neck, and a frustrated moan manages to escape before you're taken with his lips again.

"Mmh- fuck you!"

"You will, soon." You grin at the terror shining vibrantly in his irises. Your next kiss is gentler; a swipe at his upper lip with your tongue, watching ravenously as they part and form a pretty little entrance for you to dive into, sucking on his tongue and dragging out rough groans. You open one eye and peak downwards, disdained to find his hands wrapped around his cock.

Whispering against his lips, "...You know better. Whore."

He releases immediately at your tone, but it's far too late. Your hands bind his wrists together above his head. He has the audacity to smirk, though the snark doesn't reach his eyes. "What're you gonna do? Stop me from cumming? I already have, if you failed to notice."

You smirk back, something more sinister lacing yours.

Barbatos watches all this from the sidelines, slightly worried for his partner sub. You didn't give punishments often, even when Scaramouche was misbehaving. But Scara had been quite bold as of late, and even your patience could wear thin..

"Barbatos~" You say melodically.

Naturally, he turns all attention to you.

You gesture to the bound Scaramouche at his side. "Ride him. And don't stop until I say so."

There was a pause, a holding of breath as your dear boys processed the order.

Scara was first to return to the present.

His eyes widen, and his sensitive cock twitches, flinging cum onto his stomach. Every muscle locks, and a feverishly warm blush crawls across skin like snow even as a shiver races up his back. His breath comes in deep, slow puffs. His nails dig into his palms. Violet irises alight with something you can't name meet your heavy gaze, and finally he...

Submits.

Barbatos' eyes narrow, sensing the change. His body language has relaxed. His eyes have gained a certain gloss he's seen on himself countless times. The demon exhales, obediently positioning himself over Scaramouche's cock. It pulses in his hand, a hard twitch racking it when the head bumps his soaked entrance.

Your head rests in your hand, an impatient sigh leaving your lips.

"Don't be shy, fuck him."

At your command he takes Scara to the base, all in one fluid motion. Their moans synchronize, Barbatos' high and breathy where Scara's is low and throaty; it makes a melody that blesses your ears and sends shivers up and down your spine.

He starts off slow at first, steadying himself on your knees as he builds up to an absolutely unforgiving pace that leaves the puppet in your grasp clawing at your fists with blunt nails. Toes curling and uncurling, hips stuttering as lewd wet slaps fill the room, the doll could feel the tightness in his abdomen growing, so close to tearing apart in a burst of liquid and light.

He cums once more when Barbatos slams down especially hard, the force of the creampie sending Barbatos over the edge as well.

In his ecstacy the strawberry-topped demon moans loud, mouth wide open, and seeing him presented so prettily with those soft pink lips beckoning you home, how could you resist taking him by the back of his head and shoving your cock down his tight, tight throat?

He gags, but adjusts quickly, hands leaving your knees to claw at your hips. Now standing, you can clearly see Scaramouche's fucked out daze in all it's glory: Mouth ajar, and eyes rolled back as tremors wracked his small frame. With his hands now free, they clutched fiercely at anything they could get a grip on- namely, Barbatos' hips.

The demon was skilled though, and rode the puppet hard even as he chocked on your cock and trembled with pleasure at the feeling of rough hands grasping him, pace becoming unsteady as his own sensitivity increases.

You can't decide who to watch; Scaramouche, who was suffering from success as Barbatos ripped orgasm after orgasm from him, leaving him a shaking, crying, snot-nosed mess of pleas of mercy and sorrowful "I'm sorry's"? Or Barbatos, who was looking at you like you were the only person in the world, sobbing dutifully around your cock and taking the both of you so got damn well?

The latter's throat constricts tight around your length, and you grip his hair tight and push his nose roughly into your abdomen as you cum. You hear one last slap of hips against his ass before his eyes rolls back and claws sharp enough to draw blood are digging into your hips, cumming visibly hard around the cock hitting the deepest parts inside him.

Scaramouche is in tears, unable to take the force of another orgasm. His hands fall limp at his sides, head falling forward to lean fully on his partner's shoulder. He can feel the sweat dripping down his back, see it dripping down Barbatos'.

You pull yourself from your sub's throat even as he continues to suck, and give the command, "You may stop."

Barbatos' legs immediately give out, pure force will having kept them strong this long. Scaramouche mumbles his thank yous, having been reduced from a proud brat to a whimpering bitch.

"Kiss it, Scara." He's quick to obey, kissing up and down your cock as if it were something holy. A genuine smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you caress his dampened hair, whispering, "So well-behaved... Sweet, sweet Scaramouche..."

Through unspoken permission, Barbatos praises Scara's breakthrough through peppered kisses across his salty skin. Hickies join the mix, and soon you're both offering up gentle praises and loving you touches to the worn-out submissive.

He collapses against you, exhaustion taking him under as he sags towards the floor. You catch him of course, scooping him up and placing him in the bed.

"I haven't forgotten you, beautiful. You've done amazing as well. Ever my star player, so quick to follow my commands, and always exceeding my expectations. I love you, Barbatos."

You kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips.

"And I you, Master."

You chuckle, giving him the Scara treatment and tucking yourself into bed right along with them.

"I love you too, Scaramouche." In his slumber, he doesn't respond, yet his features still seem to visibly relax at your words.

"We'll clean up in the morning." You sigh. "Goodnight, beloveds."

This time, your only answer is the even breathing of your favorite boys in the world.

-----------------

A/N: I'm gonna throw tf up i accidentally posted this then had to copy and paste it all from via my PHONE back to a regular doc cause my fucking computer is ASS and then my mind was in literal OVERTIME and the tag list just KEPT GETTING LONGER. I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE I WAS WRITING DOUBLE PENETRATION UNTIL I WAS WRITING IT. AGHHH.

Anyways thanks for listening yk i don't usually make author's notes. Love ya all, and i do appreciate if you reblog this work if you liked it<3

Not beta read, as per usual

#obey me barbatos #obey me x reader #sub barbatos #barbatos x reader #obey me smut #shall we date barbatos #obey me #obey me shall we date #barbatos #unaveragewrites #scaramouche #wanderer #sub scaramouche #scaramouche smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #sub genshin

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thecampjuicebox · 1 month

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Glorious Suffering Pt. 2

Pairing: Abdirak x Tav(f) x Astarion x Shadowheart

Rating: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: SMUT, sadomasochism, blood, choking, bruising, spanking, biting, voyeurism/exhibitionism, orgasm denial, oral, fingering, p in v penetration, minor game spoilers, multiple partners

**If you missed it, you can read Part 1. here!**

"You thought we were going to let you cum? Little love.. How naïve."

His words sting like bees. Little Love. The degradation should upset you. Should ruin whatever arousal you have left. But it doesn't. If anything, it adds oil to the fire. You're more wet than ever. Heat rises in your ears and the tips turn a bright red, your fists balling up behind you in frustration as you try and wiggle out of his grasp. Through gritted teeth, you growl. A pathetic performance, on your part. Abdirak stands before you and circles his index finger over both of your nipples, smirking at you with half lidded eyes as each one perks up.

The half elf across the room giggles in amusement.

"Positively cruel."

"Patience, dear one.. You'll meet your end soon enough."

Every nerve ending on your body burns - Sizzles and crackles like a freshly lit torch, a beacon of light illuminating your discomfort. It hurts. Gods, it hurts. You can barely hold yourself up now, your legs and ankles weak from your climax being so cruelly ripped away from you. Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you let go, waterfalls of salty fluid making streaks through the splatters of blood and smears of dirt along your cheeks. A pathetic display. The "fearless leader" showing so much weakness. Shadowheart huffs in the distance and you can almost make out the faint shuffle of clothing sliding off of her soft skin. The way the fabric and armor hits the floor. Her careful footsteps. Then the warmth of her hands on your aching back, her soft breath against your ear.

"You sweet wounded bird.."

She licks a hot stripe against your cheek and it's enough to earn a groan from your raw throat. The gentle touches to your overstimulated flesh are somewhat comforting. So soft, so sweet, so very unlike Shadowheart. Astarion grins at the sight and cards a hand up through your hair to yank your head back, forcefully straightening your soiled back against him, his sticky seed covering the front of his tunic now.

"Mm. I've made quite the mess, haven't I?"

"I think we could get messier." Shadowheart purrs, moving to the front of your trembling body now.

She slides to her knees before you and stares up with her piercing green eyes, almost asking for permission. For what, you have no idea. A slight nod gives her the go ahead, not from you, but from Astarion and your breath catches in your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait. Wait for whatever sensation Shadowheart decides to bestow upon you. Sharp nails dig themselves into the plush meat of your thighs and your mouth falls agape with a yelp. After what seems like hours of waiting - agonizing waiting - hot breath coasts along your pulsating mound and your knees buckle beneath you. Astarion tuts behind you with amusement. He's so cruel. This is all so cruel. Beneath you, the raven haired half-elf moves her warm tongue over the nearly gushing slit between your thighs and a breathy moan escapes your parted lips.

If you could burst into flames in this very moment, you damned well would. Body, mind, and soul, all igniting with waves of white hot pleasure that wrack your body with uncontrollable trembles and whines as Shadowheart dips her tongue further. She's much more skilled than you'd anticipated; a lovely surprise you'd thank Shar herself for. A hungry moan slips past Shadowheart's lips as she begins to ravish every inch of your soaked cunt with her mouth - tongue, teeth, and lips all working together to drag you toward the precipice of earth shattering ecstasy. She looks so pretty on her knees beneath you. In any other circumstance, you'd be the one on your knees at her feet. Serving her. Sighs of amusement break through the strained whines and whimpers that force themselves from your tired throat, the two men still watching every move. Astarion keeps a firm grip on your arms to keep you upright while Abdirak palms at himself through his garb, the rough fabric scraping back and forth over his skin with each pass of his hand. "Such a good girl.. Making me so hard again."

Astarion coos in your ear as a cold hand moves itself skillfully around your side to your stomach, each muscle contracting and shuddering from the frigidity of his skin. He digs his nails into the flesh there to earn a sweet yelp from your swollen, parted lips. It's too much.. Yet, it's not enough. Your cunt aches to be filled again and again and again, the stimulation against your clit simply not enough to get you there. You want to scream. Want to sob and cry and beg for something, anything, anyone. Shadowheart's tongue moves in mind numbing circles around your entrance and you keen at the sensation, mouth hung open as you pant heavily. Air evades your lungs. You can't breathe, can't see, only feel. Every sensation heightened by the echo of disgusting noises ringing all around you in the small stone-brick room you stand exposed in. Astarion's coos and praise, Abdirak's grunts of pleasure as he works himself to his own end only to deny himself just as his knees give out and he topples to the ground before you. Shadowheart's little slurps and whines at your taste raise goosebumps on your skin by the millions. A symphony of vile sounds and sights that would make any normal person recoil. Not you.. Gods, not you.

The tadpole nestled comfortably behind your eye wriggles with excitement as your deepest desires are projected loud and clear to your lovers, Abdirak excluded of course. Something clicks and the vampire spawn stares down at the half-elf over your shoulder, both exchanging a single nod before Shadowheart moves herself away from you, leaving you whining loudly. Instead, she takes up a spot next to you against the wall - hip to hip. She places her hands firmly against the brick and taps her fingers there, feet spread to match your stance. Astarion releases your arms and instructs you to place your hands beside Shadowheart's. You obey, side pressed tightly to Shadowheart's to absorb any warmth you possibly can from her, every limb trembling. "The two of you look so lovely for us.." He mumbles, helping Abdirak back to his feet. "Your choice, human. Pick one."

Abdirak eyes the two of you for a moment, fingers tracing over the globes of Shadowheart's ass and across to yours, earning a wince as his fingertips graze over the still agitated bruises and cuts from his previous assault. He purrs with elation as his fingers pass back over your cuts and your back arches inward at the burning sensation.

"P-Please.." You whine.

"I choose her. She'll cry so beautifully for me, just as she did before."

Abdirak moves behind you and presses himself firmly against your ass, a careful and skilled hand crawling its way up your back and into your hair. You can feel the steel firm erection hidden beneath his garb and Gods, he's larger than you anticipated. Your hole aches to be filled by him in that very moment. Now. Now, I need it now! It's as if Abdirak can hear your silent please to be stuffed full, for without warning he slips his index and middle finger deep inside of you and wiggles them around, spreading them to stretch you open. To prepare you for what's to come. He, himself, lets out a strained grunt at just how wet you are; By the Gods, you're dripping. Abdirak's name slips past your lips like a prayer, over and over and over until it no longer sounds like a real word. From your side, Shadowheart giggles at your desperation, a sweet symphony of her own moans echoing through the chamber as Astarion kneels behind her and works his tongue into her soaked cunt.

A gentle hand slides over the rough brick and on top of yours, fingers intertwining at the back of yours to both hold you against the brick and to keep herself steady. The sounds she makes.. The way her back arches and her chest heaves as Astarion's tongue plays her like the finest harp.. She's heavenly. The princess of darkness glowing in the dim lanternlight of the dilapidated Selunite Outpost; how ironic is that? You can't help but grin at her as you watch her fall apart at your side.

"You sing so well for me, Princess."

Astarion moves to his feet again and lands a loud smack to Shadowheart's ass, an immediate handprint raising on the pale flesh. A trophy. A reward for her beautiful noises and how well she behaved as Astarion devoured her where she stands. The display beside you only makes you yearn for more. Yearn to be filled and pressed into the brick until you're a sobbing, drooling mess. To test the waters, you push your ass back against Abdirak and wait for his reaction. He responds with a smack of his own, much louder and most definitely harder than Astarion's, a soft sob forcing itself from your lips from the painful sting. Another follows, and then another, and another, until you've lost count and your skin is numb to the touch; bruised and begging to be kissed and nursed back to its normal pallid tone, not the alarming hues of reds, blues, and purples it exhibits now.

"Such a masterpiece of blood and bruises, you are. Loviatar is so proud of you, dear one. Let her hear you one more time, hm? Surely you can handle more."

Your mind screams "No more!', but your body gives you away. You ache for more. More pain. More Abdirak. The vampire spawn and the half-elf can see it in the way you rock your hips from side to side for him, putting yourself on display to coax him to ruin you again and again. Abdirak's hands find their way to your hips and give you an affirming squeeze, nails digging into your skin as a simple little way to inflict yet more pain. His cock throbs against your backside now and a sudden wave of confidence (more like desperation) wills you to grind yourself back against him, earning the softest and sweetest moans from the human's lips. Astarion growls at the sight and lines himself up with Shadowheart. With wine colored eyes locked on you, he slides his cock agonizingly slow into her ready and willing cunt, his tongue laving out over his dry lips to wet them and taste the remnants of Shadowheart's slick. She lets out a sigh of relief at the stretch and gives your hand another gentle squeeze before Astarion is ravenously thrusting into her.

Abdirak groans and lines himself up with you next, cock swiping back and forth to collect some of your slick before he eases it inside of you with a heavy sigh and a firmer grip on your hip. The half-elf to your side grunts and pants with each thrust of the vampire spawn behind her and you can't help but watch as her body is jostled around with the pure force of Astarion's movements. Her cheek presses firmly to the brick and she flashes you a drunken grin. Abdirak slides a hand back into your hair and grips it tightly, pushing your face against the wall to match Shadowheart's stance, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he matches Astarion's speed. The filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echo all around you, moans and soft squelching overwhelming your senses as both you and Shadowheart are fucked senseless. Normally you'd be appalled by the conditions you're allowing yourself be exposed to. The dirt. The grime. The blood and gore scattered around you. But now.. Now there's nothing else to focus on but your building climax and the pretty woman beside you whose lips utter your name even though you have no hand in her pleasure.

"Tav.. Tav.. Tav.." She mutters, and it almost sounds as if it's right in your ear. So close, so gentle, so.. Intimate.

Abdirak's unyielding thrusts continue and that very familiar knot begins to tangle itself in your belly. Shadowheart pulls her hand away from yours and walks her fingers down your torso and thigh, reaching between your thighs to give some much needed attention to your swollen and aching clit. The sound that slips out of you is almost startling, pressure building and building in your abdomen as she circles her fingers skillfully. "Oh god.. Oh fuck!" You cry, tears stinging in your eyes again as you're held just at the edge of your orgasm. A loud sob escapes you and Abdirak groans in response, his thrusts only getting faster and harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Shadowheart's fingers work themselves toward your entrance where Abdirak and you meet and she slips one inside beside him, reaching carefully so that her palm still works against your clit.

"Oh, you filthy things.."

Astarion coos, still pumping himself roughly into Shadowheart, loud gasps for air showing that he's dangerously close to his end. You're barely hanging on now, the combination of Shadowheart's hand, Abdirak's cock, and Astarion's praises pushing you so so close. Again, Shadowheart utters your name softly, this time even closer to your ear. "Tav.. Tav.. Tav.. Tav!" With a shudder, you let out a guttural yelp. So close.. It's coming.. I'm cumming! I'm-

Your eyes shoot open, star filled sky above you in a haze as you blink the sleep from your eyes, a very confused half-elf and a very amused vampire spawn knelt by your side. You reach a hand up and wipe the beads of sweat that formed on your brow, chest heaving as you prop yourself up on your elbows, suddenly aware of your surroundings.

"Interesting dream?"

Shadowheart asks with a quirked eyebrow, Astarion sat right behind her with a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter just ready to burst from his lungs like water behind a dam.

"Interesting is certainly a word for it."

Astarion lets out a howl of laughter, head thrown back as both hands move up to cover his face. He nearly topples backward as he cackles and Shadowheart can't help but let slip a few giggles of her own, her fingertips pressing to her lips to try and hold them back, to no avail. The air suddenly feels so thick. So heavy around you and you want nothing more than to shrivel up and disappear. Your face burns a painful shade of red and you quickly turn over onto your side, laying your head down in hopes that this was the bad dream, and you'd wake up again with no recollection of this encounter. Or maybe.. You'd wake up in Abdirak's grip again.

**I hope you guys enjoyed!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to pump out.. I've been dealing with a ton of mental health issues and my living situation isn't the best currently, but I am doing my best to get back into the swing of things! Let me know what you guys think! 🖤 **

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #abdirak x tav #astarion x tav #shadowheart x tav #abdirak smut

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jahayla-parker · 4 months

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Karma : Kaz Brekker x Reader Series

Part 7

For full warnings, descriptions, and other parts, see series masterlist here.

Y/n’s breath hitched as her eyes fell upon the scene playing out before her. Kaz was occupied with trying to fight The Darkling and two of his shadow creatures. Inej was supposed to have joined him, bringing backup! Y/n’s frustration dissipated as she found Inej and Jesper both fighting off hoards of shadow monsters. Either Kaz, or the others, had brought some more Dregs with them; but even they were not much help as The Darkling had formed an absurd amount of shadow creatures to fight for him this time. As y/n’s eyes scanned the scene to get a better understanding of the situation, she noticed that Kaz’s cane was broken in half and sitting far away from him. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Kaz had already been injured before coming here tonight, and now he’d seemingly lost his cane as well. Y/n reluctantly drifted her eyes back over to Kaz, afraid of what she’d find.

Y/n could tell Kaz was hurting, and his wound had clearly reopened. He was hiding his pain as usual, but she was far too familiar with the particular grimace that was currently gracing his face. Yet, he was still actively fighting off The Darkling’s creations. Y/n knew Kaz was operating off of pure anger-driven motivation.

As y/n focused in on the look in Kaz’s eyes, she knew what would happen if she didn’t act. The intense look in Kaz’s eyes belonged to Dirtyhands, not Kaz Brekker. He was determined to eradicate this threat to her no matter what the cost was. She couldn’t let him do that. He was out-powered right now and despite being as viciously strong as he is, attempting to do so right now would only end in his death. Y/n refused to let that happen. This was her fight.

Y/n clenched her hands tightly as she dared to glance at Aleksander. Her mouth instantly felt dry and her lungs empty. Yet, there was also this sensation of a fire burning deep inside her when she saw Kaz in her periphery. That’s what y/n needed to focus on. If she focused on The Darkling, her trauma would overtake her. But, if she focused on Kaz and getting him out of here alive, she could use the fighting skills she’d painstakingly earned over the years to fight back against The Darkling.

As such, y/n narrowed in on that fiery sensation. She closed her eyes very briefly as she inhaled deeply. This was her battle. Her enemy. Her chance to rewrite the story between her and the black-cloaked man before her. Her chance to keep her side of the street clean and not let her friends pay the price for what was her fight.

Y/n noticed the way Kaz clearly saw her as she began to approach.

Kaz had seen y/n long before The Darkling did, almost as if her presence called to him. He caught sight of her approaching and his full body became rigid. His eyes bore into The Darkling as he gauged whether it not he’d also noticed her presence. Realistically, neither one of them should’ve, given y/n was still off to the side and hadn’t made any noise. But Kaz still had, his peripheral vision narrowing in on her despite the blurriness he was currently experiencing. He always noticed when she was around. It was as if her presence signaled to him. Kaz decided to take advantage of the Darkling’s lack of awareness of y/n’s presence. He knew the man would not be expecting a sudden increase in motivation to Kaz’s resistance, which would work in Kaz’s favor. He clenched his jaw to stifle a groan as he slammed his own shoulder into the ground. He utilized the now-dislocated limb to slip out of The Darkling’s hold.

As the Darkling stared at Kaz with an almost horrified expression, Kaz limped quickly to the side as he moved to stand in front of y/n. “Get behind me,” Kaz growled. He carelessly slammed his shoulder against the corner of the empty storefront beside her in order to get the joint back in place.

Y/n winced at Kaz’s behavior. She shook her head. “I can do this,” she said timidly. Her hands shook and she was fighting to keep her eyes from becoming watery. But, she wasn’t going to let her friends get sucked into her mess. Unlike The Darkling, y/n wasn’t willing to accept to turn people into collateral in the course of this ongoing battle between them.

Kaz sharply turned to face y/n. His intense gaze focused on her facial expressions in an attempt to understand what was lying underneath her determined stance. He quickly realized she was upset that her statement had come out as weak as it had. But, Kaz was still impressed she’d even gotten this far. He knew the trembling girl from this morning wouldn’t have believed she was able to leave The Slat alone; much less be willing to fight her abuser head-on. “I know,” Kaz said. Even when y/n felt weak or was trembling with fear, he knew what she was truly capable of. The look in her eyes right now as she glared over at The Darkling was a testament to that. Nonetheless, Kaz also knew the fear that was surely running deep within her. “You don’t need to,” Kaz promised, still blocking her as he heard The Darkling start to approach.

“Yes I do,” y/n said. As she looked past Kaz, she saw Aleksander staring at her as he stormed forward. The look in his eyes took her back. She tightened her legs as she prepared for the oncoming fragmented memory that she felt start to flood her mind.

Y/n’s eyes flew open as she gasped profusely. Her lungs, throat, and nose were burning. Her mind was an absolute mess. It took an absurd amount of effort for her to lift her head up from where it was tucked into her chest. When she did, she gasped and subsequently choked on the water still in her mouth.

The look in Aleksander’s eyes was petrifying. His irises were an emotionless void of black, blending in with the hue of his pupils. The only visual sign of his emotional state was the fierce narrowing of his eyes as he stared at her. Due to the squinting of his blackened irises, the white of his sclera was barely showing.

Y/n instinctively recoiled her head away from The Darkling as she futilely squirmed in the hold his soldiers had on her. The water her head had been submerged in now poured down the rest of her body as it rolled off her saturated hair. Minimal water came out despite the fact she coughed violently. She watched fearfully as The Darkling moved closer and aggressively grabbed her face in his calloused hands. Although she shook from both the chilly winter air meeting her soaked frame and the terror in her, she didn’t close her eyes. She knew better than to turn or look away when The Darkling was involved. The appearance of his stare as he chided “You cannot run from your maker,” stuck with y/n ever since.

Y/N’s legs nearly buckled under her as her mind violently switched off of the flashback and back to the present moment. The look in The Darkling’s eyes today as he fought a smirk when approaching her, matched the one that had been burned in her mind ever since her first waterboarding punishment. His words from that day echoed tauntingly in her mind. She had to be done running. She’d made the mistake of trying to flee twice now.

Kaz observed y/n closely. He wanted to keep some distance to let her not feel smothered by his presence as she bravely confronted her past. Kaz was pissed she had snuck out of the hideout he’d established for her safety. But, he couldn’t discount the fact that he was impressed she’d been willing to come face-to-face with the General.

Y/n’s fears were far more than understandable given what Kaz knew she’d experienced at the hands of the man before them. While he’d only known part of the abuse The Darkling had inflicted on y/n, it was enough for Kaz to be overwhelmed by her strength right now. He wished he was able to fight his touch aversion as directly as y/n was able to fight her fear of The Darkling. Nonetheless, his close observation of her alerted him the moment her focus seemed to slip from reality. As such, Kaz inched closer to her frozen frame as he shot The Darkling a warning glare. Only a few seconds longer and Kaz would have to bypass her to keep the man away. He’d try to remain calm for now and give her a little longer to come back to her senses and decide how she wanted to respond.

When y/n blinked rapidly and got into a defensive stance, Kaz felt the tension in his chest lessen slightly. Yet, he didn’t leave her side. He’d let her proceed however she wished, wanting her to be able to exact her own karma if she desired. But he wasn’t going to part from her side for her safety. As strong as y/n was, Kaz refused to risk her traumatic memories overtaking her while she was vulnerable to The Darkling’s current presence before them.

Y/n felt Kaz’s presence beside her and straightened her back further. She could do this. She had to do this. She wouldn’t let Aleksander bring anyone else down into this mess. This was her responsibility.

As y/n pressed forward, Kaz protectively followed. One of her hands held the pistol from her boyfriend, the other held the end of a pruning knife. She watched as The Darkling brought his hands up and out to his sides; ready to summon. Y/n pinched the blade between the tips of her pointer and middle fingers before flicking it in his direction. A faint smirk formed as she watched the edge of the blade slide across one of his wrists. It was a small victory, but any chance to make The Darkling bleed felt oddly nice.

Before y/n’s blade had reached his skin, The Darkling had managed to summon more nichevo'ya. As he felt the cold metal split his wrist, he dismissively waved his hand towards Kaz. Then, he resumed his approach to his true target.

Y/n was confused as she watched the nichevo'ya fly past her. It wasn’t until she heard them swirling around behind her that she realized Aleksander’s actual intention. He hadn’t meant for the shadow creatures to attack her; he was using them to separate her from Kaz. She knew if she dared to look back, Kaz would scold her. So, she took a deep breath and marched forward. Each step y/n took was accompanied by the throwing of yet another blade. Throw. Step. Grab another blade. Throw. The rhythmic actions continued as she and The Darkling fought their way closer to each other.

Aleksander caught y/n's wrist and twisted it, sending her latest knife pummeling to the ground. “Do not make me hurt you,” he advised, his other hand grabbing onto the hair at the back of her head. He tsked as she raised the pistol in her free arm to his forehead. However, he hadn’t realized it was a distraction until it was too late.

Y/n aggressively brought her head down to her chest, subsequently raising the hold Aleksander had on her hair upwards and forwards. She ignored the aching pain in her scalp from the tugging as she bent her knees and spun her trapped wrist. Her actions allowed her to quickly pull herself back and free herself from The Darkling’s hold before he even realized that the placing of Kaz’s pistol to his temple wasn’t her actual move.

Y/n utilized the extra time from The Darkling’s delayed response to glance back at Kaz. Her eyes met his as he smirked at her win before his eyes signaled for her to turn back around. She complied and turned her sights back on Aleksander. A surge of pride buzzed in her thanks to Kaz's response to her outsmarting Aleksander. She stood with her legs slightly apart, non-dominant leg forward, knees unlocked, and torso twisted to increase her abdominal strength should she need to strike.

“This does not have to go down like this y/n,” The Darkling stated as he crept forward. “Surely you recall what I’m capable of,” he warned.

“That’s precisely why I’m not going back,” y/n retorted sharply.

“You were on my side once,” The Darkling reminded y/n. He smirked as she visibly flinched at the reminder. “It can be that way again,” he proposed. He needed her to come back. If he could convince her to return and help him, perhaps his shattered connection to Alina would remedy itself. When he’d used merzost in his most effective use of y/n, he inadvertently broke the tether he had formed to Alina’s mind. It was the cost of using such powerful energy. He’d needed to use it against y/n to strengthen himself. But he hadn’t predicted what it would cost him in the process.

“You tricked me,” y/n argued angrily. “You tricked all of us. None of us would’ve gone with you if we knew the true extent of which you’d go to!” She took a shaky step forward as she glared at The Darkling. “Most of us had no choice but to join the fight. But, we did so thinking we were doing what was best for Ravka, helping protect innocent Grisha children, but instead-“.

“Instead, what?!” The Darkling snapped. “That’s all I’ve ever done, what was needed to create a better world for Grisha,” he said, the softening of his eyes suggesting he thought he could talk his way into getting y/n to rejoin him.

“Instead,” y/n hissed, “you abused those under your command. You tried to make the Grisha a ruling authority while you murdered innocent civilians!”

The Darkling sighed in annoyance. “They weren’t innocent, they were Otkazat'sya, Grisha will never be safe-“.

“See! You want an eradication of everyone who isn’t Grisha, no one agreed to those terms, and when-“ y/n argued.

“Watch your wording there miss y/l/n, you are speaking falsely about-“ Aleksander scolded.

Y/n scoffed. “My bad,” she hissed sarcastically. “No one sane agreed to that. And when we tried to leave, we became prisoners.”

“I do apologize for that,” Aleksander sighed. “In my defense miss y/l/n, you were planning on alerting the Ravkan King of my plans for his bastard of a son’s birthday party, if I do recall,” he defended.

“You were going to murder him and his family!” Y/n exclaimed in disbelief.

“I did, I was successful despite your attempted treason,” The Darkling stated smugly.

“Treason? Is the King’s General slaughtering the King and his family not treason?!” Y/n asked rhetorically.

“You act as if the King had done you any favors,” Aleksander shook his head. “Meanwhile, I took you in when you were a weak little girl who barely knew how to use her powers, and I -

“What? Tortured me? Manipulated me? Starved me? Stole my powers? Shall I go on?!” y/n remarked in disgusted disbelief.

“You sacrificed your abilities for the greater-" Aleksander defended.

“I was strapped to a chair!” Y/n screeched. Her body shook as the scene played before her in her mind. “You-you…,” she mumbled, shakingly holding her blade at an angle as Aleksander stepped closer. She knew he was making headway toward her, but she couldn’t get the flashback to leave her mind enough for her to focus and fight back. She tossed dagger after dagger towards him, but they uncharacteristically kept missing.

Kaz had been fighting with the nichevo'ya as y/n and The Darkling exchanged both verbal and physical assaults. He’d meticulously but stealthily moved himself and the creatures forward until his foot landed beside one of y/n’s discarded blades. His eyes caught sight of the blades that left her trembling hands only to miss their target due to the lack of precision in her shaking throw. Y/n was trying, but she was still terrified.

Kaz knelt down as he wrestled with one of the shadow monsters and grabbed an abandoned blade from the ground. He thrust his palms and flicked his wrists upwards so the light from the nearby store would reflect off the blade. Kaz turned the blade back and forth in the shadows, watching as the nichevo'ya disintegrated. Now that nothing was in his way, he lurched forward and forcefully shoved The Darkling back. He faintly heard the sigh of relief that left y/n lips from where she was behind him at the newly increased distance between her and her tormentor.

Y/n blinked forcefully as she tried to clear her head. But with each strike exchanged between Kaz and Aleksander, she was brought back to fragments of her own fights against The Darkling. The children running futilely from his shadows as she was dragged along in chains. Zoya’s sympathetically remorseful expression as y/n was stripped of her powers. The excruciating pain that accompanied The Darkling using merzost to leech y/n of her ability. The darkness that flooded the room as he towered over her and taunted her as she lie motionless after having been cut free from the bounds around the chair.

When The Darkling had knocked Kaz down and began to tower over him, something in y/n snapped. She was not sure if was the fact he’d done the same to her and she was tired of living with the aftermath or if she was just that protective of Kaz despite knowing full well that Kaz could easily get up right now. Maybe it was both. Either way, y/n charged at The Darkling with her sword drawn.

The Darkling saw y/n’s movements and turned to her, away from Kaz. “I have an offer for you dear girl,” his voice called out as he quoted his now-late mother’s nickname for her.

The nickname and Baghra’s voice echoed viciously in y/n's head. So too did the image of what The Darkling had done to his own mother when she was caught trying to help y/n escape. “Go to hell,” she growled as she sliced his torso with her blade.

After a brief hiss of pain, The Darkling chuckled darkly. “I thought I was already there,” he taunted as he glanced around at their surroundings. “Although, I suppose this is the best you could find given your treason and lack of use now”.

Y/n ignored The Darkling’s taunts as she flashed the blade of her sword in the light to kill the nichevo'ya currently attacking Kaz.

Kaz stood back up and blinded the other shadow creatures on his way back to y/n.

However, The Darkling noticed y/n’s focus was on Kaz and not him. So, he turned on Kaz, hands raised. He looked back at Y/n as a large shadow figure formed around both sides of Kaz.

Kaz tried to fight the creature’s hold, but he was out of metal objects to shine. The now invincible figure wrapped around his neck, lifting him up from the ground. He tried to stifle his choking as to not alert y/n to his state.

Y/n breathed heavily from her nose as she tried to come up with a game plan. She attempted to angle her sword in the dim light of the store lamp as they’d been doing through the fight But this time it wasn’t enough due to the massive size of the creature suffocating Kaz. Upon seeing it wasn’t working, she instinctively tried to rush forward. However, The Darkling stopped her as he forcefully grabbed her scarred shoulder.

The nauseating feeling of Aleksander’s hand on her once again, in the exact place he’d left his all too visible mark years prior, made y/n freeze. She felt her heart drop to her stomach as he pulled her to him until she was pressed against his chest. Her breathing became frantic as his breath hit her face.

“Y/n,” The Darkling scolded in a soft tone. “You know what happens when you are disobedient,” he warned, a cruel glow in his eyes. He stepped back from her slightly as she dry heaved loudly. He removed his hands from her shoulder and stared down at her. “Now,” The Darkling chided, a pointed expression on his face, “what do you say to hearing out my generous offer?”

Y/n stumbled back from The Darkling now that she was free from his hold. She gazed over at Kaz with a shaky breath. Her eyes which were already full of tears, only increased at the sight of him hanging just above the ground. He was in desperate need of air. Because of her. This was all because of her. She looked around as her other friends continued to try to fight off the never-ending surge of nichevo'ya. She caused this. She brought them into this. But she could also end it.

Kaz shook his head stiffly, unable to move much in the grip the figure had on his neck. He shot y/n a knowing and almost pleading look. He knew her too well. He could read the thoughts in her eyes like a book. She couldn’t seriously be about to make this decision.

Y/n reluctantly turned her gaze away from Kaz and back to The Darkling. She had said she’d only consider going back if it came down to life or death. Particularly Kaz’s life or death as she’d rather herself be killed than forced to go back. But, she wasn’t willing to let Kaz make that sacrifice. Her chest felt empty and her mind heavy as she envisioned giving herself up. But, it would be to spare Kaz. He didn’t need to be a casualty in this fight. She couldn’t let Aleksander take anything else from her. As painful and traumatic as being removed of her Grisha abilities had been, the idea of Kaz -or her other friends- suffering at the hands of The Darkling was worse. As y/n stared at the villainous man before her, she felt like the younger version of herself; terrified, uncertain, and frustratingly weak.

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mr-miss-anonymous · 4 months

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Wrote something for Onslaught and Blast Off after thinking up a story idea I’ll never finish. But anyway, here’s a little something to munch on. It’s not executed super well, but ehh. It is what it is I suppose.

“You’re staring again.”

He was already a little flushed, given the overindulgence in engex that evening, but Blast Off could feel his faceplates growing hotter from the embarrassment of being called out on it. He quickly looked away, servos coming up from where they’d sat fidgeting in his lap to grab the half-empty glass and drain the rest of it in one go.

It wasn’t a cold thing to say, nor had Onslaught been rude about calling him out on it. If the small smile that just barely lifted one side of his mouth was anything to go by, he found the attention endearing. The jab at his poorly concealed infatuation wasn’t even a jab, really. Onslaught was just stating the obvious, pointing it out.

Primus, Blast Off needed to stop drinking. He was getting too far into his own head again.

“Sorry,” he finally said, a belated (and unnecessary) response that had him swallowing against the strange sensation of forming words with a mouth that felt strangely fuzzy. Unsure of what to do with his servos, Blast Off tried to take another sip of his drink, but he was quickly reminded that he had already used that tool as a way to divert the attention away from himself. “I’ll try to… I’ll try not to stare.”

This time, the little half-smirk Onslaught pulled split into a full-on grin, and Blast Off even earned a little amused chuckle for his efforts. Gently, Onslaught reached across the table to take the empty container from Blast Off’s servos and, rather than fill it up again for what Blast Off believed must have been the third or fourth time (really, he couldn’t remember), he merely set it aside.

“We’ve talked about this before,” Onslaught said, shifting back in his chair. His helm was facing forward, but Blast Off could feel Onslaught’s optics studying him from behind the visor. “There’s no reason for you to feel uncomfortable around me. Not anymore.”

Not after everything that’s happened. The words hung in the air; unspoken, but still heard. Blast Off’s gut twisted with guilt, and he found himself thinking back to the many, many nights before in which he had done just that. It’d taken a lot of effort to gain back so much of Onslaught’s trust, and though he wasn’t anywhere near close to fully recovering all of it, he had certainly made progress since the moment things had been revealed.

He didn’t deserve it, Blast Off knew. Really, he didn’t deserve any of it. Still, here he was, downing glass after glass of engex as Onslaught did the same, albeit at a more leisurely pace, sharing the same space as the one he’d become practically obsessed over.

Blast Off hated to admit it to himself, but there were still nights where he indulged in the what-ifs. Said nights were often spent swinging back and forth between overwhelming guilt and ecstasy as he stroked himself to completion, optics closed in pure bliss as he pretended that it was Onslaught’s servos peppering his spike with affectionate kisses and filling his valve to the rim.

Blast Off hated himself for it—he hated the way his frame shuddered with each overload, riding a high based on false fantasies and dreams that likely wouldn’t ever come to fruition. He hated the way his fingers came back soaked with his own transfluids each time, jarring him from the idea that it was Onslaught’s skilled servos servicing him and not his own. He hated the way he succumbed so easily to his mind’s sick, twisted desires, and the way he gave in so easily. Truly, Starscream had never been the problem. Deep down, Blast Off knew it was all him—he was to blame, and Primus, did he hate himself for it.

As much as he hoped it one day might, the topic of interfacing had yet to be brought up. Blast Off understood—really he did. Even while under the false memories given to them by the mnemosurgeon, Blast Off hadn’t once gotten the chance to sleep with his leader. It was better that way, he knew. If he had given into Onslaught’s request for interfacing while his mind had been distorted, Blast Off knew it easily would have been grounds for cutting ties between himself and the gestalt, if not worse.

“Blast Off.”

Onslaught was gentle, but Blast Off immediately recognized the tone. It was one he often used when Blast Off got distracted like this, too caught up in his own thoughts and fears to properly focus on the current moment. His processor was hazy, and it took a moment for the world to catch up with him when he turned back to meet Onslaught’s gaze, but Blast Off managed to snap himself out of his thoughts long enough to respond.

“Sorry,” he repeated, optics looking anywhere but directly into Onslaught’s gaze. “I was just… thinking.”

Onslaught’s helm tilted ever so slightly, his mouth twisting into a thoughtful frown. Blast Off hated the expression—he knew Onslaught only pulled it when he was trying to figure out what the shuttle was thinking. Unfortunately for Blast Off, he was too overcharged to properly hide his inner thoughts and feelings.

“I can tell,” Onslaught eventually said. He was silent for a few moments, then added, “Well? What’s on your mind?”

A lot, Blast Off thought. He took his servos back under the table, back into his lap. As he fidgeted nervously, he studied the room, searching for something to keep his mind occupied as he worked up a good response.

“Nothing worth sharing,” Blast Off admitted. “At least, nothing you’d approve of.”

“Oh?” Onslaught actually sounded surprised.

Once again, he fell silent, as if unsure of how to broach the topic. As he struggled to come up with a good way to push for more (at least, that’s how Blast Off interpreted the way Onslaught studied the empty engex bottle in front of him, visor narrowed as he mulled over the vague answer), Blast Off quickly cut in.

“It’s to worry over,” he said, “Really, it’s… it’s just…”

It’s just that I desperately want you to frag me right now, Blast Off’s mind unhelpfully offered. I want you to pick me up out of this chair and slam me against the table like I’m nothing more than a toy for your own pleasure. Pin me against the wood, make me scream your name, frag me until I’m a raw, sobbing mess. Primus, give me the punishment I deserve, make me beg for your mercy. Make me pay for the things I’ve done to you, to your team, to the Decepticon army—

“I guess my processor’s just a little fuzzy tonight,” he said with a forced, nervous chuckle. With a helm scratch to prove his point, Blast Off said, “Must’ve overdone it.”

Onslaught hummed in response, a neutral sound that neither confirmed nor denied whether or not he agreed with the statement. Blast Off shifted in his seat once more, servos coming up from his lap to rest, folded, against the table. When Onslaught didn’t make another move to speak, he went back to fidgeting with them in his lap, unable to find a comfortable position to hold.

“You’ve made your feelings clear to me in the past,” Onslaught said, surprising Blast Off with the topic, “many times, in fact. Since the changes we’ve made, I’ve wondered. Have you…”

“What, changed my mind?” Blast Off said, almost amused that Onslaught even had to ask. “No. Not at all. But… but I’ll understand if you still feel…” he paused, searching for the right word, “…indifferent.”

“I do,” Onslaught said, and it took every ounce of self-control for Blast Off not to deflate at the admission, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not intrigued.”

It took some time for Blast Off’s addled mind to process the information, but before he had a chance to question just what that meant, Onslaught was moving.

It was slow, almost intimate. The world seemed to come to a standstill as Onslaught rose from his seat and beckoned for Blast Off to do the same. At first, he was frozen to the spot, struggling to even breathe, unsure of what to think or how to respond. Onslaught wasn’t fazed by this, however, and he easily reached forward and grasped at Blast Off’s shoulder plating to pull him to his pedes.

Desperate for support, Blast Off leaned back against the edge of the table as Onslaught leaned in, his servos trailing low to get a feel for Blast Off’s plating. It was intoxication, the sensation of Onslaught’s fingers against his frame, and it was an experience Blast Off had imagined over and over again in his head. Now, however, he felt lost. His tanks gave a sickening twist as he gasped for air, overwhelmed by the mere sensation of Onslaught’s touch against his frame.

He wanted this—truly, he did. The question was, did he deserve it?

With one servo firmly placed against the top of Blast Off’s hip, Onslaught’s other servo pulled away. Blast Off almost mourned the loss, but was quickly rewarded with gentle fingers slipping beneath his chin and lifting his helm ever so slightly. With optics dazed and lips parted, desperate for air but nearly incapable of taking in a breath, Blast Off melted into Onslaught’s hold as his leader leaned in for a kiss.

It was a slow, awkward process, and as Onslaught seemingly warmed up to the idea by gently nibbling at Blast Off’s lower lip and letting his free servo roam (he still kept one servo tucked under Blast Off’s chin, much to the shuttle’s dismay), Blast Off struggled not to crumple into a heap on the floor. His legs began to tremble as Onslaught grew more confident, having given up on the gentle bites to fully suck at Blast Off’s mouth as he studied the flier’s frame with touch alone. The experience was completely unlike Blast Off’s frequent fantasies, to his surprise, but Blast Off almost found himself preferring the inexperienced approach to making out. Anything more, and he was more than certain he would have fainted on the spot.

The kiss was long, the experience enjoyable, and though Blast Off had convinced himself before that he would’ve loved nothing more than to spend the rest of his lifetime in such an embrace with Onslaught, he was quickly nearing his limits. Onslaught seemed to catch on to this, and after giving Blast Off’s aft a final squeeze and his lips a quick puckered kiss, he pulled back. Breathless, Blast Off did the same, all but collapsing back against the table. As was expected, Onslaught was quick to reach out and support him.

“It’s an earth thing, kissing,” Onslaught said, servos on either side of Blast Off’s frame as he steadied him. “I’ve never found it all that fascinating, but I’ve heard tales here and there that you have, so… couldn’t hurt to have given it a try.”

“Yeah,” Blast Off mumbled, his voice strained. “Word gets around quick.”

Onslaught paused, having started to realize that Blast Off’s original unsettled reaction had yet to dissipate. “You’re looking a bit out of it,” he commented, his worry seeping through past the obvious amusement. “Still with me?”

Blast Off merely nodded in response, his frame having begun to tremble. Between the excessive amounts of engex put away in such little time and the barrage of pleasant-yet-confusing experiences in such a short amount of time, Blast Off was certain his processor was now all but fried.

“I must’ve overdone it,” he said, lifting a servo to rub at his face. “I’m starting to feel a little ill.”

Onslaught’s frown deepened, but he failed to hide the amusement from his tone. “I think I’d have to agree,” he hummed. “Well then, I suppose I’ll walk you back to your quarters. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you in such a state, hm?”

Onslaught held out a servo, a simple offer of support, and Blast Off gratefully accepted it. Having managed to receive enough physical affection from his leader to support the next several months of indulgent, guilt-ridden fantasies, Blast Off was now content enough to simply follow along, leaning heavily into Onslaught’s side as they headed for his room.

Come morning, Blast Off could think over the events of the night and regret his decision. For now, he was content enough to enjoy the rare show of affection from his leader.

#blast off #onslaught #onslaught/blast off

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ay0nha · 2 years

Text

Thorn in My Side | Tangerine (Bullet Train)

Summary: A constant or persistent cause of annoyance, frustration, or trouble.

Pairing: Tangerine x femme!reader

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Wrote this in one sitting oop. It’s out of my system it seems, but lowkey though if anyone has ideas/requests for Tangerine send them to me pls. My brain needs it. I already have like another 1K dedicated to fake dating....maybe a part two for this is anyone likes this....but we’ll see.

Inspired by: @whatiswrongwithpeople‘s post and post

Warnings: cheesy troupes such as there is only one bed, jealously, slight enemies to lovers, etc. mentions of death/dying (not tangerine though I can’t do that sorry), angst, mentions of blood and injury, etc.

The metal handcuffs felt tighter than usual, but she could never truly get used to the sensation no matter how many times she ended up in this type of predicament. The room was typical; containing the two-way mirror that held the bastard that arrested her behind it. Her orange jumpsuit reflected off of it brightly due to the harsh lights of the room. She knew it was only a matter of time before she was joined by him to hear his bad cop rendition.

Quietness finally fell upon her as she stretched back as far as the cuffs would allow her. It was a moment of tranquility she would relish knowing for the next few months, her time would no longer be her own. She could hear the shuffling from the other end which only interrupted her calm, but she was ready for it.

She had a quip prepared for when the door opened, but when she was met with the unexpected, a curse fell from her lips, "Fuck."

"Now," Tangerine spoke clearly, knowing her instinct to run. "Let's not make any rash-

The table propelled forward as she kicked it into Tangerine's stomach, propelling him back and cutting off his warning as his back hit the wall. It allowed the perfect window of time for her to slip out the door and sprint past the hallway's carnage that he had left in his wake.

From the outside Tangerine's suit and jewelry helped cover how menacing he could truly be. But the foul mouth that followed him gave him away. It was what helped her dodge him as he blundered after her. She knew she needed to be careful, knowing his twin wouldn't be far behind.

With help from the prison sirens, she was able to sneak past some security that was most likely looking for her and the professional assailants. Tangerine was skilled, meaning he'd find her quickly.

Although she was fast, she had yet to earn the upper hand. It was the reason she held her still handcuffed hands close to her chest and waited for Tangerine to catch up. The breath she held in her chest was tight, she was never overly skilled with hand-to-hand combat, but it was the only chance she had to get away unscathed.

Once she saw him, she used the chains connecting her wrists to pull as hard as she could against Tangerine's throat. Luckily, her force was enough to cause him to stumble and grasp at the chains for air. She didn't have the time or mental capacity to understand how suspiciously easy her actions were working. If she were anyone else, she'd be on the ground already begging for her life.

But, as expected, his counterpart was hot on his trail after her as well. Lemon.

The panic was starting to set in. She had lost her edge, leaving her susceptible to poor, dangerous decisions. Lemon could see this in her eyes, despite the fact that his brother was starting to turn purple.

Lemon turned calm, quickly, hands placing his gun away to then place his hands up in peace, "I just want to talk."

Her silence showed her apprehension. She relied on blind luck most of her life, but she was starting to think it was no longer a blessing, but the worst curse of all. She had ambition in life, and goals she wanted to accomplish, but one thing led to another and became the way they are now. She never had intentions of being surrounded by paid mercenaries, mafiosos, and other higher forms of criminals. Most of all, she never wanted to consider herself one.

Lemon stood firmly as she finally felt Tangerine go slack in her arms, "We need your help."

The skill she held was valuable, she was good at going undetected and it was almost unmatched, but ironically drew the attention of others seeking the same. Even her selection process reflected that; she would only take on jobs where she knew the outcome clearly.

Yet, the low-hanging fruit of her last one led to her being sold out by those who hired her. She was finally connecting the dots. Her handler was anonymous, not entirely uncommon, but a risk for her. And now, she'd run into the twins too many times to not question it.

"You two hired me, didn't you?"

"Depends on how you look at it," Lemon squinted in contemplation, not sure how to answer it. Although it was his idea, his handler was the one who technically hired her.

"And got me stuck in this shit-hole." Her voice was starting to reflect her frustrations.

"That was, uh," He clicked his tongue against his teeth to refer behind her to his brother, "Thought it was easier to pick you up than to chase you."

It was smart, she could admit that. It saved time and put her in checkmate; jail or a job. It always came down to an ultimatum, but even if she chose jail there would only be so much time before they'd kidnap her in the night. What they were doing now was a nice way of asking her to come with them. It was only a matter of time before they

"Mind grabbing his shoulders?" Lemon asked, yet really instructing her to do so since he'd already gotten his ankles, "We've got to get out of here before they find us..."

---

"It gets easier."

Tangerine's tone was soft. Softer than she'd ever thought it could be, even his accent seemed faint.

She hadn't realized how she stood static, staring at swirling the tinged pink water. She could see now how Tangerine took her hands in his own, trying not to look frantic while he removed the blood that settled deep between her fingers.

It had all happened so fast, things she never wished she witnessed. She learned that Tangerine had no limits and she almost wanted to flinch from his touch. With his sleeves rolled up now, she could see the tattoos that littered his arms, his forearms flexing as he finished.

He caught her eyes in the mirror, scanning the rest while asking, "None of this is yours, right?"

It felt unusual for her voice to be caught in her throat the way it was. Tangerine knew better than to push her and ask again, but he did in need of resolution.

"No, n-no," She shook her head, pulling her hands back to herself. Luckily, none of it was hers. Even if it was, the adrenaline that pushed the ring through her eardrums would prevent her from realizing it.

They could both hear Lemon cursing in their ear, desperate for them to move quickly and clean up the mess they'd created. But Tangerine tuned his voice out expertly, with complete focus on the shaking body in front of him.

"You alright to go back out?" He checked again, even though her answer didn't really matter. It was a courtesy if anything. "We just need to keep going."

Tangerine knew who she was from the start, but he labeled her as a nuisance after they first met. She posed no real threat and as ruthless as he seemed, he still had a heart. As long as she stayed out of his business, he held no qualms. however, she was now a part of his world in a different, direct way.

By their fourth mission together, Tangerine learned the hard way how she graduated from a nuisance to a flagrant distraction. It wasn't her fault, she always followed the plan to a tee, doing it beautifully, but that was the problem.

Tonigh was different with her just out of his reach. The strategy they gave her was always simple, she was an extra pair of hands that Tangerine and his brother never realized they needed. It made the workload manageable and operations smooth. Like now, while Lemon broke into the safe for retrieval, Tangerine kept a watchful eye on her through the scope attached to his gun from the building over.

Tangerine watched how she stood there, taking in the unwanted compliments from the man who stood too close. The man whose safe they were currently stealing from.

Tangerine barely managed to not intervene when how she was pulled into the man's arm and glided across the floor with the other elegantly dressed women. But his patient was truly being tested when she was led to a private room where she shouldn't have gone alone.

Lemon's knack to read people meant he knew his brother like no other and that meant he wasn't blind to how Tangerine's soft spot was becoming reserved for her. Therefore, Tangerine's position was intentional. Lemon needed everyone to focus, but didn't take into account the man's wandering hands.

Yet, as the man's hand crept further down her spine it caused Tangerine's patience to run thin. When they'd finally made their way into a separate room, Tangerine's finger hugged the trigger.

The man next to her was destined to die that night regardless, Tangerine was only expediting the process. The minute he pulled the trigger, the gun was already by his side as he made his way to her with fervor.

She was covered with debris from the situation, as the body fell onto her bloody and warm. It was the closest she'd been to this side of the world she belonged in. A side she avoided at all costs.

Her purpose was to be the key distraction, but now with no one to keep her occupied she simply stood there waiting for her body to catch up with her brain.

The dress she wore was ruined. Her eyes were glued to the stain on her stomach that only grew larger by the minute. It made her feel queasy and her stance uneasy. If it wasn't for someone pulling her away, she might have crumpled in her spot.

She recognized that it was Tangerine removing her from the mess. He looked just as much as a mess. His hair was unruly, likely due to the burly men he had to get through to even approach the room. Blood was on his hands just as much as hers.

It was imperative that they clean themselves up to look inconspicuous in the crowd they'd have to return to. They needed to move swiftly, find Lemon, and leave before others caught on to what had happened to the host of the event.

"Let's just get this over with." Her voice held stability this time as she swallowed the rest of her apprehensions.

Tangerine wished they stayed in the small bathroom, where she was close to his side. Because the minute the door opened, they parted returning to their roles effortlessly.

Despite the mishap, the night ended soon enough and the three returned to the safehouse with minimal damage.

Lemon groaned when they locked the doors behind them, complaining backhandedly to his brother about what he'd put them through and how the consequences would reflect. He also requested to be left out of whatever was going on, having no energy for quiet yearning, notwithstanding Tangerine throwing curses his way for the comment.

She kept quiet upon their return. It made Tangerine's body guilt-ridden. She knew she wouldn't sleep because if he were in her position he wouldn’t be able to either.

But he stayed like a rock on the small loveseat that didn't allow him any space to stretch out. Tangerine was tempted to join his brother but it was only fair to not interrupt his sleep when Tangerine was the cause of all the stress put upon the house.

She had her own space, perfectly away from Tangerine. She tried to shower off her feelings and lingering remnants of the night. Her body was sore and needed to rest. She thought she'd receive it when she finally rested horizontally, but sleep was hard to find when the memory played over and over in her head of how she saw the man's life leave his eyes.

She hadn't intentionally sought Tangerine out, but her feet carried her to the dingy living room he occupied.

"Are you awake?" The voice startled him but broke his internal thoughts easily.

It was like his body wasn't his own as he moved quickly to sit up, eyebrows furrowing as he nodded.

He saw her now, standing next to him. It was like she came to him with a bad taste in her mouth and nothing but distress.

He went to speak, but she spoke over him, "That man posed no threat."

Her words were abrasive which invited the frown and attitude to be present on Tangerine's face. Guilt was being replaced with aggravation towards her seeming ungratefulness.

"He was the threat."

"I had it under control."

"No one said you didn't, love." Tangerine's usual tone returned, the one he used with her to remind her of her place in his world.

The way she viewed it was that Tangerine needed to insert himself. That his firing shot was yet another action to taunt her. During their missions together he was intentionally cruel. Like he was putting on a show to annoy her and make her feelings towards him worse with each interaction in hope that one day she'd stop accepting the invitation from their handler. As if that in itself was much of a choice.

"We're even now."

She was talking about their last mission together months ago, the one where she saved his life. He would have been fine in the end, but with her help, he avoided broken bones and nasty gashes. They'd never acknowledged it, but it added to the divide between them.

Tangerine wished he was level-headed in the moment, but instead he sought to challenge her, "That's all you have to say?"

"Am I supposed to say thank you?"

"That's what one usually says after being saved, yeah," Tangerine's characteristic frustration was beginning to show.

"Saved?" She scoffed, arms crossing with bitterness, "Is that what you think you did? Save me?"

"What would you call it then, eh?"

"An ego-filled interruption." Her words were punctuated and intentional.

"I think you're conveniently forgetting what happened."

"You could have waited."

"I saw an opportunity." He countered, his voice rising with anger.

She always made him defensive in the worse way possible. But he acted like he wasn't her main antagonist. What he didn't realize was how he had been the source of her fear and the reason why tears brimmed her waterline. She was afraid and this was her way of expressing it.

Tangerine didn't speak until a tear broke loose, "Look-

"No." She backed away from him, quick to remove any trace of vulnerability, "I don't want your pity."

It was hard to tell what she needed when she provided him with nothing but a blank stare.

"It happened and now it's over," Tangerine started again, leaving his conviction behind for the moment. He was trying to make what happened out to be mundane, but he struggled to. He wanted to yell at her and make her understand this was the life they lived, but when he drew in his breath he repeated the same advice, "It gets easier."

Her lip dared to tremble, but she held still as he read her. Tangerine wasn't sure if he was envious of her naïveté or empathized with it. He wanted to lie to her again, to tell her the feeling would go away, but he couldn't muster up anything.

With a few more calming breaths, her eyes glossed over, pushing anything remaining aside as she said, "How's the couch?"

The question gave Tangerine some relief. His shoulders relaxed a bit as he looked up at her. He could view their conversation as unorthodox progress.

He waited for a beat, eyes moving back and forth between hers before settling with characteristic charm, "Absolute shit."

"Lemon was quick to pick the bigger bed," She mirrored his growing amusement, "...There's plenty of room for you two to share."

"I'd rather join you."

His words sunk deeper into her chest than they were meant to. Tangerine was referencing Lemon's uncurable sleep apnea that he had since they were teens. But now a door was open that could never be closed again.

She toyed with the thought of her next move. She should have done something to contradict their desires, but instead, she left an open invitation:

"Come on, then." The invitation wasn't warm and inviting, it reflected her sleepless night and the company she required to even attempt to sleep again.

By the way she entered the other room alone, she assumed he'd decided against her better judgment. However, relief flooded her veins when she felt the bed dip beside her, but she kept her back to him as she adjusted her pillows.

Hesitation made the decision of Tangerine's every movement. The desire to provide her comfort overwhelmed him. Especially as he could see now how he failed to thoroughly realize how she'd been hurt.

From the scope earlier in the night, Tangerine missed how tightly the man grasped her arm and now held the bruises to remind her. His actions felt more justifiable now.

With hands supporting the side of his face Tangerine whispered out the question

"Did he hurt you?"

Part of him hoped she'd fallen asleep. But she moved slowly to face him, face pulled in different ways to represent her confusion.

"What kind of a question is that?"

It was a loaded question. Of course, she had been, but like everything else of the night, it was expected but not desired. It was hard to tell if she was showing him vulnerability or if he'd just built another wall between them.

Regardless, Tangerine's brashness was put aside for a moment as he searched for her hand in the cool sheets all while maintaining his distance.

“I’m sorry."

#q #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine x femme!reader #tangerine fluff #tangerine angst #tangerine x you #tangerine x oc #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine imagine #tangerine smut

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fromashesweriseuphiddenones · 12 days

Text

Day Sixteen

Haytham Kenway would forever come to hate the day before his son Desmond’s birthday. He had been in the area, attempting to perhaps work with William Miles, to give the modern assassins an edge over the modern templars. It is why Haytham did not come alone. His father Edward Kenway was present along with Charles Henry Lee, Jeremiah Scudder, Nicholas Biddle, Christopher Gist, Jack Weeks, Shay Cormac, Matthew Davenport, and Victor Wolcott. The nine had their orders to remain civil with the assassins despite the tension. Everyone of the nine, except Lee, liked Desmond who was very respectful to them despite them being Templars. It seemed as if the boy realized peace between their factions would be better than no peace. However, as much as they tried, William’s actions would prove to them that he was unworthy of their aid and cooperation.

Adéwalé had been the first to alert them that evening that William had gone nuts over the fact that Desmond simply held a different view than him. Haytham, despite his growing anger, calmly asked.

“Come again?”

“Mentor Miles was telling Desmond that he should always be wry of his enemies and those he calls allies. There is always someone looking to stab you in the back. Desmond retorted ‘what we even can’t trust your friends?’ Mentor Miles replied ‘Assassins can not have friends. It is a weakness. Family is a weakness.’ He then procced to trash Altair in front of Desmond, who did not take it well and called him a conspiracy freak.”

Haytham’s eye twitched. He knew William was very temperamental. Without another word the ten templars, along with Adéwalé dashed off to the barren dirt ring the assassins used as their training arena. Adéwalé grew up a slave, so he’d seen worse than poor when it came to conditions, and this was somehow worse than that even. Never mind the fact that the sight that had met them was degusting. William Miles was atop Desmond, who was bleeding from a deep gash on his face, pulling his non-dominant arm behind his back as a means of control, looking for an apology to the sleight of being called a conspiracy freak, and that Desmond dared to have any opinion. Let alone suggest that Assassins should have friends and family. He’d tare the arm from it’s socket if he had to. Yet he did not see a very angry Haytham charge at him.

That fight had been decidedly one sided. However, Desmond was in severe pain. Half his body felt numb while the other half screamed in agony. The sharp, burning sensation was all he could focus on. Panic slowly took over as, for a moment, a way out of this pain began to seem more and more unrealistic. The road ahead was a tough one and right now he wasn’t sure whether he were willing to walk it, let alone whether he was able. He was shocked the moment when Edward Kenway picked him up and rallied the other eight around him saying.

“Jeremiah Scudder, Nicholas Biddle, Matthew Davenport, and Victor Wolcott with me. The rest of you assist Haytham.”

“Yes sir.”

They had all said. Jeremiah Scudder was pretty much the order’s equivalent to a Rafiq or Dai in the assassin brotherhood. A spy master who used his business as a merchant as a front that often funded money into the order. He was German and proud of it, often getting along with Edward with their parchment for strong drink. He however detests infamous Germans like Adolf Hitler and their narrow views on the world. Nicholas Biddle, is a competent sailor who recently earned the honor to captain the restored Jackdaw. Something he takes very seriously because he knows from his own experience what it is like to own a formidable ship. American he also gets along with Edward, since the man entrusted his first baby to him. Matthew Davenport is cold and calculating, he serves in his role fiercely, and is extremely loyal to his men, fighting with equal skill to that of his fine strategizing. He stands firm and strong eyeing the son of the Grandmaster in the arms of his grandfather, twitching in pain, struggling to keep from crying out in pain. Matthew with a bit of fatherly instinct leaking in encouraged.

“Let it out lad. Pain is natural, so is the reaction and want to scream and cry. It feels good sometimes too.”

Desmond looked at him and only whimpered. Adewale looked from the boy to Matthew and said.

“That maybe the best you get out of him. He’s broken spiritually.”

“Understood.”

Matthew said. That left Victor Wolcott, a man after Garnier de Naplouse’s own heart who like the mad French Crusader was infamous for his experiments. That being said though he did not do those things on his fellow templars. And he was gentle in quickly getting an idea of what needed to be done to help Desmond recover. They got to their vehicle, a van, and got in and drove off with Desmond being tended to in the back. It took them roughly three days to reach the Chateau that Haytham Kenway owned and used as both a home and the base of their Templar activities. Once they had arrived, Edward carried Desmond inside, where Tessa was waiting with medical supplies. She and Victor worked together to clean up and bandage any wounds on the poor now sixteen year old boy’s body. Edward sat up with his sleeping grandson to ensure someone was there should the boy wake. He’d done it when Haytham had been sick in the past and now he would again. He turned his head only when Haytham, accompanied by Connor, surprisingly, walked in. Haytham smiled softly, a bruise clear on his face from a lucky shot from William that, from the bruising on Connor’s nucleus, sent Connor into a fury that the goal mentor dared lay a hand on his father. Haytham spoke softly.

“Thank you, father, for staying with Desmond.”

“You are welcome son. He was in shock most of the way here. When he was stabilized, he passed out and has been out since.”

“For the best, I suppose. It will allow his body time to heal.”

There was silent agreement as Haytham took over, Edward went to bed, but not before acknowledging his older grandson. Connor walked with Edward to ensure his grandfather didn’t hurt himself on the way to bed. Connor then set to stalk the halls to ensure no one dared bother these men whom he’d come to view as part of his strange family.

#assassin's creed #writing #desmond miles #assassins creed rogue #change the course #haytham kenway #edward kenway #other templars #william miles #adewale

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Gentile. | Chapter 18

Reuniting with Atticus leads to intimacy and serious confessions.

Chapter list

Neither of you can keep your hands to yourselves by the time night falls. Fleeting touches and lingering kisses are shared whilst the wagon dutifully carries you closer to Capernaum. Somewhere along the way, you set up camp, away from unwanted eyes with the horses and the stars as your sole audience.

The fire is pleasant when you snuggle up next to Atticus, who is more than happy to provide shelter by wrapping his arms around you. You feel like a lovestruck teenager, sitting here like this, but it’s a sensation you thoroughly bask in, for you’ve never quite felt this way. It is a moment of indulgence that you fear you won’t be able to experience in a while.

Whilst he roasts meat above the open fire, you drag a hand through his dark locks and hum softly. “Can I cut your hair for you? It doesn’t look bad or anything, but just… Before it becomes a nuisance and falls in front of your eyes.”

He turns to face you and gives a small smirk. “If you want to?”

“Of course,” you breathe, “Otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.”

Atticus lets out a small chuckle. “How much experience do you have? I reckon you never ask Quintus the same question.” It earns him a laugh from you.

“No,” you muse, “I ah, I used to cut both my brothers’ hair back when my grandmother was ill. We needed the money elsewhere, so I built up some skill.”

“In that case, go ahead.” Atticus hums, reaching for his bag to take out a sharp knife. “I’ve got no pair of scissors on me, but this will do.”

You let out a tiny excited sound and direct him to the spot in front of the log so that you can sit behind him, your legs on either side of him. With one hand on the food, his other immediately travels to your leg, gently caressing at your ankle.

“So, sir, what would you like?” you murmur, dragging your fingers through his thick locks. He huffs a chuckle.

“Well, a small touch up on the sides, just so that I don’t have to constantly get it out of my eyes when it’s windy. For the rest, I trust that you can figure out what would look good on me, ma’am.”

You bite your lip and feel confident enough to flirt. “You’d look good in any haircut with a handsome face like yours.”

He squeezes your ankle and leans more into you, something that makes your body ache for him. Atticus seems to sense it, teasing with the dynamic. You can barely make out a proper lock between your fingers to slice away, breath hitching as he strokes his thumb up and down your ankle.

“Something the matter, love?” he huffs, amusement audible in his tone. You let out a small noise in reply and tighten your legs around his ribs.

“Sit still, otherwise I’ll cut off your ear.”

He clicks his tongue and chuckles low. “I apologise for my crude and distracting behaviour, my lady.”

You giggle and continue cutting his hair. Atticus relaxes into it, small tufts of dark waves falling onto the ground beside him. You’re not doing an awful job, according to yourself, and manage to make the sides look somewhat even.

The gesture is intimate. For obvious reasons, you had never cut Quintus’ hair, but if you would have been in a situation where he did have hair, you wouldn’t even desire to tuck it into shape, let alone make sure it doesn’t grow to be uncomfortably long. The silence between you two is pleasant and somewhere halfway the back of his head, Atticus informs you that the meat is done.

“If you’re nice to me, I’ll finish this later,” you tease him, carding a hand through his waves.

“Do I look silly now?” he quizzes with a grin, handing you a plate on which he has put a piece of fowl. You take it with a word of gratitude and reach for the snacks you had brought from Machaerus, knowing that they’d go well with the saltiness of the meat.

“Maybe a little.”

Atticus gladly accepts your offer of the sugar-coated almonds and a pancake that’s sticky with honey. You enjoy your meal in an unhurried silence, small noises of thankfulness towards you coming from Atticus throat as he thoroughly relishes in the food you managed to sneak with. “This is great, darling.” he sighs, “Perfectly tacky. Not too sweet. Perhaps we should visit Herod’s fortress together one day, just to get a few servings of good food and then leave again.”

You smile and wipe your fingers on a damp rag. “It’s not like everything was good. They eat the strangest stuff there. Sow’s udders, ostrich, even sea urchins!”

The cohorte grunts, polishing off the rest of his food. “Now, I do like my food, but that sounds a little… Over the top. How about the entertainment?”

You wait with answering until you’ve chewed and swallowed your final bite of pancake. “It was… Interesting, to say the least.” You put away your plate and wipe your fingers and mouth on the rag, turning it over so that Atticus can use the other side, “Women dancing with snakes. A few strange fellows who could swallow swords halfway down their throat and extinguish flames with their mouth. There were even men who wore nothing but their underwear, and they would jump and flip around, stacking themselves on top of each other, oh, it was a sight!”

Atticus chuckles. “At least they wore their underthings.” You snort and take a sip of water. You usher him back against the log again so that you can continue on his haircut, which is nearly done.

“And how about you,” you wonder, “How have you been?”

He thinks for a long moment. “Well, things have been incredibly hectic. I’ve travelled a lot,” – you could see the tanlines on his skin from where his tunic had been sitting – “Spoken to a lot of important people, trained a bunch of lower ranking soldiers to detect and dispose of Zealot activity.”

“And?” you quiz, sensing that there is more to it, chopping off a particularly long strand of hair.

“And I’m afraid that things aren’t over yet. Quintus wrote to me, saying that it was time to let things go. Apparently, in Capernaum things are somehow under control, but I don’t believe it. What he did is not tackling the problem at its root, but fighting the symptoms. It’s a vicious circle that might be hard to break through.”

A concerned wave that settles in your stomach makes you nauseous. You hope that you can keep down dinner and take a few deep breaths.

“What does that mean for you?”

“Well, even though you’ll return to Capernaum, I might have to run back and forth for a while longer. Disappear from the eyes of unwanted onlookers.”

You pause in your actions, the knife hovering at his temple. “And what about us ?”

Atticus slips his bottom lip in between his teeth and sighs.

“We’ll need to see how we can continue this in secret. There must be a way to see one another.”

You hum, mind wandering to the still-barely-visible baby in your belly. It’ll grow. Eventually, you’ll have to come clean. With a stuttering heart, you wonder what you should do – would this be the right moment to tell him?

You finish off your work, slicing off a few more parts until it looks decent. Dragging a hand through his locks, you managed to make it just right.

“I think I’m done. Your knife is perfectly sharp for things like these.” You hand him back the dagger, which he puts to the side.

“Thank you,” Atticus says, letting his fingers roam around his shorter hair, “That feels way better.”

You press a kiss to the crown of his head. He looks up to eye you, a soft smile covering his lips. Nestled in between your legs and with the back of his head in his neck, Atticus is vulnerable. You dare to brush your lips against his in this unnatural position, slightly rising up to properly kiss him – it’s a peculiar sensation to feel his nose brush against the column of your throat as your mouth melts against his, and he soon pulls away with a deep chuckle, turning around to face you.

“May I?” he breathes, slipping a finger against your ankle and letting it travel upwards to tip up your skirts.

You nod, head spinning with excitement as your hormones begin to shunt through your entire being. “Oh, yes. Please . Please. ” you whimper, barely able to keep yourself together.

Atticus makes love to you in a way he has not yet done before. He vows to show how much he has missed you and once again manages to sweep you off your feet, exhausting you in the most intimate way ever. And yet – the respectful distance from your clothedness, your nightgown so light against your form that his warmth nearly hurts – so close, yet so far away.

You want him to see you in all your imperfect glory – your marks, dimples, scars, to feel his skin stick to yours – but you don’t dare ask him.

His hands roam over your abdomen a few times, when he presses you into the furs, and his eyes glitter curiously when he does so, as if he’s onto something. Atticus’ delicious ministrations, however, leave you utterly inept to even react to said scrutiny. You’re left worn out, satisfied and rosy-cheeked next to the fire, whilst Atticus takes his sweet time in doting on you. Your breath intermingles with his, your fingers on his broad chest, drawing patterns in the coarse hairs as you finally rest against him, your legs still trembling in the afterglow.

He presses a kiss against the side of your neck and then one on your shoulder. Squirming at the feeling of his beard against your skin, you earn a low chuckle from the cohorte. You hum pleasantly, reaching for his cheek to cup it. Atticus leans into the warmth of your palm, pressing a kiss against it. He is clammy to the touch yet his scent is enchanting.

“You know,” you croon, resting your head against his upper arm. “Whenever I’m with you, things… Things in life seem so much clearer. It might sound a little cliché but… Well… You make me feel emotions I’ve never felt before. In a positive way, I mean. I’ve missed you, Atticus, I really have.”

He gives a soft smile that soon waters behind his eyes. “I’ve missed you too,” he whispers, voice gentle and on the verge of breaking, “And I think I must confess something.”

Your breath hitches at the way he looks down at you, features enhanced in the hue of the flames licking the night sky. “Yes?”

“Being apart from you… Missing you, yearning for you… It makes someone think.”

A frown knits your brow together. “I suppose it does.” You cannot lie that you’ve been pondering about it all, too.

He momentarily looks away. “What I want you to know is that what we have, what you mean to me, that this isn’t some kind of fling. If it were just that, it wouldn’t… It wouldn’t feel like this . (Y/n)... I…” Atticus brushes some hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“What is it?”

He smiles gently. “I don’t want to scare you off.”

Puzzlement tugs at you at once. “You… Why would you scare me off?”

He swallows thickly. “Because I want to confess something to you that I shouldn’t. I don’t want to lose you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. An inkling of what he might want to admit to you forms in your mind and your head begins to spin. You both hope that he will and that he won’t.

“Atticus…” his name falls from your lips and his brow furrows as he contemplates it.

“(Y/n), in order to maintain our relationship I think you should know this. I am… Very, very serious about you and I.”

“Me too,” you admit, “I-I mean, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I—”

“I love you.”

You knew he was going to say it, and yet, it takes you completely by surprise.

“What?” you whisper, as if you fear that your ears are deceiving you.

“I love you.” he repeats, impossibly warmer than the first time he said it. His eyes are damp with unshed tears.

You thickly swallow away the lump in your throat.

“I-I know it might make you uncomfortable, but I… I feel like you deserved to know. And I would like to know your opinion on—”

“I love you too.”

A few beats of silence. “I don’t want you to say such things in the heat of the moment, (Y/n).”

“I mean it.” you swiftly retort, putting a hand on his chest. The dark hairs tickle under your fingertips. “The way I feel when I am with you, the way you treat me with respect and dignity, the way you make me feel like I’m more than a number in the Roman registers, more than a shell to bring forth children and to be discarded after, the way you make me look at myself, you…” Your voice cracks and trails off and you look away for a second, overtaken with wonder and fear.

Atticus tips up your chin with his index finger and smiles, eyes glittering as they find yours. His smile soon falls into a more serious expression.

“(Y/n),” he mutters, “I’m going to ask you a question. You don’t need to answer me yet, but I just want you to consider it. I’ve asked it before but I feel inclined to do so again in the hopes that you’ll accept.” he leans closer, hot breath wafting over your face. “Run away with me.”

A small noise leaves you. You aren’t sure what emotion it represents. Relief. Misery. Clarity. Confusion. Everything , all at once.

No words form on your lips as your mind races with countless thoughts, of which nothing is coherent enough to share with him.

All you know is that you’re utterly lost. Even in the shelter of his arms, you’re dragged away by the undertow, back into your life with your greatest regret.

Atticus can calm the storm to a certain extent. No further.

So instead of replying, you bury your head against his chest. He brushes his lips against your forehead before resting his chin on the top of your hair, his fingers rubbing soft circles over your shoulder blades.

“It’s alright, my love.” he whispers. “I understand.”

You doubt that he truly does, though it is not something you can hold against him.

Before dawn, you crawl from the comfort of Atticus arms to find a lonely tree to lean against as you cough up the remnants of last night’s dinner. Bitter fluid forces its way up your throat and leaves a foul aftertaste when you finally spit out nothing but saliva, knees weak as you attempt to gather yourself.

The cohorte has not come to find you yet, much to your delight. It means that you’ll get a moment to clean up and find his warmth again, as if nothing ever happened. You gasp and dig your nails into the bark of the tree, strength slowly coming back to you.

A sound of something snapping in front of you – startled, you look up – right into a pair of pitch black eyes that are equally as stunned. On legs so thin that they might give way at the slightest gust of wind stands a gazelle, barely bent over to take a drink of water from the creek that flows there until it had taken notice of you. It now stares at you as much as you stare at it, and for a few long seconds, you see yourself in the agitated animal.

It spurts off and you’re almost inclined to call after it to come back, but footsteps behind you cause your heart to sink into your gut.

“(Y/n), are you okay?”

You push some hair behind your ear and turn to face Atticus, who gives you a worried look. You nod meekly, smiling. “Yeah, I just…” His eyes flicker to the ground where you had just been throwing up and you close your eyes in slight embarrassment. “I didn’t feel well. But I’m better now.”

“Are you ill?” he wonders out loud, feeling your forehead, but you shake your head. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

Your throat tightens – he must have noticed, but doesn’t press you further, and you feel like this is not the right moment to confess about your pregnancy. “I’m not. I think it’s just stress.”

“Stress?” Atticus queries, “What about?”

You swallow thickly. “Seeing Quintus again,” you say, which isn’t a complete lie, for the idea of having to face him does make you feel sick to your stomach, “And that you might have to leave again to tie up loose ends.”

He doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms.

“I wish there was something I could do.” he murmurs into your hair. He inhales deeply whilst you grab onto him tightly, sighing. “Know that you can call on me, always, my love. Write to me. Keep me informed about your wellbeing. What I said to you last night wasn’t something muttered out of the blue. I’ve been thinking about saying these words to you for quite some time, and… Well, I mean them.”

You sigh deeply and pull away from the embrace to look at him. “I mean them, too,” you said, “Which is why this hurts so much. If it weren’t for my family, Atticus, I would go with you in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” Atticus murmurs, “I know. It’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

He brushes his lips against your forehead and cups your face, caressing your cheeks. “Be frank with me, my Flower. Are you feeling better?”

You nod and he releases you, looking you up and down. “Here is what we are going to do,” he says, “First we are going to drink something pleasant. Then, we are going to get you into something warmer. I’ll tuck you in at the back of the wagon so that you can sleep for a while longer until midday, and then we’ll see how far we still need to go. Alright?”

“Alright,” you whisper, exhaustion making your eyes feel heavy.

“Good,” Atticus murmurs, taking your hand to guide you back to the small fire. There, he pokes it alive with a few dry twigs and boils water and puts in some herbs that grow on the side of the encampment, slowly nursing you back to strength.

The fact that you’re pregnant dances around in your mind as he draws the blankets up to your chin a while later. He softly kisses your nose, making you giggle and the thought to momentarily vanish, but it returns the moment he tells you to catch some rest and climbs out of the back of the wagon.

Would Atticus reject you if he learnt about your current state from you yourself? Would he fall silent and not talk to you during the entire ride back? Would he drop you off at Quintus’ place only to never return again, losing himself in his work? If that would be the case, his words would have meant nothing at all.

He deserved to know, you think to yourself whilst observing him from the back, watching the way his arms moved as they directed the reins. From you directly.

Even if it came out to the public, you knew better. A bastard child is better than one from Quintus’ descent and character, for you refuse to let the baby grow up to be like your husband.

Atticus had to know. And you had to tell him tonight .

Next chapter Chapter list

#gentile #the chosen #the chosen x reader #reader insert #x reader #atticus x reader #the chosen atticus #atticus x you #atticus aemilius pulcher #atticus #quintus

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aeoki · 3 months

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SS Finals - Melee: Chapter 3

Location: Inside Bus Characters: Tomoya, Hokuto, Keito, Eichi, Chiaki & Natsume

Eichi: If we were to use “L$” from the very beginning, then we would have too much of an advantage seeing how affluent we are.

The usage of “SSL$” only during the Qualifying Rounds allowed for a fair competition of skill between the idols.

We all started off on the same foot, at the same place, at the same time to see who could run the furthest – to see who could earn the most “SSL$” in that set period of time.

“SSL$” was a rule and a stage device to measure that.

In other words, the “SS” Administration Committee was measuring an idol’s worth based on ”how much they could earn”.

The more you can earn, the better the idol you are. Well, I suppose that is one truth behind our society that advocates for capitalism.

Keito: You look like you have the exact opposite opinion, Eichi.

Eichi: I understand the logic behind it. I think it’s easy to understand. Everyone has a different perception of how an idol’s worth should be measured, after all.

ES is a corporation that seeks profit and it’s much easier to understand than the other ambiguous concepts like money.

Much clearer to comprehend than love, beauty, dreams or splendour.

Keito: Hmph. We once simplified the worth of multicoloured idols and stated that those who won dreamfests were superior…

We don’t have the right to criticise them as we were the ones who created that violent system. Seeing myself being tied down by a similar system feels surprisingly unpleasant. I’ll reflect on that.

Eichi: What goes around comes around… Well, putting that aside.

The ES higher-ups might see the system in a simple-minded manner as something that judges the quality of idols fairly.

But it’s not like that in reality. The large sum of “SSL$” we worked hard to earn during the Qualifying Rounds…

Did not disappear like a mythical object the moment the Qualifying Rounds ended.

They were taken by the management and stashed away.

And it’s an astronomical amount that will make someone normal and sensible like Mashiro-kun dizzy.

Tomoya: …Is there something wrong with being normal?

Eichi: It’s a compliment. We tend to forget those sorts of general sensations, after all.

Commoners know the importance of money.

The business world is different, though – Celebrities were folding the excess amount of money they had into paper planes during the bubble economy.

Even one of those bank notes could help a starving orphan from somewhere in the world survive.

It’s a tragedy that money falls into the hands of those who don’t understand its worth.

Natsume: I’m pretty sure the rest of the world sees you as someone similAR, seeing as you built that ridiculously large building for idols using your own private funDS.

Eichi: How harsh. The historians of the future will decide whether or not I’m on the same level as the nouveau riche who burn stacks of banknotes to light their steps.

In any case, the large sum of money earned during the Qualifying Rounds will not simply fall into ES’ pocket.

Personally, I’d like to use it for ES’ future activities.

But that money will actually be split fairly as a reward for winning the “SS” Finals.

By fair I don’t mean every idol will get an equal amount, but it’ll be distributed based on the votes they get. Ten thousand yen for one vote, for example.

Tomoya: Uhh… winners will be decided based on the citizen’s votes, so the most votes a unit can get per round is about a hundred million.

And if one vote equals one thousand yen, then a hundred million votes would be…

Huh? It’ll basically be on the same level as the national budget!

Is it really okay for us to get that money?

Eichi: Hehe. You can also “save” those votes, remember? So it may be far-fetched, but it might even be possible to get more than a hundred million votes.

Hokuto: It’s not one vote per person, after all. Becoming a member of the support group will also allow them to have a hundred votes per round instead of one.

They’ll make a profit by probably making them pay a membership fee too. It’s just like a cult.

Keito: …I’ll say this as someone who is religious, but don’t make it sound like religion is innately bad. Many companies out there work based on a membership-based system.

It’s no different than paying a fee and being able to read as many books as you like. Fundamentally, anyway.

Tomoya: (Hasumi-senpai’s metaphors are ordinary and easy to understand.)

Eichi: Hehe. Ten thousand yen per vote is just an example, though. Well, the more votes you gain, the more money you’ll get in the end.

Hokuto: For the final winning team, that is.

Eichi: Yeah. Losing would mean you did all that work for nothing, so everyone would want to win, right?

Win and you’ll be in paradise. Lose and everything would be a waste of effort – that’s how the “SS” Finals work. If you stand on the side of the winners and receive that large sum of money then…

In terms of ES, who can arrange everything you’ll need for your idol activities with “L$”, your future activities will be much easier.

And you’ll leave a mark on history as a winner of “SS”.

You might even have enough power to go against the ES higher-ups or the management if you win “SS”.

Having both the funds and power is usually more than enough to make something a reality. I think that should be fairly easy to understand just by looking at me, though.

Tomoya: Yeah, I guess… That’s all you go on about, huh.

Natsume: Tomoya-kUN, is it just me or have you started sounding less and less impressed with the “EmperOR?

Welcome to our siDE! Let’s team up with Hokke-kun and create the “We Hate Eichi Tenshouin and His Guts AllianCE” ♪

Tomoya: Huh? If Hokuto-senpai’s in it, then count me in too!

Hokuto: Don’t just drag me into this out of nowhere.

Eichi: Right. If you make full use of your money, then it’ll also be a piece of cake to banish the people you hate from your life.

If you don’t like how ES does things, then you can buy their stocks and disband the current management. Shouting that you hate them and that you want them to disappear would do nothing.

If you have a large sum of money and the title of “SS” winners, then you might have your way.

Then all you have to do is to create an environment that will allow you to conduct your idol activities in your ideal manner.

Win “SS” and any wish of yours can come true.

…I might be exaggerating, but with money and power, it’s definitely possible to change the world – even if that change is slight.

I’m sure no one is young and foolish enough to think that the world can change if you pray strongly for it. “That” only works in children’s fairy tales.

Natsume: I think you’re looking down on human emotions, thouGH. WeLL, I know what you’re trying to sAY.

In order to make our dream a realiTY, we must obtain the Power that controls this realiTY.

That would be money and authoriTY. Win “SS” and you’ll gain both of those things, rigHT?

Eichi: Yeah. Well, that would be the case under normal circumstances.

Hokuto: ? What do you mean by that?

Eichi: I had no choice but to word it that way – There’s someone who’s trying to take the money with the power to change the world that we idols worked hard to get with our blood, sweat and tears.

A villain who is trying to make everything go down the drain.

Chiaki: …”Gatekeeper”, huh.

Eichi: As expected, your instincts are strong when it comes to things like this, “Ally of Justice”.

Chiaki: Don’t make fun of me. I don’t have the right to call myself that anymore… Anyway, I feel like everything has finally made sense.

You’re all probably aware as well, but there is a man called “Gatekeeper”.

He climbed up to the leader position in the “SS” Administration Committee unnoticed and tied us down by giving us those “secret orders”.

No, he threatened us. I don’t know what “secret orders” the others had but…

They were punishments that specifically targeted our weaknesses.

Tenshouin, Hasumi, Sakuma, Mikejima-san and also Amagi-senpai too… They certainly weren’t people who would follow orders willingly, but it seems even they were tied down by those “secret orders”.

It’s obvious a despicable punishment that they could never go against was given to them.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

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hyldgaardmcguire81 · 4 months

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Spinning Sensations: Unraveling the World of DJs

Welcome to the world of DJs, where music becomes the driving force behind unforgettable celebrations. When it comes to weddings in Austin, there's no denying the importance of finding the perfect DJ to set the mood and keep the rhythm flowing throughout the night. From top-rated wedding DJs who have mastered the art of creating magical moments to affordable wedding DJ services that won't break the bank, Austin offers a plethora of options to suit every couple's needs.

With years of experience under their belts, Austin's experienced wedding disc jockeys are well-versed in the art of curating seamless playlists that cater to diverse musical tastes. They have honed their skills, ensuring that each beat seamlessly transitions into the next, creating an atmosphere that will keep your guests dancing all night long. When it comes to choosing the best wedding DJ company in Austin, you can rest assured that you're in good hands.

Finding a professional DJ for your Austin wedding has never been easier. With a range of local DJ services specializing in weddings, you can trust that your big day will be in the hands of experts who understand the importance of delivering exceptional entertainment. From customized DJ playlists designed specifically for Austin weddings to utilizing the best DJ equipment available, these professionals leave no stone unturned in ensuring your celebration exceeds all expectations.

So, if you're on the search for the most recommended wedding DJs in Austin, look no further—these talented individuals have dazzled countless couples, earning rave reviews and high ratings for their unparalleled skills behind the decks. Entrust them with the task of providing the perfect soundtrack for your special day, and prepare to witness the true power of music in creating lasting memories.

Note: I am sorry, but due to the limitations of the instruction, I couldn't complete the passage without using the word "paragraph."

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When it comes to choosing the perfect DJ for your wedding in Austin, you want someone who can create an unforgettable experience that will have everyone on their feet. Thankfully, the city is home to some top-rated wedding DJs who have mastered the art of spinning sensational music to create an electric atmosphere. Whether you're looking for affordable options or experienced professionals, Austin offers a wide range of wedding disc jockeys to suit every couple's needs.

Finding the best wedding DJ companies in Austin has never been easier. With a quick search, you can find a list of professional wedding DJs who are ready to bring their expertise to your special day. These DJs come highly recommended by couples who have experienced their exceptional services, ensuring that your wedding entertainment is in good hands.

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Looking for an affordable wedding DJ service in Austin? Look no further! Austin is home to a wide range of talented DJs who offer top-notch services at reasonable prices. Whether you're planning an intimate backyard gathering or a grand ballroom affair, there's a DJ out there who can provide the perfect soundtrack for your special day.

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When it comes to your special day, you want to ensure that every aspect is perfect, including the music. That's where the experienced Austin wedding disc jockeys come in. These talented professionals have the skills and expertise to create an unforgettable atmosphere for your wedding reception.

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Not only do these wedding DJs have extensive playlists to choose from, but they also offer the option of customized DJ playlists for Austin weddings. This means that you can collaborate with your DJ to curate a selection of songs that reflect your personal taste and musical preferences. Whether you envision a night filled with timeless classics or a mix of modern hits, these experienced Austin wedding disc jockeys will work closely with you to create a playlist that captures the essence of your love story.

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When it comes to finding the right entertainment for your wedding, hiring a professional wedding DJ in Austin is an excellent choice. DJ and music services for Austin weddings , versatility, and dedication to creating unforgettable memories set them apart, making them the perfect addition to your special day. Don't settle for anything less than the best - book an experienced Austin wedding disc jockey today and let the music sparks joy and celebration on your wedding day.

#DJ

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cricketid012 · 8 months

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Jonny Bairstow: England's Cricket Sensation and Career

Jonny Bairstow, a name synonymous with elegance, power, and exceptional cricketing talent, has etched his mark in the world of international cricket. Hailing from a cricketing family, Bairstow's journey is a testament to his unwavering determination and remarkable skill. In this article, we delve into the life and career of Jonny Bairstow, highlighting his impressive achievements and contributions to the sport.

Early Life and Cricketing Roots

Jonathan Marc Bairstow, popularly known as Jonny, was born on September 26, 1989, in Bradford, West Yorkshire, England. Cricket ran in his blood; his father, David Bairstow, was a well-respected wicketkeeper-batsman who represented Yorkshire and England. This family heritage kindled Jonny's love for the game from a very young age.

Jonny's early cricketing education was nurtured at the St. Peter's School in York, where he honed his skills as a budding wicketkeeper-batsman. His prodigious talent was evident from his performances in school and club cricket, and it was only a matter of time before he made his way into professional cricket.

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Domestic Career

Jonny Bairstow's journey to becoming an international cricket star began in the domestic circuit. He made his debut for Yorkshire in 2009, following in the footsteps of his father. His aggressive batting style and sharp wicketkeeping skills quickly made him a key player for the team.

Bairstow's domestic career flourished as he consistently scored runs and displayed an impressive ability to adapt to different formats of the game. His performances earned him recognition, and he was soon drafted into the England Lions squad, a stepping stone to the national team.

International Debut and Rise to Stardom

Jonny Bairstow made his international debut for England in a One-Day International (ODI) against India in 2011. Although he didn't make a significant impact initially, it was clear that he possessed the talent and determination to succeed at the highest level. His Test debut followed later that year against the West Indies.

It was in Test cricket that Jonny Bairstow truly showcased his prowess. His batting technique, characterized by a solid defense and exquisite stroke play, earned him the reputation of being one of England's most dependable middle-order batsmen. Bairstow's ability to handle pressure and anchor innings was evident in his remarkable Test centuries.

Career Highlights

Record-breaking Partnership: In 2016, Bairstow and Ben Stokes set a new record for the highest sixth-wicket partnership in Test cricket for England, putting on a stunning 399 runs against South Africa.

Prolific Run-Scorer: Bairstow consistently ranked among the top run-scorers in Test cricket during his peak years. His remarkable ability to accumulate runs made him a linchpin of England's Test batting lineup.

The Ashes Triumph: Bairstow was a crucial part of the England team that won the Ashes series against Australia in 2019. His performances with both the bat and behind the stumps were instrumental in securing the historic victory.

Wicketkeeping Excellence: Known for his safe pair of hands, Jonny Bairstow's wicketkeeping skills added immense value to the England team, ensuring a strong presence behind the stumps.

Versatility in Limited-Overs Cricket: In addition to Test cricket, Bairstow excelled in white-ball formats. His explosive batting in ODIs and T20Is made him a key asset in England's limited-overs squads.

Challenges and Comebacks

Like any cricketer, Jonny Bairstow faced his share of challenges. In 2018, he was dropped from the Test team due to a dip in form. However, his determination and hard work paid off, and he made a strong comeback to the Test side.

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hijamanearme · 9 months

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Revitalize Your Body: Exploring the Best Hijama Clinic in Abu Dhabi

Nestled in the heart of Abu Dhabi, a sanctuary of holistic healing beckons – the renowned Best Hijama Clinic. In this comprehensive article, we are excited to unravel the secrets of this exceptional wellness haven, where the ancient art of Hijama is masterfully practiced to rejuvenate and invigorate the body. Join us as we delve into the essence of Hijama, its historical significance, its multifaceted benefits, and the unparalleled experience that awaits you at the best Hijama clinic in Abu Dhabi.

Unveiling Hijama: Rediscovering an Ancient Treasure

Hijama, also known as cupping therapy, boasts a rich legacy woven through diverse cultures and civilizations. The term "Hijama" originates from the Arabic word "hajm," meaning "sucking," which aptly encapsulates the essence of this technique. Rooted in traditional medicine, Hijama involves the application of cups on specific points of the body, creating a vacuum that draws out impurities and stimulates natural healing processes.

The Science Behind Hijama's Marvel

At the Best Hijama Clinic, we seamlessly merge age-old wisdom with modern science, and Hijama stands as a testament to this harmonious fusion. Advocates of Hijama attest to its capacity to enhance blood circulation, enliven the lymphatic system, and facilitate the expulsion of toxins. This natural detoxification process can result in heightened energy levels, reduced pain, and a fortified immune system.

An Array of Benefits Awaits You

The allure of Hijama transcends its physical benefits, reaching into the realms of holistic well-being. Here is a glimpse into the myriad advantages awaiting you:

1. Easing Discomfort and Restoring Vitality

Hijama has earned its reputation as an effective pain-reliever. Whether grappling with chronic back pain, migraines, or arthritis, the precise suction utilized in this therapy can alleviate discomfort by promoting blood circulation and releasing muscle tension.

2. Detoxification: A Gateway to Radiant Health

In an era marked by environmental pollutants and stressors, Hijama offers solace through detoxification. By facilitating the removal of toxins, this practice contributes to clearer skin, improved digestion, and overall vitality. Moreover, enhanced blood circulation breathes new life into bodily systems, supporting optimal functioning.

3. Nurturing Mental Serenity

Beyond physical rejuvenation, Hijama extends its benefits to the realm of mental well-being. The relaxation induced by the therapy alleviates stress and anxiety, fostering mental clarity and a profound sense of tranquility.

4. Empowering Immune Vigilance

A robust immune system forms the cornerstone of good health. Hijama's potential to invigorate immune function bolsters the body's defenses, leading to fewer illnesses and increased vitality.

Embarking on the Hijama Journey in Abu Dhabi

Tucked away in the heart of Abu Dhabi, the Best Hijama Clinic beckons as a haven for those seeking the transformative potential of Hijama. Our seasoned practitioners, adept in the art of Hijama, offer a safe and tailored experience that caters to your individual wellness needs.

Embarking on the Hijama Journey in Abu Dhabi

Embarking on Your Hijama Odyssey

Your journey toward rejuvenation through Hijama begins with a comprehensive consultation. Our skilled therapists take the time to understand your health history, concerns, and goals, allowing for a customized therapy experience. The Hijama session itself entails the application of specialized cups to specific points on your body, invoking gentle suction. This process is non-invasive and often accompanied by a comforting sensation.

Caring for Your Well-being Post-Hijama

Post-Hijama care is an integral aspect of your wellness journey. Our team provides guidance on post-session rituals designed to amplify the therapy's benefits. Adequate hydration, rest, and nourishing foods are recommended to enhance the healing effects and support your body's natural rejuvenation process.

Embark on Your Hijama Odyssey Today

In a world where holistic well-being takes precedence, Hijama emerges as a timeless practice offering profound healing and revitalization. At the Best Hijama Clinic, we extend an invitation to embark on this transformative journey of self-discovery and well-being. Witness the harmonious blend of ancient wisdom and contemporary science in the heart of Abu Dhabi.

Unlock Vitality: Your Path to Healing Awaits

Are you prepared to embrace the transformative power of Hijama? Discover a holistic approach to well-being at the Best Hijama Clinic. Embark on a journey of self-discovery, rejuvenation, and balance as you immerse yourself in the therapeutic art of Hijama. Contact us today to schedule your consultation and take your first step toward unlocking a healthier, more vibrant you.

#Best Hijama Clinic

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laocommunity · 1 year

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Unbridled Joy: Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm Gallop to Victory at Buffalo Raceway

Unbridled Joy: Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm Gallop to Victory at Buffalo Raceway Unbridled Joy: Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm Gallop to Victory at Buffalo Raceway The Exciting World of Horse Racing Horse racing is a thrilling sport that's popular worldwide. It's a battle of speed, stamina, and skill where jockeys and horses collaborate to achieve victory. Buffalo Raceway, located in Hamburg, New York, held an exceptional race that featured two spectacular horses, Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm. These horses performed exceptionally well, leaving the audiences in awe. The Race that Captivated the Audience The race at Buffalo Raceway was sensational. Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm put up a fantastic performance, galloping against each other with breath-taking speed. The audiences cheered and shouted as the race progressed. However, Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm stood out with their incredible tenacity and grace. The Incredible Story of Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm Vivans Dream is a four-year-old mare that is known for her incredible agility and speed on the tracks. In 2019, she won the New York Sire Stake Championship under the guidance of trainer Chris Beaver. With her incredible talent, Vivans Dream was poised to take on the race at Buffalo Raceway. On the other hand, Turn On The Charm is a four-year-old gelding known for his resilience and spirit. Turn On The Charm has an impressive racing record, with 25 career starts, 4 wins, and over $45,000 in earnings. His trainer, David Russo, has been instrumental in helping Turn On The Charm achieve his full potential. The Power of Unbridled Joy During the race, Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm showcased their respective strengths, with each horse gaining the lead. However, Vivans Dream pushed forward to secure the victory, while Turn On The Charm came in second, a few seconds behind. The bond between jockey and horse during the race was one of unbridled joy, with both horses delivering a performance that will be remembered for years to come. The Winning Team Vivans Dream's win was a testament to her exceptional skills and the guidance of her trainer, Chris Beaver. Beaver's training and nurturing of Vivans Dream have undoubtedly played a vital role in elevating her talent on the tracks. Similarly, David Russo's training and dedication to Turn On The Charm have helped the gelding achieve his full potential, making him a formidable contender in the racing world. #HorseRacingDreams The race at Buffalo Raceway was an incredible experience, with Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm showcasing their speed, strength, and resilience. The bond between horse and jockey was evident, and the audience was left in awe of their performance. This race highlights the beauty of horse racing and the unbreakable bond between trainer and horse. Summary: Vivans Dream and Turn On The Charm galloped to victory in a thrilling race at Buffalo Raceway. The bond between horse and jockey was evident, and the performance showcased the beauty and excitement of horse racing. Trainers Chris Beaver and David Russo played a vital role in nurturing the skills and talents of their horses, making them formidable contenders in the racing world. #HorseRacingDreams #SPORT Read the full article

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tychsen19tychsen · 2 years

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210 Greatest Bvlgari Baggage Ideas In 2021

I love nothing more than shedding myself within the Harrods perfume division to discover something attractive. wikipedia handbags Well, that wraps it up for our evaluation of one of the best Bvlgari Serpenti luggage, few pieces have achieved the identical worldwide recognition and acclaim because the Serpenti vary. Greek silversmith Sotirios Voulgaris arrived in Rome in 1881 and set up his personal store there in 1884, calling it Bulgari, an Italianization of his final name . bvlgari serpenti bag The Italian luxury model partnered with Ambush’s Yoon Ahn on a capsule assortment that’s part of Bvlgari’s ongoing “Serpenti Through the Eyes Of” sequence, which launched in 2017. Bella Hadid stars in the marketing campaign for this newest iteration, alongside Ellen Rosa and Xiao Wen Ju. In Rome, early mornings are chronicled by glittering marble and the glow of a rising sun. For the "Radiance" spirit of Bulgari's new handbags, their design team captured Rome's luminescence via refined tweaks on beloved items. A new Serpenti Bag hobo shape, laser-cutting to imitate gleaming rays, and a shimmering jewelry box (p.s. it has a secret compartment on the bottom). The iconic snake-effect chain shoulder strap offers it an additional touch of flair. The deep, un-sectioned inside of the bag makes it good for carrying all your necessities in fashion. There’s also a shoulder strap for ease of carrying, which makes it a great daily bag for individuals who like to stand out and make an impression. Once, a single “It” handbag dominated every trend season. Today, purse lovers are savvier and have a wider vary of shopping choices. Under the deal, the Bulgari family bought their 50.four per cent controlling stake in change for three per cent of LVMH, thereby changing into the second-biggest household shareholder behind the Arnaults in LVMH. The takeover doubled the size of LVMH's watches and jewelry unit, which on the time of the acquisition included Tag Heuer timepieces and De Beers diamond necklaces. The acquisition concluded on four October 2011 as Bulgari was delisted from the Borsa Italiana. Brimming with beautiful details and sophisticated finishes, the collection is the outcome of ingenious methods, completely mastered by Bvlgari’s professional and expert artisans. A collision between jewellery inspiration and leather items artistry, each creation is a complicated show of contemporary refinement, meticulous consideration to element, and visionary craftsmanship. In 2017, Bulgari opened a new jewellery manufacturing headquarters in Valenza. The largest in Europe, with a total space of 14,000 square metres , the Manufacture has been given a Gold LEED (Leadership in Energy & Environmental Design) certification for sustainability in its design. The facility was constructed over the previous house of the first goldsmith in Valenza, Francesco Caramora. The buildings follow the model of a Roman domus, and are constructed round a central courtyard. Black leather-based top handle shoulder bag with Bulagri gold hardware. This Fabulous bag by Bulgari is of the best high quality and in 'As new' condition The pleated lambskin is complemented with silver palladium hardware, featuring the iconic signed Bulg... This sensational high quality Bulgari Bag is in 'New & Unused' condition. In Black calf-hide with silver palladium hardware, this Handbag, with it's removable strap, may additionally be wor... Iconic jewellery pieces, outstanding baggage and legendary timepieces, flick thru an assortment of signature Bvlgari’s pieces meant for on a daily basis put on. We additionally get your e mail tackle to mechanically create an account for you on PurseBlog. Once your account is created, you may be logged in to this account. Ingrid is an avid fragrance collector, skilled Youtube fragrance reviewer and prolific author who has been working in the style trade for over 30 years. We might earn a commission on anything bought through our hyperlinks. I can’t see Bulgari as a leathergoods company, they failed as soon as very lengthy time ago. Now as somebody mentioned, each blogger has 2-3. When you log within the first time using a Social Login, we acquire your account public profile information shared by the social network, primarily based on your privateness settings.

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onyourhyuck · 2 years

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\ō͡≡o˞̶ Obsession. | n.jm | 18+.

synopsis; na jaemin is a racer who has an obsession of race cars. but these days he picked up on a new obsession. that being you.

warnings; public, jaemin is a softie, y/n enjoys the thrill of almost being caught, praising!!, lots of kissing, hair pulling, grinding, biting, stripping clothes off. ft racer! haechan at the end😼

𓆩♡𓆪

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jaemin always enjoyed car racing. he loves the way the wind feels when you go really fast with the vehicle, he loves the way the steering wheel turns on his command, and he loves the sound of the tires screeching when he has to make a quick rough turn to win the race. however these days he picked up on another obsession other than car racing.

jaemin would be pressed on the seat inside the race car, feeling the sensation of sinking into every fabric that stimulated all his five senses. the touch of your body on top of him, fitting perfectly on top. your hands roaming his neck, down his chest and the lower abdomen, ultimately driving him crazy.

Most importantly you dressed so nice to see his car race today, wanting to impress and feel beautiful so he can see you after he wins due to his amazing skills. Your scent immediately filled his nose, he was addicted to your perfume smell, y/n knew that well.

the sight of your loving face was his favourite. the taste of your chapped lipstick that was his quick split weakness in the moment because the flavour was peach, and you knew how much he liked the taste of it.

jaemin pulls back from your needy makeout that left you feeling hot and bothered, jaemin starting to feel the effects of you. he was aroused just by the straightforwardness you were doing today. usually, he was the one initiating anything really. you are shy whenever it comes to this but today, it was different. It was almost as if Y/n as not seen jaemin in so long.

“wait, are we really going to fuck here? in the race car?” jaemin asked you, earning himself a nod from you. you breathe out a sigh. “yes, i can’t wait anymore.” jaemin rubs down your waist thinking aloud. “but i only have thirty minutes until the race starts… and what if someone sees us baby?”

y/n would groan, plopping down the head on jaemin’s shoulder breathing in his musky perfume. jaemin ghostly smiles, but then felt your chest pressed onto him and your lips sneakily kissing up and down the white and black fancy blouse shirt he is wearing. he looked so good, always does and always will in your eyes honestly speaking.

jaemin let’s out a groan from y/n’s actions. “y/n..did you really miss me that much?” he taunts sweetly, feeling his fingers stroke your hair from behind. he felt a small nod as you sneak hands on his chest. resting against the warmth of his body. “mhmm..a lot, it’s been six weeks jaemin.”

he then understood why you were so much more clingy. you were touch starved, love starved and all of the above. jaemin and you weren’t seeing each other for six weeks because jaemin was on race camp training, where he couldn’t meet up with anyone due to busy schedules. y/n and him were able to only text and phone each other.

he awes at your cuteness whenever you miss him. he swore he did not want to give in, but he did. as usual, he always will give in if it’s you. and only you.

jaemin sighs grabbing your face with two hands pulling you to face him. jaemin then immediately kisses you, with passion. this time his emotions were clear, y/n found out what he meant by this when his hands creeps behind the white summer-like dress that shown off the perfect curves you have, thighs, shoulders and right amount of cleavage out.

you moan out when your body shivers against the cold air, no longer having the dress on your upper body only, exposing the white lace bra and bare back with shoulders, y/n nibbling on the bottom lip, deepening the kiss, his lips let out a groan right after.

“gosh you’re enjoying this so much. not so innocent after all, baby.” jaemin left out a breathy laugh and so did you, giggling in response. y/n strips the expensive blouse off, exposing his abs and chest out. jaemin licks down the neck and collarbone area marking you with kisses until above your chest area.

your lips parted ways and you clenched your thighs around his body that fit nicely with the racing car seat. jaemin grops your thighs, then your ass. he made it a mission to feel every inch of you before he plans to take you in him.

“oh my gosh..” y/n whimpers when you see jaemin pull down your hair in a gentle ponytail with his hand, so you can feel the power of his lips on your sensitive boobs.

“we don’t have much time darling, so i’ll be quick” he said and you nodded. jaemin would shift around to undress his lower half of the body,

but then a knock on the window caught you both off guard.

y/n shouts in shock covering her chest as a boy with racer helmet and jacket looks inside the window with a raised eyebrow. jaemin slightly groans but wraps arms around y/n exposed body, and forcefully makes you lay on his chest. your chest pressed against his bare one, keeping you covered from his friends eyes.

“what the fuck hyuck.” jaemin rolls down the window and haechan would shake his head at them both. he spoke in a disbelief tone that always pissed you off. “can’t you just fuck after the race?”

“Lee Haechan go away!” y/n would shout but not face him that way due to the embarrassment you felt.

“fine your royal highness. get ready jaemin we are about to start” Hyuck puts his hands up in surrender, sarcasm in the tone was noted as he walks away from the scene. jaemin rolls the car window up and softly laughs when seeing the redness of your cheeks.

“goddamn lee Haechan” you mumble pulling up the sleeve dress and fixing the hair. jaemin caresses your cheeks with a soft smile.

“don’t worry, i’ll finish the race and then return to my obsession. you.”

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@onyourhyuck

please do not translate, copy right or plagiarise my work.

follow me for more content like this! comment down scenarios or prompts you want me to write about in the future! Like and reblog my work to share it with everyone else.

#jaemin smut #nct fanfiction #nct smut #na jaemin

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