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stellarbit · 24 days

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Shadows of the Order

the sad batch x reader

5.5k words themes hurt and comfort

You were separated from the Batch when Order 66 was executed on Kaller. Even as a Jedi dropout you weren't safe. Left behind, you have to recover and restart in the world after the Republic. You'd hoped to never run into Clone Force 99 again, but that hope ran out one day. featuring: a b1 battle droid

You know who deserved better? The clones. You know who else? The B1 battle droids. So I stuck a clanker in here for funsies. Had a ton of fun writing this. Hope y'all enjoy a little anguish. I'll be doin a spicy one next.

You fought alongside Clone Force 99 for a long time before the Battle of Kaller. Before Order 66. After meeting the padawan, Caleb, at the rendezvous point, you’d split off from the group to assist a team of troopers on the mountain while the boys joined General Bilaba.

The troopers you encountered recognized you from your days with the 501st. Despite your repeated efforts to clarify that you were no longer a Jedi, they seemed unconvinced. Fortunately, after dispatching a group of droids, the remaining Separatist forces were routed towards the main front, allowing your group to do the same.

As you neared the midway point down you noticed the troopers falling back. Sliding to a stop in the snow, you turned back. There were about 10 of them, all standing around one holding a holocomm of a hooded figure. Half of them looked at you in sync, fixing the grip on their guns, the rest followed a heartbeat later.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Somewhere far down the mountain you heard screaming and blaster fire at the same moment the troopers turned their guns on you. You took off away from the troopers before the first shot rang out.

“Get the Jedi!” A lone trooper pierced through the chaos.

Quick thinking led you to drop a stun grenade, followed by another, as you sprinted onward. The explosions managed to incapacitate some of the troopers, but not enough. Switching your blaster to stun mode, you sought cover behind a nearby tree, emerging only to neutralize the nearest clones before a shot hit your right shoulder, propelling you into a desperate sprint away from them.

With escape and evasion as your only viable options, the Marauder seemed too distant to reach in time. Instead you aimed for a waterfall you spotted while landing. It was a slim chance, but your best hope for losing the troopers.

As you fled, you deliberately dug your fingers into the wound on your shoulder, leaving a trail of blood in your wake. It was a risky move, but if you had any hope of evading capture, they needed to track you. When you saw the water through the trees you wasted no time in ripping away your chest plate. As soon as you got to the crest of the waterfall you launched your chest plate over the edge.

With one glance over the cliff, you gritted your teeth, pressing into your injured shoulder, crouched, and lowered yourself over the ledge. You grabbed high over the ledge and drug your bloody hand back down over. One more look below to ensure a safe landing spot and let go. Relying on the Force to guide your descent into an alcove leading behind the cascading water.

Once there, you swiftly shed the remaining pieces of armor, discarding them into the rushing stream as you shifted farther into the veil of the waterfall.

When you finally heard the troopers at the cliff edge, all you could do was listen, wait, and hope they fell for it.

“Looks like she tried to scale down,” one of them remarked, his voice carrying over the sound of rushing water.

“There! In the water, I see her armor!” Another trooper's voice rang out, sending a jolt of panic through you as you desperately sought cover. Their voices dropped too low to hear before you caught the tail end of the conversation.

“Confirmed, Commander Grey. The Jedi has been neutralized. Visual confirmation obtained,” a trooper reported, the cold finality of his words chilling you.

The clone trooper paused, most likely receiving transmission. “Yes sir. Alright boys, we are to rejoin Commander Grey and head out. His forces eliminated Bilaba and Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan. Gather the stunned troops and let’s move out.” That was the last thing you heard before the troopers left.

Your heart stopped. The blood in your veins froze. You lurched for something - anything - to steady yourself on. One moment everything was normal and the next you were being gunned down by clones you risked everything for. Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.

There wasn’t enough air in the tiny alcove to think, the waterfall was too loud, the water hitting your face too cold. Desperately, you gripped the slippery rocks as your legs gave out.

Nothing made sense. Questions raced through you, each more unsettling than the last. Had all of the clones turned on the Republic? Why were they targeting Jedi specifically? Clones that served with General Bilaba for years suddenly gunned her down.

Nothing added up. If the orders affected all clones, there was a good possibility that the Bad Batch was also following them. Despite their independent streak, they were still clones, some orders had to be followed. It was a sobering realization - one that left you feeling vulnerable and nauseous. You weren’t going to be safe until they left. If they left.

The thought of aiming a weapon on the members of Clone Force 99 cracked something inside you. Besides, it was foolish to think you had a chance against all of them. With an entire army of reinforcements, attempting to take them on would be nothing short of suicidal.

Survival became your sole focus. There was no time to dwell on what went wrong or how to escape the planet's unforgiving terrain. For now, all you could do was stay hidden, biding your time until the coast was clear.

One by one, you discarded your armor and any identifiable markers into the water. It wasn’t about shedding your identity; it was a practical decision, one you could handle. Not long after, the sound of footsteps echoed from above. You pressed yourself against the rock again, your senses on high alert.

An eternity seemed to passed before the person moved. “The Jedi target was neutralized. If she’s not already dead, she’s as good as it.” It was Crosshair’s voice, cold and detached.

There was another moment of silence before you heard Tech’s voice, “Affirmative. Blood stains indicate she attempted to scale down the cliff and subsequently fell.” His tone was as clinical as ever but you almost fooled yourself into thinking there was something else to it. “Pieces of her armor are wedged in the rocks below. Crosshair is correct, if she did not perish on impact the likelihood of her survival is negligible. We need to leave.”

They weren't out there to rescue you; they were there to confirm you were dead.

It was all too much to process. Every muscle, every bone, every nerve in your body seemed to fail, leaving you a trembling mess. When the two men finally left, you didn’t know.

“We don’t leave our own behind.” You heard Hunter’s voice and heard his lie.

They left you. You fought for them, yet they hunted you down and abandoned you.

Long after night had fallen, you mustered the strength to climb out of the alcove, your injured shoulder protesting every movement. Descending into the battlefield, you searched for a salvageable ship and supplies. Amidst the wreckage, you stumbled upon the one thing you weren’t looking for.

General Bilaba’s lightsaber. She must’ve lost it in the struggle. Such a valuable thing lost to the snow and wreckage, not even retrieved. Disposable. You held the cold metal in your hand before tucking it away.

You found one ship that might manage to get off the ground. Nearby, you spotted a partially disabled battle droid, still in remarkably good condition despite its current state. It appeared to have been incapacitated by a stun grenade. As you examined it, Tech's lessons on droid maintenance flooded your mind, particularly the techniques for reprogramming them for combat purposes.

Kneeling beside the droid you flipped it onto its back to access programming. You’d pulled it off before, reprogramming battle droids to counter attack. You just never thought you’d need the skills like this.

The process was far from seamless. You electrocuted yourself on the power supply, nearly damaged a circuit board while removing the restraining bolt, and the rewiring process dragged on longer than expected, especially under the cover of darkness.

Eventually, the battle droid sprung to life, clutching its head as it sat up. You lowered yourself onto one knee as the droid adjusted itself. "Where am I?" its questioning began, its metallic voice filled with confusion. "Is the battle over? Did we win?"

Hearing the droid address you instead of immediately engaging in combat felt oddly surreal, but given the day's events, it was perhaps the least strange thing. "What is your primary directive?" you asked, trying to gauge its functionality.

It clunked a hand against its head. "Huh, that's odd. I don't seem to have one."

That was a start.

You rose to your feet and offered your hand. "In that case, how about we team up and find a way off this rock?"

Its head swiveled from side to side as it processed the proposal. "You mean, I get to choose?"

You let out a small scoff and maintained your outstretched hand. "Your options are coming with me or staying here to rust."

"Fair point," the droid responded, almost cheerfully, as it reached for your hand. "So, what's the plan for getting off this dump?"

You gestured toward the ship you hoped to salvage. "Can you handle starship repairs?"

“Sure thing, boss. Want me to clean it up?”

You threw it a puzzled look, “Why would I-” You shook your head, “No, we need to repair it enough to get it off this planet.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense.” The B1 unit pointed at the ship. “That ship doesn’t need repairs, we just crashed it.”

Maybe picking a battle droid for an assistant wasn’t the best choice. “Was it your group that crashed it?”

“Yep!” It said too proudly. “Happens all the time. But I told you, this one doesn’t need repairs to fly.” The droid paused for a second, tapping a metal digit to the tip of its face, then added. “Yet.”

That didn’t bode well for survival. You waved for it to follow you, “Let’s see if you’re right.” Over your shoulder you asked. “What can I call you?”

“My identifier is OOM-672.”

Walking amongst dozens of disabled B1 units you mused, “Looks like you’re about to be one of the last OOM models in the galaxy. So why don’t we cut that down to O2?”

“Wow!” The way it vocalized almost added syllables to the word. “Yeah, O2 sounds much better! What do I call you? Master?”

You cringed at the sound of that. “I’m not your master, O2. We’re going to have to settle with being friends or buddies.”

“You got it, Buddy!”

Thankfully, O2 was right. The ship could fly and it had enough fuel to get you far from Kaller. Enough to get you all the way to the Outer Rim if you wanted. It was risky, but following the pattern of the day, it was your only chance at survival. You just didn’t let O2 pilot.

After the rise of the Galactic Empire, you and O2 settled on a planet in the Mid Rim. You scavenged and sold enough equipment from Kaller for a comfortable amount of credits to start off with. You pieced together a new identity, often concealing your face beneath a helmet and relying on a voice modulator. Being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages.

The best way to stay hidden, you figured, was to stay in plain sight.

You wormed your way into ownership of a small inn. Although, your background as a Jedi and a soldier left you ill-prepared for running a business, and you struggled to turn a profit.

“O2!” You shouted from the lobby.

The battle droid sauntered in from the dining area. “Yes, Buddy?” The droid’s nickname for you always worked a smile out of you.

You tossed them a rusted-out metal part, which they scrambled to catch, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. After a few failed attempts, they finally managed to grasp it securely. “The circulator for our boiler is busted. Can you head to the market and fetch a replacement? The parts dealer should have one available.”

“Roger, roger!” O2 chimed enthusiastically, ready to depart.

You yanked them by the shoulder. “O2,” You warned. “Do you remember how to pay?”

They rolled their head in an exaggerated display of weariness. “I know, I know - ‘charge it to the tab.’”

Raising an eyebrow, you waited for more. “And?”

O2 tapped a compartment on their chest, revealing a few credits inside. A result of some previous tinkering done by you. “And I have the extra credits.”

“And what’re they for?” You pressed.

“For ‘just in case.’” They replied

Stepping forward, you pushed the compartment closed. “In case of trouble, O2,” you reminded them firmly. Giving them a light knock with the back of your knuckles, you added, “Give me a call if you find yourself staring down the barrel of a blaster.”

As far as O2 was concerned, they had it easy. You rescued them from decommissioning and in return, all you asked for were simple tasks and the opportunity to tinker with their hardware. The tinkering, more often than not, turned out for the better - at least most of the time.

When you and O2 first arrived, the presence of a battle droid initially unnerved the townsfolk. However, they grew accustomed to O2's quirky demeanor. O2 was more goofy than intimidating almost by design. Plus, after a few instances of O2 causing trouble with the neighbors, they quickly learned to keep their hands off the droid. Often with a not so subtle reminder of a vibroblade at their throats.

O2 ambled through the town, exchanging waves with the occasional vendor. Stalls and shops lined the narrow, winding streets, colorful canopies providing shelter from the sun for the patrons below. Amidst the hustle and bustle, droids weaved through the crowds, delivering goods and providing services to customers.

As O2 approached the parts dealer, raised voices caught their attention. Nearby, at a fruit stand, a vendor held a pear just out of reach of a young girl. "That's not fair!" the girl protested, reaching for the fruit. "I already paid you!"

Deviating from their path, O2 made their way toward the girl. She appeared to be a young human with light hair, a visitor to the town.

"Hey, stop that!" O2 called out in their attempt at an authoritative tone. They reached the girl and bent slightly to address her. "Are you in trouble, young human?"

The girl turned to O2, visibly puzzled. After a moment of assessing the situation, she nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah," she replied, more confidently this time. "Yes. He's taking my money but insisting I still owe him more." She pointed a finger accusingly at the vendor.

O2 looked between the vendor and the little girl several times. When they finally grasped the situation, they exclaimed, “Ohh! You’re in trouble and need more credits. That’s perfect!” They poked open the compartment on their chest, revealing the credits.

The girl shook her head in disbelief. "N-no, I've already paid," she insisted, casting a disdainful glance at the vendor. "He's just trying to cheat me."

Raising a finger in a gesture of understanding, O2 interjected, "You're in trouble and these credits are for 'in case of trouble.'" They plucked out a few credits and pivoted at the hip to offer them to the vendor.

From behind the booth, the vendor's expression shifted to one of quiet annoyance, yet he begrudgingly began packing a bag with pears. "There's no trouble, O2," he retorted curtly, dropping the bag into the girl's arms. "Now, move along, kid."

The girl frowned at the man but did turn away. She looked up at O2 with a smile. “Thanks,” She pulled a curious face and stepped back from the droid for a better look. “You’re a B1 battle droid. What are you doing here?”

“I’m purchasing a new part.” O2 held up the broken circulator as proof.

She held back a smile. “No, no. I meant, weren’t all battle droids supposed to be decommissioned.” She gestured around her, “So what are you doing out here alone?”

O2 didn’t have time to respond when a man yelled, “Omega! Get away from that thing!” A male with a face tattoo shoved through the crowd and slammed the battle droid in the chest with the hilt of a blade.

“Whoa!” O2 yelled, stumbling backward into the fruit stand.

The little girl squeezed between O2 and the man. “Don’t hurt them, Hunter!” She threw her arms out to shield O2. “They were just helping !” Three other men arrived behind Hunter while O2 righted themself.

One of the men, with a socket for a hand, pushed to the front of the group and pointed his prosthetic at the droid. “Omega, you don’t know what that clanker is capable of.”

“Hey!” O2 whined in protest and shook a fist at him. “You can’t call me that!”

“Says who?” Growled the largest man of the group.

“Says my buddy!” O2 started reaching for its head to send out a comm when the fruit vendor grabbed his hand.

“O2!” He laughed nervously and patted the droid harshly, “There’s no trouble.” The vendor pointed a finger at the men. “I’m not dealing with their friend today, so move out.”

“Friend?” The big guy repeated incredulously.

The cyborg hovered his hand over the blaster at his hip. “Where’s your master, droid?”

O2 thrusted their head in a sassy manner, “I don’t have a master.”

Hunter moved Omega to the side and put his knife just below O2’s head. “Why don’t you take us to this friend of yours?”

“That depends.” O2 said skeptically. “Are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter passed a look to the men behind him. “An inn?”

“Only customers can come to the inn. So - are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter lowered the knife and jerked his head to say ‘get going’, “Sure thing. Now, let’s go.”

“Roger, roger.” The droid said with a little salute and then tapped his fingers to the tip of his face. “Say, do I know you guys?

“Move it, clanker.” The cyborg ordered again.

Back at the inn, you waited in the lobby reading through bank statements. The front door was open to the street, allowing you to hear O2’s distinctive footsteps approaching. You pushed away from and around the desk to greet them. “That may have been your fastest run yet. How much - oh!” You stopped mid sentence when a young girl trailed in behind the droid. Behind your headgear you smiled, “Did you make a friend?”

The little blonde waved up at you, “Hello.”

A dent in O2’s chest plate caught your eye. You motioned for the droid. “O2, what did you do to your chest plate?”

“Well, I didn’t do it.” The droid sassed, but moved forward and leaned down for you to inspect. You reached up, held their head, and moved it side to side for inspection. Other than the dent they were fine. You patted their face in relief when, from the corner of your eye four figures filed in.

You went stock-still at the sound of a familiar voice, Hunter’s voice. “You own this clanker?”

This was it. This was the day you died.

Giving O2 one last pat, you turned to face the Bad Batch standing in your doorway, as formidable as ever. Hunter led the group, with Echo on his left, Tech on his right, and Wrecker flanking Echo. Crosshair was conspicuously absent. Their mismatched armor was newly painted in vibrant colors.

Silently assessing them, you took a moment to compose yourself, shoving your fear and anger as deep as you could. Their demeanor said they didn't recognize you and you needed them gone before they did.

"Sure," you replied vaguely, your voice muffled by the voice modulator. Keeping your gaze fixed on the clones, you instructed O2, "O2, grab my satchels from the back." Without hesitation, the droid complied.

"What are you doing with a separatist battle droid?" Echo's voice bristled as he stepped forward. "Do you realize how dangerous that thing is?"

Images of Echo tending to your wounds flooded in, abruptly interrupted by the recollection of red blaster shots narrowly missing your head.

"OOM-672 has been reprogrammed," you replied, waving your hand dismissively. "They no longer pose a threat and wartime objectives have been nullified."

"Incorrect," Tech said as he tapped the side of his helmet to move his visor. "If the droid's reprogramming is faulty, it could revert to its original directives at any moment. Depending on the data stored in its memory, that could prove dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands." He advanced toward O2, pointing a finger. "Allow me to examine it—"

“Their programming is fine.” You instinctively took a step back, bumping into O2 with the bags you requested. One had spare credits for bribing them out of your parlor and, in case that didn’t work, the other contained a blaster and Bilaba’s lightsaber.

As you sorted through the first bag for credits, you spat, “No one lays a hand on the droid except me. Especially not a bunch of clones." With a flick of your wrist, you tossed a handful of credits at Hunter. "Now get out of my lobby.” You made the mistake of addressing them as clones and hoped the odd comment passed over them. They obviously didn’t look like other clones to the untrained eye.

"Oh!" O2's voice chimed in recognition, but you swiftly raised a hand to silence the droid.

“Do we look like we work for the Empire?” Wrecker asked, almost growled, with hands on Omega’s shoulders.

Hunter glanced at the credits before tossing them back. “Just let us look at the droid,” he urged.

Without missing a beat you caught the credits, brandished the blaster, and aimed it at the leader. Immediately, the other brothers aimed their blasters at you. "Got a malfunction in those helmets?" You gestured toward the exit with your weapon. "I said leave. No stranger gets their hands on my droid."

“Strangers?” O2 stepped to your side and pointed at the group of clones. “They’re not strangers. We know them.”

Your blaster dipped for a moment, frustration nipping at you before you firmed up your grip. “O2, knowing someone for five minutes doesn’t mean you know them.”

“Just calm down.” Hunter said slowly.

“Five minutes?” The battle droid shook their head in confusion. “We go waaay back.” They hummed a thoughtful sound. “Although they did stun me on Kaller.” A chill gripped your spine at the mention of Kaller.

"Kaller?" Omega's gaze flitted between the men around her. "Where's that?" The rustle of shifting armor filled the lobby as the four men exchanged glances, their blasters trained still on you.

“Who are you and how did you get that droid?” Echo's voice carried a forceful edge as he pushed you.

“Get out.” You repeated with more venom. “Clones follow orders. That’s an order.”

Hunter slowly raised his hands, removing his helmet and revealing his tattooed face. The sight of him made it hard to breathe through.

"We're not with the Empire," Hunter declared. "And we're not big on following orders, either."

"Liar!" Your scream reverberated through the room, the voice modulator straining against your volume. Something flickered in Hunter's expression.

For someone with no skin in the war, you were proving to be awfully reactive.

"Hunter," Tech intervened firmly, prompting you to swing your blaster in his direction. "Look at that blaster." You glanced down at your weapon, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

“What about it, Tech?” Hunter asked.

“That blaster has nonstandard modifications. Only five like it exist.” Tech explained, his tone serious.

“Not the time to be admiring blasters.” Echo snapped.

“The issue is,” Tech shot an annoyed look at his brother. “They are my modifications.” His grip relaxed slightly. “We have four of them and the other was - ”

You fired a shot at Tech before he could finish and attempted to fire another when Hunter lunged at you. He knocked the blaster from your hand and swung for your head. Wrecker shoved the kid behind him while you and Hunter exchanged blows, his hitting much harder than you remembered.

You saw Tech activating a stun grenade as O2 reached for your blaster. Yanking a vibroblade from your hip, you rammed the hilt of it into the side of Hunter’s head, causing him to stumble back. Swiftly, you lurched in the way of the stun grenade, intercepted it, and threw as far as you could behind you.

Echo took no time in disarming and disabling O2 while Hunter regained his senses and grabbed for you. His touch was a breath away when you thrust out your hands and blew him back with the Force. Before Hunter could register what happened, Wrecker grabbed you by the neck, and yanked you from the ground.

You clawed at his hand but couldn’t stop the giant crushing your windpipe and ripping off your headgear.

Seeing your bare face, livid and unable to breathe, shook Wrecker and gave you the chance to slam your feet into his stomach. He dropped you to the ground where you writhed and gasped for air. Your dropped blaster was nowhere in sight, but the other satchel was.

Still retching for air, you threw a hand out and the lightsaber flew to you. Green light blasted out of the hilt, parallel to the ground and putting a thrumming barrier between you and the clones.

“A Jedi?” Omega said in wonder, poking her head around Wrecker. Wrecker, notably, didn’t push her back behind him.

They all lowered their weapons and Tech, Echo, and Wrecker removed their helmets. Different shades of shock on all of them. “Sarad?” Tech spoke softly.

“Stay away from me.” You growled from the ground. Slowly, you repositioned yourself, strengthening your stance to pounce or run.

“We thought you were-”

“Dead?” You cut Wrecker off and cut a look at Tech. “Guess you aren’t as thorough as you think.” At that, Tech’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“We didn’t follow that order.” Hunter interjected.

“Liar!” You lashed out. “I heard the troopers. ‘Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.’”

Hunter started lowering himself to your eye level. “We let him escape.”

Echo stepped forward, his eyes avoiding yours. “We thought you were dead,” he admitted. He closed his eyes for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. “We thought the other troopers got to you, but we came looking for you as soon as we could.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, in your eyes the only thing they deserved were holes through their chests.

Out of all of them, Tech stood the straightest, his demeanor showing no sign of shame in their handling of the situation. Still, he thought carefully on how to say what he needed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he processed it.

When he locked eyes with you, it was clear he’d considered his words meticulously, repeating the process in his mind multiple times before coming to the same conclusion

“With your blood and broken armor, there were two plausible outcomes,” he began, counting them out with his fingers. “First, that you perished either by the troopers or the falls. The second, that you…” His gaze momentarily shifted away, seeing your armor in the rocks. “... that you escaped.” Returning his gaze to yours, he continued, “In both scenarios, our intervention would have only made things worse. And Crosshair-”

You jumped to your feet in a challenge, Hunter quickly positioning himself between you and the others. “I don’t believe you,” you hissed, swinging the saber to the side before snapping it back in front of you. “So finish what you started.”

Hunter maintained his steady gaze as his brothers holstered their blasters. “We won’t fight you,” he assured, his tone resolute. Your eyes darted between them, searching for any sign of aggression. Seconds stretched on but the men held their ground.

“He’s telling the truth,” Omega whispered, joining Hunter at his side. "All clones were programmed to follow that order." She cast a meaningful glance at the men surrounding her. "But their altered states made them immune to the order."

For months, anger had been your constant companion, fueling you through each passing rotation. Anger at the Jedi Purge, at the failures of the Republic, and most of all, the seething rage at the Bad Batch for leaving you behind to bear the weight of it all alone. Months of grief and pain don’t just disappear.

The room seemed to warp and blur around you, your grip on the saber beginning to falter. Clinging to it tightly, you gritted your teeth, fighting to maintain your composure. The world snapped back into focus when tears finally breached your resolve, slipping down your cheeks unchecked.

“Then….” your arm dipped before falling limply at your side. “You left me for dead.” Your voice cracked and the words came out in a sob. “You left me behind.”

You thought the pain of them hunting you was the worst thing you could experience. The realization of abandonment was worse. A tight knot formed in your stomach, threatening to make you sick.

Driven by months of simmering anger, you shook your head through your tears. , “I survived without you, and I’ll keep surviving without you.” You let the green light of the saber fade. “So just leave.” The last words came out less like the command you wanted it to be and more like plea.

Wrecker ‘s eyes went wide, “You think after all this time,” he gestured toward you, “when we just got you back, we’d just leave?” A defiant look passed over him. “Sorry, not happening.”

“Sarad,” Tech spoke like it was just the two of you. YoYou closed your eyes briefly, savoring the familiarity of his tone. For a moment, you thought they might all disappear, as if they were never there. “Leaving you was a choice we never wanted to make. But it was the choice that led us here and ensured your survival. Keeping you alive was more important than keeping you by our sides.” He nodded, standing firm in his choices. “Your survival was the only acceptable outcome.”

The lightsaber grew heavy in your hand.

Wrecker reached out with a pleading gesture. "The regs would've— we couldn't..." He faltered, searching for the right words, but Omega touched his forearm and urged him forward.

Wrecker stepped through his brothers and although you flinched like you might run he reached out and touched your face. First with one hand and then a second when you tried to turn away. Holding you like that, seeing you safe in his hands, made it hard for Wrecker to ever imagine letting go.

Tears continued to flow down your cheeks, falling over his hands. Wrecker swept them away with his thumbs before pulling you into his arms. "Sorry, Sarad. We're sorry."

Your hands hovered on either side of you, it was the first time you’d truly touched another organic lifeform since Kaller. The lightsaber hit the ground and you fell into Wrecker.

You’d let yourself feel angry at them all those months alone, but, in an instant, it was overshadowed by the grief of having been without them.

Pulling just out of Wrecker’s embrace you rubbed away the remaining tears. “I’ve missed you.”

“We missed you too.” Echo answered for the group.

Looking between them all, you felt like the world was a little safer. There were a few things standing out to you though. First being the little girl with them and Crosshair’s absence.

Immediately reading you, Hunter touched Omega’s shoulder. “A lot has changed.”

"I can see that," the girl smiled warmly at you, her expression oddly familiar despite never having met before.

Tech breezed past you, heading straight for O2. He knelt beside the droid, adjusting his goggles before turning to you. "So, you really salvaged this droid from Kaller?" You affirmed with a nod, prompting a look of mild disturbance from Tech. "And it's proven to be useful?" Another nod from you. "Well, that's just as surprising as your survival," he remarked, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

"Be kind to O2," you interjected, joining Tech by O2's side to rouse the droid. "They're my friend."

Echo scratched the back of his head, a sheepish expression crossing his features. "That's... going to take some getting used to."

Omega joined you and Tech, her eyes wide with fascination as Tech began to point out various features of the battle droid. A smile tugged at your lips as you watched the interaction unfold. The inn you had purchased never truly felt like home, much like Coruscant and the Jedi Order before it.

But here, amidst the Bad Batch, you finally felt a sense of belonging. You were home.

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saiidahyunie · 3 months

Text

loyalty, royalty, and death by exile

im nayeon x reader || fluff, smut, angst

synopsis: your brother's lover nayeon had already fallen for you behind his back, until she couldn't be yours to love anymore.

wc: 5.2k

warnings: smut, cursing, pining

a/n: school started again for me (naurrrrrr), but be aware for the lack of uploads. :0

—

“haven’t you heard the news?” your fellow guardmate changbin shoves your shoulder, snapping you out of your daydreaming, slapping the middle of his chest plate that makes him falter back from the surprise contact.

“no, what did i miss?”

“apparently your brother is in a relationship with the crown jewel of the im dynasty.”

changbin taps your back, nicking his head for you to follow in the corridors of the castle, following along as the noises of a common area in one of the bigger rooms—the exchange of laughs and cheers once you two reach the room. hanni, one of the other guards, opens the door for you two to enter briskly without anyone noticing.

“where were you guys?” hanni asks, signaling you to straighten your shoulder pads as changbin scrunches his nose at you, hiding a snicker as the door behind you three shuts behind.

“apparently y/n needed some fresh air for a bit, she’s been complaining about the armor being uncomfortable.”

“another yap from either of you two, and i’ll challenge both of you to a swordfight in the training quarters.”

you finally move around to the edge of the room, your brother felix now in your line of sight, with his brand new love interest right beside him. you’ve only heard from word of mouth, specifically from felix himself since he asked you about relationship advice.

despite bursting out laughing while shaking your head, your brother’s ears flaring red like there was steam coming out of them, you gave him the typical advice of charming his crush and not to do anything stupid.

to your surprise, after one gathering at a nightly party outside in the garden, he was able to get past that hurdle with ease, his new girlfriend getting more and more interested as time went on.

“y/n!”

you hear felix call out to you while on your way to the horse’s barracks, his girlfriend right behind with her hand in his, a beaming smile across her face once they finally reach you.

“you need something felix?” you ask, wiping your helmet with a finger.

“nothing, i just figured that i should thank you for your help. in return, i’d like you to meet princess im nayeon.”

“my lady, please tell me my brother here didn’t approach you with his charming deep voice.”

nayeon laughs, clearly elated to see that you were a very easy person with a sense of humor.

“he did, but don’t worry he did a lot more work to impress me.” nayeon replies, hand clasping hers in a firm handshake, meeting eye to eye of the pretty princess that your brother had managed to rope in.

“i hope i wasn’t interrupting something between you two, was i felix?” you ask, standing across from them with your helmet in your arm now.

“not at all, i was just taking her out to the lake just now, but we just caught you on the way.” he replies, rubbing his shoulder to ease the awkward aura.

nayeon looks towards you, eyes trailing at your features on your face, the little strands of hair peering over your forehead, eyes steel cold but piercing with life, how meticulously structured and molded like felix’s face—nothing short in terms of visuals in your family. it was easy to say that nayeon was interested in you from the start.

“well i don’t want to be holding up you two for too long so i’ll see you guys at dinner.” you say, a soft smile on your lips as you excused yourself from the couple.

a quick back and forth of goodbyes and you three start to walk away to your respected activities, little did felix know was that you and nayeon would look back at each other as the distance between you two grew larger.

—

in the several months that nayeon had walked into your life, courtesy of your brother, you found yourself indulging with nayeon more and more with the gatherings that you were assigned to oversee.

“you don’t have to be in guard mode all the time y/n. you need to let loose sometimes like the rest of us.”

“with all due respect princess, it’s my duty to ensure the protection for you and everyone’s safety at these events.”

nayeon tsks with her mouth, leaning over to you purposefully, spilling her drink over your shoe, making you gasp out loudly over the crowds noise.

“princes- nayeon what the fuck?!”

she laughs, hysterically.

“it’s always nice for you to have this so called responsibility to protect me, but you’re no fun if you’re just gonna stand there all tainted clad in armor. you want to drink and indulge with the rest of us don’t ya?”

“i’d give you an earful for staining my armor, but i'll save that for another time the next time i see you.”

nayeon grabs you by the hand, leading you away from your post in the garden, to a gate that leads to one of the outer concourses of the castle, an area that would be secluded for you two to get away at.

“if you want to have fun, let me get to know you more.” nayeon says, opening the gate that shows a visible trail—-away from the crowd with the woman that you’ve been interacted with that’s your brothers love interest.

“i’ll follow you along, princess.” you say happily, extending out your hand to hers, holding her dress as you two walk down the path together.

—

those meetings with her happen so and so often, it was basically bound to be a regular thing regardless the second you guys are in close proximity to each other. felix would be puzzled because of how you two would return together before he would see nayeon off into the night. he would ask you every now and then but most of the time you assured him that nothing bad was happening with her.

on winter one night just like the other nights before, you’ve grown to like nayeon. you stand there idly, while the gentle specks of snow sprinkle over your guard uniform, eyes fixed on the sight of her walking down the grand staircase, arm in arm with your brother, her fiance, face radiant with a bright glow that nearly causes you to double over in gazing.

beautiful, you wonder. she’s always been so beautiful. a small part in your mind knew it was wrong to pine after the potential connection to the nation’s throne like this, especially since you had some sort of status but the title of a disgraced member of the bloodline, who should be blessed to be in the graces of her presence.

nayeon was different. there was no denying that. you saw the way her brow furrowed in question when both of your fathers and your brother preached that the war was the only way to achieve peace, or the way she’d beg you to accompany her as she snuck out to get away from the talks of politics.

“we could get caught by doing this.” you whisper, helping nayeon get on the horse.

“isn’t this supposed to be fun to you? to live with a little danger once in a while?” nayeon reoplies, wrapping her arms around your waist as you ride straight to the horizon.

you would feel nayeon’s eyes searching for you every meeting, the way her face would be mirroring different expressions of your parents speaking to each other, causing you to snort out loud leading to getting scolded by everyone in the room.

there was no denying your jealousy for your brother, felix, it was only natural that he would be the one to court her into a marriage while you just stood back and watched the whole thing unfold. you were fond of nayeon when you first met her, she was sweet, very open, and pretty.

you thought about the possibility of them extending the family in the future once marriage talks were all done and set, promises of a life that you could never give her.

on one evening, it took every bone in your body to hold back watching various people argue over nayeon’s hand, and worried that she will agree to one. a selfish call was decided when you asked her to come with you quickly, blabbering that you needed to show her something that was important to you.

“everything okay?” nayeon asked, as you led her up the steps to a closed off balcony in the castle.

“yeah, i just wanted to show you something.” you answer, trying to hide the jealousy running through your veins.

fumbling around the pockets and grabbing the key that you stole from the fellow gatekeeper who was a very nice person, you opened the door to the balcony that your parents had forbidden anyone from stepping foot on or seeing.

nayeon gasped in amazement, face glowing by the moonlight and speechless to find the words that could describe the surprise you just unveiled to her.

she then notices the vine riddled with roses near the edge, tending to the impressive collection as you followed her, plucking one out and placing it in her arms.

“a gift for you, princess.”

“thank you, my guard.”

you two would spend hours on the balcony, looking down at the various plants and talk about old memories about people they knew. nayeon then turns your body to face you, the silence filling the air with the faint sound of crickets as she looks at you fiddling with a rose in your hands.

“y/n, is there something that you wanted to tell me?” she asks, voice peeping through a slight hope.

“uhh.” you begin. yes, i wanted to pull you away from the meeting to tell you that i am deeply and insanely in love with you. i want to take you away from this boring hell hole of a castle and give you a world at your heart’s desires, even if it were to kill me. “nothing, just the secret balcony that no one is allowed to come up to.” you boringly say.

“ah, okay.” is all that nayeon says, and you walk her back down, head pounding with regret.

you remember the different nights spent together before your brother proposed to nayeon, the night at the local bar, watching the group of people dance with the mixture of many instrumental tunes. it was all so goofy to think about, making silly expressions, spinning around mindlessly to the banjo and drums playing. you noticed how nayeon’s eyes were glowing with bliss. she hardly smiles like that, you think to yourself.

“i’m jealous of you y/n.” she says to you one night, as you two quickly walk up the hill, the rain being merciless in pouring.

“why? what makes you say that?” you enquire, noticing an empty shed outside the castle, dragging her inside.

you notice her shoulders shivering, her silky brown hair sticking to her face, and her cheeks hinted with red from the cold. she had a scarf wrapped around her dress that wasn’t a viable layer to keep her warm and without a second thought, you slipped off your guard jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

nayeon looks at you with fluttering lashes, eyes full of something that you just didn’t know or notice.

“about your question from earlier.” she starts, tightening your jacket around her body. “i’ve always been jealous of how you could just live for yourself, not being forced to follow the ridiculous rules that are expected for a royal member.”

you pause, unsure of what to say after.

“you have the right to live for yourself.” you say, after a brief moment of silence. nayeon’s laugh fills your ears, before taking a step closer to you.

“you’re funny, you know that?” nayeon whispers to you, leaving you confused. “maybe i could live for myself, refuse the royal livelihood and marry whoever i want.” eyes flickering to you as she says the last couple of words.

the last sentence stabs your heart, like losing a joust without the armor. you knew that your time was ticking with her, and she’d eventually marry your brother felix. you and her would still see each other, but the heavenly restriction would only just keep you two apart. it wasn’t over just yet, but you wanted this to last a little bit longer.

nayeon tiptoes a bit, glancing at your eyes before trailing down to your soft lips. you catch yourself leaning in closer, feeling the strong urge to meet them, to show how badly you loved her, and how you may just be part of the royal guard, but you would kill to be with her, and run away to some place where she could be truly happy.

reality comes calling and you stop, pulling away to point at the window next to you two,

“the rain stopped.” you say, heart beating rapidly but also melting away with regret, again.

“oh.” is all that’s heard from nayeon’s mouth, and they walk back to the castle in silence, neither of you willing to address the thick fog of confusion and tension hanging within the air.

you drag yourself back to the present with a few blinks as you stood there, on guard, waiting to hear to what the major announcement was.

“my fellow subjects!” you hear your father exclaim out, everyone in the hall came to a standstill including nayeon and her family, and you suddenly realize that the marriage wasn’t announced to the public yet.

“in a momentous celebration to commemorate our victory in the war, my prince will marry the lovely princess nayeon of the im dynasty!”

a white screech pierces your ears, drowning out the cheers as the whole world around you just crumbled. heart heavy and your legs turn into jelly. this has to be a trick right? your eyes try to meet with nayeon’s but she was frozen with the reminder, still as a painting, and your head spins.

the people were cheering and hugging each other, as you keep the order in the hall, your father’s words still pounding in your ears.

—

later that night, you stand outside nayeon’s door, questioning yourself if this was the right move to see her or not. your mind had a protocol to follow, but all of that was in the back of your mind since you only knew one thing—you had to see her.

so you knock twice, before you hear the gentle voice on the other side of the door prompting you to come in, and you enter, walking straight to sit on the edge of her bed. right beside her, as always.

“princess nayeon.” you say, sitting next to her like a dog with its owner, eyes locked on her and only her.

“just nayeon y/n, i have to keep reminding you every day.” she jokes, tapping your shoulder, making you tense but you gather your thoughts.

“we already knew, but this pretty much makes this official doesn’t it, marrying my brother felix?” you ask, voice slightly breaking from an emotion that you still couldn’t fathom to understand.

“i don’t have a choice. but if this is their step towards celebrating peace, then i can’t do much about it.” nayeon mumbles, leaning forward on the bed, face crestfallen.

she looks so sad, you think to yourself, and your heart was breaking for her. the guard role and title didn’t matter to you since you genuinely wanted to comfort her, taking nayeon into your arms, promising her that she would always be safe with you, saying that you’ll love her for lifetimes and many different universes.

you open your mouth, like a grunt escaping your lips, causing nayeon to look up at you. you clear your throat soon after, and you catch yourself staring at her for a few minutes. it was all so usual for you to do, and you stand up to walk to the window, still having no words.

“what is it y/n?” nayeon asks, face beet red.

“nayeon.” you whisper, kneeling in front of her at the bed again, placing your arms on both sides of her legs. “i know this is wrong for me to say this, but you have every right to punish me for the words i’m about to say to you, but princess, i am madly and deeply in love with you.”

nayeon’s mouth drops, and you look away, excusing yourself to leave, the regret from your words no longer there but this was against everything you took an oath for as her in the name of the elite guard. nayeon places a hand on your arm, causing you to kneel in front of her again.

“what do you mean by that? for how long?” nayeon asks, unable to decide which question was more pressing to you.

“since i met you for the first time and laid eyes on you. i feel like we’ve been in this situation before in another time that i can’t explain.” you try to explain, knowing that the words probably wouldn’t make sense but you had to give your reason in your love for her. “i’m so happy that it’s you that i love. the world feels a little lighter whenever we look at each other, calming my nerves that’s turning inside me, and i don’t want anything more for us to hide away from the world and be in love together, alone.”

nayeon tilts your head up with her long, soft fingers, and notices the way you still refuse to make eye contact with her.

“y/n.” she whispers, leaning her face closer, causing your forehead to touch with hers, “look at me.”

always astute to follow orders, and you look at her, nayeon leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips. this broke the drawbridge within you, wrapping your arms around her, shifting the position so that you were above, the kiss becoming more and more desperate by the second since the both of you knew that time was running out.

your lips move down to her neck, placing small pecks all over the area, your warm breath lingering over her collarbones. you reach to her chest, and the vein in your neck twitches from a simple look at her breasts, causing your body to overcome with oozing lust.

holding yourself back, you sit up, lips swollen and red, trying to collect your breath as you look down at nayeon’s messy hair, lips like yours, desire pulling you in for more.

placing your hands between her face, “i love you so much.” you mumble in between the kiss, causing nayeon to giggle against you.

“i have too, you idiot. i’ve been waiting for you to notice for so long.” she says, and you could legitimately die from that moment she said that to you.

“let me rephrase, i’ve wanted you for so long.” you whisper, lips grazing her chest.

“why don’t you show me how much you’ve always wanted me.”

nayeon’s fingers laced with yours, taking extra care as you showered every part of her body with soft, loving kisses as soft moans are falling out of nayeon’s mouth.

“i have,” you mutter between kisses again, “never done this before.” you say breathlessly, nayeon scratching your hair out of affection.

“this is also my first.” she laughs out, and tugs at your collar. “get this off, now.”

the next few minutes are filled with stripping, and you guide nayeon to lay on her back again, the soft moonlight breaking through the curtains illuminating her nude body. you gasp in rapture, unable to control yourself any longer.

you gently slide nayeon’s legs open, tracing patterns with your lips on her inner thighs, eyes locked on ther face, the want to give her nothing but pleasure, the only objective in your mind right now.

tracing your finger along her wet folds, she gasps when you insert a finger inside of her, causing nayeon to moan and throw her head back against the pillow. you slow your pace with another finger, rubbing her clit in between the motion, eyes filled with a loving haze. your cunt was throbbing at the sound of her moans filling up the room, you just wanted to make her feel good.

“i need-” nayeon says suddenly, “your mouth, please.”

you happily oblige, latching your lips to her pussy, causing her to groan out louder as she grasps the back of your head. humming into her leaking core, you insert your fingers inside of her, legs twitching at the new stimulus clouding her mind as she’s lost in the pleasurable contact from you.

“you’re mine only.” you whisper out before diving back into her pussy, tongue slicing through the center as you feel nayeon’s back arching off from the mattress. she was going to cum sooner thatn you think, the rhythm of your mouth doubling back in pace. you shoot yourself off from her pussy, kissing her cheek as you continue to pump your fingers inside of her.

“to think that you’d marry my brother, he won’t love you the way that i do.”

you mutter those hot words into her mouth, pinching her clit as well as pressing past her g-spot causing nayeon to finally come undone, holding her for dear life soon after she’s recovered, almost worried that they’ll be ripped away from each other, mumbling declarations of love over and over again in the ungodly hours of the night.

—

the next few weeks that passed were exchanges of stolen kisses and escapes to the outer field and courtyards, much like teenagers with the way they expressed their newly blossomed love.

you and nayeon weren’t complete fools though, and neither of you wanted to address the preparing marriage. nayeon just pretended that it didn’t exist in her mind, whereas the thought of it crossing your head drew out a sense of jealousy for your brother.

on one night, after another round of love, nayeon sucking the core out of you, her head is found on your chest, twiddling her fingers across your breasts and the bud of your exposed nipple, quietly listening to your beating heart.

your fingers were laced in her hair, ears filled by the gentle breaths breezing through your nostrils.

“you should run away with me.” you propose suddenly, sitting up with nayeon’s hand with yours. “i may not offer much, but i promise to give you everything that you want and need.”

“i don’t need anything but you, and i’m fine exactly right where i am.” nayeon mumbles, making your throw a dumb smile across your lips.

—

you pace around your living quarters with a surge of excitement. in just a few hours, you’ll leave this godforsaken place, hand in hand with nayeon as you embark on a new life of freedom over the chained life of royalty.

as you walked to her bedroom in your family’s castle, hands tightly holdling a small box in your pocket, you hear your name being called that makes you stop in your tracks, turning around to see your father and brother walking towards you, face wearing an unusual smile.

“y/n.” your father says, opening a door that was a few steps down from nayeon’s. “we need to have a talk about something important, come.”

you nod, following orders without bearing a question past your lips.

the door closes and your brother takes his place next to your seated father, you standing across from them—a confrontation that could only spell disaster.

“felix here has been telling me that you’ve been fooling around with his fiance.” he starts off saying, face looking cross with a harsh tone welded to the words.

“with all due respect sir,” your father knew that he hated the formality that you put up whenever talking to him, “i wasn’t fooling around. i love nayeon, sincerely.”

“not for long you are.” your father scoffs out, your brother looking down with a bleak smirk on his face.

“what is the meaning of this?” you ask, standing your ground, fists loaded.

“it’s quite simple for you isn’t it y/n?” felix says, almost mocking your attitude. “you love nayeon so much that you’d do anything for her?”

“without question.”

“then we order you to do something for us.” your father says again, leaning closer. “you tell nayeon that you don’t love her, and she gets married to your brother. she’ll be able to live a life of wealth and grandeur, and you’ll be cut off from the family entirely.”

“and if i refuse?”

“she’ll die on the degree of treason. not you though, since the judgment for you would be living the reset of your life knowing that your actions led to the demise of the person you loved dearly. remember, i have eyes and ears spread across this kingdom. you and nayeon will never live in peace.”

you wanted to scream, defy against your father and brother, bolt to nayeon’s room and get out of the place you despised so much. but you were smart about this, how else did you get into the family’s elite guard in the first place. your father would be able to find you both and you couldn’t do anything to get nayeon hurt because of you.

“okay.” you finally say, surrendering to your dad’s power. “i’ll accept your terms.”

“good, felix take y/n on your way out will ya?” your father replies, satisfied with the decision. as felix grabs you by the shoulders, ushering your way out and down the steps.

you and felix stayed silent as the both of you made your way to the dining commons, fighting back tears from the events that just happened about twenty minutes ago still fresh in your mind.

“you know, nayeon asked me for my permission about you.” felix says out of nowhere, making you stop in your tracks, facing him at the surprise confession.

"what?"

“i’ve seen the way she looks at you, her and i have known each other since we were little. but when she saw you that day, her eyes looked so different compared to when she’s with me.”

you fight back tears that were about to spill from your eyes, biting your inner cheek, knowing that this was all too late to salvage anything from this point.

“i was never in the right position for her anyway.” you say, “we both know that i was never fit to be royal material, that’s why i joined the elite guard.”

“i’m sorry y/n. i really am.” felix replies, “maybe if things were different with how everything is, all of this wouldn’t have happened.”

“felix, it’s fine.”

“i just wish we had a different scenario for the both of us.” he says to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, not willing to meet his eyes. “you’ll find someone like you, eventually.”

you clench your jaw at the last sentence, frothing internally from the comment your brother just uttered, fist ready to break the nearby pillar next to you.

—

a day later after the confrontation with your father, you walk towards nayeon’s room once again, mind numb as the words rang in your head. the only way to protect nayeon was to destroy her, and you let out a bitter laugh at the cruel joke your mind just constructed upon yourself.

“y/n!” nayeon gasps, rushing towards you and engulfing you in a tight hug. you look down at the princess who had a blissful face. were things supposed to end like this? to rip her heart to shreds? the one you fought so hard to win?

you stood still, like a stone, face stern with a mixture of emotions swimming underneath. nayeon notices this unusual behavior, and places a hand on your chest.

“my love, are you okay?” she asks you, and you take a sigh before taking a step back, waving her hand off your chest, confusing her.

“i think, i have to confess something to you.” you state, trying not to meet eyes with hers.

“what are you talking about?”

“all of this,” you say, waving your finger between you two, “everything that i said and did, it was never meaningful or real.” you almost choke on the words you forced yourself to utter out.

“so you’re saying is–” nayeon cuts herself off, voice breaking before even finishing the sentence.

“fuck, i’m trying to say that i never loved you, okay?! this wasn’t all supposed to happen in the first place. all of it.” you regret the words as soon as they leave your lips.

nayeon’s eyes widened, biting her lip, fighting the urge to cry in front of the people she didn’t trust. you clasp your arm, doing everything in your willpower to not comfort her.

“of course, that’s how it is then is it?” she laughs out bitterly, sitting on the edge of her bed, face full of hurt. “all of this was just to mess with the esteemed princess and ruin everything good that’s happened in her life for the past weeks. this just proves everything that i feared about you.”

you stood there, not letting the resolve break you in front of nayeon.

“nay-”

“get the fuck out.” nayeon yells urgently, and you turn away in a flash, door slamming behind you as you stumble on the steps once alone.

—

weddings, they’re the worst.

you stand there at the beginning of the ceremony besides the bridesmaids, the only girl there wearing a suit, hands clasped together as you watch nayeon walk down the aisle, hugging her father before facing your brother, her new husband to be.

she looked so ethereal to look at, and you were fighting your inner conscience, wishing that you were in felix’s place instead, hearing the exchange of vows—the agreement of a lifetime of love and security with her. instead, here you are, on the sidelines, nothing but a mere member of the audience, trading your love for the promise of keeping her safe.

you wanted to object, defy the presentation and speak your truth, taking nayeon down the aisle and away from everything that you spoke in your bedside talk with her. now, you just watched as felix and nayeon share a kiss, and they both walk down—arm in arm with her new husband and she offers a fake smile to everyone, you always knew that her eyes would always light up when she was smiling with genuine intent, and avoids looking at you.

the reception was at the nearby hall next to the chapel, holding the box in your hands in a secluded corner away from the crowd. your father calls you over, seeing your mother and felix stand beside him, pressing your lips knowing the gravity of the situation from this point on.

you move past the three across from you, your father signaling the guards waiting at the doors to be shut once you were outside, closing you off from the family and nayeon from your life forever.

#saiiidahyunee #twice x reader #kpop x reader #im nayeon #twice nayeon #nayeon x reader #twice fluff #twice angst #nayeon smut #twice smut #twice imagines #nayeon fluff #nayeon angst

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loviatarsluv · 3 months

Text

An Acquired Taste

“You play a twisted little game,

but I know in a way,

you need to complicate

believe that though we never eat,

we still know how to feed,

we still know how to bleed”

Astarion x AFAB female rogue tav (third person, no super descriptive features aside from hair color and body)

takes place earlier into act 1, long before the grove party (I have plans for that)

rating: VERY mature (smut incoming lets go besties!!!!!!)

CW: threats of bodily harm (eheh), lots of sexual tension, choking, fingering, oral, some light knifeplay

a/n: I’m gonna be 100% honest w u I have not written in forever so I’m admittedly very rusty, but I have not seen enough enemies to lovers with astarion and I just needed it so thus this was born ^.^

in summary: astarion and tav butt heads constantly and get into a blow up fight where they both say shit they shouldn’t, tav is overwhelmed by everything and he is not helping, so she goes to blow off some steam once they get back to camp and he, of course, petty as he is, cannot let her have a single moment of peace and follows her. she threatens to slit his throat and he gets horny. as one does 🤷‍♀️ (just like me fr)

word count: 7.6k (i'm so sorry i was possessed writing this apparently)

(I have no idea where I got this gif from if someone knows tell me and I’ll tag the op!!)

The trek back to camp is mostly silent, save for the odd comment about the weather or spew of stream of consciousness by Karlach, which provided at least a tiny bit of comic relief.

The air was thick and suffocating between the party’s leader and the vampire who just loved to piss her off - it almost always was slightly tense, but today in particular was much different than what was usual for them.

As soon as they reach the camp, the group splits, all scattering across the site to their own chosen sections of it, Astarion nonchalantly strolling off to his own tent, which just so happened to be the closest one to hers. She audibly growls in frustration, earning a few concerned stares from her companions. She can’t even find peace in her own tent.

Before any of her companions can stop her or inevitably approach her with questions about what happened between her and Astarion or unsolicited and, quite frankly, unnecessary advice, she slips off to the place that had been the one piece of solace she had been able to find as of late. The clearing in the forest near the water's edge that was just outside of camp.

The usually ataractic smell of petrichor mixed with the misty air near the running stream fill her nose as she trudges through the muddy soil, her leather and metal plated boots feeling ten stones heavier than usual. She sets her sights on a fallen tree near the water, sinking down into the dirt before it, releasing a long and deep breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding for what felt like days.

She slowly strips off the outer layers of her lightly plated armor piece by piece, goosebumps prickling her skin with each new bit of skin exposed to the crisp evening air. She discovers a few new bruises and scrapes that hadn’t been there previously when removing certain parts of her gear had become painful, her skin tender and sore beneath it. Her entire body ached, and she was utterly sapped.

The previous few days had been more challenging than anything she’d experienced in recent history - their predicament unfolding before them all in increasingly bleak shades of stormy gray and blood red with each new bit of information they receive regarding the mystery surrounding the parasites that writhed within their skulls. She’d be lying if she said she still held the same amount of optimism toward the prospect of a cure as she had in the earlier days of their expedition. No, that was long gone.

In fact, the only emotion she seemed to feel lately was anger. Rage.

She knew that the world was going to shit prior to being abducted by the mind flayers, but she had never seen for herself how truly doomed it was the way she had since then. It was sobering, to say the least.

She never considered herself to be particularly altruistic or even virtuous by any means, having only been able to survive by picking pockets and slitting throats that stood in the way since her early teen years. She wasn’t proud of it all, and her mind was not unburdened with the guilt that came with some of it, but it was necessary at the time. It continued to be necessary, even more so now.

An image of home flashes through her mind - Baldur’s Gate. The bustling streets, the busy taverns, the upper city where she procured the majority of her coin. She chuckles to herself as she thinks of all of the nobles whose pockets she’d made lighter who were none the wiser - hells, most of them probably never noticed as gold was never in short supply for them the way it was for the rest of the population. They were easy targets only due to their noses being so high in the air that they didn’t notice those beneath them, scrounging the streets for the crumbs they crushed beneath their perfectly polished boots.

All she had to do was bat her eyelashes, whisper the same sweet nothings that worked on every single one of them, and expertly slip her hand into their pockets while they were enchanted by her every move. It was easier than easy, it was effortless.

She almost misses it - things were simpler, then. It had all become routine after so many years of it. Of course, there was still the threat of death looming over her at every turn but at least she could put up a fight against the daggers and swords that were held to her throat - there was no fighting this. She couldn’t threaten the tadpole with knives or swords or warfare, and she certainly couldn’t fight off ceremorphosis by sheer willpower. Sure, she could cut through every goblin, drow, or cultist that dared cross her path if they didn’t offer a cure or information for a cure, but none of that mattered as the creature inside her was nothing more than a ticking time bomb. Every second that passes could be her last without tentacles and an insatiable appetite for brains, and she’d be rendered nothing more than a soulless monster, doomed to follow every command given to it by an even bigger monstrosity.

Her hope and faith in finding a solution deteriorated more and more as the days passed with no answers, no leads, the prospect of making it out on the other side of this predicament seeming ever more distant.

She groans loudly to herself, tossing her head into her hands as she brings her knees closer to her chest, wishing she could shrink and disappear. Wishing the mud below her would form a sinkhole and just swallow her, that way it didn’t matter anymore, nothing would.

“Fuck,” She whispers through gritted teeth as she feels tears starting to well up in her eyes, much to her physical and internal protest.

In spite of her throbbing muscles and aching bones, she pushes herself up from the ground, refusing to resort to wallowing in self pity and mourning her once simple life.

But her chest feels as though it were caught in a vice, clamping down on her ribs and lungs and it felt as if she were fighting for every breath. Her fists were clenched so tightly and her nails dug into her palms so deeply that they were on the verge of drawing blood. She felt the need to scream, to cry, to break something - even though none of it would alleviate the weight that rested on her shoulders so heavily. Nothing that was within her reach could.

She felt like everything had come crashing down on her all at once and she was helpless to fight the barrage of what ifs and the potential outcomes of them flooded her mind.

Then, to top it all, her earlier argument with Astarion resurfaces in her mind.

“Apologies for not being as keen to remove the thing that has given me what I’ve been deprived of for two centuries. I’m only saying that we should—“

“So you’d trade feasting on rats in a dirty cell for feasting on brains at the command of some start-up god? You must really be desperate.”

His crimson eyes that were typically bright and playful were now dark and malignant, his jaw clenched and fangs bared. He looked as though he were about to lunge at her, before Wyll grabs him and pulls him back.

She regretted it the moment it left her lips, but she was too angry and too prideful to take it back. But he was seriously irking her - he provoked it out of her, she could hardly blame herself or feel sorry.

“What about you? Roaming the streets, scrounging through the garbage and the dirt for table scraps, stealing from nobles - you’re no better than the rats I fed on, the only difference is that the ones I fed on were more tolerable.”

It was then her turn to get pulled away, as within an instant her dagger was unsheathed and pointed in his direction. She couldn’t tell who it was that grabbed her - perhaps Gale, she thought, who was much stronger than he looked as he subdued her fairly quickly, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her backwards.

It took a lot of talking both of them down to diffuse the situation enough to safely make it back to camp in one piece, both of them too stubborn and prideful to let the matter rest until they just couldn’t stand to be near each other anymore.

His voice echoes in her head, reminding her of every person she’d ever reached out to for help in her life, degrading her to nothing more than a street rat begging for scraps. Her temper rises as she replays his words - “you’re no better than the rats I fed on” - over and over, finally tipping her over the edge.

She retrieves her rapier from the heap she’d discarded her armor and clothes in, rushes toward a large oak tree, swinging it into the trunk over and over until there’s large slashes in the trunk, the bark flying in shards and bits.

She steps back, breath ragged and heavy, eyes burning with tears that she refused to shed, especially over him and his damned opinion.

She's too enthralled in her own outburst to notice the footsteps approaching in the forest behind her.

“And what exactly did that tree do to deserve your wrath?” Astarion taunts, slowly stalking up behind her.

She doesn’t turn to face him, nor does she acknowledge him at all, tossing her weapon to the ground and walking back toward the stream.

“Tsk, I’m getting the silent treatment now? No scathing insults or cruel comments regarding my past?” He continues to prod, following a few steps behind her.

“Fuck. Off.” She growls through gritted teeth.

He chuckles, the sound bitter and disingenuous, goading.

“Oh, darling. You couldn’t possibly think that we wouldn’t have to kiss and make up after our little spat earlier. We’re stuck with each other in this sordid endeavor, after all.”

Her knuckles have gone white with the force of her clutching onto the fabric of her undershirt that she’d thankfully left on, on the off chance one of her companions came to check on her. Much to her dismay, of course it was the one companion she wished she had never laid eyes on to begin with.

“I’d rather kiss a leech, darling,” she spits, her tone coated in vitriol. “I have nothing more to say to you, unless you’d like me to return the favor of holding a dagger to your throat.”

When they’d met outside the nautiloid crash, and the elf held her at knifepoint demanding information, assuming she was a thrall or working with the mind flayers, she thought perhaps they would get along. She immediately recognized him as a kindred spirit as she knew that she would’ve done the same in his shoes, hells, she was even attracted to him.

Oh, how wrong she’d been.

Well, not about the attraction. That, unfortunately, did not dissipate.

If anything, it only made her hate him more.

He almost cackles, stalking in ever closer, closing the gap between them step by step. She resists the urge to step backwards to increase the distance between them once again, and stays planted in place out of spite, digging her heels into the dirt for extra support.

“I think there’s a lot that we both want to say and do to each other - the question is who’ll be the first to act.” His voice is equal parts threatening and sultry - something only he did so well.

He could make you loathe him and lust him in one fell swoop with ease. It was one of his biggest strengths, and a large reason why she hadn’t told him to piss off and find another group to leech off of. He was useful in and out of battle, much to her dismay.

“The only thing I want to do with you at this very moment is throw your pasty ass in the river and hope that you’ve forgotten how to swim.” She spat.

He continues to stalk closer, their bodies now less than a foot apart.

“You’re stubborn. I like that about you. You don’t accept defeat easily, even when it’s knocking at your door. It’s quite admirable, really,” he pauses to lean forward, lowering his face so they’re eye to eye.

“Admit it, dear, you’ve met your match with me.” He grins a devilish grin that she wants to slap off of his pretty mouth. If he were any closer, she might have.

“This isn’t a competition. I want to be rid of this damned thing and you want to step in the way of my and everyone else’s survival at every turn just for your own selfish sake!” She seethes, her voice raising and echoing through the woods.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t act as though you give the slightest bit of a damn about anyone’s survival but your own, altruism isn’t a good look on you, pet. You and I are cut from the same cloth, whether you want to admit that to yourself or not.”

Her once empty fist was now grasping the handle of her dagger that she had sheathed and strapped to her thigh, as she always did, a habit that came in handy more times than she’d like for it to.

“I am nothing like you.” Is all she manages to hiss before he finally closes the gap between them, his face merely inches from hers, basically towering over her - their stark height difference being something only he had noticed and fully planned on using to his advantage.

He feels the heat radiating off of her, and he tells himself that it’s due to more than just anger to stroke his own ego. He knew that she was attracted to him, he’d caught her eyes lingering on him when she thought he wouldn’t notice - when he’d change into his evening clothes just outside his tent, when he would traipse off into the woods to hunt at night, and in general throughout their days traveling he would catch her eyes on him, watching him. It made it all the more exciting for him, knowing that even though she despised him, she’d let him have his way with her if the opportunity arose. He was just biding his time for the right moment and preparing all the perfect words that he knew would reduce her to putty in his hands.

“Keep telling yourself that, if it’ll help you sleep peacefully at night.” He whispers, his eyes dark and hungry - she couldn’t decipher whether it was for her or her blood in one way or another.

“How can I sleep peacefully knowing there’s a bloodsucker who hates me in the next tent over from me?” She half jokes, not letting this closeness falter her composure, despite the way her heart was racing a million a minute.

He flashes that damned smirk that he does when he’s up to something, one of his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip as he does, glinting in the golden glow of the sunset. He almost looked human, in this light. His usually pallid skin is nearly lively and his crimson eyes almost appear to be a shade of dark brown instead. Although, she thinks that his eyes were probably blue, before. Not that it mattered, not that she cared.

“What makes you think that I hate you, darling?” His face flashes a feign innocent expression, in spite of his eyes still holding that same intense darkness that bordered between disdain and desire.

“I certainly don’t think that you like me, by any means. And don’t worry, the feeling is mutual.”

His smirk widens into a sadistic grin, both fangs now on display.

“On the contrary, sweetness. I think we need to stop lying to each other if we’re going to continue this little adventure of ours together,” his voice is low and breathy, rumbling in his chest almost like a growl. He brings a hand up to trace the side of her jaw gently, and she flinches away.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” He continues, his once gentle caress turning into a rough and forceful grab as he forces her to look at him, his blood red eyes boring into hers.

“I only watch you because I don’t trust you. I thought that’d be pretty clear.” It was a lie. She knew it was a lie, but it was only a half lie, technically. She didn’t trust him, she hadn’t since the beginning.

He lets out another cruel laugh, and she knows that he caught on.

“Hmm. You know, I’d assume you would be a better liar - how disappointing for you, but delicious for me.”

This was the last straw for her as she promptly unsheathes the dagger that her finger had been itching over since he made his unwelcome appearance into her life, pressing it to his throat, slowly pushing him backwards until his back hits the nearest tree.

His demeanor doesn’t falter for an instant, his face still twisted into that same demented sneer - the bastard was enjoying this.

The air between them was so thick it would have had to be cut with a great sword as their eye contact never breaks, neither of them intending to surrender.

“Give me one reason not to slit that pretty throat of yours.” She snarls behind gritted teeth.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple grazing against the cool metal of her blade. He stares down at her and can’t help but admire her - eyes wild, long raven black hair uncharacteristically disheveled with some strands sticking to her forehead due to leftover dried sweat and grime, her pressed against him hard with only a flimsy shirt shielding her body from him. He doesn’t even try to hide it, letting his tongue slip out to wet his bottom lip, an undeniably lustful look in his eyes.

It takes her a moment to notice when she finally comes back to her senses after her adrenaline settles, a scowl painting across her face as the realization hits.

“You’re disgusting.” She hisses, pulling away from him, lowering her blade.

Despite her words, the way he was looking at her sparked something in her - something she had done so well to disregard and push down up to this point, but her resolve was weakening under his gaze.

He doesn’t respond, eyes never leaving her as they trail up and down her body, constantly returning back to her bare legs and thighs. And from the angle she stood, with the sunset behind her, her light colored linen shirt was nearly opaque and he could see the outline of her body. He feasted his eyes on her delicate curves, the way her hips jutted out and her waist dipped in above them, her toned arms flexing, muscles clenching. She was unquestionably sexy, and his craving for her had doubled if not tripled at the sight of her in this way, even after she pressed her dagger to his neck. Hells, even then.

She starts to back up as his gaze only intensifies - hungry eyes trailing her body felt like hot coals being dragged across her skin.

Before she can make it more than a couple inches away, his hands are grasping her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh to a bruising point, pulling her back to him and flipping them so that her back is flush against the tree where his had been, effectively switching the roles and asserting his dominance over her, as he’d been dying to do for what felt like centuries.

His icy hand comes up to her throat, closing his fist around it firmly but not enough to entirely restrict her breathing and pinning her against the wood, his face now close enough to feel her hot breath against his cheeks.

The rough bark digs into her scalp and back, his fingers press into the spot just below her jaw near her pulse point. He feels her pulse thrumming rapidly against his fingertips, he can hear her heartbeat racing in her chest.

“You wound me, pet… I almost believed that one.” He purrs, his cold breath and the tone of his voice sending a chill down her spine, and an unwelcome heat through her, pooling low in her core.

With one hand still on her throat, his other hand rests on her waist before languidly roaming the parts of her body that weren’t covered by his own pressed against it.

She feels helpless under his touch, all of her previously built up walls and her icy facade start to melt beneath him, but not without her brain chiming in and reminding her who he is and how bad of an idea this was.

“Let me go.” She whispers plainly, unable to muster enough nerve to yell or scream or fight back, settling for no emotion at all.

He smirks at her, his hand advancing upwards, his fingers laving over the side of her breast, causing her nipples to harden, peaking against the soft linen fabric of her shirt.

“Is that what you really want, darling? Your body tells a different story,” he hums, his finger now grazing her nipple agonizingly gently, disrupting any thought or intention of fighting him off.

She's unable to find a word that could suffice in telling him to stop, but also dear gods please keep going. Her body was taking the reins, and she blames it on having not had any sort of intimacy since long before the nautiloid. Only to avoid the prospect that she was truly enjoying this.

Her silence doesn’t suffice, though.

He tightens his grip on her throat, pressing his index finger and thumb on either side of her jaw to direct her face so their eyes meet.

“I need you to tell me what you want, pet. I can’t do anything for you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

She bites down on her bottom lip almost hard enough to bite through, a slight metallic taste hitting her tongue. Her body was trembling with the effort it took to contain herself, to not give in to him but it was proving to be an insurmountable task. The logical side of her brain wants to say no just so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of her begging for him like he wants, but she can’t. The part of her brain that is apparently driven by the spot between her legs and the rest of her body is screaming over any logic and telling her everything she doesn’t want to hear.

“Harder.” She barely manages to choke out, her voice strained against the pressure of his hand on her throat.

He freezes, his body stilling and tensing up.

“What was that, darling? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He grits his teeth, his voice low and his mouth centimeters from her ear.

“Harder.” She says louder, placing her hand over his and pressing down.

Gods, he could’ve come undone right then and there.

Without another word, their lips collided in a frenzied and feral kiss, one that was inevitable, they both learned, judging by how effortless the kiss was - their lips melding and their tongues in sync as if they’d done it a million times before. Her fingers ran through his ivory curls, tugging at the roots and eliciting a groan from him that sent a chill up her spine.

He obliged her request, slightly closing his fist tighter around her neck, which chokes a moan out of her that he quickly swallows in another kiss. His free hand greedily continues to roam and grab at anything he can - her thighs, her ass, her breasts, her hips. He can't get enough of her, he swears even being inside her wouldn't satiate his desire for her. He wants to mark her, he wants to claim her, he wants her to be his, even if it was only for this purpose alone.

She hooks her leg around his, pulling him flush against her and feeling his hardened cock straining against his breeches as it presses to her lower stomach.

She almost gasps, disappointed but secretly pleased to discover that he was big, from what she could tell through his clothes at least.

She had hoped she could at least say he was small or that the sex sucked after it was all said and done, but she had an inkling that this was just yet another thing she would have to begrudgingly give him his due credit for.

He notices her reaction to the bulge in his pants, and smirks as he presses a wet kiss to her jaw, then rocks his hips forward to press himself against her even harder.

"This is your doing, you know," He breathes, a smirk evident in his voice.

Annoyed by his arrogant words and gesture, she digs her nails into his shoulder, a noise that's somewhere between a moan and a frustrated growl escaping her as he continues to suck on her neck, grazing the skin with his fangs.

“I’m starting to think you like having your life threatened a little too much.” She breathes.

He chuckles, lips still hovering over hers. “Only by you, darling.”

He palms at her ass cheek roughly, surely leaving a slew of intentional bruises so that she has a reminder the next morning, then smacking it - his frigid touch adding to the sting of the rough contact.

She yelps slightly, biting her lip in an attempt to stifle any noises she may make. He shakes his head, releasing her neck and bringing his hand up to trace her lips with his fingertips.

"No, no, sweetness, I want to hear that pretty voice of yours. For now, at least." He has a look as if he was planning something that instantly set her on edge - she never knew what to expect from him, especially not in this sort of circumstance.

"You're such an ass," She grunts indignantly, before he dips a finger in between her parted lips.

Almost as if on pure instinct, she sucks on his digit, swirling her tongue and laving it in her spit. His breath hitches as he stifles a pleased groan. She smirks pridefully, his finger still in her mouth.

"And yet, here we are, darling."

In rebuttal, she bites down on his finger just enough to hurt him, which causes him to hiss in pain. He shoots her a warning glance, then relaxes when he sees the amusement on her face.

“So feisty.”

He rubs her bottom lip with a second finger, a silent plea to add another into her mouth, which she promptly obliges.

She gives the second finger the same treatment as the first, her mind running wild with images of his cock in place of his fingers, how he might taste, the way it already weeps with arousal for her - it felt so wrong, yet she couldn't seem to get enough.

He pulls his fingers out of her mouth with a pop, his crimson eyes holding hers in an intense stare as he brings his still dry hand down to hook her underwear to the side, the cool breeze hitting her drenched cunt and making her suck in a breath. He makes a show of bringing the two fingers that had just been in her mouth down to rub her soaking folds, making sure that she was watching his every move.

"Fuck, you're already so wet for me." He moans, his voice low and gravelly as he slowly begins to spread her apart, the filthy sounds of her arousal like a song to his ears.

A loud moan rips through her as she throws her head back, the slightest touch embarrassingly already almost too much. Maybe it was the anticipation, maybe it was because it'd been so long since she'd been touched like this - or maybe it was just another testament to how badly she needed him. His touch.

"Rather sensitive, aren't we, pet?" He teases, dipping his head down to place a kiss to the part of her chest that was exposed by the low neckline of her shirt.

"Shut. Up." She growls, her hand gripping the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. The rumbling of his laughter echoes in her chest as his mouth stays pressed against it.

He presses wet kisses further and further down as he slowly moves his face lower, sinking to his knees in front of her.

She can't contain the gasp that escapes her as she peers down at him - his typically pristine and well groomed silvery white curls were a disaster as a result of her hands ravaging them, his eyes were dark and lidded, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Not to mention, the satisfaction that came from him being on his knees below her, knowing what he intended to do - gods below, it was almost too much to bear.

He raises her shirt higher, holding it up between her breasts and getting just a small peek of the underside of them - the temptation to rip the wretched thing off of her and completely bare her to him crossing his mind. He decides against it, unsure if she'd want to be fully exposed in case someone decided to come check on her.

He, personally, wouldn't mind any of the others finding them this way - that way they would know that he was staking his claim on her. He was well aware that he was far from the only one in the camp that had dreamt of touching her, and he planned on being the only one who gets to.

He straightens himself up so he can trail another line of wet kisses down her abdomen, stopping just above the waistband of her underwear. His eyes flick back up to hers, finding that she had been watching his every move - satisfied with how quickly she catches on to his desires, as if it were natural to her.

He hooks two fingers beneath the fabric on each of her hips, waiting for her to protest. She doesn't, instead she reaches her hand down and attempts to pull them down herself. He grabs her wrist, stopping her.

"Ah ah, allow me." He commands, his voice equal parts soothing and threatening. She drops her hand back to her side. "Good girl."

He rips the fabric down her legs, letting it pool at her ankles before he hooks an arm under her thigh and lifts it so that she steps out of them. He pushes them aside, keeping her leg lifted as he pushes her night shirt out of the way once again, revealing her drenched and throbbing cunt to him, at long last.

He practically salivates at the sight, his eyes burning trails all around it as he drinks in every inch of her newly exposed flesh. This causes her to blush for the first time during this encounter, suddenly feeling self conscious about her most intimate area. She feels the urge to cover herself, her leg instinctively moving to clench against the other. He stops her quickly, pressing her leg up even higher, stretching her already sore thigh muscles.

"Absolutely perfect. To think you’ve been keeping this all to yourself." He coos, his voice now softer, reverent, even. As if he were quietly admiring the finely crafted sculpture of a goddess on display in the foyer of a tabernacle.

With her leg now draped over his shoulder, he continues his attack of wet and hungry kisses up her leg. He toys with the knife strapped to her, running a finger along the hilt of the blade, then biting the leather strap on the innermost part of her leg, his lips brushing against the skin and causing goosebumps to prickle up.

He slowly continues trailing up to the apex of her thighs, pausing at the very top of her thigh and nipping at the plush skin.

Her arousal and frustration had started to truly boil within her, him taking his damn sweet time was beginning to piss her off all over again and she knew he was doing it deliberately. He was trying all that he could to get her to beg.

"Astarion, if you don't eat me out right now, I'm going to kill you."

She wouldn't beg, no. Threatening, though? Easy.

"Patience, darling. Good things come to those who wait."

She scoffs. "I'm starting to think you're stalling. Scared that you won't be able to live up to your reputation?" She taunts in an attempt to anger him enough to finally oblige her.

His eyes narrow, his once smug face falling into a scowl.

He quickly unsheathes the knife on her thigh, grabbing it by the blade. Her eyes widened.

"What the hells are you doing?" Her voice held a bit of unease as she watched him gently tap the tip of the blade, as if he were testing the sharpness.

He grins wickedly, his eyes flicking from the dagger back up to hers. "I'm going to shut you up. Open," he commands, bringing the hilt of the dagger up to her lips.

She shoots him an uncertain look, confused. He sighs, frustrated, then presses the hilt further until her lips parted, and she took it between her teeth.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, the golden light shifting to a cool blue glow, the reflection of the moon glinting off of the recently sharpened and polished blade. She hadn’t realized just how sharp Lae’zel made it, and having it so close to her face this way truthfully made her nervous.

A twisted part of her enjoyed it for that fact.

He looks up at her, the sight of the hilt of the dagger that she'd threatened him with only minutes prior, now held between her teeth both ironic and unequivocally erotic.

"Much better. Shall we try this again?"

Satisfied with the outcome of his bright idea and the muffled groan of frustration from the only one who’d been plaguing his thoughts when he was alone in his tent, he returns to his prior ministrations, starting his trail of kisses right back where he'd begun them just at the side of her knee.

He repeats the process identically to how he'd done it previously, except this time he bites the top of her thigh slightly harder, eliciting a whimper from her, nearly causing the knife to slip out of her mouth.

"Careful, pet." He warns, a slight smirk playing on the corners of his lips.

With his face still right at the crest of her thigh, cool breath fanning across her burning hot flesh, he brings his even colder fingers back up to tease her folds. She jolts at the sensation, involuntarily crawling upward onto the tree, now on tiptoe with her leg that's still on the ground. He tightens his arm around her thigh, pulling it down on to his shoulder slightly as if to warn her to stay still. She obliges, flattening her foot back down and relaxing her posture as best as she can manage, the thought of making this take even longer agonizing.

His deft fingers work her slowly, touching everywhere but where she needed him most. The sounds of her slick arousal seemed much louder now that they’d both gone mostly quiet apart from their heavy breathing, and she feels that damned blush creep back up to her cheeks once again.

She involuntarily yelps when his fingers tease her entrance, her walls instinctively clenching around nothing. She disobeys him by wriggling slightly, then realizes and quickly tries to cease her movements. He lets his thumb rest against her swollen and throbbing clit, refusing to move even an inch until she settles down.

“Look at you,” he coos. “So eager for me. I almost want to take that dagger out of your mouth and hear that sweet voice moan for me again.”

She bites down even harder into the hilt of the dagger to stifle the moan that threatens to escape her throat, certainly leaving teeth marks that she’ll have to hide in case anyone needs to borrow it later.

He chuckles, his eyes still trained on her face as he pushes ever so slightly against her entrance, his thumb pressing harder into the over-sensitive bud - savoring her every reaction to him. The way her brows knitted up, the way her glossy eyes widened, her hands clutching the fabric of her shirt and holding it close to her chest, the way the dagger shifted slightly in her mouth as her jaw clenched around it. She was a feast for his eyes and he intended to savor every bite.

Finally, he decides to show her mercy and push his fingers further in, careful to move slowly and give her time to adjust. Her eyes blow wide and her head falls back against the tree, giving him a full view of her neck that makes his mouth water.

Next time, he thinks to himself.

His fingers are just barely not too thick for her - the stretching only slightly uncomfortable and otherwise euphoric. He pumps in and out at a lazy pace at first, quickening over time as he feels her fully adjust after a while. She’s perfectly tight, her velvet walls clenching his fingers with every plunge into her depths. He can barely think straight, all rational thought having left him ages ago. All that he can think now is how badly he wishes it were his cock in her rather than his fingers - but as he’d told her, good things come to those who wait.

She feels herself creeping ever closer to her peak as his movements become more and more rhythmic and deliberate, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit as his fingers piston in and out, hitting all of the right spots and driving her wild. Her body is buzzing, her legs trembling. She wants to resist how incredible this all feels, but gods, does it feel incredible.

Everything that comes after this is a problem for later, right now, all she wants is to—

“Aah!” She yelps as he curls his fingers, the dagger slipping from her mouth and thankfully dropping to the ground beside them.

He grins, continuing his ministrations. “Are you gonna come, pet?”

She takes her bottom lip in between her teeth, scared to say yes in fear that he may stop and deprive her of her release just to spite her.

“Answer me.” He commands, his voice coming out as a low growl.

She reluctantly nods.

“Use your words. Answer me.”

“Y-yes. Gods, yes. Just… don’t stop.” She whines, trying her damnedest for it not to come out as a beg, but rather a command. It was mildly successful.

To her surprise, he speeds up the pace, pumping in and out of her hard and fast - the way she so desperately craved it. She feels herself right at the edge, her orgasm impending - he can tell, as she writhes and whimpers over him. Just as he can tell she’s about to hit the peak, he stops.

She keens at the sudden loss of friction and movement, her walls clenching down around his fingers even harder, her cunt throbbing and dripping onto his hand.

“Why…” Is all she manages to say, her breathing ragged and her chest heaving.

“I want you to come on my mouth.”

That alone could have sent her over the edge.

She nods fervently, her hips bucking forward toward his face.

He considers punishing her for being too hasty and too eager, but he couldn’t care less any more to keep up the game - he needs to taste her. He needs to devour her.

He moves his thumb, making way for his tongue to replace it. He expertly strokes his tongue across her folds, her essence sweet and tangy on his taste buds. He swipes across her clit, causing her to jerk into his mouth, a string of incoherent curses leaving her lips.

She drops the fabric of her shirt and threads her fingers through his hair once again, gripping it almost painfully. He groans against her, the vibrations of his voice against her causing her to see stars.

He lifts her shirt out of his way once again, mouth never breaking from her, and growls in frustration at the piece of fabric that kept dropping into his face. Taking his growl as a silent command, she rips the fabric over her head and tosses it aside, now completely naked and bare to him as well as the cool night air.

His eyes widened at the sight of her, finally getting a full view of her breasts and the rest of her that was previously unrevealed to him. He breaks away from her cunt for a moment, both hands moving to palm her full breasts.

“You are exquisite.”

She’d almost prefer if he’d insult her, be cruel to her, say the worst things he can think of - that way she wouldn’t have to grapple with these new feelings that are bubbling up to the surface at how generous of a lover he’s proven to be, when only minutes prior she was sure that they shared a mutual hatred for each other. Maybe he was just putting on a show for her, like he always did.

Yes. He’s putting on a show. He has to be, she thinks.

She hisses through her teeth when he finally brings his mouth and hand back to her mound, wasting no time in resuming his prior crusade to make her come, pumping his fingers at a punishing pace, his tongue circling her clit in tandem. He keeps his free hand on her breast, pinching her nipple hard, causing her to roll her hips into his face.

“That’s it, love. Take what you need.”

For fucks sake, he’s going to be the death of me.

His words, his mouth, and his dexterous fingers are a wicked combination - every single movement, every single word, every lap at her needy cunt is nearly too much for her to bear as she uses every bit of her remaining strength to keep from crumbling into a heap in the dirt.

As requested by him, she continues to rock her hips forward, grinding down onto his fingers and mouth, his fingers hitting all the right places to drive her over the edge. She grips at his shoulder, nails digging into the fabric of his ruffled evening shirt, chest heaving as she creeps ever closer once again, and silently prays he has mercy on her this time.

“Astarion, I’m—“

“I know, love. Come for me,” he says, muffled with his mouth still tongue deep in her.

As if on command, she shatters, tumbling over the edge into free fall towards the hardest orgasm she’s had in months, perhaps even years.

Her body shakes and writhes as she gushes on his tongue, but he doesn’t slow his movements, still pumping into her as she rides out her orgasm, pangs of unbridled pleasure crashing over her like tidal waves.

Her legs quiver, the leg that she was using to stand begins to buckle at the knee as all strength she’d had left from the day has finally been sapped from her body. She slowly slides down the tree into his lap, eyes closed and still reeling.

She manages to weakly tilt her head forward, looking him in the eye for the first time with new eyes - unsure what that meant for her yet. She was half sure that she still hated him. Half.

He grins at her, his own chest still heaving as he catches his breath, ruby irises lighter than before, a look in his eyes that she doesn’t quite recognize.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been dying to do that since the day I met you.” He says, popping his fingers into his mouth and licking her slick off.

She swallows hard at the sight, her still sore and sensitive core starting to flutter again as he licks his fingers clean.

“I still don’t like you, you know. You’ll have to do more than make me orgasm to change my mind.” She says, her tone unusually calm and amicable toward him despite her words.

“Oh darling, who said we had to like each other to do that? In fact, I think it makes it all the more thrilling.” He brings his hand up to her cheek, gently caressing it and swiping his thumb across it.

She puffs air out of her nose, a wry smile on her lips. “Who says we’re going to do that again?”

He grins, bringing his still wet lips and face closer to hers, his breath smelling strongly of a mixture of her essence, wine, and a bitter metallic smell that was undeniably blood - she assumes he hunted not too long before he joined her in the woods.

“You can hate me all you want, my sweet, but I know that nobody has ever made you feel the way that I do. It’ll only be a matter of time before you’re crawling back into my bedroll, begging for another taste.” He taunts, his voice in that same low and sultry tone he did so well, the one that he knew had the power to melt anybody right into his hands.

She narrows her eyes for a brief moment - then an idea flits into the back of her mind, a mischievous smile following suit. The game was now set, and she was ready to play.

“We’ll see who begs who first, darling.”

part two - ♡︎

#this was a wild ride #lmk if u like it hehe #astarion #astarion ancunin #spawn astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #if u squint #enemies to lovers #idk what else to tag this lol #my fics #aat

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amnhnyc · 2 months

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Happy Fossil Friday! This photo is a blast from the past. Snapped circa 1959, it features a visitor admiring the iconic Stegosaurus. With its plated back, spiked tail, and tiny head, it’s one of the Museum’s most recognizable dinosaurs. This large herbivore, which lived during the Jurassic some 140 million years ago, could reach lengths of more than 28 feet (8.5 meters).

This armored dinosaur likely used the distinctive plates along its back for display, to attract mates, or signal its own species. Fossils of stegosaur plates are criss-crossed with grooves for blood vessels, indicating that they were covered with skin or keratin (the material in your fingernails) when the animal was alive.

See Stegosaurus up close in the Museum’s Hall of Ornithischian Dinosaurs! We’re open daily from 10 am-5:30 pm. Plan your visit!

Photo: Image no. ptc-876 © AMNH Library

#science #amnh #museum #fossil #nature #dinosaur #natural history #paleontology #animals #stegosaurus #did you know #fact of the day #jurassic #archives #flashback friday

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boggsart · 9 months

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That right there is three and a half weeks worth of work, and even if it doesn’t show, I’m still really proud of it, considering I just recently started learning this program.

Now there’s a few things I wanna add tho

Fives’ face did not turn out the way I wanted it, I admit that it’s mainly a skill issue, but I also wanna point out, that even tho they might look the same, or similar, s4 Fives and s6 Fives look very different in terms of facial structure and features. I downloaded a lot of references from various seasons and that’s how I tried to sculpt his face, by literally combining all of them, so that plus the skill issue is the reason he looks the way he is.

Another thing worth mentioning is, that yes it’s obvious Echo’s appearance got changed during mid s2. But once I finished sculpting and box modeling everything, and I was ready to start texturing and coloring the whole thing, is when I noticed that it wasn’t just his Kama that was gone, his entire lower body’s appearance was changed. The middle part of the belt was changed, some ammo bags were gone, his tigh plate was cut in half, his pants’ color was changed, the boots were changed, so everything from waist down got pretty much redesigned. So thanks to my unobservant ass, his armor did not turn out as accurate as I wanted it to be, because I combined the two looks into one.

This was a realllyyyyy long but really fun process, and I’m actually planning on 3d printing it out, or selling it as a template for people, idk yet.

#star wars #star wars fanart #clone wars #clone wars fanart #bad batch echo #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #tcw art #tcw #the bad batch #tbb #tbb season two #domino twins #3d modeling #zbrush #my art

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marthawrites · 3 months

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Red Lions and Hidden Dragons

Unnamed male character x Lannister!fem reader & Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!fem reader

Word count: 2.9k+

About: Close kin to Jason and Tyland Lannister, you arrive to King's Landing with a party of fellow lions to celebrate the birth of Prince Maelor Targaryen. You weren't expecting to catch Prince Aemond's eye, but once you do, neither of you can forget it.

Includes: SMUT. This is porn with plot to set it up. Featuring lust at first sight, allusions to obsession (from reader and aemond), voyeurism, unprotected vaginal sex, male masturbation, allusions to exhibitionism, stalking, male receiving oral sex, reader receiving oral sex, minor degradation, vaginal fingering, and somnophilia

Note: Hello lovely reader! This might be one of the filthiest things I've written. Double warning: This fic is heavy on the voyeurism and Aemond is a creep. If you do not like that then do not read this. Reader is a Lannister and is implied to have blonde hair. Everything else is up to you! Reader's lover is implied to have ginger hair. Everything else about him is up to you. As always, I hope you enjoy this (filth)!

Golden sunlight warmed your honey curls as they cascaded down your back in gentle waves. Following close behind was a guard armored in the colors of House Lannister. A woman walked beside you who also donned your House's colors in a more practical attire–sword not included. “Is it everything you wanted it to be?” She asked you with bright curiosity as her gaze swept over the Red Keep's gardens.

Spring's blooms weighed heavily in the air and if it weren't for a forgiving breeze all of those fragrances would be unbearable. Your nose tickled with an edge of a sneeze you could never quite expel. “It's absolutely lovely,” you replied with a happy sigh, leaning into your friend and lady-in-waiting. “Although… if I don’t go inside soon my eyes will be pinker than a pig’s bottom and leakier than a cracked chalice.”

She laughed. “I can bring supper up to your chamber if needed. Sneezing on any one in the royal family could be punishable by death!” She gasped with feigned severity.

You rolled your eyes. “The only one I’m worried about sneezing on is Princess Helaena. With her little Maelor only being just born the last thing she–and he–needs is extra germs.”

You and your family, closely related to King Viserys’ Master of Ships, Tyland Lannister, had only arrived this morning. It had been a long trip. Jason Lannister, Tyland’s elder twin, sent a party of lions to King’s Landing to celebrate the little princeling's birth. “Perhaps you will catch the eye of a lord–or Prince–while you’re there,” he had whispered to you with a wink upon your departure.

Politicking had never been your strong suit. Would it truly be so wrong to marry someone for happiness instead of glory, lands, and wealth? You thought not, but the rest of your family thought yes.

“If the Princess even attends a public dinner,” she answered slyly.

With a light-hearted shrug you looked over your shoulder and asked the knight, “Ser? Do you remember the way back to the Great Hall?”

“I do, Lady Lannister. Ready to return?”

“We are.”

Once inside the Red Keep you immediately felt better. No more tickly nose, or itchy eyes, or scratchy ears. You arrived back just in time, too! Judging by the collection of people and their plates, supper had been served only a short time ago. You and your lady found a seat where you could. Nodding a polite greeting to Tyland, you sat and fixed a plate. While politicking wasn’t one of your strong suits, people watching was.

You ate, and you watched.

Who observed the watcher?

Smearing creamy butter on a still warm roll, you tried to keep tabs on the conversations around you. Truthfully, it was half a bore. Sooner than later it all jumbled to indistinct murmurings. Paying half attention at best, and once you finished all the savory flavors of meats and potatoes, you helped yourself to fruit for a sweet palate cleanser. Wonderfully ripened berries and crisp grapes took over your senses. On one particular juicy bite–when you barely covered your mouth in time to catch a dribble of springtime strawberry juice–a blush rose to your cheeks as your gaze swept over the crowd to see if anyone witnessed your etiquette mishap.

A few seats down, and across the table, the glint of a single violet eye danced with your mishap.

Aemond Targaryen. Prince Aemond Targaryen. Your napkin nearly slipped from your fingers as you realized he watched, and saw, and didn’t turn away from your guilty gaze. His one seeing eye trailed from your chin, down the front of your bodice, and back up to your face. The combination of his perfectly neutral facade and naturally bowed mouth made him impossible to read. But the glint in his eye? You swore it gave away his amusement. Perhaps even something more.

The blush in your cheeks dispersed–spreading and lowering–and with a delicate curve of your mouth you gave the King’s second silver-haired son an entirely different look. With extra care, now, you bit into a plump grape, daring to hold his gaze. Your heart hammered with anticipation and excitment and part of you wondered if he could see the pulsepoint in your neck thumping.

He squinted at you; so slight you might have missed it.

Desire roared in your belly.

It was nearly the end of the hour of ghosts when Aemond made his way to the library on silent feet. The castle was quiet except for a few guards and servants carrying out night shift duties. He paid them little mind as he walked with a small stack of books tucked beneath his arm. Sleep eluded him. Even reading did little to settle his mind. He thought, with a hint of hopefulness, that a walk might allow him to finally relax.

A slight squeak of door hinges was the only sound announcing his arrival. It seemed no matter how many times it was oiled it always squeaked. Most of the time it didn’t matter much. But, on late nights like this, it made Aemond feel as if he interrupted something holy. Sacred.

He’d always been a studious boy–so much so that it followed him into adulthood. Perhaps that is why he felt a pang of guilt upon midnight arrivals; he found as much solace in this place as he did the training yard. Sometimes he had half a mind to bring a pillow and blanket here to sleep in one of the chairs, the floor, or, more comfortably, a settee.

Quietly, out of habit, he walked between the rows of books, tomes, and scrolls, and placed each piece of borrowed literature in its place. Before he truly heard anything, the fine hairs along his neck stood. His pupil widened to take in the dark. A little voice in his head told him to stay quiet and look.

A phantom? He hadn’t felt the fright of ghost stories for a long, long time.

But, no, it wasn’t a thing of nightmares lurking in darkened corners of this peaceful place that caught his attention. It was someone. And, judging by the sounds that perked the fine muscles behind his ears, it was more than one person.

Soft sounds made their way to Aemond’s ears as he stalked on silent feet. Heavy breathing. An inward hiss of breath. A muffled voice–low and sultry–sent his cock stirring to life in his pants. And then, right at the peak of a barely contained moan, a giggle.

Staying to the shadows Aemond peered around a bookshelf and what he saw knocked the wind out of his lungs. A woman–not just any woman, but you–straddled over the lap of a man with your skirts bunched up around your waist. The chair creaked beneath your combined weight, its legs thumping against the rug-covered floor with the force in which you rode him–in which he bucked up into you. Aemond saw why you giggled and a hot rush of blood flew up to his head and down to his cock alike. Your breasts were free from your crimson supper gown and they bounced as you fucked whosever cock it was that you were riding. One of the man’s hands squeezed a mound of your soft, perfect tits, letting it bounce against his palm as his mouth sucked your other nipple.

Stepping further back into the shadows, Aemond, as discreetly as he could, moved a few books upon the shelf so he could watch between the newly formed gap. He had the best–truly the best–sight of you. Your cheeks were colored so prettily, lips parted in the epitome of bliss, and your eyelids fluttered as you ground down against him. Aemond saw your hand push through and squeeze your lover’s ginger hair as he nipped and suckled over your peaked nipples.

“Think anyone will show up here?” You asked, rolling your hips against him in a gloriously wonderful grind.

If Aemond were any further away he wouldn't be able to hear you. His ears were perked right to you, however, and he heard your voice–all raspy with pleasure. He palmed at his cock over his pants, the bulge prominent and uncomfortable in its confides.

“If you keep being loud I bet someone will,” he teased before kissing you. He gripped your hips firmly with both hands and began to coax you up and down on him again. Before you could break away from the kiss those same soft sounds from before filled the air. This time they were louder, sharper, both of you chasing pleasure to climax. “Can't believe you wanted me to fuck you here tonight. Of all places in this big castle. Shit–Gods, yes, keep bouncing like that. Keep fucking bouncing like that.”

You barely held your moans back and the little ones that slipped free had Aemond palming at himself firmer. Your moans, and slapping skin, and bouncing tits had the prince dizzy with desire.

How in the actual Hells was this happening?

He nearly spent in his pants when climax washed over you. You were so lovey, and so perfect, and so greedy with your need it made Aemond want to tie your lover up and fuck you right there too.

You could take it. He knew you could. You'd be debauched enough to take two men and still claw at them for more.

Your lover's seed covered your belly in a splattered mess and Aemond nearly groaned out loud.

He'd lingered too long. He shouldn't have even stayed like he did–should have left as soon as he realized what was happening. But that didn't stop him then and it didn't stop him now as he lingered behind for an extra moment, watching you fix your clothes back into place.

The edge of your desire was finally sated. For now, at least. With a satisfied sigh you smiled and tilted your head, looking down at your lover while he whispered something to you. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

That's when you saw him. What? No… it couldn't be! The shadow of the prince just there! Just behind that book shelf.

Aemond side stepped and ducked slightly. Shit shit shit. But it was too late.

“I think I saw someone,” you gasped with an excited warble to your tone.

Whatever else you said, or whatever your reaction might have been, would remain a mystery. That's all Aemond heard before slipping out of the main doorway–the door's squeak the only evidence that anyone else had been in the library.

As much as Aemond wanted to see you during the morning meal, he didn't want to risk it. Would you squirm in your seat beneath his gaze, or would he beneath yours?

Once finished, he exerted himself in the training yard–the image of your blissed out face and bouncing tits still seared onto his mind.

Fuck.

How long were you visiting the Red Keep? Surely Aemond would go mad before long.

After training and before lunch, the prince found himself loitering along a balcony that faced the gardens. It was a quiet spot, one not often frequented, and it served as a perfect place for him to relax and collect his thoughts after training. It proved to be an uneventful rest until a glimmer of golden hair and red breezy gown caught his attention from below.

You.

He stared, watching like a hawk from above. You were on the arm of the same man from last night. Based on his attire Aemond recognized him to be one of the Lannister servants.

Pathetic. The man was a servant. Not a husband, or betrothed, or even someone worth your name. You were a loose wanton thing. Licentious. Aemond watched you drag your male servant off the main pathway until you were out of sight.

And then, on a jolt of lust filled curiosity, he grabbed a nearby spyglass and looked for you again.

A few minutes passed before he saw you through the reflective lens. And when he did the front of his pants immediately became tighter.

Hidden amongst the garden's layout you and your secret lover kissed and touched and pressed together. He saw your mouths move with words he wished he could hear. You were light and playful and eager. Fuck–so eager.

Aemond watched as you sunk down to your knees and pulled his cock out. You took it in your mouth over and over, again and again, like you’d wanted nothing more than to have him in your throat.

Did you enjoy this more, you pretty little whore? Or did your red headed lover?

Aemond's need screamed for friction–for anything–but he remained painfully hard and untouched as he watched, not wanting to miss a single second.

Time ticked by so slowly, so quickly, and before long Aemond saw you swallow, smiling up at your lover as he tucked his spent, softening cock back into his pants. You turned your head, then, looking along the balconies, and Aemond barely had time to step out of sight.

You saw his silver hair and the reflective glare of his spyglass in the late morning sun.

The prince wasn’t half as sly as he thought.

You barely spoke to Viserys’ second-son–barely knew him–yet it did little to stifle the lust drowning your blood.

Two days had passed before Aemond caught you for a third time. Duties kept him busy and he wasn’t able to stalk around the castle after you.

The first time he stumbled across you had been a complete accident. So had the second time. Well… mostly. If he hadn’t caught sight of you entering the gardens he wouldn’t have begun spying on you from the balcony.

The third time, however? He hoped for it.

Might have even prayed for it.

Watching from within the safety of a slim corridor behind the room’s main wall, Aemond peeked through a series of small holes specifically made for spying; servants and their incessant prying. You were sitting in a chair with your legs draped over each arm. Your male servant knelt between your spread legs and feasted on your cunt. His soft groans and slurps, combined with all of your sweet gasps and moans, made the sounds of Aemond freely stroking his cock nearly non-existent.

It was too much. Too fucking much.

You were too perfect. Putting on a show for him and everything. He knew you liked being watched. Why else would you be taunting him, luring him, snaring him in your lewd traps time and time again?

The man slipped his fingers into you while staying on your clit, and the way you tugged at his hair sent Aemond biting down on his lip.

“So sexy like this,” the ginger’s raspy voice rumbled up at you. “So sweet and tight.”

You sighed and giggled, turning his face back against you. “I'm not done. Keep going,” you said, sultry.

He did and you lost yourself.

But before you could finish he asked, “shall I wear an eyepatch next time? Lean into your little fantasy with the prince?”

“Gods, yes.”

He worked you with fingers and tongue again, pushing you to the edge of pleasure. “Say his name. No one is around to hear. The one eyed prince here, right now, eating your sweet cunt.”

You squeezed both hands in his hair and came undone; a tiny, shuddered, “Aemond..!” escaped your lips at the peak of your climax.

Aemond's cock pulsed mightily in the choke of his hand; streaks of his seed dripped down the finished wooden wall. He had to have you.

It was the hour of the owl when Aemond prowled into your chamber. You looked peaceful sleeping, so pretty.

He stood at the side of your bed, head tilted slightly as he looked down at you replaying all the visions of you in his head over again. The backs of his fingers traced along the slope of your face; silken. He dipped lower, sliding down the curve of your neck and across your exposed collarbone. You didn't yet stir and so he slid lower. The swell of your breasts were wonderfully soft beneath your thin shift; nipples peaked beneath.

You teased him even in slumber.

He gently squeezed the mound–testing the suppleness of your body–and reveled in the sensation. With curious delight he pinched the bud and smirked when a small sound hummed between your lips. He did it again. Harder. Your nipples pebbled tighter and saliva built in Aemond's mouth.

That made you stir. Your eyelids trembled over your eyes as if you'd startle awake.

Aemond's hand sunk beneath your blanket and whispered up your smooth thigh. Within the span of a few breaths he found the waist of your smallclothes and tugged the ribbons open. His heartbeat thundered. He couldn’t help it. He had to know. Grazing his fingers lower, still, he ghosted over that delicate space between your thighs. You were warm through the thin cloth of your smallclothes. Insanity threatened to take him over.

Again, you stirred. And this time your eyes fluttered open. Those pretty pools widened and for a moment you couldn’t tell if you were still dreaming, or if this was truly happening.

Prince Aemond. In your room. How did he get in? You’d lusted for him since arriving. Now, here he was; perhaps the Gods indeed answered prayers.

“Shh,” he hushed, fingers lifting to his lips to shush you further; a smirk visible at the corners of his mouth. “Why pretend when you can have the real thing, lady Lannister?”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @aemonddtargaryen @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond imagine

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yenqa · 3 months

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10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU — TEASER

READ HERE!

in which...

you hate heeseung. you hate his snobby little voice, his stupid little glasses that are too big for him, his nosiness, and his ability to prove anything or anyone wrong easily. you hate hate hate the way you try to avoid him, but somehow he’s always around, and he can’t see how much you hate him. you swear nothing could make you like him, but after you get caught in a sticky situation with him playing your knight in shining armor, you realize that maybe he isn’t so bad after all.

pairing — heeseung x fem!reader

genre — one sided enemies to lovers, highschool au, he falls first she falls harder, oblivious x obvious, tutor x tutoree (kind of), childhood friends (ish because the whole one sided enemies thing) to lovers, long fic

wordcount — teaser is 1005! fic est. 9k-13k words (hopefully not too ambitious)

warnings — profanity, kissing (no suggestive stuff or nsfw), miscommunication, parties/underage drinking, name calling (bitch, whore, stuff like that), food

featuring — lia of itzy, miyeon of g-idle, hyung line of enhypen (sorry maknaes too many people), ocs : sooyun + teachers

disclaimer — i am not saying this is an accurate representation of these idols or trying to sexualize them at all. this just something i do for fun.

release date — hopefully by mid march?

taglist — open! send an ask or comment to be added!

yenqa — watched the movie on the plane and i was kind of obsessed… but this does not follow the movie plot, i just thought the title fit

YOU WATCH AS THE SNOW FALLS SLOWLY TO THE GROUND

A blanket of white has got you and the guests at your house locked in for the night. You weren’t very happy with these strangers staying at your house for the night—In fact, you had just been completely shut down by your dad when you asked him to kick them out. It was obvious why he did that, but this definitely had to be your least favorite christmas out of the eight you had been through.

You snap out of your thoughts, continuing to eat whatever you had left on your plate, hesitating when you saw the amount of vegetables still left.

“Mom! I’m full.” You try to hide your plate from her, showing her instead a pout with a hand on your stomach.

It didn’t work—obviously, so you were stuck at the table, a frown on your face as you forced in the greens. Across from you, a boy your age, who didn’t seem to mind, he almost looked like he was enjoying it.

That’s impossible though, no one likes vegetables. Maybe he was doing it so Santa would get him an extra special gift?

You grumble when he finishes his place, showcasing his plate that had been licked clean to his mom. He stared at you for a second looking down at your—full plate then looking back at his mom, she said “Great job Heeseung!”. He returns his plate to the table with a smile.

Stabbing your fork back into your food, you stuff it into your face, hoping that you would enjoy it as much as Heeseung did. Again, it didn’t work, and the bitter taste returned to your mouth.

After what felt like hours of groaning and complaining, you had taken the last bite of your food, a proud smirk on your face when you made eye contact with the boy from earlier, who only smiled at you in return.

Throwing away your plastic plate, you realized that now it was present time, and Santa just had to reward you for your good deeds.

Rushing over to the tree, you spot everyone gathered around the area, opening their presents. You run to your present, recognizing the wrapping paper from last year. Looking at your mom for approval, she nods and you tear apart the paper, lifting up the box inside.

You squeal when you see the picture, you had been begging your mom for weeks for a Lego set, specifically if it was minecraft themed. And Santa had gotten you just that. You hug the box, squeezing it. You exclaim a loud “Thank you Santa!” before running up to your room to assemble the build.

Reading the directions, you start the house, quickly getting confused on how it isn’t looking like how it does in the picture.

“I think that’s the wrong piece.” A voice says, you whip your head around to see the same boy who sat across from you.

“Who are you?” Your eyebrows furrow at the sight, confused on why those were the first words he said instead of “Hi!” or something.

“My name’s Heeseung—Um, my mom told me to come upstairs and said we should be friends. Do you want to be friends?”

You huff, “I’m Y/n. Also no, I don’t want to be friends, you’re mean.” You force your legos together, frustrated already with the pieces. You continue to reread the directions, pushing—what you think are—the exact legos to the board. But it doesn’t seem like it’ll fit. Maybe if you push it harder?

“Oh—okay.” You jump slightly, too focused to realize how he's been watching you for the past few minutes. “Do you need some help?”

Yes, you need help. But did you want to accept his help? . This was your christmas gift from Santa, you shouldn’t have to share.

Glancing at the picture then to the building that had looked like an abstract rendition of it, you let out a sigh. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt, right? “Yeah, I guess.”

He takes a seat on the carpet next to you, focusing hard on the directions before breaking off the wrong pieces, reassembling it so you’ll be on the right track.

“Does this go here, do you think?” “No, it goes here.” That was a summary of what the conversation was between you, and somehow you were always the one asking the question. Sighing, you lean back, taking a short stretch break before starting again.

You’re shocked at his speed and efficiency, it almost seems like he’s always a step ahead of you. Geez does this guy ever slow down?

The roles are quickly switched as you are sitting watching him instead. Rummaging through each box only for his eyes to lighten up one he finds the right one. You watch him for a while, getting a break that you very much needed.

You hope that he waits for you to finish it, or that he doesn’t completely do it all by himself because again, it’s your Christmas gift, and he wouldn’t do that, right?

Not right, because apparently he’s a machine—he finishes the build. He stands up, pushes his stupid glasses up also and smiles at you, heading to the door. You think he’s going to say something else like “Sorry for taking away your present!” instead, he thanks you for sharing and happily skipping away.

Heeseung. Even his name infuriates you. He was very unpredictable and you hated that. Why did he just do that? He’s so rude. People don’t make sense—especially boys, they have cooties.

Your head was filled with calling him the rudest things you could think of—You even said a few curse words.

Though later you realized that you probably would never see him again, you were ecstatic, so ecstatic you had disassembled your legos just to rebuild it, to completely forget about your bad experience with the boy.

Only two weeks later were you disappointed to see that same boy, sitting across from you during dinner once again.

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the-bad-batch-baroness · 3 months

Text

Roses Are Red and Violets Are... Orange?

Cody x Fem!Reader

Summary: You ask Cody what he wants to do for the Festival of Love this cycle, and he has no idea what you're talking about, but he is for sure going to figure it out.

Pairing: Cody x Fem!Reader

Characters: Cody, Rex

Tags & Warnings: 18+, suggestive themes, fluff, kissing, romance, humor, Valentine's Day

Word Count: 3.5k

Author's Note: Happy Coday!!! I couldn't let the momentous once in a lifetime Cody Day pass by without offering something from my imagination to the archives, so I made this. It's short, sweet, and hilarious. Also, yay! Cody gets his first full-length feature fic! As always, please enjoy 💚

Cody leans over, cups your cheek, and presses his lips against yours. The holo-film playing in the background quickly forgotten about in exchange for something much more sweet. You lean into him, and a small moan escapes your throat when he sucks on your bottom lip. His hands roam the sides of your body as he lays you back against the couch cushions. Your world is devoid of anything and everything that isn't Cody as his weight settles between your legs and–

BEEP BEEP

You groan into Cody's mouth as your alarm blares on the center table to alert you that it's time to get ready for work. With one hand wrapped around the back of Cody's head you keep his lips pressed against yours, and with the other you turn off your alarm. You curse your stupid alarm and you curse your stupid third shift at the medcenter. It always interrupts you right when you're getting to the good part. You just want a couple more minutes, but Cody knows better than to keep you.

Cody breaks the kiss, pushes himself off of you, and plops down onto the opposite end of the couch. "That thing's worse than my vod," Cody sighs.

You sit up and stretch your arms. "At least my alarm can't watch," you muse.

"That's it's only good quality," Cody chuckles. He leans his head against the side of the couch and smiles.

"What?" you ask when you catch him looking.

"Nothing," he says. "Just admiring from afar."

You raise an eyebrow. "Well, can you do that a little farther away? Like outside my apartment farther away?"

"You're kicking me out?" he gasps in fake horror. "How could you?"

You pity him for a moment and crawl across the couch cushions to sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, and placing a sweet kiss just below his ear. "I only do it because I know you'll come back."

Cody smooths his hands over your back as he nuzzles your neck with the side of his cheek. "Always, cyare."

BEEP BEEP

"Aaargh!" you exclaim angrily as your second alarm goes off.

Cody laughs. "Better do as it says."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you sigh as you get off of him and make your way towards the kitchen.

Cody gets up from the couch, stretches his arms over his head, and starts putting his armor plates back on.

"Hey Codes?" you yell from the kitchen while staring at your calendar.

He fastens his chest plate and yells back. "Yeah?"

You peak your head around the kitchen corner so you don't have to yell again. "What do you want to do for the Festival of Love next week?"

Cody stiffens, then turns around to look at you. "The what?"

"The Festival of Love," you repeat. "It's on a Taungsday this cycle, which is my rotation off, so I thought maybe we could do something special."

"Uh, sure," Cody says with mild panic, then busies himself with putting on his vambraces. "Whatever you want."

"Cody," you huff and cross your arms. "It's about us, not just me."

"Of course," Cody corrects as he rubs the back of his neck. "I just meant that whatever you want to do on your rotation off is perfectly fine with me. I want to work within your schedule."

"Sure you do…" you say as you narrow your eyes at him with suspicion. You sigh. "Just let me know, okay?"

"Will do," he says with a lazy salute.

You roll your eyes and go back to what you were doing in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Cody puts his leg braces on the wrong legs as his mind tries to figure out what the Festival of Love is. He's never heard of it, and he's not sure what he's so supposed to do with this information now that he has it. He's also not sure why you want to celebrate it or why you are adamant that you should celebrate it together. It's not uncommon for clones to miss out on galactic holidays or celebrations, but if it means that much to you, he'll figure it out somehow.

Once his armor is situated on the correct body parts, he makes his way to the kitchen to bid you farewell. The late night rendezvous due to your work schedule are exhausting, but he doesn't mind. As long as he's planet side, he'll mess up his sleep schedule to be able to spend quality time with you. It's almost been an entire cycle since the day he first laid eyes on you, and since then he's fallen deeply in love. Besides his brothers, there's no one he loves more than you.

"I'm off," he says as he enters the kitchen.

You also enter the kitchen, now changed into your work clothes, and grab your cooler off the top of the conservator so you can pack your mid-shift meal. "I'll see you tomorrow?" you throw over your shoulder while grabbing food items.

Cody looks down at his chronometer and smirks. "It'll be tomorrow very soon."

You chuckle. "You know what I mean."

Cody walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your stomach. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You crane your neck around to give him a goodbye kiss and he meets you halfway. "Be safe," you say.

"Always," Cody says. He releases you from his grip, gives you one more kiss on the top of your head for good measure, and heads towards the door.

His mind runs wild with thoughts about this Festival of Love you mentioned and he knows it will continue to bug him until he finds out what it is and why you want to celebrate it. Once outside the apartment, he takes a couple steps down the walkway and thinks about the best strategy to use. His thoughts immediately fall to Rex. Him and Rex have known each other since the day they were decanted. If anyone can help him figure out his predicament, he knows it'll be Rex.

Cody stops walking and leans against the wall of the building he stops in front of. The night air is a little chilly, but that doesn't bother him, not when he's got so much on his mind. He pulls out his comm to type a quick message to Rex.

Are you awake?

Cody taps his foot on the ground as he waits for Rex to respond. His comm blinks.

I am now

Cody sighs in relief and types another message.

Meet me at the diner

Cody stares at his comm, waiting for Rex's reply.

Right now? It's 23:30!

Cody rolls his eyes and types another message.

It's important

Cody pushes himself off the wall and heads down the street towards the diner. He knows Rex won't leave him hanging. His comm blinks.

Be there in ten

Cody smiles and puts the comm in his pocket. He knew Rex wouldn't let him down. Of course this is important. This is his cyare they're talking about. Aside from his duty to the GAR as a soldier, you are his most important mission. He needs to understand this Festival of Love thing so he can address it properly and make an effective plan of attack to ensure it's a special day for you, and apparently, for him too. He's not sure how he fits into it, but he's sure Rex will know.

It's only a short walk to the diner and Cody arrives before Rex does. He grabs their usual booth, the one all the way at the end in the corner by the window, orders two mugs of hot caf, and lets the waitress know that he's waiting for someone. Cody rests his chin in the palm of his hand and stares blankly out the large transparisteel window. It's dark out, so there's not much to see, but he's also not looking to see anything either. He's thinking, and sometimes staring helps him think.

"Someone better be dying," Rex groans as he slides into the booth across from Cody.

Cody removes his gaze from the window to acknowledge Rex and smirks. Rex looks like he just rolled out of bed. Half-lidded eyes, an annoyed scowl plastered on his face, a pair of blacks on the bottom, an undershirt, and a half-zipped jacket on top. Cody doesn't blame him for looking so disheveled at this time of night, especially since he woke him up and dragged him out here to meet him, but if he can't depend on his closest batch brother, then who can he depend on?

"I ordered you some caf," Cody says.

"Great," Rex yawns. "Looks like I won't be getting any sleep tonight."

"Sorry," Cody says, but he's not really sorry.

The waitress arrives with the two mugs of caf and she sets them down in front of the two men. She places some sugar packets and cream cartons on the table, then leaves them to it.

Rex tears several packets of sugar and dumps them in his caf, stirring lazily to dissolve it.

"That's gross," Cody chuckles. He brings his mug of black caf up to his lips and takes a tentative sip. "This stuff is much better than what the GAR gives us."

Rex grumbles and takes a sip of his caf. "What was so urgent that I had to leave my warm bed to come meet you in this cold diner?"

"I need to know what the Festival of Love is," Cody says.

Rex spits out his caf and coughs. He grabs a few napkins from the dispenser and wipes his chin, then the mess he made on the table. "Vod, you better be joking."

Cody leans across the table. "I'm serious. You need to tell me."

"That's what couldn't wait until morning?" Rex exclaims.

"I only have a couple of rotations to figure it out," Cody explains. "You know how important it is to have enough time to plan strategic maneuvers."

"Cody," Rex sighs and rubs his face. "It's a holiday, not a frontal assault!"

"Same difference," Cody says with a dismissive wave. "This is my cyare. She wants to do something special for it and I have no idea what to do. I don't even know what it is!"

"Maker, you're worse than my battalion," Rex sighs. "Fine, if I tell you what it is, can I go back to bed?"

"Yes," Cody agrees.

"The Festival of Love is a holiday for couples," Rex explains. "It's a special day where you and your cyare celebrate your relationship, give each other gifts, and appreciate them."

"That's it?" Cody asks.

"Yeah, that's it," Rex retorts and narrows his eyes. "What did you think a Festival of Love was going to be about?"

Cody shrugs.

"Well, my job here is done," Rex says. He downs the rest of his caf and shimmies his way out of the booth.

"Wait," Cody says as he grabs Rex's wrist. "We're not done yet."

Rex sighs and shimmies back into the booth. "What else?"

"How do you celebrate it?" Cody asks.

"How should I know?" Rex retorts. "Does it look like I have a cyare? Because if I did, I wouldn't be here with you, I'd be with her, in my bed, naked, with my–"

"Okay, I get the picture," Cody interrupts. "Come on, vod, give me something to work with."

Rex sighs. "I'll comm Echo. He's into those types of novels. I'm sure he knows."

Cody raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean by those types of novels?"

"You know…" Rex ducks his head and leans over the table to whisper. "Those erotic romance novels where the main characters have lots of crazy sex."

"Oh," Cody whispers, drawing the syllable out. "Those types of novels. You've got some… interesting vod."

Rex shrugs. "At least he's quiet about it. You should see what Fives and Jesse get up to in their spare time. That stuff will make you turn red faster than–"

"I'm good," Cody interrupts. "Anything from Echo?"

"Give him a minute," Rex says. "He should be asleep, like me."

Rex's comm blinks and he looks down at it to read what Echo wrote.

"Beside the long list of expletives…" Rex begins. "He says you can get them anything pink or red that's heart shaped, as well as chocolates, flowers, cards, poetry, jewelry, perfume, stuffed animals, and bedroom stuff. Also, he says that a fancy dinner is always nice too."

"That's a lot of things," Cody says thoughtfully.

"You probably don't need to do everything," Rex adds. "Maybe just dinner, flowers, and something personal."

"Maybe…" Cody trails off in thought.

He has a better idea about what the holiday is, and what he should be doing, but he still needs to plan everything. Reservations this late into the game are going to be difficult, so he might need to pull some connections, or at worst use a bribe. Regardless, the flowers and chocolate should be simple. The jewelry on the other hand might be complicated, and so would the poetry. He's not even sure if he's read any poetry before, let alone know how to write any for his cyare.

"Well," Rex begins when he starts to doze off at the growing silence, "as much fun as this has been, I want to go back to bed."

"Oh, yeah," Cody says as he snaps back to the present. "Thanks. I appreciate the help."

Rex shimmies out of the booth and throws an annoyed look over his shoulder. "If you were anyone else, I would've shot you."

Cody smiles and takes another sip of his caf. "Love you too, vod."

After Cody finishes his caf, he heads back to the barracks, but instead of sleeping, he pulls out his data-pad and starts researching. He received a lot of great leads from Rex's trooper, Echo, and now he needs to put all of his thoughts together to execute the perfect Festival of Love presentation for you. He searches for the right shops, reads through numerous product reviews, browses romantic poetry, and searches for the fanciest restaurants to make a reservation at.

As the days roll by, Cody puts his plan into action. The dinner reservation comes first, and he was correct in his assumption that he needed to pull some strings and call in a few favors to get a good reservation with the holiday so close. It does help that he has a batchmate in the Coruscant Guard. Bribery can get him into trouble, so having Fox on his side is worthwhile. He makes a mental note to prepare for the Festival of Love at least six months in advance for the next cycle.

The list of gift ideas he has is decent, but he can't decide whether he wants to do a few of them or all of them. Considering this is his first Festival of Love, he errs on the side of caution and buys them all. The best initial battle strategies are the ones approached broadly with caution, then tailored down to suit the individual situation. This strategy is no different. He'll watch your reaction to each gift and gauge how well it's received, then adjust his gifting for the next cycle.

It's perfect. Everything is perfect. The gift basket is beautiful, with all of the gifts neatly nestled on top of shredded pink, red, and white paper, and a large velvet red bow tied neatly around the handle. Cody admires his handiwork, then looks at his chronometer. It's a few hours before your dinner reservation, and just about time for Cody to pick up the last of the gifts, the flowers. He visited multiple florists before finally picking one and ordering the flowers he wanted to give you.

Now, with his gift basket and flowers in tow, he heads over to your apartment. He's wearing his best clothes, his officer uniform, and made sure there wasn't a wrinkle on it. Tonight needs to be special for you, so he went overboard with the preparation. It was unfortunate when your work called you in to help with another shift, but you still got the night off, which didn't hinder Cody's plans at all. Although, it did give him plenty of time to overthink and double check everything.

Cody places the gift basket down on the front steps of the apartment, re-situates the flowers in his hands, picks up the box of chocolates, and rings the doorbell. He stands back and straightens himself up as he waits for you to answer, feeling like a scared little shiny going on his first date. He shouldn't feel this anxious. He made sure to plan for every contingency and even made a back-up plan for his back-up plan. All of his bases are covered, but he wants to puke.

You open the door, dressed in the fancy outfit you picked out for dinner. "Cody," you smile with surprise. "You're early."

Cody clears his throat. "Roses are red," he says and hands you the bouquet of red roses.

"Cody!" you exclaim. "These are so–"

"Violets are blue," he interrupts you and hands you another bouquet of flowers.

"Cody," you say. "These are–"

"Sugar is sweet," he interrupts you again and hands you the box of chocolates.

"Cody," you say. "I don't have enough hands."

"And so are you," he says, then grabs your full hand to kiss the back of it.

You grin from ear to ear at the adorable gesture, snort, then start laughing.

Cody's eyes grow wide thinking he did something wrong. "Do you not like the flowers? Or was it the poem?"

"No, no, of course, I love the flowers," you chuckle, trying not to laugh harder. "But Cody. These aren't violets, they're carnations, and they're orange, not blue."

"Oh, yeah," he says sheepishly. "I couldn't find any violets so I got you ones that matched my battalion colors instead."

"You are the sweetest man alive!" you exclaim as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

Cody smiles and hugs you back. "I've got more for you," he says, then reaches down to grab the gift basket.

Your jaw drops and you look between Cody and the basket. "This is all… for me?"

Cody nods. "I wanted today to be special so I got you everything I could think of."

"I can see that," you exclaim. "Why don't you come inside and I'll open it?"

Cody agrees and enters your apartment. He's been over to your place numerous times, but for some reason he feels like a stranger today. You walk off towards the kitchen to take care of the two bouquets of flowers and put them in some water, leaving Cody at the entrance. He takes a few cautious steps into the living room and places the gift basket on the caf table. Not knowing what else to do with himself, Cody sits on the couch and waits for you to return from the kitchen.

"You look beautiful," he says as you walk into the living room.

You smile. "Well, with those fancy dinner reservations you got us," you begin and then twirl to let him see the whole outfit. "I had to take it up a notch."

Cody bites his lip as his eyes roam from the top of your head all the way down to the bottom of your feet. "Gorgeous."

You sit down next to him on the couch and start looking through the gift basket. You pull out more boxes of chocolates, all in different shapes and flavors, a beautiful hand-written card, a bottle of your favorite perfume you were running out of, and a stunning silver set of earrings and a matching necklace. Your jaw drops and you put them on immediately so you can wear them to dinner tonight. Next you pull out an adorable stuffed tooka holding a heart, which makes you melt.

"What's this?" you ask as you reach the bottom of the basket and find a small bottle of strawberry flavored lube.

Cody rubs the back of his neck. "It was in the same section as everything else, so I thought maybe we could try it out."

"Cody," you laugh. "This stuff is awful."

"Really?" he asks, kicking himself now for buying it. "I didn't want to get anything too risky without talking to you first, so I thought that maybe something small like this would–"

"Did you taste it?" you interrupt to ask.

"They weren't exactly giving out samples," he jokes.

You snort, then hug Cody as tight as you can. "You are the sweetest man in the galaxy, you know that?"

"You're sweeter," he says and seals his words with a kiss.

You smile and take a nibble at his ear. "Why don't I grab the can of whipped cream from the conservator?" you whisper against his skin. "We can be naughty and have our dessert before dinner."

Cody smirks. "Yes ma'am."

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mamaestapa · 4 months

Text

Nursery Ideas & an Unforgettable Team Dinner

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/n Hubbard, the younger sister of Cincinnati Bengals Defensive End Sam Hubbard, finds herself in a difficult situation after a steamy hookup with her brothers best friend, who just so happens to be the quarterback for the Bengals. In just nine months their lives will be changed forever. How will Y/n and Joe manage to to go through parenthood together? more so, how will Sam take the news he is going to be the uncle of his best friends baby?

•chapter summary: Joe shares his nursery ideas with you and the two of you attend a team dinner you'll never forget...

•word count: 3.0k

•warnings: pregnancy, talks of pre-term/early labor, alcohol consumption, a little angst, lots of fluff, and a cliffhanger ending ;)

series masterlist

—————————————————

June 26, 2023

6 months pregnant

Joe walked into the kitchen where you were making lunch for yourself and the baby. His chest was heaving with each breath he took and beads of sweat were dripping down his face. He adjusted the headband on his forehead that was pushing his grown out curls back as he let out a breath. You could tell he must have had an intense work out.

You turned around and smiled softly at him, "Hi my love. How was your workout?" Joe shrugged as he opened an orange mango Body Armor. "Eh, it was OK." A smirk made its way onto his face as he eyed you, "Would've been better if I had you in there for moral and visual support."

You shook your head, laughing at him, "Oh, so naughty."

"Only for you, sweetheart," he winked.

You playfully rolled your eyes before turning your attention back to the turkey sandwich you were preparing.

"So what's for lunch" Joe asked after taking a generous swig of his Body Armor. "Nothing special," you turned around and held the plate up for him to see, "just a turkey sandwich and some grapes."

"Looks good." Joe said as he walked up to you, holding his arms out for you. You backed up, shaken your head and pushing him away. Your face turned in disgust "Uh-uh, no way. No hugs for you until you shower."

"Awe, c'mon baby why not?"

"Because you smell and you're sweaty, it's gross!" Joe smirked, "So? That hasn't stopped you in the past..."

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you spoke, "Whatever, please, go shower."

"Ugh," Joe huffed, "fine, mom."

You giggled at him, smiling triumphantly and blowing Joe a kiss as he walked away. He turned around and looked at you with a look, shaking his head at you.

"I love you Joey." You called in a sing song tone. Joe sighed, still a little butthurt that you made him go shower, "I love you too."

About twenty minutes later, Joe came back downstairs with dripping wet hair, gray sweatpants adorning his toned legs, and no shirt on. Your breath hitched in your throat as you saw him standing in the doorway of the kitchen. You could practically feel the heart eyes your gaze was turning into as you looked at your boyfriend.

Joe smirked as he walked up to you. "Can I have my hug now?" You bit your lip, pulling the corner in between your teeth. Nodding , you held your arms out for Joe, "Of course daddy."

Joe wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm hug. He swayed you back and forth gently, the two of you humming contently at the contact. Hugging you and his unborn son was Joe's favorite thing in the world. He started to pull away from you, giving your protruding belly a little rub before he pulled away completely.

"Want to watch a movie with me or something? We haven't done that in a while." You asked, a sweet smile gracing your features as you looked up at your gorgeous boyfriend. "Yeah, I will," he nodded, "I'm gonna go put a shirt on, and then I want to talk to you about something..." Joe finished, trailing off his sentence.

You felt your heart drop as he trailed off. You swallowed thickly, suddenly growing nervous. "O-okay?"

"It's not bad, trust me." Joe said, shaking his head and waving off your worried expression, "I think you'll enjoy talking about it."

Joe reached out and squeezed your bicep gently before he headed off to your bedroom upstairs to put a shirt on. You hopped up on the counter and let out a soft sigh as you watched Joe leave the room. You were left downstairs extremely confused. What could he have to talk to you about?

Shortly after going upstairs, Joe came back down wearing an old LSU Football T-shirt. He walked through the kitchen and over to the sliding glass door, beckoning you to come outside with him. You hopped off the counter and walked towards the door out to the backyard. Joe grabbed your hand and lead you over to the swing that sat in the shade near the pool. The two of you sat down on the white cushion, your hands clasped together as you began to sway slowly back and forth. As the swing was swaying calmly in the cool spring breeze, you pushed your hair away from your face and turned to look over at Joe. Joe couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face as he admired how beautiful you looked. Your hair was blowing in the breeze, your skin had that pregnancy glow, and your baby bump looked extra cute today in your summer blouse. You truly looked like the most beautiful woman in the world.

"So," you began with a soft sigh, "what did you want to talk about?"

Joe smiled as he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants. He pulled out his phone, making sure the brightness was all the way up before he unlocked it. You watched him, mesmerized by the smile that tugged at his pink lips. Joe's baby blues sparkled as he scrolled through the device in his hand. He handed you the phone as the smile on his lips only grew wider.

"Peanuts nursery ideas. " You read aloud. You could feel your heart bursting with an overwhelming sense of love and adoration.

Joe had made a Pinterest board full of cute nursery ideas for your baby boy.

You looked up at him, your mouth hanging open with a shocked, yet happy smile, "Awe, Joe!" you gushed, "this is so sweet!"

"I uh, I pinned a bunch of ideas I thought were cute," he said, gesturing to the phone, "and I pinned some I thought you would like too."

Your grin only widened as you scrolled through the many photos pinned on his board. You scoot closer to Joe so he could look at them with you and so you could hear his opinions on each nursery.

"Ooh, this one is cute!" you gushed, "I love the white shiplap on the wall."

"I thought it was cute too, but so is this one!" Joe said, pointing to the nursery he saved that was jungle themed. it wasn't gaudy at all, which you loved. The walls were a sage green and the stuffed animals in the room were all animals you'd find in a jungle. The vibe of the room was soft and gentle, perfect for your baby boy.

"I could see our son having a jungle themed room, you know living in the jungle and all." Joe said with a wink. You nodded in agreement, "I think so too."

After spending about ten more minutes looking through all the pins Joe had saved to Peanuts Pinterest board, the two of you finally had it narrowed down to four nursery themes that you both loved.

One was jungle themed, another was the one with a white shiplap wall, the third was a simple gray theme with lambs and elephant pictures, and the final theme was a traditional baby blue with your baby's name on the wall above his crib.

"I think these all of would be perfect for him, don't you think?" you asked looking down and rubbing your swollen belly. Joe smiled softly, reaching a hand out to do the same, "I agree. I think they all would be just perfect."

You smiled sweetly as you felt the baby kick. You don't know why, but something about your baby's movements made you think about this milestone.

"I know we have a ways to go," you spoke, "but what do you say we get started on it soon? I'd rather be prepared and have it done early just in case."

"Just in case what?" Joe questioned as he looked over at you with furrowed brows. You shrugged before continuing, "I don't know," you rubbed your bump as you spoke, "I mean, he is our first. And this is my first pregnancy, so who knows how long my body will want to keep him in here."

You didn't realize this until you got pregnant, but every expectant mother has an ounce of fear that her child will come into the world too early. You know you shouldn't fear it, but deep down you do. This is your first pregnancy, and you truly don't know how your body will react to many of the wonderful milestones of pregnancy. There's a lot of unknown about know how your body will handle labor, or if you'll even make it to term with your baby boy. It's a scary thought, pre-term labor. But you know it's something you need to consider the further you progress into this pregnancy. While there is a lot of unknown and some fear, the only thing that has helped calm your nerves was that you knew you had Joe with you by your side through everything.

You are truly so thankful for him. Without Joe, this journey wouldn't be easy at all.

Joe wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He pulled you into his side, stroking your arm with his thumb as he spoke, "Sounds good to me, mamas." he sighed softly before continuing, "I know you're fearful that he could come early, but I promise you he won't."

"But what if he does, Joe."

"If he comes early, he comes early. He'll be OK, you know why?"

You looked up at Joe, looking him in the eyes, "Why?"

"Because he has a strongest woman in the world as his mommy. Those genes run through his little body already, I just know it."

You wrapped your arms around Joe. Closing your eyes and sighing contently as you nuzzled your face into his right pec. "You always know how to make me feel better, Joey."

Joe rubbed your back as he spoke sincerely, "Hey, that's what I'm supposed to do. After all the shit you've bee through with me, I'd be a terrible boyfriend if I didn't know how to make you feel better."

You let out a soft "awe" as you pulled away from his embrace. You leaned up and pecked him on the lips. "You're the best boyfriend. Peanut and I are lucky to have you Joe."

Joe smiled, this time giving you a peck on the lips. "I could say the same about you."

You grinned at him as you stood up from the swing. You reached out and grabbed Joe's hand, pulling him off of the swing to join you. "We should probably head in and get ready," you suggested, "dinner party is in an hour."

Joe huffed out a sigh as he stood next to you after getting up from the swing. "Do we really have to go?" he asked, wincing slightly after you said yes. Of course Joe loved his teammates and coaches, but he really didn't feel like seeing all of them tonight for the Bengals team dinner. He would much rather stay home with you, watching movies all night and ordering whatever takeout you and the baby were craving.

"Come on Joey," you grabbed Joe's hand, squeezing it gently as you walked the two of you back inside, "I'll let you pick out my outfit for me." You finished, sending your boyfriend a wink. Joe just chuckled and shook his head at your offer.

Of course you'd bribe him with that.

About forty minutes later after dealing with Joe grumbling about having to leave the house and you rolling your eyes at his griping every ten seconds as you did your makeup, you and Joe were out the door and headed to a restaurant in downtown Cincinnati where you would be enjoying your team dinner. Joe kept his hand on the small of your back as the two of you entered the restaurant. A wide grin pulled at the corners of your mouth as you saw a few of the WAGS sitting at one end of the table, sipping on wine and gossiping about whatever the latest developments in the NFL world were. Joe reluctantly let go of you as the two of you parted ways. You flashed him a warm smile as you walked over to the girls. He smiled back, taking his eyes off of you once Ja'Marr loudly announced that Joe had finally made it.

"Y/n!" Holly cheered, her usual wide grin adorning her features as she stood up from the table. She walked up to you and pulled you into a gentle, yet firm embrace.

"Hi Holly," you giggled as you threw your arms around the blonde, "it's so good to see you." She pulled away from you and brought her hands down to the sides of your bump, which has grown a lot since the last time you've seen her and the other girls.

"Oh my gosh," Holly gushed as she looked at you, "your belly! And that glow! You look so cute." she took her hands away when Morgan and Emma stood up to give you a hug and gush over your pregnancy glow the same way Holly did. The girls were so incredibly sweet as they greeted you. You were so grateful to have such wonderful friends like them.

After greeting all the other WAGS and meeting some of the new faces who you were sure you'd be just as close with, you all moved to sit next to your men. Sam moved down a chair, letting you sit down next to Joe. You thanked him softly, calling him "Uncle Sam" which instantly brought a smile to his face. Joe smiled softly at the two of you as he brought a hand over to rest on your belly. You looked over at him, eyes widening slightly at the contact. Before leaving, you and Joe both agreed to keep the PDA and any attention to your baby bump at a minimum--since the fans still didn't know Joe was the father of your baby.

"I don't care," he said simply as his shoulders shrugged, "I love you and our baby and I'm not going to hide that anymore. If the fans find out, they find out. They were going to eventually anyways."

You just nodded at Joe's words as you placed your hand over his. He had a point. What was the point in hiding who the father of your baby is? The whole world is going to find out once he's born.

You and Joe spent the next couple minutes catching up with Tee, Ja'Marr, Logan and Morgan while more players and coaches arrived. Once most of the team was settled and had their drinks ordered, Zac decided now was the time to give a short and sincere speech, showing his appreciation for every one in attendance.

Zac's wife Sarah tapped the edge of her glass, getting every ones attention for her husband. Zac thanked his wife before he clapped his hands together and started speaking.

"I wanted to take a moment and thank all of you for coming out for this team dinner. I know you all have busy schedules this off-season before we start preparing for training camp and the upcoming season, but it means a lot to me, my wife, and the rest of the coaching staff that you all made an effort to attend. I just want to say thank you for all of your hard work and dedication. I truly couldn't ask for a better group of guys to coach, a better staff to work alongside with," he looked at you as he said the next part, "including our amazing social media manger."

You smiled at Zac, mouthing "thank you". He chuckled softly before continuing his speech.

"But seriously, I'm incredibly proud of all of you and what you and your partners contribute to this team. Tonight is about celebrating all of you, what we've accomplished, and what we will accomplish." Zac picked up his beer, holding it up in a toast.

"Who Dey!" He cheered. A chorus of upbeat "Who Dey"s filled the restaurant as everyone else held their drinks up in a toast. You turned to Joe, clinking your mocktail glass against his mojito. He smiled and pulled you into a sweet kiss before the two of you took a drink.

You looked around the room, smiling as you looked at all of the players and wives and girlfriends. You were so blessed to be apart of a team and organization like the Bengals. Everyone in attendance seemed to already be having blast.

This was going to be a great party. Or so you thought...

hi loves!!

i finally updated again…YAY lol. i deeply apologize for how long its taking me to get updates for this series out. college/finals week was really getting to me…BUT i passed all my finals and actually did extremely well in all of my classes for my first semester, so taking more time to focus on school really paid off :)

but enough about me and college, i wonder what could possibly happen at this team dinner👀 i decided to end it off at the cliffhanger and save the angst for the next chapter. if you’re an angst girlie, these next couple chapters are for you! you should know by now i never joe thinks fluffy for long in this series (at least, for now)😉

as always, thank you all so much for your patience, your support, and your kindness. all of the votes, comments, reblogs, and kind words from all of you my loves is what keeps me going. that goes for readers of all of my work and posts, you all mean so much to me. THANK YOU!🫂🤍

tags: @dandelionwrites8 @joeburreauxsworld @theflawedwriter @mrsshiesty @ann288 @ijustcrypretty @theoneandonlyfanz @wickedfun9 @venus-b @hummusxx @stainednailpolishremover @a-moment-captured @alternativemadchen @erinmartin1987 @kkrenae @unhingedfangirl @sublimemusic-rebel @meameagirl @ilovejoeburroww @hallecarey1 @j-worlds-blog @blinkloverx3 @jordyn14 @kristencochefski1125 @ryiamarie @unsaidjaelinrose @sinners-98-world @ozwriterchick @hornyforherbert @fangirl-madz @fantasywritersstuff @jackharloww @bernelflo @austinswhitewolf @emherb10

(if you’d like to be removed or added to the taglist, let me know!🤍)

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow fic #joe burrow series #daddy issues #dad joe

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danikamariewrites · 10 months

Text

Taken (part 1)

Cassian x f!reader

A/n: I realized I haven't written much for Cass so I decided he gets a two-parter

You can read part 2 here

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence, Beron Vanserra being a dick

The room had gone silent, there was a slight ringing in Cassian's ears. Someone had taken you. Someone had taken you from your home. And he wasn’t there to protect you or stop it or kill the person who dared touch you. You’re his mate, and he failed at the one job he had, protecting you.

“Cassian,” Rhys spoke softly, noticing Cassian's hands were curled into fists at his sides. The red siphons strapped to the back of his hands were glowing as his rage simmered. “We will get her back. Whatever it takes. Azriel should be back soon, he said he has a lead.”

He knew what you would say to him if you were here right now. ‘Don’t worry Cass I’m fine. I can handle myself.’ He knew you could. He had been training you since the mating bond snapped. But you didn’t grow up like him. Training every day, honing your body into a weapon.

You grew up studying history, learning languages, and everything about the courts of Prythian. Your mind was strong. You were witty and the smartest person he’d ever met.

Cassian always joked that he was the brawn to your brains and that’s why the cauldron had mated you. But smarts didn’t always get you out of a sticky situation.

Azriel burst through the door, Feyre and Mor on his heels. Cassian turns to face his brother, his rage nearly boiling under his skin. “Who. Took. Her.” He demanded through gritted teeth.

Azriel took a cautious step forward, putting on the mask of Spymaster, attempting to remove his personal feelings from the situation. “Y/n put up one hell of a fight. The house was a mess but I was able to recover this,” Azriel holds out an armored shoulder plate in his scarred hand. “She knew to leave a clue, Cassian. We’re going to find her.”

Cassian took the armor from his brother, examining it. It was bronze, with the insignia of Berons personal hit squad carved on the curve of the metal. Rhys rounds the corner of his desk to examine it.

“Get Nesta and the Valkyries ready, you two get ready as well,” he says to his mate and Mor. “We need to form a plan,” Rhys commands. “No!” Cassian's booming voice echoes around the office. His family pauses, waiting for him to explode.

He shoves the armor into Rhys’ chest. “I’m not fucking waiting for you. I’m going ahead. I’ll see what we’re dealing with.” He stomps towards the door, Azriel stepping in his way. “Cassian, you know how bad of an idea that is.” Cassian growls at his brother but Azriel doesn’t back down.

“I hate to do this Cass,” Rhys starts, Cassian’s back stays turned to him, “but Az is right. As your High Lord, I am ordering you to wait until we are prepared to leave.”

———

You heard a door open and shut echo across the cavernous dungeon, and a male's angry voice muffled by whispers. You didn't dare open your eyes out of fear the guard stationed at your cell door would announce it. So you lay on the floor, pretending to be unconscious.

It was better to catch people off guard when you could, Cassian taught you that. Cassian! Judging by the small amount of sunlight coming in through the tiny window in the cell, it was late and he had to know you were missing by now.

You had tried to reach out to him through the bond a few times but it was no use. Your abductors had used a lot of Fae Bane to subdue you, and the wards around the Forest House were strong. Beron was a very paranoid person and left nothing to chance.

The male's heavy footsteps approach, accompanied by two other pairs. You tried not to let the scent of your fear be known. “Open the door.” You know that voice. Beron had come to see you himself. Something had to be going on if he was desperate enough to have you kidnapped.

He entered the cell, crouching over you. He grabbed your face, squeezing hard. Your eyes fly open, anger overtakes your features as you struggle to get away. He pulls you into a standing position as he looks down at you. “Now, now y/n. You should know better than to struggle.” you stop, your breathing heavy. You weren't an idiot. You wanted to live long enough to attempt an escape, so you'd obey for now.

Beron roughly pushes your face, letting go. Never breaking eye contact you growl out, “What do you want?” He backhands you across your face so hard you fall, hitting the stone floor. Recovering quickly you scramble away from the High Lord of Autumn clutching at your face. You could feel a large bruise forming.

He stands scowling at you, “It's too early to be taking that tone with me y/n. But I will sate your curiosity.” you push into the damp stone wall, hoping you'd fall through it and escape.

“You are Rhysands go-to for translating languages and whatnot.” ok, so he knew your job title. Big deal. “I've come across something rather rare, my people have looked at it but the incompetent fools failed at translating it. You will translate it for me.” He stares down at you expectantly.

It's clear the other High Lords didn't know about Beron's little find, but you had to make sure. “I take it the other High Lords are unaware of this.” He huffs out a laugh. “No, and it will stay that way. You do serve another purpose being here though.” you tilt your head giving him a curious look.

“Your little inner circle is keeping secrets. I didn't think Rhysand would be so careless but alas, I found this in my idiotic son's study.” Beron takes a crumpled piece of paper from his breast pocket holding it out to you. You lean forward slightly to make out the message.

Shit. That was one of the first letters between Rhys and Eris after Hybern. Shit, shit, shit. And Beron knows they’ll show up for you. It's not a secret you and Cassian are mates. Shit. This is a trap. And you're the bait.

The panic showed on your face as Beron smirked at you, knowing he won. He turns to leave, saying, “I'll send guards for you when I'm ready.” The cell door slammed shut and the guard went back to his watch position as Beron and the other two walked away. He was going to leave you here all night. Just to emphasize how powerless you were in this whole situation.

———

By the time the plan was set and everyone was armed to the teeth Cassian was fuming. Too much time had passed for his liking. He was going out of his mind, thinking of all the negative what-ifs. And he couldn't feel you down the bond.

He had reached out a million times and nothing. It was still there but that wasn't enough for Cassian. If he kept thinking about it he was going to be sick.

Rhys’ voice broke him from his thoughts, “You know what your assignments are. We have no room for error. And remember, this could very well be a trap we're walking into. So stay alert.” Everyone nodded.

The plan was that Azriel would winnow in first, then send the all-clear to Rhys for Feyre and Nesta, then Mor and Emerie. And he and Rhys last. They would sneak into the Forest House from four different spots. Nesta and Emerie would take out guards where they could. Mor, Feyre, and Rhys would keep trouble off their backs and find Eris. And He and Azriel would head for the dungeons to get you out.

Rhys grabbed Cassian's arm. The world fell away, darkness consumed his sight, and then the forest of Autumn bathed in moonlight was around him. The air smelled crisp and earthy.

He took a deep breath and followed his brother toward the Forest House.

———

You couldn't sleep. You tried different spots on the floor but your anxiety kept your heart pounding at the thought of Beron coming back for you.

You were sitting against the wall, knees pulled into your chest. The guard had yelled at you an hour ago for fidgeting too much, so you've been sitting in this position since. You didn't want to see what he would do if you moved around again.

You began absent-mindedly running your fingers against the stone wall. On your second pass over a certain spot, your finger caught slightly. You ran your finger over the spot again. And traced the crack in the wall up and over.

Laying your palm over the space you felt a slight breeze. This wasn't just a crack in the stone, it was a door to a secret passage. At that moment something in your brain clicked. You've studied every High Lord in Prythian, even the layouts of their houses.

You knew exactly where this passage led. The guard was your only problem. You could do this. Cassian taught you how to sneak up on people. You just had to stay calm.

You moved into a crouching position and slowly made your way over to the bars. His quarterstaff was held lax at his side. You stuck a hand through the bars grabbing the staff. Before he knew what was happening you brought the staff up to his throat. Grabbing the other end you pulled him against the bars, choking him until he passed out. You let him down slowly, so his body didn't make noise.

You push and push against the secret door. After a few minutes, it finally gives in. You start crawling in the dark and dusty passageway. It clearly hadn't been used in centuries.

You didn't want to get ahead of yourself, but this escape route was looking promising.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #cassian acosf #cassian acotar #cassian acotar x reader #Cassian x reader #Cassian x you #cassian angst #cassian fanfic

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popatochisssp · 5 months

Note

The Court AU has me DEAD!!! If you’d be willing, what sort of outfits would they wear? I’d love to draw them!

Anon, I had so many tabs open looking up medieval-type fashion and armor, we're talking like 30+, felt super awesome finishing this and closing them all 😌

Anyway--

Sans (Undertale): What’s black and blue and white all over? Why, him of course! His jester’s motley features a black-and-white diamond pattern, offset by bright, rich, royal blue—a mark of his service to the king. He doesn’t wear one of those silly hats, though…because he wears a silly hood instead! Less chance of falling off, you see. When not in costume he tends toward simple tunics, of decent material and often still in blue.

Papyrus (Undertale): Almost never out of full plate armor, even in downtime, he has to dress for the job he wants and that means being a shining metal bastion of knightly glory at all times! …Though he does often remove his helmet and hold it by his sword at his hip, or fasten it to his steed’s side. He’s a very handsome skeleton, it would be cruel to deny the people the chance to see their hero’s face!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Soft blues and yellows, as a squire only lightly armored—greaves and pauldrons, a mail shirt beneath his tunic if he’s expected to go into battle—but he considers even that much armoring to be overkill for what he’s doing. Still, his Captain insists, and it makes his brother feel better, so he takes care protecting himself. He has some nicer finery to wear about court, as a nobleman, but tends simpler for anything that might be dirtied or torn in training.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Rich green and earthy browns, his clothing tends to be without ostentation—no embroidery, no gold buckles or buttons, or anything especially elaborate. He may be noble but he’s a scholar and a recluse and prefers not to stand out much. Still, the fabrics of which his clothing is made are always fine, as coarse or stiff materials quite put him off. Mostly cottes—long belted tunics—with the occasional robe over, if it's cold.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Blacks and browns, sturdy plain clothes which can stand up to considerable wear and tear. Often wears a short diamond-quilted gambeson and some leather armor (vambraces and greaves), but always has a sword belted to his hip and a cloak made of dire-wolf’s fur draped over his shoulders. If ever he should need to acknowledge his denounced family name, he does have some finer clothing stored away somewhere—in red—and a shiny gold signet ring with his family crest on it.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate armor, dark metal heavily scratched and scorched, dents meticulously hammered back out. He also wears a tattered red cape about his shoulders that billows quite majestically behind him when he rides or runs into battle. He will occasionally dress down in laced tunics and breeches, still in red and black, fine but not too fine as to raise suspicion about his heritage. Should all that ever come out, he does have a suit of pristine night-black armor he’s been dying to inherit and a silken cape to pin about it with a golden clasp of the family’s crest.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Mostly black but flaunts his privilege and royal ties with purple accents wherever possible. Brigandine armor with a fine gold-plated gorget and pauldrons and a few other ornamental trappings—he is the Empress’ personal guard and must in some capacity be as elegant. Very fine doublets and tunics for his (rare) downtime, often with gold threading, but not fond of most jewelries.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Dark colors and crisp whites, noble yet eccentric, he has a lot of fine doublets and other such court-wear but tends not to actually…wear them. He can mostly be found in loose-fitting cottes, baggy sleeves often penned up by leather armlets to keep them out of his paints. He has a fur-hooded cloak for travel or cold weather, but he rarely leaves his rooms, much less the castle, so he doesn’t don it often.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Dark browns and off-white cream, simple rough-hewn clothing showing signs of wear and occasionally odd stains. He works in the stables, with animals, and being around animals so much makes it difficult to keep clean. He has a somewhat decent dark blue cloak that he’ll wear into town for errands, or in polite company—it has a hood to conceal the great jagged hole in his head that tends to make the squeamish or timid flinch away from him.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Still hasn’t quite shaken the habit to be armored, even when it isn’t necessary, but he’s cut down from full plate to chain mail only, much lighter and easier to move around in—which is vital when hurrying to the training field for an accident, or running to meet a wounded knight at the gates. He wears a simple tabard over his mail, blue with red edging (the Queen’s colors), and keeps a pouch of bandages and other aid supplies belted to his waist instead of a sword.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): The livery of the king’s court, gray and gold, but dyed into fabrics suitable for common folk. He still wears gray when not performing at court, tunics so thickly woven they could pass as a gambeson and often paired with hooded cloaks, but he keeps his golds set aside until needed to keep them in good condition. He takes equal care of his shiny brass sackbut (it’s a horn, with a very funny name but an instrument nonetheless) so it always plays well.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Off-white and tan linens, loose and breathable for hot work in the kitchens, sleeves rolled up and pinned at the elbows to keep them from getting in the way. Always an apron about his waist, occasionally with food stains after a long day’s work but these he quickly tends to as soon as he’s able. He has nothing in the way of real finery but tries very hard to make sure what he has is clean and presentable.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Fine brocaded doublets of rich red and shining gold thread, as a duke and brother to a king, he does have to dress the part a bit. He wears more jewelry, especially rings, but nearly always still has his dire-wolf fur cloak over his shoulders. When called for executions, he dresses down quite a bit, in simple black cloth with only a leather pauldron over one shoulder to help brace the weight of his axe before he swings.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Half plate armor essentially at all times, even formal or polite occasions—he’s the owner of a stolen throne and all too aware that it could be stolen from him the same way he got it. His breastplate is scaled and his pauldrons are elaborately spiked, but it’s all black. The only pop of color on him is his crown, the same worn by Asgore and Undyne, gold and sharp, with rubies inlaid.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Chain mail over a finely-made kaftan and beneath a traveling cloak, the latter two with signs of wear from a long journey. His head is notably absent of a crown—left behind in the kingdom he fled—but a new one awaits him soon, of flashing silver and blue stone, depicting the phases of the moon. When fully established in his new kingdom, he may begin dressing as a proper king again, draping himself in the blue and silver finery of the land that sheltered him.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Browns, greens, and blacks, he wears light leather armor—really just a breastplate and vambraces—and a thick woolen cloak about his shoulders. He has no need of greaves for his shins, legs lost to an accident in the wilderness, but supplanted by magical prosthetics, living blackened wood provided by his land when he called upon it for aid. …Not that he’s fully accepted that it’s his land, keeping his crown of twisting copper and emerald tucked away in a saddlebag instead of on his brow. Maybe someday…

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Rich purple and verdant green, amidst a sea of black—he favors very fine fabrics with open lacing at the chest. Still not especially fond of jewelry, but wears considerably more decorative leather braces on forearms, shins, and even the occasional full-chest corset. (He has some chronic pain and the extra pressure and support in certain spots helps.) He wears considerably more plain clothes for knight-training purposes and when traveling wears a black cloak with a cowl that comes down over the hole in his face at a point, as the beak of a raven.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate splint mail armor for his patrols along the wall, but favors rusty oranges, brown and black for the tunics and boots and breeches he wears out of it. Often carries a lantern, and always has tinder in a pouch on his hip. Beside his pouch is a war-horn in case an alert would need to be called, loud enough to make everyone come running if it’s ever sounded.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): A cavalierly styled courtier, at first having made do with graciously lent clothing and now being able to buy his own in a whole variety of rich colors—yellow, blue, magenta, and on. His aim is to look at home in court, which means he must dress as other courtiers do, so he has doublets and fine tunics and many, many fashionable capelets with embroidery and stylish pins, as well as a few equally chic plumed hats. The other courtiers look to him now for the latest fashion trends and he couldn’t be happier.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): A bit more subdued in style than his brother…though only a bit. He favors black frocks, almost as a cleric would wear, but beneath them, elegant doublets in greens and yellows as vibrant as anything his twin wears, with fine silver filigree work in his buckles and pins and clasps. He’s the pinnacle of restrained class and taste and it’s no wonder at all that the king should respect him so highly if his care in thought is as his care in appearance.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): Deep, dark black from head to toe, most prominently a long hooded cloak with two eye-lights glowing in the darkness. He always wears gloves and never lets his hood down, as he’s not especially fond of his metal bones and doesn’t really wish to be seen. It’s difficult to see in the daytime, but at night he’s trailed by faint wisps of ghostly light in all colors of the rainbow, such a strange sight that many a drunkard who’s seen him has poured out their bottle presuming they’d had quite a bit too much.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): Full plate armor, of course, but as he’s now some sort of spectral entity, it (and he!) glows and is slightly see-through. Being ghostly has washed out his colors quite thoroughly which is unfortunate—mostly all white with hints of silvery blue—but on the up-side he seems able to change his appearance some by will alone, donning or discarding his helmet at will, manifesting a majestic cape for himself out of the ether, and so on. It seems a fair enough trade to him!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): A man at court now, he’s donned an eye-patch and abandoned the trappings of prospective knighthood, fully embraced courtier fashion…if a bit ‘eccentrically.’ He favors bright yellows and spring greens, flowing garments of fine cloth layered beneath and over leather vambraces, gorget, and tasset. All these are elaborately, intricately designed and certainly make the similarly intricate gold jewelry (with multicolored gems) that he wears at wrist and neck stand out, but it’s hardly in fashion… Still, the mystic’s thinking is often inscrutable.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): Unlike his brother, very fashionable and eye-catching, in rich amaranths and brilliant turquoises, with even the occasional lavender. He has many fine embroidered doublets, threaded liberally with gold, and wears many pieces of gold jewelry as well—necklaces, bracelets, pins, and brooches. When showing the birds of the crown at court or bidding them on a royal hunt, he wears the livery of the crown-proper—royal purple and gold—and always has a thick leather falconer’s glove on his left hand.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): What’s black and white and red all over? Well, newspapers haven’t been invented yet, so it’s him, of course! He’s no jester so he hasn’t a motley to wear to work, but he is a performer and does dress in the livery of the king, which is red and black. The material is a bit finer than he’s used to, but being that he’s no longer wearing rags and rotting in a hole, he’s quite pleased with it and doesn’t mind the bright colors that help him attract the eyes of many comely nobles at court. Off-duty, he sticks to loose, somewhat open tunics—red still very much preferred.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): Laced linen shirts, not especially loosely fitting due to his largeness in the chest and shoulders but he hasn’t burst any seams in awhile so the measurements must be somewhat correct. He’s fond of white and a true connoisseur of red, all shades from dark to very light. He keeps an array of small carpentry tools—hammers, chisels, things for measuring—in a roll on his hip, a dedicated apprentice to the core.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): All black, pourpoint armor beneath fine silk doublets but almost disappointingly plain otherwise—no embroidery, no ornament, or stitched pattern, or brocade. Over this he wears a cloak, equally fine and with at least some ostentation, a bit of silver stitched decoration that matches the intimidatingly clawed silver gauntlet he wears upon his left hand—a symbol of his wealth, if not his status. These flashy items are for matters of court only, as he has a much more nondescript hooded cloak and less identifiable sharp implement which he uses for matters of stealth and misdeeds when it is important that he not be recognized.

Hunter (Swapfell Frution Papyrus): A prince in princely attire…mostly. He happily flaunts the color purple but proudly wears it with the black of his old family name, and drapes himself in silk tunics, fine (mostly decorative) pauldrons, capes and capelets. He tends to show off a bit more of his chest than seems appropriate for a man of his station, and seems to wear his elegant silver jewelry in ways such that the eye is drawn there, and…other places, but few question the whims of royalty. His pewter crown is heavy and inelegant and he’s talked much with his brother about how angry people would be if he had it melted and recast into something more stylish.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): Plain, rough tunics, in black and dark brown. He wears a heavy fur-lined gabardine as it gets quite cold in the dungeons, though it’s uncertain where he managed to get such a nice garment. He keeps a knife on his belt, large and jagged-toothed, and though he hasn’t had need to use it yet, the threat of it tends to keep most prisoners from attempting to bring him harm.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): He’s traded in his full plate armor for a comfortably fit leather jerkin, accompanied by matching gauntlets to protect his hands and torso (inasmuch as they need protection, without flesh) from the thorns he trims back every day. He mostly wears black and white and brown, all things closely fit to his body, less they snag overmuch and need to be replaced too often. His clothing is simple but well-suited to his work, and he wears it nicely.

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