#no matter if it's an ask or a writing or art you just keep popping up in my notifications as soon as you're active and i can't bro
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I want you to know that I very much enjoy seeing you around. I miss you when you're off doing school and work stuff, sure, but I always look forward to seeing you pop up again. Always catches me by surprise, too XD
Also I remembered your old vampire!au writings from when you were writing anon. I miss the times when you wrote stories like that, but I know you're busy nowadays. I will go back and reread them at some point ;)
HFHFGF NOOO DRAG OMGG 😭💞💞💞💞
If it makes you feel better, I got better at writing! I think xd it's for other fandoms and I never post them, but the thought of you actually going back to read that story despite how broken my English was back then is both the best thing someone has ever said to me about my writings so far, but also terrifying Ghfhfh like NOOO why would you DO that to yourself it suucks the plot was all over the place and the pacing/characterisation was terrible :'D I might draw them again one day now that you mentioned them tho...just for you and the people that remember these dorks HHH 🤭
#ask#and i really appreciate your support drag i meant it!#you have got go be one of my most persistent mutuals cause i can't remember a day where i haven't seen you reblog my works-#no matter if it's an ask or a writing or art you just keep popping up in my notifications as soon as you're active and i can't bro#I can't even express just how happy your presence in this blog makes me but i really hope you know that#cause if anything i miss YOU guys the most like fr!!! what would i even do without my wonderful talented mutuals oughgh :')c#just for you man im gonna try and maybe. just MAYBE revisit that au and tweak it up ro my liking ...maybe even write more who knooows#muah muah thank you thank you SsssO much yet again for passing by<3333
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hotch "representing the bau" hotchner x activist!reader who won't stand for bullshit
not like actual conflict cause we know hotch is a very principled guy
more like
"shit i can't shitpost about overthrowing the government anymore cause my boyfriend is the government" vibes
you have no idea how deeply i feel about this i've actually posted about this because i'm very much against all cops and he's a literal fed ! but
You met in the most conventional of ways, which makes the whole thing even funnier to the outside person. A bar. You noticed him the moment he walked in, too downright gorgeous to be ignored, you stare at him completely shamelessly and get a few shy awkward smiles in return while he sips on his first drink and talks to his companion, who you later learned was Rossi.
He will find it later on that you're not really up for games, but it takes him by surprise when you approach him, card in hand with your phone number and the red stain of your red lips on the other side. He's immediately smitten, being flirted with so openly at his age does wonders for his ego and he makes sure to text you as soon as he gets back to his apartment.
The texting back and forth goes for hours, a lot of flirting, you're much more outspoken than he is, but still you find him hilarious, you will be telling your friends he's the funny one between you two (none of them will believe you, but you like having this only to yourself as well).
You talk movies, plays, music, favorite drinks and by 2AM he asks you on a date. It’s perfect from the get go. He's flattering, compliments your choice of clothes, says he likes the lipstick (the same you used on the card he is keeping safe on his wallet), takes you to a nice restaurant.
You tell him since you made the very first move, he would have to be the one to kiss you, he argues he sent you the first text so you should be the one to do it, in the end none of you know who took the first move, you're just sure you were the one to unlock your apartment door, stumbling along with him as you two passionately kissed.
It's not common for this to happen for him, he's too much of a gentleman, sleeping with someone on the first date isn't the gentlemanly thing to do, you're not attached to those norms so even if he tried to argue, your lips glued to his neck as you worked on his belt took his mind off of it.
It's not until the next morning that he really notices your place: The types of books you had, some revolutionary art pieces and it's then he realizes he has no idea what you do for a living. Neither did he tell you he was a FBI agent. You two talked long hours and career wasn't even a topic (that may be why you caught his heart so fast).
You were a journalist, a writer, quite proficient and known for your progressive ideals and less than civil protests, so when you both realize the differences and the conflict it might bring, the first instinct was to pull away. Forget the whole thing. It was only one date after all.
It's a matter of days for the realization that being apart won't happen, your thoughts are filled with him and his voice and the way he touched you and Aaron can possibly detail every curve of your body and the way you smelled as if he was still in bed with you.
There's a mutual agreement of public discretion, you can't have your readers knowing you're falling for a fed, nor does the media needs any more reasons to write about the FBI.
His team knows though, and so does Strauss, she had to be warned of the possibility of your name popping up in some lists. She reads half of your writings after that, highlighting stuff you should not be writing about (you won't listen to her on it) and the compromise you make is to keep all of your opposition material completely professional, no tweets, no tiktoks, nothing of the sort with jokes about overthrowing the government.
"Did you... Did you just cite and use one of Stalin's books as a resource here?" He asks, he's in your bed, blue boxer shorts and white t-shirt on, completely comfortable with you already, his reading glasses sit on top of his nose like an old man and he furrows his brows, looking up at you. Aaron's interested in what you write, he truly reads whatever you hand him just to learn more about you, he's not the one to try to censure any of it.
"Well yeah... His writings are the easiest to comprehend on the topic." You shrug, not understanding the tone of his question at first.
"Honey... You can't just... Do you know how many... Forget it. Your editor will love it." His poor attempts to talk you down failing each time he looked over and saw your expectant eyes as his opinion is important to you. You smile at his defeat, taking the papers from his hand and throwing somewhere else in the room, his glasses go to the bedside table and soon you're kissing any of his worries away.
#lari writes sometimes#THIS GOT TO ME OKAY#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds x reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotch imagine#hotch scenario
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Basim Ibn Ishaq headcanons
Basim Ibn Ishaq x GN!reader
Word count: 1003
Basim is an “actions speak louder than words” man. He’s kind of reserved by nature and has spent many years mastering the art of controlling his emotions during his time in Alamut.
That being said, his love language is definitely acts of service.
It starts off small – you both have a passion for literature, a common ground he has yet to realize. He’s talking to Fuladh about a recent poem he’s just read, reciting his favorite lines, when he hesitates at the end. He’s trying to remember the final verse when you jump in and quote it for him, and Basim shoots you an amused look.
“Since when do you enjoy poetry? ”
He tries to surprise you sometimes – he likes to lend you his favorite books, and if you indulge the man, he’ll even rant about his favorite poets/poetesses and their works. It becomes a bonding mechanism between the two of you, and it might look corny to an outsider; but you see how excited Basim gets when you say you liked the book he gave you, and suddenly, it’s like their opinion doesn’t even matter.
When the life of a Hidden One keeps you up at night –whether that be because of a nightmare or a stress-induced fever– Basim keeps you company. He knows the feeling all too well and refuses to leave you alone, unless that’s something you want. He will sneak into your room with a bowl of fruit and a book in hand.
“May I offer you a poem in these trying times”
Boom you’re sold
It’s a secret of his, but he likes writing poetry, too. He’ll die before admitting it though – and anyone who dares read his work will have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.
That being said, he might let you read something here and there (only the poems he’s revised a hundred times), but you have to swear that you won’t tell anyone.
You don’t mind. It’s like your little secret anyway.
Despite his preference for acts of service, he’s going to try to compliment you every now and then. You can always tell he’s being genuine, and when you thank him, he grants you a warm smile and a courteous nod.
He’s a very good listener. You could be talking about anything and he’d be listening intently, nodding along and asking questions. And nothing escapes him, really – he’s got an amazing memory and will remember your birthday, your favorite food, the friendly camel you met two weeks ago, or even the day you first saw fireworks.
He remembers that day well. The bright lights were sizzling and popping in the sky as you watched them, transfixed. You’d turned to face him with a big grin on your face, and in your excitement, asked him an obvious question: “Did you see that?”
He smiled and nodded, because of course he did.
He didn’t. He was looking at you.
But besides that, nothing escapes him!
He has a habit of shielding you from the elements. When it’s scorching hot, he hovers his hand over your face to keep the sun from your eyes. When it’s windy, he likes to use his stature to shelter you from the breeze. And on rainy days, he cocoons you in scarves and cloaks to keep you from getting wet.
Basim starts laughing more around you, and you both become incredibly closer. You have so many inside jokes that it’s hard to keep track of them, and perhaps it’s starting to get to the other Hidden Ones too. Roshan just sighs as she watches the two of you because you’re both oblivious fools.
He definitely starts coming out of his shell with time, even dropping a pick up line here and there. The first time it happened it caught you so off guard he panicked and lost all sense of his training in three seconds.
“Well, – Nehal is calling me. I’ll see you around.” and he tailed it out of there, tripping over a vase before regaining his footing and scrambling away.
He wouldn’t approach the subject again, and if you were in his proximity he would be as stiff as a board – until you made a move too. You flirted with him out of the blue and he just widened his eyes and pointed at you.
😳🫵🏽
Things change from there and he tries to flirt more (and he’s so dorky he makes everyone within audible distance groan and leave). You’re organizing the books at the bureau, the one place you probably frequent more than your own home, when he comes in.
“You come around here often?”
You give him a deadpan expression, because he can obviously do better than that, and he grimaces.
“Yeah. No more of that.”
Biggest supporter ever. If you speak another language other than Arabic, he wants to know all about it. He’s a smart man, he can learn a couple of expressions quickly, and pretty soon you’re having simple conversations in your tongue.
That being said, if you cuss someone out in said language he’ll probably try to remove you from the situation. He’s not keen on confrontation, especially with civilians, but if they wronged you in any way, he’d be all like “Yeah, what they said!” “And you better remember it!”
An absolute sucker for forehead kisses. He’s not very fond of PDA but he always kisses your temple when he has to leave or walk past you. It’s a ghostly touch, you almost don’t notice it, but it makes your cheeks flush every time.
Likes to hold your face in his hands and just look at you. It can end with him either smiling and kissing the corner of your mouth (on a good day) or pulling your hood down to blind you and ruin the moment (when he’s feeling a little silly). You call out his name and he just barks out a laugh as he climbs onto the rooftops.
He’s actually a little shit (affectionate) (derogatory)
#assassins creed#assassins creed valhalla#assassins creed mirage#basim ibn ishaq#ac basim#ac mirage#ac mirage x reader#basim ibn ishaq x reader#basim ibn ishaq x you#basim x reader#assassins creed loki#assassins creed headcanons#ac mirage headcanons#assassins creed mirage headcanons
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me: [looks at calendar, gets a wicked idea, looks into the camera] happy springtime, turtle fam! who's ready to celebrate the season?
...mating season, that is. hehe. [dodges the tomatoes]
so! i had the idea that it would be super fun to have a community-wide event where we all have a prompt and then everyone fills it in their own way.
...i then decided all the prompts i came up with were too good not to use, but also none of them were Good Enough to use exclusively, so i changed my mind and the prompt is now just MATING SEASON. with a few suggestions at the bottom of this post if you're looking for some.
since spring is coming upon us, i hereby invite everyone to join in the vernal festivities... which in turtle parlance, of course, means only one thing: write, draw, whatever your version of "mating season", then join me on march 1 to post it with the tag #TMNTSpringShellebration. we then shall browse the fine selection of our mutual artistic efforts, and basically just have a good time as a community.
here are the prompts i came up with as starters-slash-things-to-include if you're looking for a place to get started. feel free to use these at will, or use them to come up with something of your own:
“Please don’t make me explain this. It’s humiliating as is.”
Oops, Looks Like Mating Season Came A Week Early This Year
“…In all of my mating seasons, this has never happened before.”
“I told you not to come by! It’s mating season!”
Probably should have expected it to be different now that he’s not going through it alone.
Because of Shenanigans, you have to wait. Wait… Wait… ok now.
They’re not the right person for mating season… but they’re the one who’s here, so…
“Show me where it hurts."
so yeah! see you all on march 1 for the, uh, spring shellebration. party popper emoji
questions i imagine will be popping up and i hope will clear up here before my askbox swells beyond capacity under the cut to keep this post from being Way Too Long. also it's really not that serious it's just an excuse to write slash draw for everyone Please Don't Take This Thing Too Seriously It's Not That Serious:
"can i participate?" yes! it's literally just an invitation to do something. nothing fancier than that. no need to be following me or in my friend group or whatever.
"can i write (insert fic idea here)?" yep! so long as it's related to the idea of mating seasons, it flies. reader insert? hell yea. oc? hell yeah. solo turtle and his favorite pillow? go for it.
"can i draw (insert art idea here)?" yep! uh. i know tumblr has the cops watching for sin bin material, but you art people know how to deal with that. and if you don't, uh, ask the other art people. im just a feral cat in a trench coat
"how do i participate?" write/draw/collect songs for/whatever. then, on march 1, post it and tag it #TMNTSpringShellebration. also, for funsies, keep it hush hush what you're working on so we can all be super shocked when the day comes! except, y'know, that you're planning on joining in. totally do that.
"when do i post it?" march 1. whenever on that day. waves hands around in a vague gesture at time zones not mattering. seriously don't take this so seriously it's just me wanting to create cool shit with my friends with a little more structure to it
"does it have to be horny?" i mean. it's an event about mating season. so by definition it's going to be at least a little horny. but however you interpret it is cool. even if it's just. idk. leo sitting sweatily in a chair looking longingly at a glass of water bc he's thirstier than usual. be smart about things, people. i'm not your dad.
"which tmnt verse is this for?" whichever one you want it to be for!! rise! bayverse! 2007! your fan iteration! your friend's fan iteration! your mortal enemy's fan iteration! yes!
"will you be reblogging everything?" absolutely not, but this isn't an event About Me. i am incidental to the thing. it's about Us. coming together as a community. for horny turtles. puts my hands on your shoulders. do it for you. for your friends. for the community.
#text tag#feel free to reblog this around. it started out as a thing for turtle fam but we all agreed that it would be fun for The Community#anyway yeehaw let's spend all of february thinking about what to do and then the night of feb 29 doing it RAH#tmntspringshellebration
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When Someone Tries to Touch Your Hair
JJK men x gn black!reader
I had this idea for a little while and I absolutely love it. As someone who has to literally fight off ppl with a stick to keep them from basically "petting" me, I thought it would be so cute to write about the JJK men sticking up for you
Warnings: Fluff!, no nsfw but MINORS ARE STILL NOT ALLOWED GO AWAY, angst in Gojo's, specified braids/locs/twists in Toji's, unwanted physical touch, I think that's it!
Starring: Nanami Kento, Toji Fushiguro, Gojo Satoru
MINORS DNI. AGELESS AND MINOR BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED
Nanami Kento
Of course he remains calm, he's always calm. but trust, inside he is BOILING with anger
Kento adores your hair, it sounds weird but he loves watching you on wash day care and tend to your hair with such detail and precision. Apart of it is so he can learn to do it himself one day so you won't have to spend so much time doing it yourself
He's always buying the best products for you no matter how expensive he knows black hair care products can be.
Design Essentials, Creme of Nature, Mielle, jojoba oil, tea tree oil, hair masks, curling cream-- you name it (or even glance at it in the store) he's already bought it for you
So seeing someone disrespect you by even attempting to touch you makes him absolutely livid
Kento: "I don't know I didn't think it was all that great, the plot didn't really make a lot of sense." Kento said as you two walked out the doors of the movie theater.
Y/N: "What?! I thought it was good, you're always hating on superhero movies you're like an old person. Oh! the boba place closes at 9:30 did you still wanna--
"Oh my gosh I just have to ask who does your hair? It's so pretty!" A young woman around your age popped up from behind you guys, her intensity kind of startling you a little bit
Y/N: "Oh, thank you that's so sweet! I actually do it myself" you smiled and she looked at you in astonishment
"Really? Wow it looks like it was done by a professional, I bet it takes you so long!"
Kento's eyebrow raise and body stiffen in an almost defensive way, he was already anticipating what was coming next
Y/N: "Yeah, sometimes it can. It kind of just depends on how tired I am that d--
Your body leaned back as she reached out to grab the top of your head. Kento wrapped his arm around you and pulled you back by your shoulders, shooting daggers at the woman as if she had just committed an unforgivable act
Kento: "Please step back. You don't need to touch them to compliment them." he reprimanded and held a firmer grip on your shoulder. He wasn't going to yell at a woman he didn't know but he sure as hell was going to get his point across
"O-oh Im sorry I didn't mean anything by it. I just think it looks really ni--
Kento: "Then you can think it's nice from a distance, they're not a dog. Have a good night." Kento intwined your hand in his and led you away to the car. You looked up at him and a small grin grew across your face
Kento: "Don't look at me like that."
Y/N: "You're like a guard dog. Like a snappy little golden retriever." you giggled before planting a kiss on his jaw which he returned with one on the top of your head
Kento: "Cmon lets go get boba."
Toji Fushiguro
Rage, Rage, and more RAGE
The anger that fills this mans body when someone tries to touch you is immeasurable, ESPECIALLY if its a man
Sometimes you have to calm Toji down when someone tries but its no use, he's already out of his seat and practically ready to kill
Toji is definitely someone who values his personal space, so he completely understood your frustration when you talked about how crazy it is that some people think its okay to try and touch you without permission
He's only seen it happen a few times, thankfully most people had common sense. But there was always that one asshole that crosses the line
You and Toji were out on a late night supply run getting items for Megumis science fair project. You roamed through the aisles of the arts and craft store filling your basket with acrylic paint, styrofoam blocks, construction paper and glue sticks
Toji: "What kind of fifth grader does a science project on soil erosion? Can't we just do something normal like a volcano or something?"
Y/N: "Are you gonna keep complaining all night or are you gonna actually help find everything on the list?" You turned around mad dogging him, both of you were tired and a little bit cranky and snappy at one another. Most of it was playful but some of it intended
Toji: "You look like a pig when you scrunch your knows like that." He chuckled attempting to pull you in for a kiss
Y/N: "You bitch-- Go get someone to open the spraypaints for us!" You said shoving your hand in his face and pushing his head back. Toji sauntered away to find the nearest employee to assist you guys
You stood alone in the aisle for a few minutes scrolling through instagram to pass the time until Toji came back, until a tap on your shoulder caught your attention. A random man, had approached you attempting to spark a conversation. Your eyes jotted back and forth around the area wondering where tf could Toji be and why was he taking so long to get back
"You got a really pretty smile you know that? Pretty hair too, you do this all by yourself?" He asked and took one of your (protective style)'s in his hands
Toji: "Now you..." Toji came up behind the man and planted a firm grip on his shoulder, "...are way too ugly and way too short to think they'd ever want someone like you to touch them. Don't you think?"
The man trembled in place at the vast size difference between the two
"I--"
He couldn't get a whole sentence in before Toji pulled him back by his hair then slammed him head first into the shelves next to him, making the man scream in pain. The star captured the attention of multiple employees and needless to say it wasn't long until you were being led out of the building by security.
Toji: "Did I do too much again?" He asked from the passenger seat, knowing full well he didn't regret his actions
Y/N: "We just got banned from the store, what do you think Toji?"
Toji: "Are you mad at me?"
Y/N: "Yes I'm mad!"
Toji: "Mm. The blush on your face doesn't look like someone who'd be mad at me." He grinned and you tried to hide the smile that started to form
Y/N: "Shut the fuck up."
Gojo Satoru
Gojo unfortunately was very ignorant to the topic at first
Maybe it was a cultural difference but when you told him people would ask to touch your hair he thought it wasn’t that big of a deal
“If someone admired your hair so much that they want to get close to it shouldn’t that be a compliment to you? It’s like they’re complimenting an artist for their artwork right? I don’t really see the harm in that, I touch Getos hair all the time and he's fine with it.” He said once before
Nonetheless it led to a very heated argument
He didn’t understand all the fuss around it, that was until he saw it actually happen
Seeing how physically uncomfortable you get when someone you don’t know tries to “pet” you put it all in perspective for him
Y/N: “Gojo, hurry we’re gonna miss the train!” You shouted as you ran through the subway station
Gojo: “I’m coming slow down! I don’t wanna drop anything.” He followed closely behind carrying the other bags of groceries you guys got from the farmers market
You both managed to slip through the train doors in time before it departed. You two managed to find two seats by the window, it was a preferred spot that way you both could gaze upon the countryside greenery as you passed on your way back to the city. Gojo leaned against the window and you leaned against his shoulder, the both of you trying to get some rest after a full day of walking.
The train stopped at its next spot to let on a few more passengers and a tap on your shoulder shook you out of your rest.
“Can i touch your hair?” a young woman behind you asked, but she had already reached out her hand before you could even answer. You pulled back before her hand could touch you
“Oh, um no please don’t do that…” you awkwardly said and turned back around. You looked over at Gojo who you know heard everything but was undermining the situation yet again
Gojo: “Calm down she didn’t mean anything by it, go back to sleep.” He dismissed you, not even bothering to open his eyes as he still laid against the window. You let out a low scoff and laid back against your seat instead of Gojos shoulder like you were before
The next few minutes we’re quiet as you dozed back off until you heard a loud camera click and could hear the girl frantically trying to turn the volume down
Y/N: “Did you just take a picture of me?”
“Oh it wasn't a bad one I was just sending your hairstyle to my friend I think it’s cute.”
Y/N: “I don’t care. Don’t take a fucking picture of me if—
“I didn’t even touch you so calm the fuck down…this is why no body likes to compliment you people anyways. You take everything too goddamn seriously.” she muttered the last bit under her breath but still loud enough to pick up. This sentence being the one that finally caught Gojos attention
Gojo: “What was that?” He stood up towering over the young woman
“I-I didn’t say anyth— I’m s-sor—
Gojo: “Shut up. Delete it. Now.” His eyes pierced through her and she scrambled to reopen her camera and delete the photos. She flipped the phone towards his face to show that they were no longer in her folder
Gojo: “Now go to a different seat. And if you touch them against i’ll smash that stupid fucking phone into the fucking concrete.” The young woman ran from her seat to the other side of the train as quickly as possible and Gojo sat back down. He attempted to put his arm around you but you wanted no part in it, for the next 30 minutes you ignored every attempt he made to get a word out of you. Even on the walk home you were cold
Gojo: “Y/N if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t fix it!” he said as you entered your apartment
Y/N: “IVE TOLD YOU WHATS WRONG BEFORE. YOU DONT LISTEN!” you yelled, something he rarely heard you do, “I told you countless times before that people trying to touch me is a reoccurring problem for me and what did you do? You belittled me and made it seem like no big deal. Why did it take someone being blatantly racist towards me for you to actually start caring? Why did I have to prove the problem to you?” He looked back at you with no words just a stunned expression as he struggled to find the right thing to say
Gojo: “I…I don’t know. I’m sorry.” you rolled your eyes at his lackluster reply and turned away to the bedroom
Y/N: “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”
Gojo: “Y/N, wait I—
you slammed the door in his face before he could finish his sentence
story belongs to @nonbinaryeggrolls
do not steal
#nanami kento#toji fushiguro#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo x black reader#toji x black reader#nanami x black!reader#jjk men#jjk headcanons#jjk angst#jjk
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Warmly greet!🫰 I just came across your blog today and I'm already in love with it!🖤🖤🖤
Could I leave a request here where Puppeteer, Jason, Candy Pop and LJ have a S/O who has insecurities about not being good enough for them? Because, come on...they're supernatural, not quite human, and their S/O is a regular, weak human, at least from the S/O's point of view...
Oooh thank you, friend! Also, i never get to write for Candypop or LJ so i am excited to do it!
Thank you so much for requesting!!
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Puppeteer
He will just kind of stare at you when you tell him those feelings
Like??? Are you kidding???
He is so obsessively in love with you that the thought of you feeling like you aren't enough for him is wild to him
Instantly he will assure you that you are more than he could ever dream of, and how much he loves you
He doesnt love you for supernatural abilities or powers, he loves you for you
Again, the thought of you not being enough for him doesn't even really comprehend in his mind
it's so insane to him that you, his most favorite person in the world who he couldn't live without, thinks that they aren't enough for him
If anything, he isn't enough for you, in his opinon
you are a literal deity walking on earth, and he is lucky enough to even witness your beauty and you think you arent enough???
Yeah, those thoughts are snuffed out rather quickly by him
He will spend the entire day going over every little thing he adores about you if he has to
Jason The Toymaker
He is just kind of confused when you express your feelings to him
"Now, what's this all about?" he asks with a pitiful look towards you
He honestly thinks that it's kind of weird that those feelings are even something humans are capable of feeling
What does he care that you don't have any weird abilities?
"Even when you are old and grey I will still love you. I will love you when you are in pain, and I will love you when you are happy. You being human makes no difference to me, because I love you. Even when you breathe your last breath, your soul will live on with me in the form of my favorite doll I will keep on a special shelf, pristine and upkept"
He's kind of a helpless romantic lol
Bro gave you a whole essay
anyways, he literally could not care less if you are magical or not, he's just thinks you're neat <33
CandyPop
He kind of thinks its funny that you think that
He will snort and look at you like you're joking "why??"
"You shouldn't feel that way. It's pointless to. Because you and I both know that no matter what, I still love you. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't like you at least a little bit"
He will joke around with you and make you try to feel good about being human
You are allowed to go pretty much wherever you please without being called a demon, he can't
Your squishy flesh human body is quite sustainable on its own, being able to morph and adapt to extreme situations, which he thinks is neat
And his personal favorite about humans, specifically you, you have such a wide array of expressing yourself! You have emotions, art, studies, etc
He loves you being human and you not liking being human is strange to him
Laughing Jack
He understands the insecurity
He can't say he's ever felt it, because he gives literally no fucks, but he understands
He will do whatever you want him to do about it, really
Lord knows he doesn't know what to do
If you wanna rant, he'll listen
If you wanna just be doted on, that's what he'll do
Whatever makes you feel better
Honestly, he does find it a little peculiar that you don't like being human
Like, if he could be 5'10", wear whatever he wants, do whatever he wants, go whatever he wants, etc, he'd be soooo happy
His 7'6" ass could never
#creepypasta#slender mansion#creepypasta x y/n#creepypasta x you#creepypasta x female reader#candy pop x reader#candy pop#laughing jack x you#laughing jack x reader#laughing jack#the puppeteer#the puppeteer x reader#jason the toymaker x reader#jason the toymaker
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BSD Characters Catch You Reading Smut
No one asked for this, but I just had the idea floating around in my head and it was too good to pass up. <3
Characters: Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Yosano Akiko, Nakahara Chuuya, Fyodor Dostoevsky
Contents: smut references
Edogawa Ranpo
It doesn't matter how good you think your poker face is. Ranpo knows. You've spent years training yourself by reading fanfiction in public and using an e-reader to mask what you're doing, but there will always be a tell.
He pops his lollipop out of his mouth and smirks over at you from his desk while you're trying to read a few pages on your lunch break.
"Whatcha readin'?" he asks, coy.
You take a moment to compose yourself, pulling your gaze away from the scintillating, graphic descriptions written in the text, and glance across at him. There’s something about his smile that makes you unaccountably nervous. Ranpo might act like a kid most of the time, but there’s a hint of knowing in his eyes that forcibly reminds you this man is a full grown adult, and far too perceptive for his—and your—own good.
“A…uh…romance novel.”
Perhaps if you confess to something mild like reading romance novels at work, then he won’t go after the big fish. But you know as soon as the words leave your mouth that it’s a mistake. Ranpo always goes after the big fish, not the small fry.
“Uh-huuuh.” He draws out the word, grinning at you, one green eye opens a sliver. “Good sex scene?”
Across the office, Kunikida spits out his coffee over his paperwork.
Akutagawa Ryuunosuke
As much as Akutagawa talks like a Victorian orphan and likes to collect antiques, we don’t know much about his reading tastes, if he has any at all. Don’t forget he grew up in the slums, so he’s had little education, if any, before coming to the Port Mafia. After which, it was probably left up to Dazai, god forbid.
Suffice it to say that if he does enjoy reading anything, it’s probably morbid Gothic horror, riddled with existential dread and people dying young, haunted by the ghosts of their misdeeds. So, Poe’s stuff, basically.
All this is to preface the fact that I don’t think Akutagawa even realises there is such a thing as smut novels. He’s probably aware of porn, but dirty writing? Not something he’s ever bothered to consider in his relatively narrow purview.
He doesn’t really think twice when he sees you reading, since it’s a familiar-enough sight. It might be a book in your hands or just some text you’re scrolling through on your phone. It’s only when he notices your rapt attention to the text that he starts to get curious.
You’re so engrossed you don’t notice him loom over your shoulder until you hear his breath catch, a cough spluttering in his throat.
“What…what are you reading!?” he demands to know, rearing back from the book like it’s going to bite him.
Dazai Osamu
Oh god.
It’s very hard to hide anything from Dazai, but you’ve been trying to keep your spicy book collection a secret because once he finds out about something he becomes an incorrigible tease about it, and this would be no different.
You’ve almost mastered the art of hiding your fanfiction tab when he walks past by using the old (ALT + TAB) manoeuvre, Or by flipping to an innocuous part of your book when he walks into the room, but this strategy has backfired. Because Dazai sees all and knows all, and the sneaky little bastard has noticed your shifty behaviour. He’s been watching for a while, waiting for his moment to pounce.
So there you are, innocently reading your not-so-innocent novel on the couch, perhaps even on a break at the office, and suddenly there’s a presence behind you, warm breath against your ear.
“‘Her legs quivered like a newborn foal’s,’” Dazai narrates, his voice breathy. “‘Lord Fondezglimmer’s hands brushed up the insides of her thighs, her skin as soft as flower petals, reaching for—’”
You snap the book shut. “Shut up, shut up!”
Dazai is unrepentant. Even as you get up, he follows you around the room, hand over his heart, eyes glittering, repeating the scene word for word.
“‘Primrose’s secret flower was his to taste! As he lay her down upon the bed of handwoven silk, her kirtle rose to her hips to reveal—!’”
“Shut up, Dazai!”
Kunikida Doppo
The main book Kunikida is interested in is his notebook. He does, however, have a list of well-lauded self-help books, memoirs, and other edifying literary works that he intends to check out just as soon as he has the time. He admires you, actually, and how much time you devote to improving your mind through reading. He occasionally goes so far as to ask you for recommendations, and you have to scramble to recommend something that won’t make his glasses shatter in shock.
Little does he know what you’re really up to.
It’s only when he finds himself at a rare loose end that he finally makes his way over to your bookcase and leafs through some of the volumes. He goes for the last one he saw you reading. It seems innocuous. The cover is a pastel purple with swirly writing. A romantic saga of some sort? Well, he can indulge a chapter or two, just to see what you’re interested in.
Ten minutes later, Kunikida is sitting on the edge of his seat, gripping the book so hard it looks like he’s about to tear it in half. His face is scarlet behind his glasses, his eyes hidden by the glare on the lenses. His hair is practically standing on end. By the time you find him, he’s as wooden as a statue.
“Ah, got curious, did you?” you ask, amused.
“...this is…” Kunikida starts. “It’s…”
“Erotica,” you inform him, tugging the book from his nerveless hands. “Poor thing. If you were curious I could have given you something a little softer to ease yourself in.”
“No! I’m good. Thank you very much. I’ve seen…quite enough.”
He’s lying.
Yosano Akiko
Fairly sure that most of Yosano’s books are either medical textbooks or lurid true crime memoirs, complete with grisly photos of murder scenes and autopsies. She reads and rereads those until the covers are falling apart. She probably also reads thrillers and a little bit of horror. Like the Dexter novels, though she scoffs at the implausibility of some of the murders and gore.
Naturally, when she sees you curled up on the couch, your nose buried in a book, she wants to know what it’s about. It doesn’t matter how discreet the cover is, or if you’re reading on your phone/tablet, because she’ll just plop down and start asking you questions, or pause to read over your shoulder.
“What are you reading, you little pervert?” she asks, leaning on your shoulder.
Her commentary is lowkey hilarious.
“Oh, my~” she teases, before leaning and reading further. “...that’s not biologically possible, but still the concept is kinda hot.”
“Anything more than like eight inches isn’t going to fit inside, you know that right?”
“Ooh, he’s choking her? Turn to the next page. What? No, I won’t go find my own filth to read.”
She does borrow a few of your titles, though her tastes always trend towards darker romance.
Nakahara Chuuya
As much as I love Chuuya, he doesn’t strike me as the type to spend all his time sitting around reading lofty tomes of high-brow literature. He’s a live-in-the-moment kind of guy. While he might pick up the odd book on the recommendation of people whose taste he likes, he enjoys poetry more, or short, punchy novels. If a book you enjoyed gets turned into a movie, he’ll go see it with ya.
Thus, he’s never been introduced to the secret world of spicy novels, from the softcore porn of the 1980s to the roaring trade of indie authors putting out entire sagas of smut today. Totally clueless. Didn’t even realise it was a thing, honestly. His idea of a romance novel is one with a woman in a fancy dress and a shirtless man on the cover, where the scene fades to black before they do it.
Poor, innocent Chuuya.
He just thinks you look cute and cosy when you’re all snuggled up with your books. It doesn’t cross his mind to wonder what you’re reading unless you laugh aloud or gasp or something. Imagine his surprise when he glances your way one day and words jump out at him from the page. Dirty words. And when they’re strung together, the context is even smuttier. He grabs the book from your unsuspecting hands and holds it over your head (or floats it if you’re taller than him, lmao.)
“Whatcha readin’, you little pervert?” he asks, a grin growing on his face.
“Give it back!”
“Nah, don’t think I will. Is this what you’re readin’ all the time?” He flips through the book, whistling. “Damn, you’re a dirty little thing, aren’t ya?”
Fyodor Dostoevsky
If you think Fyodor somehow doesn’t already know everything you purchase and everything you browse online, then you are a sweet, innocent creature and should be protected from all that is evil and unjust in the world.
But let’s say you’re a little sneak and somehow manage to get your hands on some spicy books without your dearest darling Fedya knowing. You can certainly read them in the long hours that he is away working and perhaps even find a way to store them discreetly on the bookshelf.
(I doubt you’d be forbidden to read those kinds of books, but it’s still a little embarrassing for you and you might prefer your smirking husband didn’t know about it.)
Ah, but you can only keep secrets from him for so long. One day he abruptly appears behind you. You didn’t expect him home so early, didn’t even know he was coming in, but then there’s just a pale hand reaching over your shoulder to stop you turning the page, and a low, accented voice in your ear.
“Not yet, my darling. I’m not done with this page.”
You yelp, flinging the book across the room, and Fyodor stands up, smiling down at you. He tuts at your treatment of the book, picking it up and dusting it off before he turns it over to look at the cover. His smirk is practically feline, satisfied and amused in equal measure.
“My, my, myshka~ I had no idea that this is what excites you so much.”
#yokohamapound#bungou stray dogs#bsd#edogawa ranpo#akutagawa ryuunosuke#dazai osamu#kunikida doppo#yosano akiko#nakahara chuuya#fyodor dostoevsky bsd#bsd smut
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Dating Wednesday Addams Would Be Like This:
A/N: I've been wanting to write something for her for a while, and I feel like this is long overdue 🙃 requests are still open if you have anything in mind you'd like to see for Wednesday or the other characters included on my pinned post. Enjoy reading.
☠️• How did you manage to capture the attention of a certain eccentric, gothic young lady? Maybe you're just quieter than the rest, and unlike everyone else, there's something about you that she can't quite place. Whatever it is, it infuriates Wednesday to no end that her mind keeps wandering to you whenever she's trying to write, trying to distract herself by playing the cello to no avail... you really are an interrupting nuisance.
☠️• But one she doesn't mind being around. After she's gotten over her unwanted reactions and thoughts towards you when you first met - probably through Enid - you'll find that Wednesday suddenly pops up in all the places you go to, at and around Nevermore. Ask her why? You're the only 'tolerable' one, and then she's off again, a slight flush to her cheeks that she needs to go and deal with.
☠️• Speaking of Enid, you'll make fast friends with her. She's definitely more observant than she seems, and so she'll catch on after a week or two how Wednesday seems to lighten up ever so slightly when you're around. She'll invite you for slumber parties and to join her team in any group project, which only encourages Wednesday herself to reluctantly agree to become a part of it too.
☠️• "Come on, Wednesday, join in! It'll be fun!"
"No."
"That's a shame... you know who's joining us. But if you're not interested-"
"...I suppose I could make a few adjustments to my schedule. This once. Don't look so pleased, Enid."
☠️• You're the only one she'll make exceptions for, and doesn't seem at all as put out as she voiced a couple of minutes ago. Even if it's not really her scene, she'll sit by you and watch, or listen to what you have to say. Someone interrupts you?
☠️• "Quiet. Well, go on."
☠️• Wednesday tends to get quite jealous - in her own way - when people she disapproves of steal your attention when you're hanging out. And she disapproves of pretty much anyone, minus Enid and her few closer friends. Usually, her glaring at them encourages them to leave a bit quicker, but if that doesn't work, she has no problem speaking up.
☠️• "Do you mind? We're working. Go and share your trivial attempts of small talk with someone else."
☠️• Being Wednesday's 'friend' also includes her being very protective of you, especially if you're more on the shy side and find it hard to stand up for yourself. Did you see what she did for her brother? You get the same treatment. If someone makes you self-doubt for a minute, she'll deal with the person in a way that most likely includes blood and a trip to the head's office, and a sweet but... well, a Wednesday-like attempt at shutting down those negative thoughts to make you feel better.
☠️• "Don't be ridiculous. Your facial features are... well, significantly prettier than any others I've seen here at Nevermore. And back at home, for that matter."
"If you weren't clever, I'd have no interest in spending my time with you. And here we are."
☠️• She likes being with you and Enid doing whatever, usually, but at the times when it's just you and her unwinding after a chaotic day at school, Wednesday prefers getting on with her writing while you do whatever creative work you like doing. Interested in art? Here's a very flattering offer to illustrate a few things for her characters from her books. Like writing yourself? Alright, write a few hundred words of descriptive writing so she can see what your style's like. Writing together and sharing ideas is an example of a perfect evening for Wednesday.
☠️• Another way to bond is her teaching you how to play the cello. You're a 'passable student' that she's comfortable with teaching, and if you already play a different instrument, you can harmonise with each other. Even you can't miss the way her breath catches as the closeness of it all, and Wednesday gives Thing a knowing glare as you bite your tongue and hide a smile.
☠️• Eventually, when Wednesday has to come to terms with her feelings - or rather, Enid begs with her to do something and tell you how she feels, because 'you guys as a couple is so cuuuute!!' - you'll get a slightly overwhelmed-looking Wednesday Addams at your door, and a blunt invitation to go on an odd trip with her to the cafe. A date, you ask? "'Call it what you will." And then, before she rushes off again, "yes, a date. Obviously."
☠️• She can't help but take you to a more interesting location like the cemetery afterwards though, because that's Wednesday for you. If it's clear you're enjoying yourself, she'll give the smallest of half-smiles and state that she knew you'd like it, you two are similar, in a non-nauseating way. Whatever that means. It's a good thing.
☠️• After that point, it's clear that you're a couple. She refers to you by your name or as her significant other or partner when you're mentioned, and if she hears you call her your girlfriend, she'll get a feeling that isn't half as disgusting as she thought it'd be, after seeing how her parents are with each other. Her parents will be desperate to meet you, something which Wednesday has to give them a firm lecture on what not to do or say before she lets them. Still, it's nice to see you get on with the family. After all, you're a part of her family too.
☠️• I know a lot of people think that Wednesday isn't very affectionate at all, and that's something I half agree with. It's hard for her to initiate anything physical, and the thought of being all sappy like her mum and dad makes her feel nauseated... but if you move closer to her for a hug, she won't pull away. She'll shift closer when she thinks you don't notice, and only tenses and goes back to her indifferent, annoyed self again when Enid squeals in delight when she comes across the two of you. Any display of affection from you is welcome, and in public, you're either walking impossibly close to each other, or are hand in hand. If anyone comments, she'll make a remark on their embarrassing love life, or even decide to ignore them. You're more important. She'll deal with the idiots later.
☠️• I've mentioned it earlier, but again, highly protective. Honestly, once you get to that level of trust where she tells you everything - about her books, her visions, her private thoughts and feelings, her plans before she goes ahead with them - this girl would take a bullet for you. It's another way she shows she cares.
☠️• She comes off as indifferent and dark and sadistic, and Wednesday is all of those things. But with you, she finds herself softening a little, and maybe, just maybe, starting to rethink the things her mother told her before about love. And when she thinks you're fast asleep and not paying any attention, those very words are whispered vulnerably into the darkness of your room.
#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday addams headcanons#wednesday addams fanfic#wednesday series#wednesday#wednesday netflix#netflix wednesday#wednesday 2022#wednesday addams#jenny ortega#the addams family#addams family#addams#enid sinclair#enid sinclair headcanons#wednesday fanfic#wednesday imagine#wednesday fluff#wednesday adams x reader#wednesday addams fluff
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Updated s/o who gives slashers "crow gifts"
So I've done updated versions of other fics I've done and I'm doing it again because as I've said so many times before I'm struggling with writing. But I thought that this was a cute idea and an excuse to write more about Will because I just finished Hannibal.
Includes: Will Grahm, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair and Jason Voorhees
Warnings: None I can think of
Will Grahm
He's going to be a little confused at first. Why are you giving him a pop tab? Why did you want to give him a shiny Euro?
He's going to ask you why you give him such random things. He's not mad at you for giving them to him he's just a little confused about why such random things.
Once you explain it to him he's going to look forward to you giving him random little things. Oh today it's a rock in the shape of a heart? That's so cool honey. A little charm from a necklace? That's so nice of you.
He's going to start giving you little gifts too. Most likely something small that he bought like a ring from an antique store or a book you've been meaning to read from a thrift store.
Thomas Hewitt
His initial thought is why did such a random thing make you think of him. Why did you think of him when you saw a cool rock or a random bottle cap.
After understanding why you give him these little gifts he finds it pretty romantic actually. He can't really explain why he finds it romantic but it's sweet knowing that you're always thinking of him in a way.
He keeps a lot of the things you give him in his pocket and just on him in general.
He's going to make you things in return. Most likely carving some art into left over bones or stealing something from a victim to give to you.
Vincent Sinclair
He really appreciates the gifts. Doesn't matter what it is he really likes it because it's from you.
He keeps some of them and uses others in his art in some way. If you give him a random button he'll use it on a wax figure. If it's something easy to break up or melt he might put in into his paint or wax.
Whatever he does make from your gifts he gives it back to you as a gift of your own. He's going to make you keep it. He made it for you so he's going to insist that you keep it.
If either of his brothers makes rude comments about your gifts or makes you feel bad for giving them to him he's going to defend you. He loves your gifts so they should back off.
Jason Voorhees
Like Vincent he enjoys the gifts right off the bat. Oh you're giving him a random rubber ball you found at camp? He loves it. You gave him a bottle cap? That's so cool he's keeping it forever.
Speaking of keeping it forever he is keeping it forever. He's keeping everything that you give him forever.
He's also going to make things to keep them in. I feel like he knows wood working so he's going to make a little chest or a box to keep it in.
I feel like he has a little memorial to his mother. Like a picture of her with candles and other stuff around it too. If you give him something he thinks his mother would like he'll put in on her little memorial.
#will grahm#will grahm x reader#will grahm x you#will grahm x y/n#thomas hewitt#thomas hewitt x you#thomas hewitt x y/n#thomas hewitt x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair#vincent sinclair x you#vincent sinclair x y/n#jason voorhees x reader#jason vorhees x reader#jason voorhees#slasher x y/n#slasher x reader#slasher fanfiction
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twst yuu crossovers
i don’t really interact with twst content much (i don’t even play the game anymore haha,,,) but the thing my mind has always come back to is Yuu fics
those ones where they insert a type of yuu into twst which changes dynamics and creates similar yet different situations in the story
my favorites are crossover yuus where the Yuu has come from a different media source
i remember this one acc where their whole thing was creating these types of crossovers aaaa i miss them idk where they are now ( ；∀；)
crossovers: genshin impact, pokemon go, enstars
disclaimers: small little hcs on the matter, not very long, mention of death in enstars but only for one line it's not important
TWST x GENSHIN IMPACT
Yuu the Diviner 🔮
A Yuu who loves to travel! Originally hailing from Inazuma, they wish to travel across Teyvat after the Soukoku Degree was finally lifted.
As their title implies they’re not just a traveler, they’re a diviner! They get in touch with the magic of fortune telling and deities to improve their alignment and spiritual energy
especially after they spent so many years lost in their mind with their vision taken away
luckily there are not many language barriers! Inazuman and Japanese are very similar how neat! As for the writing… hm…
Given that they are from the equivalent of medieval times, the Headmage doesn’t quite trust them to take care of things… more so Deuce and Ace have become the “caretakers” than Yuu themselves.
especially since Yuu’s traveler instinct keeps making them run into danger like a MANIAC!!!
♥️ “Kantosukei!!! Are you trying to die???”
🔮 “Ehe~”
♥️ “EHE TE NANDAYO??”
TWST x POKÉMON GO
Yuu the Researcher 📝
A Pokémon researcher who travels around to explore the wonders of Pokémon!
Other researchers and the students of NRC when they get over find them a bit distant and rough around the edges
Yuu cares about all types of creatures greatly and has always been a bit iffy when they talk about their past
as for the pokémon, they brought the pokémon.
the ENTIRE NEARLY 200 INVENTORY OF THEM
do not mess with them.
you will not win.
TWST x ENSTARS
Yuu the Idol 💫
Even with all the eccentric yet uncooperative students, the weird Headmage, and the Overblots popping up like gophers in a field…
No one is quite prepared for the magicless idol who seems even more eccentric than anyone in the school!!
Like… why are you quoting all these philosophical books no one’s heard of??? Dovestsky?? Art of War??? What are those…?
I-Is this a sixteen-year-old idol or a person who’s been through war?
…
WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S BEEN AN ACTUAL WAR??
oh metaphorically…
…
PEOPLE DIED??
💫 “Oh please, Ace, that’s nothing compared to what went on with the other units at SS…”
♥️ “W-what happened at SS…?”
💫 “Well the story first starts at the old age of idols with this guy named…”
…
WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS IDOL????
Ty for reading <3 please reblog, reply, or even send an ask to show your support I would greatly appreciate it!
Feel free to read my carrd to keep track of requests or masterlists!
#headcanons#imagines#twst imagines#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland headcanons#twst headcanons#twst crossover#twst x genshin#twst x pokemon#twst x enstars#yuu twisted wonderland#yuu twst
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A Hunting Trip (Part 4)
pairing: dean winchester x reader x damon salvatore
synopsis: a crash course in self defence - *yn* finally tells dean and sam what's been going on in mystic falls. dean takes it upon himself to make sure she can keep herself safe.
warnings: fluff, angst, swearing
notes: i love this chappy so much, am so happy to be back writing x
Series Masterlist
"Just this one here."
Dean followed *yn*'s index finger to guide the impala into the driveway.
*yn* still couldn't believe that John had given Dean his car.
"Oh great, here come the million and one questions." Dean grumbled.
The rumbling engine must have alerted Sam, because he was already hurrying down the porch steps towards them. The two hopped out of the impala just as Sam reached the car.
"Where the hell have you been?" He threw his hands up in the air before perching them on his hips. His gaze firm as he glanced between the two, much like a stern mother.
"Why don't you just calm down and hold your questions till we get inside detective." Dean responded. Definitely not the right thing to say.
"Calm down?" Sam looked at him in disbelief. "I thought something had happened, you weren't answering your cell and *yn* was being all cryptic on the phone."
"Well we're here now and in one piece." Dean gestured between him and *yn*. "Although slightly traumatised."
"I'm going to explain everything, come on." *yn* patted Sam's shoulder in apology before moving past the boys to scale the porch staircase.
Sam shot Dean one last unimpressed look which Dean pretended to not see as they followed after *yn*.
"So this is your place huh?" Dean asked her as she slid her key into the front door.
"Yep, home sweet home."
The house was unexpectedly sparse. A single couch and small television occupied the living room. There was no art or pictures on the walls. Dean could see a film of dust coating the small coffee table that stood at the entrance.
It was like no one lived here.
She poked her head out of the door, scanning the quiet suburban street once more. Dean turned to look at her at the sound of the soft click of the lock sliding into place.
"I really doubt that lock's going to do much good if one of your friends wants to get in."
"Vamps can't enter a home unless they're invited in by the owner." She shot back as she placed her keys on the entry table.
"Smart ass." She grumbled under her breath as she shrugged off her jacket.
"I don't need super vamp hearing to hear you, you know." Dean remarked as his eyes slid over every inch of the house.
"I'm sorry, did you just say vampires?"
"Oh you have so much to catch up on Sammy." Dean patted his shoulder as the brothers followed *yn* down the hallway and into the kitchen.
"Take a seat, you guys want something to drink?" *yn* gestured to the dining table.
"We're fine thanks."
Sam's brows had started to do that twitchy thing they did when he was anxious.
Dean turned to look at his brother incredulously. "Speak for yourself." He turned to *yn*. "I'll take anything that even slightly resembles alcohol."
She nodded knowingly, "that I can definitely do."
Dean's eyes fell on the open fridge door as *yn* disappeared behind it.
For the first time since they'd stepped foot in this place, there was evidence that someone lived here. Photos stuck under tacky mystic fall magnets were strewn haphazardly over the door's surface. He could make out photos of her and Elena in cheer uniforms and a few others with people that he had recognised around town. One of her and Damon laughing was front and centre.
None of her dad, or him and Sam, or anyone from her childhood for that matter.
"Will this do?"
Dean quickly averted his gaze as *yn* popped her head around, two bottles of beer on show.
"That'll do perfectly." A grin appeared on her face as she shut the door with her foot and came over to sit with the pair at the table.
Dean thanked her with a nod as she slid the bottle over to him. Sam looked like he was about to combust as he watched the pair take a sip from their drinks.
The silence stretched on. For the first time a look of uneasiness crossed *yn*'s features as she placed the bottle down onto the oak.
"I don't really know where to start."
The admission seemed to soften Sam's urgency. As she sat in front of them and fiddled with her fingers, it was like they were suddenly back in a hotel room, waiting for their dads to finish a hunt. Like they were trying to pretend that they were normal, even for a few hours.
"The beginning seems like a good place." His words were gentle as he studied the girl in front of him.
She bit her lip and glanced at the clock on the wall opposite her.
"Take your time, we want to know everything." Dean was the one who spoke this time, and even he had taken himself by surprise at how calm he sounded.
What was more surprising was that *yn* didn't shoot back with a sarcastic remark or roll her eyes. Instead, a grateful look flashed across her features as she nodded.
"Ok."
So, the beginning was where she started. She told them everything, from the day that her dad died to when they'd shown up. About how it was a regular job and he'd been taken by a nasty spirit and the next thing she knew, she was being moved from home to home.
She told them about vampires and werewolves and witches and dopplegangers. About humanity switches and sunlight and stakes. She told them about the Founder's Council, about the Salvatores. She told them about Katherine and the tomb vampires. She told them about Klaus, about his obsession with making an army of hybrids. She told them about the original family and the coffins, about Stefan's fixation on getting revenge on Klaus.
She did decide to leave some details out, mainly about Damon's less... morally ok decisions and the people that her friends had killed along the way. But she did tell them about her friends, about her new family, about Alaric and Sheriff Forbes, about the bonds that they had all created during this time. About the fact that she was going to a real high school now, with real teachers and real prospects of college.
The whole time their eyes did not leave her. They nodded, smiled, grimaced (a lot) and asked questions occasionally. But there was not one moment where they were not one hundred percent focussed on her. And as she talked, *yn* realised just how desperate she was to tell someone outside her mystic falls circle about what was happening. Someone from her past. Someone who could understand and sympathise with just how messed up her life had been.
As she talked, it was like she could visualise the bonds of their relationship slowly begin to repair after so many years of disuse.
"And, I think that pretty much brings it up to today."
She could feel the brothers' eyes on her as she brought the bottle to her lips and finished the remnants of the liquor in one foul gulp.
"I uh-" She watched as Sam cleared his throat, his eyes darting to look at Dean before turning to her.
"I think I'll take that beer now."
A soft smile presented itself on her lips. The chair scraped against the floor. The sound bounced off the bare walls.
"It's a lot to process."
Dean watched as *yn* disappeared behind the fridge door once more.
"If it hadn't happened to me I wouldn't have believed it." Dean's eyes never left the photos plastered in front of him as he spoke.
"So what, he literally just locked eyes with you and like... mind controlled you or some crap?"
"It's called compulsion, and yes that's what they do." *yn* corrected Sam as she made her way back to the table.
"Right sorry, he compelled you to just do whatever he wanted?"
"Pretty much yeah."
Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Dean shrugged. "And if you ingest that herb you were taking about- varvin?" He continued.
"Vervain. And here." Sam raised a brow but still muttered a thank you as he took the beer and a bottle of water from her outstretched palm.
Upon closer inspection he noted the strange herb swirling around in the bottle, making the water slightly discoloured.
"It doesn't taste bad." *yn* commented when she noticed the sceptical look on his features.
"Bottoms up Sammy." Dean clapped him on the shoulder as Sam unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to his lips.
"And this really works?" He asked once he'd taken a large gulp of the liquid.
"You don't have to ingest it. You can wear it in something like a necklace and that will protect you too." She raised her wrist to reveal a bracelet dangling from her wrist.
"Me personally, I like to do both because if they yank it off you, you're screwed. Best to cover all your bases. You can incorporate into all sorts of weapons too, the stuff's a nightmare for them."
Her eyes darted between the brothers and raised a brow when she noted the looks on their features.
"What?"
"Nothing it's just uh-" Sam cleared his throat and glanced at Dean out of his peripheral. "I'm a bit confused as to why you're telling us all of this stuff. Given a lot of your friends are..."
"Vampires? You can say it." *yn* mused as she twisted the cap off her second beer. "And yes, they are my friends. But so are you. And unfortunately most vampires aren't as nice. I want you guys to be protected."
"You might want to consider getting better friends if that's what you consider friendly." Dean muttered under his breath.
"Given I'm in a generous mood, I'll choose to ignore that." Her answer made the side of Dean's lips twitch up into a smirk.
"Lucky me."
The pair locked eyes as *yn* brought the glass to her lips. He was taunting her, dangling his words in front of her like bait on a hook. Begging her to take a bite.
Her instincts were screaming at her, the words literally falling off the edge of her tongue. But the knowledge that she had to convince them to leave town was what prevented them from falling off the precipice.
"So you guys going to tell me why John's left you to fend for yourselves or what?"
"Oh come on." She continued when she saw them exchange looks. "Given I've just trauma dumped on you guys I think it's only fair you both tell me what you've been up to."
"We'd been hunting together for a few years and then he went on a trip." Dean spoke after a few moments. "And he didn't come back."
Trust Dean to include all the important details.
"That was when Dean came to get me from Stanford and-"
"Woah wait Stanford, as in Stanford University?" *yn* cut him off, her eyes growing wide.
"Uh yeah, I was studying law there."
"Sam that's amazing oh my god." *yn* breathed out, a grin spreading across her lips as she studied him.
"Thanks, I guess." Sam ducked his head down as a smile spread across his lips, unable to hide himself as her excited energy seeped into him.
"Don't be so fucking modest you dork." She laughed, "we always knew you were the nerd of the group."
She didn't miss the way Dean's small smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he studied his brother.
"John must have been really proud."
She instantly knew that she had hit a nerve when Sam's smile faltered, anger flashing across his features briefly before he regained his composure.
"Something like that."
Tension pulsated through the room as Dean pursed his lips at Sam's words. *yn* could almost see the wall go up between them.
Jesus what had she missed while she was gone?
"Anyway." Sam cleared his throat. "We went looking for him, to the town we knew he was working a job."
"No dad but there was a job. Spirit, nasty bitch too." Dean remarked, shaking his head and taking a deep drink of his beer at the memory.
"Dean dropped me back home and when I got there-" Sam looked down, a lump in his throat as he felt a rush of heat, like those flames were still licking at him, burning him from the inside.
"Jess, Sam's girlfriend, she was uh- well- she died just like our mum did."
A pregnant pause filled the room. *yn* blinked rapidly as she tried to process the information.
"Like, the exact way-"
The boys nodded solemnly.
"Fuck." She exhaled as she studied Sam. She fought the urge to reach over and take his hand.
"Jesus Sam, I'm so sorry."
"Thanks *yn*." A sad smile flitted across his features. He was unable to hide the anguish in his eyes. She knew he blamed himself for his girlfriends death. He was a Winchester, they were masters of self flagellation.
"Ever since then we've been trying to find dad."
"So what, he just took off without a word and you haven't heard from him since?" *yn* found it hard to believe that he would leave his sons without an explanation. Then again, it was John Winchester, he wasn't ever exactly going to win father of the year award.
"I've spoken to him, he gave me coordinates of another job." Dean answered her.
"That was it? No explanation of where he is?"
"That was it." No matter how good his poker face was, even Dean couldn't conceal the resentment on his face from her.
"We think he's got a lead on the thing that killed mum and that he doesn't want us involved." Sam explained.
"Right." *yn* nodded. "All the more reason for you to keep trying to find him then."
Dean's lips twitched, "trying to shake us already huh?"
"You are a pain in the ass..." She teased, "But it's not like that. I'd love for you to stay.. but you can't. It's not safe."
The mood visibly shifted. Dean's jaw tightened at her words, the veins in his hand protruding as he gripped the beer bottle. She could feel him shutting down already. So instead, she leant forward in her chair and locked eyes with Sam, praying that she could at least get through to him.
"Look, it won't take Klaus long to find out you're hunters. He probably already knows. And you two could be the best hunters in the entire fucking world, you still wouldn't have a chance against an original vampire."
She shifted her imploring gaze to Dean, swallowing the lump in her throat when he refused to meet her gaze.
"I've already lost my dad, I'm not losing you two." She twisted her fingers around each other as she tried to keep her voice steady and calm.
"You need to go and find your dad."
"Well that's ironic." Dean chuckled humourlessly.
*yn* frowned at his words. "What are you talking about?"
"He led us right to you."
"He's been leaving us clues - coordinates." Sam clarified when he saw her confusion.
"In his journal and stuff. There was a whole section on Mystic Falls, about all the mysterious animal attacks and missing persons."
"You think he knew?" Her question illicited a shrug.
"He knew something supernatural was going on. Hard to say if he suspected vampires."
She nodded, her mind was now racing even faster than it already had been. Not only did she have to worry about Klaus, but she also had to worry about word getting out in the hunter community about what was going on here.
"You have his journal?"
Sam nodded. "I'll go get it."
All she could do now was see what sort of information John had collected, what was available for hunters to find that would lead them to the town.
Dean wordlessly fished out his keys and handed them to Sam. His green eyes locked with hers as he did so, and *yn* swore he could read her mind in that moment.
She pushed the chair back, letting it scrape loudly on the wood. She could feel Dean's eyes still on her as she disappeared from view to pull open the storage cupboard under the staircase that led up to the second floor.
The shoe box was in plain sight. She reached up on her tippy toes and plucked it from the top shelf. Stepping out from underneath the stairs allowed her to examine it in the natural light.
It was tattered from age, the nike logo faded and discoloured. A layer of dust encased it. It was heavier than she remembered.
She placed it down gently onto the dining room table. Dean looked at her quizzically as she pulled off the lid. Particles of dust launched at her face, almost as if they were angry for being disturbed after so long.
"I saw you looking at my photos on the fridge." She spoke as she pushed the box towards Dean.
"You think I don't have photos of my dad, of you."
She watched as Dean brought the box closer to himself and peered inside.
"I didn't want to have to explain who any of you were to people who asked."
It also pained her to look at them.
He pulled out a stack of old photographs as she sat down once more. Her eyes never left his face, trying to gage his reaction as he sifted through the grainy faces.
A genuine smile spread across his lips as he chuckled. His mood did a 180. "Holy hell, I forgot how dorky you and Sammy were."
He flipped the photo around and sure enough there was a photo of a young Sam Winchester and *yn* Kitson.*yn* felt her cheeks flush as she snatched the photo from his hand for a closer examination.
Sure enough, there stood her and Sam, cheesy grins on their faces, dressed in matching Star Wars costumes. Sam as Luke Skywalker and *yn* as Han Solo. It was clear that the costumes had been made with whatever was available, her dad's belt nearly dwarfed her entire midsection and the pants were rolled up to her ankles so she wouldn't trip.
Despite her horror, she couldn't help but let out a giggle. "Christ, letting me go out like that has got to be considered some form of child abuse."
Dean chuckled as she placed the photo back down onto the table. "I remember you literally begging me to borrow my vest for that stupid costume."
"You should have said no, you would have been doing me a favour."
"And miss out on the opportunity to reminisce on your dorkiness years later? Hell no."
She shook her head, unable to wipe the smile off her face as Dean continued to sift through the photos.
"Oh my god."
"What?!" She was up and out of her chair, rounding the table to get a look at the photo that had made Dean's eyes bulge.
"Oh my god." She echoed as she slid into the chair beside him and peered over his shoulder.
"That is criminal." She gasped.
"What's criminal?"
The two twisted around in their seats to see Sam standing in the doorway. They glanced at each other before bursting into laughter.
"What? Show me!" Sam demanded as he stormed forward.
"Hey!" Dean protested as Sam reached over and plucked the photo from his hand. "I wasn't finishing admiring that."
*yn* covered her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter as she watched Sam study the picture.
"Oh my god." His face grimaced in disgust. "Burn this please."
"No, you look cute!" She protested.
"Cute is not the word I would use." Sam grumbled as he came to sit opposite them.
"Yeah sorry *yn*, gotta agree with Sammy on this one." Dean grinned as he reached over and grabbed it back from Sam.
"Dorky, loser, nerd, comes to mind though."
*yn* couldn't stifle her laughter any further as she looked at the photo once more.
It was a probably 10 year old Sam Winchester, his fringe even thicker and curlier then it was now, his two front teeth missing as he grinned wildly. He was holding some sort of science project in his small hands.
"Not much has changed in the dorky department."
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean. "What like you wouldn't have some embarrassing pictures in here?"
"Me? Pfft please, I never went through an awkward phase."
This time it was *yn*'s turn to roll her eyes.
"Yeah right."
"I was too busy with all the cheerleaders to go through one."
Spurred on by his words, she leant forward and flicked through the photos. A very young Dean Winchester, hair plastered up into an obnoxious quiff and gleaming with hair gel, wearing a leather jacket far too big for him, was beaming back at her. Her lips curled into a devilish grin as she plucked the photo from obscurity.
"You may not have gone through a dorky phase Winchester, but you definitely went through one just as embarrassing." She held it up triumphantly, dodging Dean's grasp as she held it out for Sam to take.
Sam let out a bark of triumphant laughter as he studied the photo, clutching his chest as he threw his head back in a dramatic fashion.
"Oh c'mon, I'm sure it's not even bad."
"Hm, I'd call using what looks like a whole tub of hair gel to style your hair pretty bad."
*yn* snickered at Sam's words.
"Give me that." Dean grumbled, snatching the photo from Sam's hand.
"Dude this is not even that bad." He protested, although *yn* didn't miss the way the apples of his cheeks turned a slight pink.
"Wasn't this his James Dean phase?" *yn* queried. Sam let out a howl of laughter.
"Oh my god how could I forget about the James Dean phase." Sam could barely get his words out as he laughed. "He'd pretend that lollypop sticks were cigarettes."
Dean's cheeks turned pinker. She almost felt sorry for him.
Almost being the key word.
"And remember that little walk he'd do."
"Hey, the man's a legend alright." Dean protested as they both burst into a fit of giggles.
"He's the definition of cool. Style. Class."
*yn*'s brows raised at Dean's words, biting her lip to stop the giggles escaping as he glared at her.
"I still think it's embarrassing." Sam remarked.
The brothers continued to bicker as *yn* resumed flicking through the photos. Her fingers stilled when her dad's smiling face suddenly stared back at her.
She was wrapped in his burly arms, her pudgy fingers clasping his neck. Pink bow in her wispy hair. A toothless smile and bright eyes aimed at him. She would have been no more than 2.
Grief hit her like an unexpected tidal wave.
She blinked as she felt hot tears prick at the corners of her eyes. The pad of her pointer finger brushed over his sun worn features. The werewolf inflicted scar on his left temple.
Dean's eyes involuntarily darted to her. He went to turn his attention back to Sam when he noted the tightness of her features. The veins in her hand were revealed from her grip on the photo. He recognised the emotion on her face instantly. One that he was all too familiar with.
"So where's your aunt?"
Her eyes met his, widened from the surprise of being snapped out of their focus. They softened almost instantly, and for a moment there was a look of gratefulness on her face. Like she understood what he had done. In a blink her face morphed into one of unreadability. It happened so quickly Dean almost doubted he'd even seen it at all.
"My aunt?"
Dean frowned at her question. "The one you said you lived with? Is she at work or something?"
"Oh. Right."
Her eyes darted between the two brothers. She may be good at hiding her emotions, but Dean was better at seeing through it.
"*yn*."
"She uh, she's... well, she's dead."
"Dead?" Dean balked. "What do you mean dead?"
"Like... the tomb vampires got out and she died of an 'animal attack' sort of dead." Guilt was written all over her features as she spoke.
Two bewildered expressions stared back at her.
"It's ok.. really! It wasn't that sad, it was a while ago and to be honest she was kind of the worst so-"
"I'm not worried about you being sad, I'm worried about who the hell has been looking after you all this time."
Annoyance flashed across her features, "I don't need anyone to look after me."
"Who lives here?"
"Me."
"I mean, who else lives here?"
"No one."
"No one? So you live here all by yourself?"
"Yes, that's what I meant when I said I live here."
Dean and Sam exchanged bewildered glances.
"I'm at Elena's most of the time, I pretty much live with her."
Now it all made sense. The dust. The lack of furniture. Why it felt like no one really lived here. Because no one did.
"So you don't have a guardian? Any sort of parental figure?"
*yn* bristled at his questions. She was starting to become quite irritated.
"Ric is my guardian technically, Elena and Jeremy's too."
"Ric? As in the former vampire hunter we saw drinking with your vampire boyfriend last night? Yeah, sounds like a great role model."
"Dean." Sam warned.
"What? I'm merely stating the facts."
"I thought we were passed the whole judging, making assumptions, just being an asshole in general thing."
She held his gaze. Her eyes glowering with annoyance. She radiated stubbornness. It made Dean falter.
"I'm only asking because I care about you."
Her resolve wavered, a crack in her mask appeared that allowed Dean a glimpse. He saw a flicker of sadness.
"You have a funny way of showing it."
The shrill voice of Taylor Swift rung out through the room, preventing Dean from a response. She really had to change that ringtone.
*yn* avoided Dean's intense gaze as she fished her phone out of her pocket and glanced down at the caller ID.
"Excuse me." Was all she muttered before pushing out of her chair.
She didn't answer until she was upstairs with the door shut. "What do you want?"
"Well hello to you too." She could hear Damon's amused smirk through the phone.
"This better be good, you're interrupting precious bonding time." She grumbled as she flopped onto her bed.
"Things going that well with dumb and dumber huh?"
She huffed at his question. "All I'm going to say is I hope it went better for you with Ric's doctor friend than it is for me right now."
"Yeah funny you mention that, I'm just leaving his flat now."
She frowned, "Why?"
"To check if there was a bunny on the stove." As he spoke she picked up her childhood toy and sat it onto her chest. Buffy the plush pink horse stared back at her unblinkingly.
"That bad huh?"
"She vervained me when I accused her of killing her ex boyfriend, then the little psycho blood jacked me."
"She what?" *yn* sat upright. Buffy tumbled down the side of the bed. "Are you ok?"
"Fine, just a little miffed. Although, somewhat pleased I got to say 'I told you so' to Ric. Just as I predicted. Diagnosed psycho case."
"Great, just what we need."
"Yep, add it to our list of never ending problems." Damon drawled, "I was actually calling to see how it was going on your end with your second favourite set of brothers."
In that moment a memory surfaced. She snatched it before it could disappear once more. As he spoke she swapped the phone to her other ear and hastily leant over to pull open her bedside table draw.
"I think I'm making progress." She rifled through the stacks of paper and trinkets. She froze as her fingers found its target.
"Well that's something."
She pulled it out, hidden deep in the drawers depths. She plucked it out like a prize. A treasure amongst trash.
"Keep me updated, yeah?" She could faintly hear Damon's question on the end of the line.
"Will do." *yn* heard herself mumble as she twisted back onto her back and stared up at the photo.
"I gotta go. Talk to you later." And with that she snapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the bed beside her.
She held the paper up in her hand, stretching it above her head so the ceiling framed it. A photograph. A special one, kept apart from the others in the box in the room below her.
Luke Kitson, *yn* Kitson, Sam, Dean and John Winchester all beam back at her. The only photo of the five of them together. A perfectly dysfunctional family.
She smiled softly, letting the pads of her fingers glide over the young faces. Frozen permanently in time. None of them held a clue as to their fates. Where they would be in 8 years time. She wished she could somehow transport herself into that photograph and stay there forever.
Her anger towards Dean fizzled. Like it always did. She traced his grainy features with her fingernail.
She knew then that she had to do whatever it took to keep them safe. Even if it meant biting her tongue and quelling her anger. If it meant stretching the truth so they felt safe enough to leave her here and go on their way.
She let out a shaky breath as she pressed the photo into her chest, clutching it like she still did with Buffy when she couldn't sleep.
"I promise I'll keep them safe dad."
Sam turned to look at Dean once they heard a door shut above them.
"Oh don't give me that look Sammy."
"What look?"
"The little disappointed puppy look you've managed to master."
"You could have been a bit nicer."
"Oh come on!" Dean threw his hands up in the air. "The girl's living in a house all by herself in a town full of vamps, you expect me to be happy about this crap?"
"No, and I'm not happy about it either, but acting like this isn't exactly going to help things."
Dean muttered under his breath, leaning forward to press his elbows into his thighs so he could run his hands over his stubble.
"What the hell are we supposed to do?"
There was a static pause as Sam studied him before answering. "I think we should do what she says."
"You want us to leave?" Dean blinked dumbfounded.
"Look, if what she says is true, we stand no chance defeating these.. original vampires or whatever they're called. It'd be a suicide mission." Sam answered him, lowering his voice as he spoke.
"If we find dad we can get his help to come back and stop this."
Dean shook his head. "So what, we're supposed to just leave her here? With these-" He cut himself off, his eyes darting to the stairs before looking back at Sam. "These monsters?"
"I don't think we have a choice Dean."
"She could come with us."
"And what? Sit in a hotel room while we go work jobs? C'mon. You know that would never happen. It's pretty clear she wants to stay."
Dean frowned, rubbing his stubble stressfully as he racked his brain for another solution. There was a part of him that wanted to grab her and throw her in the back of the impala and drive away with her. But he knew he could never do that. He could never take away her freedom, her choice. Besides, she'd probably scratch his eyes out if he even tried.
"The longer we stay here the harder it's going to be to find dad."
Dean's eyes narrowed as he looked up at Sam through his long lashes. "Is this about finding dad to help *yn*, or to get to him before he kills whatever killed mum and Jess?"
Sam flinched at Jess' name. His lips thinned into a firm line.
"We have a chance to kill the son of a bitch Dean. I'm not losing that. Not for anyone."
There was his answer. Dean sat up in his chair and leant back, his forehead creased as he studied his brother.
This wasn't the Sammy that he knew. The doe eyed, puppy like Sam Winchester who wanted to help everyone and anyone. No, this was a Sam Winchester who had a hard shell casing beginning to form around him. One that was driven by revenge and bitterness. One that was much too like John and Dean Winchester.
But despite all that, Dean knew his brother was right. They had no choice. If they stayed, they might all end up dead. At least this gave them time to reconvene and plan.
"Fine." Dean relented. "We go find dad, kill the son of a bitch, but then we are getting our asses back here and getting *yn* out."
"Deal." Sam nodded.
"But we ain't leaving until I give her at least some basic training. Who knows when she even last held a damn shotgun."
The staircase creaked before Sam could reply. The two sat up, trying to look as natural as possible as *yn* wondered back into the kitchen.
"Sorry about that, it was Elena." She spoke, waving her phone in the air before sliding it into her pocket. She seemed to return to the room in a much better mood than when she had left it.
"Everything ok?" Sam asked her, a smile on his features.
*yn* glanced at him before looking over at Dean. A strangely friendly smile was also on his lips.
"Yeah, just friend drama." She answered as she slid into her chair.
Each party seemed to be in a much friendlier mood, but the other could not quite work out why.
Her eyes landed on a photo amongst the pile, a genuine grin spread across her lips as she pulled it towards her.
Bobby Singer stared back at her, a rare smile on his face. A five year old *yn* Kitson sat beaming on his lap.
"Do you guys still see Bobby?"
Fondness washed over her at the memory of the grumpy older man. He'd always had a soft spot for her, and her for him.
"Yeah of course." Dean nodded.
"Hey, when this business is done with our dad why don't we swing through here and pick you up and we can all take a road trip to see him?"
*yn* looked up from the photo in surprise. Her eyes flickered to Sam who was nodding encouragingly.
"That sounds like a great idea." He agreed.
She glanced between them, trying to decipher what they were trying to say. "Does this mean you're leaving?"
"Yeah, well we talked about it and we think you're right. It's probably safer for everyone if we go." Sam was the one to answer her.
Her lips parted in surprise. Dean could tell that she had not thought it would be that easy. She turned to look at him and he could tell that she was reading him, trying to find the hidden motive behind their unexpected decision.
He did his best to keep smiling. If she could read him, she did not let on, a smile instead spreading across her lips. One that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"There is just one condition though." Dean finally spoke up.
"What's that?"
"Self defence training." *yn*'s brows shot up to her hairline.
"Self defence training?" She echoed. An amused smirk spread across her lips when he nodded.
"What? Don't think I can handle myself Winchester?"
"Just want to make sure you haven't gotten rusty that's all." He shrugged. There was a glimmer in his eye as they studied each other.
"Well we wouldn't want that, would we?"
A twig snapped underneath Dean's boot. A raven cawed in the distance.
"You sure no one's around?"
The two brothers stepped into the clearing that *yn* had directed them towards.
"Yeah, Ric, Elena and I come here all the time to train." *yn* answered from behind them. A loud thump made them swivel around.
"What the hell is that?"
The two brothers looked down at the duffle bag *yn* dumped down at their feet.
"Things I defend myself with."
They watched as she bent down. The teeth of the zipper parting echoed through the woods, bouncing off the old trees.
"What are we looking at right now?" Dean queried, his brows raised as he watched her pull out a shot gun.
"Well this one is loaded with wooden bullets, excruciating and a pain in the ass to dig out." She chucked it onto the grass.
"This one shoots mini daggers." Another thud.
"This is a vervain grenade."
Thud.
"Oh and this crossbow is pretty handy too."
Thud.
"And I think that's all I've got at the moment, Ric has some more back home."
She glanced up expectantly when she got no response. Their jaws were slack as they stared at the weapons laid out in front of them.
"You made these?" It was Sam who finally broke the silence.
"Yeah, I mean Ric thought of most of 'em but I helped... fine tune the final products I guess you could say." She picked up the shotgun, popping it open with ease and glanced down into the chamber.
Sam raised a brow and looked over at Dean. He didn't need to verbalise his thoughts. It was written all over his face. "What was that about her not being able to hold a shotgun?"
Dean shot him a glare before clearing his throat, "well that's all very impressive but sometimes we don't get the opportunity to grab weapons."
*yn* eyed him sceptically as he took a few steps back to move into the centre of the clearing.
"What about your hand to hand?"
She tried to hide her smirk as she placed the shot gun on the ground. She rose to her feet and dusted her hands off on her jean shorts.
He didn't need to know that Ric had been training her and Elena for months. Or that she never stopped training, even after her dad died.
He shrugged off his leather jacket and dumped it onto the ground, leaving him in a grey t-shirt. It was loose, except for around his biceps that bulged as he tensed. Her eyes darted to his hands, watching them curl into fists. His rings gleamed back at her.
She swallowed and forced herself to move her eyes back to his face. The last thing Dean Winchester needed to see was her checking him out.
She stepped forward so she was only a few metres from him.
"You know vampires have super speed and strength right? I don't think this sort of training is going to be much use."
"Just humour me." He answered her, a small smirk twisting up onto his lips. There was that gleam in his eye again. Challenging her. Provoking her.
"I wanna see what you're made of Kit."
Kit.
It felt like eons since someone had called her that.
"Hurry up Kit!"
"Put your back into it Kit."
"That's my little Kit."
"I love you Kit."
The nickname unlocked so many memories from her past. It didn't even feel like the nickname belonged to her. Like it was someone she'd known in her past life.
It felt so foreign to her ears that her brain took a moment to process it.
"C'mon Kit, what are you waiting for?"
Dean's voice brought her back down to earth. This time, the nickname nestled into her ear and made itself home again. It sparked something in her. A determined look settled onto her features.
Dean's eyes sparked when he saw her face morph. He held back his grin as the pair began to circle each other. They danced around each other, both of them holding their breath to see who would make the first move.
The snap of a twig was all it took. *yn*'s eyes must have shifted for no more than a few seconds. But it was all the time Dean needed to lunge forward and take her by surprise.
She stepped back and moved to curl her knuckles into a fist but he was already on her. Calloused hands gripped her forearms and twisted her around. She grunted as a knee pressed into the backs of her legs causing them to involuntarily buckle.
He used his bodyweight to push her down onto her stomach, twisting her arms and pinning them to her back in one fluid movement. She squirmed under his firm grip but she knew it was pointless. She was trapped, like a fish in a net. A fly in a spiders web.
She let out a grunt of frustration as she tried once more to writhe out of his strong grip. She could almost feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckled. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as a rush of warm air puffed onto the shell of her ear.
"Just as I thought, rusty." His voice was deep and amused. She gritted her teeth as he released her from his grip, chuckling to himself as he watched her get up onto her feet. Her breath was slightly ragged as she locked eyes with him, her jaw clenched.
Her ringtone blared through the woods. She tore her eyes from Dean and hurried to her bag. Damon's name illuminated the Caller ID. Her finger hovered over the accept button. She stole a glance at Dean who was already studying her intently. She flipped her phone shut.
"You don't need to get that?"
"Not important." She answered as she flicked it to silent and shoved it into the depths of her bag.
She rose to her full height and marched back into the centre of the clearing.
"Again."
After an hour, her body was aching and bruised. It was screaming at her to give up. And she might have done, if Dean hadn't just lunged at her for what must have been the 12th time and finally left his stomach exposed.
She stepped forward and punched him square between his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. She jumped on the opportunity instantly, kicking his feet out from underneath him. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, she pushed him to the ground and straddled his torso. A wild grin spread across her lips as she pinned his arms above his head.
Victory was hers. Finally. There was a triumphant look in her eye as his body stilled underneath hers, admitting defeat.
A smirk appeared on his lips as his hands settled on her thighs. His chuckle sounded like gravel. He winced as she intentionally pushed down onto the area of his stomach where a bruise was already starting to form.
"Well played Kit."
The praise affected her more than it should have.
She felt her cheeks flush as the pair locked eyes. The pad of Dean's thumb brushed against her skin. It left goosebumps in its wake.
"I'm spent." Sam groaned from behind them.
She finally broke eye contact, ducking her head down as Dean's hands flew from her thighs.
"Can we have a break now?" She asked as she rolled off him and glanced over at Sam.
"Please." Sam agreed as he collapsed against a tree. He seemed oblivious to the interaction that had just occurred.
"Great." *yn* rose to her feet and began to stretch her aching limbs. She could hear Dean getting onto his feet behind her.
"These weapons really work?" Dean spoke after a few moments of silence stretched through the clearing.
He had her crossbow in his hand. "Yeah, they've been useful before."
"And this one shoots stakes?" He brought it up to rest on his shoulder.
"Yeah, that ones a personal favourite of Ric's." *yn* answered as he watched him settle on a tree as a target. One eye closed as his finger rested on the trigger. Then he pulled.
There was a whoosh as a blurry figure snaked past her. The stake never found its target. It was stopped by a hand. A gaudy ring waved back at her. As did a smirking Damon.
"Uh oh, vampire not staked."
She blinked and he was gone. Firm hands gripped her shoulders before the stake had even hit the ground. A hard body pressed against her.
The band of the gaudy ring that was staring back at her only seconds ago was now pressing into her throat. Her face was guided to the side, exposing her skin. Fangs lightly scraped the side of her neck.
"Pretty girl gets killed instead." He murmured, his lips only millimetres from her skin. His fangs brushed her as he spoke.
Her face flushed and her heart pounded against her ribcage. This was so not the reaction she should be having to this encounter. She was certain Damon could hear the way her pulse was pounding. All she could do was hope that he assumed it was out of fear.
"You guys gotta work on your hunting skills."
*yn* knew how it looked, how Damon intended for it to look in front of Dean and Sam. But what they didn't see was how gently he had shifted her neck. How he had just brushed his thumb along the curve of her skull, almost in a way to communicate that he wasn't going to hurt her.
Dean's face had hardened as he aimed the crossbow at Damon.
"Alright ease up cowboy." Damon raised his hands in mock surrender but didn't make an attempt to move from behind *yn*. His makeshift shield.
"I'm just trying to make this training exercise as realistic as possible."
"Dean it's ok." *yn* reassured him. "This is just Damon's sick idea of a joke." She sneered.
Dean's eyes darted between Damon and *yn* for a few moments before he reluctantly lowered the crossbow. She could see Damon's smirk widen.
"You think my humour is sick? Why thank you."
She rolled her eyes and shoved him off her.
"You're an idiot."
He grinned at her as his fangs slid back into his gums and the veins under his eyes shrunk.
"What are you doing here?" She asked him before he could open his mouth again to spew out another taunt.
"You weren't answering your cell."
It was an accusation, not an explanation.
"I turned it off." His eyes narrowed at her answer.
"I need to talk to you." He glanced over at Dean and Sam, "in private." She rolled her eyes once more but nodded.
"And remember boys, special vamp hearing if you wanted to have a little gossip session about me while I'm gone." He turned and shot them an obnoxious wink.
She didn't wait for a response from Sam or Dean before she grabbed Damon's arm and dragged him off into the woods.
"Oh come on *yn*, why so grumpy." He teased. She gritted her teeth and finally came to a stop once they were out of ear shot of the boys.
"You rocking up with your fangs out isn't exactly going to help me convince them that they should leave me here, is it?"
This time it was Damon's turn to roll his eyes. "Alright I'm sorry, I was just having a little fun."
She sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest. "How's it going with them anyway?"
"Good actually, they've agreed to leave town."
"Really? Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Huh." Damon nodded, his lips pursed, "probably good timing actually."
"And why's that?"
"Well... I sort of had a run in with Klaus."
"What? What happened?" All annoyance directed towards Damon flew out the window.
"He got the coffins back."
"Shit." She cursed under her breath. "So we're all screwed then?"
"Well... I did manage to hide one before he got there."
She blinked in disbelief. "The locked one?"
"Yep." He popped the 'p' as he nodded. "Let's just say he wasn't too pleased with me."
"So we still have leverage." She breathed out, "that's good. Although he's probably going to be twice as murderous now."
"Oh, I think he's going to have bigger things to worry about for a while."
Her eyes narrowed at his words, "and why's that?"
A smirk twisted up onto Damon's lips as he leant into his jacket pocket. She took a step back, her eyes widening at the object.
A white ash dagger stared back at her.
"Is that...?"
"You bet it is."
"Damon what the hell did you do?"
He shrugged. "I thought it was time for a brotherly reunion."
"So you're telling me we've now got two original vampires running around Mystic Falls?"
"Elijah hates Klaus. Wants him dead."
"We thought that the last time and look what happened."
Damon huffed. "This is different, Klaus broke his promise and stuffed him into a wooden box. The dudes pissed. And if Elijah's pissed, it means we have a chance to get him to work with us to finally put a stop to Klaus's little tirade."
*yn* sighed and folded her arms in front of her chest. "You better be right about this."
"When am I ever wrong."
She shook her head, a ghost of a smile spreading across her lips as she looked away. Her eyes involuntarily dragged back into the direction of Sam and Dean.
"You want to get back to your training Kit?"
The nickname falling from his lips made her jerk her head back at him.
"That is what they call you, isn't it?"
"Were you spying on me?" She hissed.
"I had to find you from the sound of your voices. I didn't have a choice but to listen in." He shrugged innocently. If looks could kill, he'd be very much dead right now.
"I did arrive in time to see you tackle hero hair 2.0 to the ground."
"Are you done?"
"It was kind of hot."
She felt her cheeks begin to burn.
"Alright now I'm done." He grinned. "I'll leave you to it, gotta go tell the baby brother my genius plan."
She watched him take a few steps before he suddenly turned back around to face her. All traces of humour had left his face. She jutted her chin up to look at him as he marched towards her.
"Don't put your phone on silent again." A breath caught in her throat as he raised a hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His gaze had softened as he studied every inch of her face.
"I hate worrying that something's happened to you."
In a blink he was gone.
"Fuck." She murmured under her breath.
*yn* spent the time it took reaching the clearing to collect herself and push thoughts of Damon to the back of her mind. By the time she reached the boys, she was the perfect picture of calm and normalcy.
"Everything ok?"
"Yeah." She nodded, "friend drama."
Dean nodded. She knew that he didn't believe her.
"So-" She cleared her throat. "Do you guys want to keep training?"
"It's getting kind of late actually, we should probably get going soon." Sam answered her.
She felt her heart plummet to the ground. She knew that they had to go, but she wasn't ready for it. They'd just got here. They were just starting to reconnect, to mend those bonds that had eroded over the years.
Even though she was practically limping from their training session, it had been some of the most fun she'd had in a long time. Giggling as Sam and Dean bickered, or trying to contain her laughter when she'd accidentally kneed Sam in the groin. It felt so natural. So familial. Almost like her dad was about to pop out and call them in for dinner like he used to all those years ago.
Surely it wouldn't hurt if they stayed just a little while longer. Like Damon had said, Klaus was distracted.
"Why don't you guys stay the night?" She suggested, glancing between them hopefully.
"We could grab some dinner and then you can head out in the morning."
The boys exchanged dubious glances.
"C'mon you can sleep at mine, I'm sure you must be sick of motel beds."
That seemed to be what tipped them over the edge.
"Alright that sounds good, thank you." Dean spoke, shooting her a tight lipped smile.
A grin spread across her lips, "great! Let's get something from the grill. I think it's burger deal night." She spoke enthusiastically as she picked up her duffel bag.
"Ooh! I call shotgun!" And with that she hurried off towards the impala, leaving the boys trailing after her.
"We're not playing any Taylor Swift." Dean called out to her as she neared the car.
She rolled her eyes, "I know you don't actually hate her."
"Oh really? And how do you know that?"
The car lock clicked.
"Because no one actually hates Taylor Swift. It's impossible."
Dean muttered something under his breath as the three of them piled into the impala. Sam's knees were practically up to his face as he forced himself into the back. Dean slid the key into the ignition.
"Do you still have that ACDC tape your dad used to play all the time?"
Dean's fingers froze in place. He turned to look at her.
"You still listen to ACDC?"
"Yeah. Of course I do. Why do you think I chose the name Young?"
Dean thought he might pass out as realisation hit him. "Like as in Angus Young...."
"Yeah..." She looked at him puzzled. "Do you guys still not use those sort of fake names?" She glanced over her shoulder at Sam.
"Yeah we do it's just..." Dean trailed off, bringing her attention back to him.
"Anyway-" He cleared his throat, "I have it, it's already in."
His answer made her smile grow wider. "Well what are you waiting for Winchester?"
He shook his head in disbelief before twisting the key in the ignition, letting the impala rumble to life. He pressed a button and the beginning of Back in Black started to blare through the speakers.
Sam internally groaned.
"Now that's what I'm talking about." She leant back in her seat and kicked her feet up onto the dash as Dean pulled out onto the road.
Sam's brow raised when Dean didn't say a word. If that had been him, he'd have been told to get out and walk.
Dean grinned and began to tap his fingers along the leather of the wheel, his head bobbing in time.
"Back in black, I hit the sack - come on Winchester!" She exclaimed when she didn't hear Dean's voice, hitting his chest playfully.
Sam blinked in disbelief as Dean began to join in, the pair of them shouting at the top of their lungs. Dean cranked the music louder.
"Oh my god." Sam mumbled to himself.
"There's two of them."
I really love this part - don't worry though there's gonna be soooo much drama coming up hehehe <333 As always, feedback would be super super appreciated and you can give it back HERE!
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Are you still writing for Thurfian?? I love him but besides your amazing fanfics there is nothing here😭😭
I’m starving, I’ll take any trope or prompt😭🩷
Dude!!!! I fricking LOVE Thurfian, I try to convert people to the Thurfian church all the time !!!
art by wonderful @thrawns-backrest
Part 1
ThurfianxF!reader
Tags : Masked ball, pregnancy talk, breeding kink, cunni, P in V, creampie
You turn and twirl, humming a tune in your bedroom, your gorgeous dress pressed against your body to observe it in the mirror. Tonight there is a ball at the Mitth’s hotel particulier.
A masked ball.
You're quite excited.
You lay your red and golden dress down on your bed and open your drawer to pass your collection of lipstick in review.
You have a ton.
All presents from the same person. The same one who selected your dress.
You pick a tube, review the color and choose another one.
More bold, more flashy, more… insolent!
A delectable shade of deep, eye-catching red that compliments your skin tone deliciously. You almost only have reds.
It is the Mitth color with gold and he wouldn’t want you to wear anything else. You apply the pigment and you smack your lips in a sounding ‘pop’. This shade is so gorgeous. Especially on you.
Will he compliment you for it tonight?
Knowing him he would probably decide to ignore you completely, to not reveal your secret.
You take your most costly perfume and put it on your neck and behind your ears. You love those hints of tangerine and spices. It is way too expensive for your small paycheck, but not for him. He bought you this one and numerous others.
He loves to cover his babies with presents. You are no exception, even if he favors less ostentatious presents for you. He may have the liberty to collect Chiss lovers but you…
You are only a human.
An alien.
His standing would take such a stab if your scandalous affair was uncovered to the public's eyes. And you would lie if you said you were unbothered by it. You understand his reasons to remain hidden on a factual level and for some time you even loved it, finding it exciting and enthralling! All this secrecy, the scandal and debauchery!
But lately you just feel tired by all that.
Your smile dies down in your mirror.
Sometimes you would like for him to put his foot down and admit seeing you. You’re not asking him to renounce all his other lovers… Just to accept seeing you openly.
You’re not in your teen years anymore, dating around is not as fun as it used to be. You would just like to settle, with or without someone.
Sometimes you would like to stop everything, coming to him and putting an end to all of it.
He would probably let you go without a fuss, and you would be left with the memories and the presents.
He doesn’t really have a choice in the matter but you know he would never be cruel to the point of throwing you out of the manor and firing you out of your job as an assistant. You are and remain a Mitth responsibility, whether it pleases him or not, it is his duty to manage you and keep you under surveillance.
Your hand holding your lipstick falls down on your vanity. Suddenly, tonight’s soiree isn’t as appealing anymore.
But you had hopes for a time… the last time you spent time together he promised to take care of you if you ended up pregnant. You thought you would be closer after that, but he proceeded to ignore you for weeks on end after that.
You sigh. You make the lipstick turn between your fingers.
What is it even for?
Marking you as his, and he doesn’t have to take any of the responsibilities towards you at all.
Just reveling in the fun you represent.
You sigh again.
You pretty much signed up for it!
But tonight… You don’t want to play the game. You don’t want to play the docile pet.
You take a towel and wipe the red off your lips, you stand up and tidy the golden and red dress back in your closet. You take out a blue and green dress, less lavish and decadent, more cheap. But it’s a dress you paid for yourself, with your own money.
Yes…
You deserve to appear as yourself and on your own terms.
You pick up a peach shade of lipstick and as you go to apply it, its scent reaches your nose and the mix with your perfume makes you gag. You press your hand against your mouth as you feel the sickness rising. You run and have just the time to open your toilet to vomit. Spasms contract your entire body violently.
Ugh…
That was weird…
You wipe your mouth clean, seating down the toilet as sweat rolls on your temples. You spread toothpaste on your toothbrush and start brushing your teeth, getting rid of that rancid taste. Your eyes wander around until ending up on your calendar pinned to the wall.
The date for your period's beginning has passed by more than two weeks…
They have always been irregular, but…
Are you… pregnant?
-----------------------
You enter the ballroom with a Wow. With dim lights the room is dark but not in a threatening way, but as a way to keep the secrets of the identities hidden behind the masks. Long and heavy deep green curtains drape the windows and draw a crown of velvet fabric around a large chandelier on the ceiling. The tall windows give way to balconies and let the light of the false moon and stars shine. You watch your steps on this waxed parquet floor, especially on your heels. The golden moldings reflect the feeble lights as the adorned mirrors mounted on the walls.
All around you Chiss have attired themself with expensive fabrics and jewelry, with masks with encrusted gemstones and delicate painting details. Some wore a traditional robe while others chose designer clothes, clashing with your simple dress.
For a second you regret not choosing the decadent red and golden dress, afraid of appearing out of place and… unworthy. But you immediately relax when you see a group of young adults with cheaper clothes discussing together.
That's right, the Mitth may be a rich ruling family but which Merit Adoptive can access the luxury of a blood? Every social standing is represented under this roof, tied by their family name.
Except for you.
You are not Mitth.
Not even Merit Adoptive.
When the Ascendancy decided to give you to the Mitth after Senior Captain Thrawn found you, he refused to give you a place, even a temporary one.
So you are still (Y/n)(F/n)...
Or rather (Y/n)’(F/n), as they pronounce it.
The human.
The alien.
The stray cat.
You breathe deeply and check that your domino mask is secured. Not that it hides your identity at all, your skin color reveals immediately who you are. You do not share their beautiful deep blue shade and can be identified with a single glance.
It's okay.
You step in the ballroom, moving aimlessly among the groups, trying to guess who is who, letting the voices guide you.
The music is pleasant, if not subtle, barely covering the whispers in your trails.
You don't miss how the groups suddenly close off when you walk past them, how they lower their voices and their carmine gaze follow you, burning the back of your neck.
It's okay…
Just keep the mask of the detached overconfident woman and everything will be alright… You breath and straighten your back, raising your head high and conducting yourself haughtily.
You forcefully enter a circle where you identified some colleagues, laughing loudly and speaking assuredly, faking assurance like you've done until now. You swing your hips, hand on your waist you speak with confidence.
Even if it's fake.
But you're good at it!
They humor you in a conversation but you know, in their eyes you're the stray cat they can come to for a little bit of exoticism and a good lay.
The alien with depraved mores.
They look at you with a mix of disgust, curiosity and hunger. How you are almost Chiss-like, almost… So close to their standards but not enough at the same time.
It makes you shiver internally. But you fuck with them by always displaying the love bites you gain at night, proving that all honorable and superior they can be they still succomb to the poor little human as much as you do for them.
It tends to shut their mouth crap quickly.
You speak brashly, putting on airs and graces. They respond with honey in their voices, chuckling at the audacity of the alien.
How dare you be so confident for a lowly human?
You just sniff at those attitudes.
After a moment you have enough of the backhanded compliments and sly remarks hidden behind a polite smile, you step away to the buffet searching for a drink or a canape to nibble on.
That's when he decides to make his entrance. You would recognize him anywhere and under any mask. You observed him from far away so many times, you know his gait and his way of carrying himself so well.
Thurfian.
Obviously, Patriarch obliges, he appears in a long traditional robe with several layers of fabrics and tissue. Red and golden, of course. You do not need to get close to guess the intricate embroideries stitched in the pricey clothes, the expensive gems sewn in the fabric, the buttons and chains of rare metals…
They care so much about their crafts after all.
His mask is elegant, less tacky than some, more tasteful. But you can guess the price he paid to have it done. Adorned with iridescent feathers and simple drops of gold, the mask compliments his regal features wonderfully.
He looks so handsome, even from far away…
Untouchable.
Cold.
Unreachable…
You sigh and turn back to the buffet. You notice a cheese canapé that looks absolutely delicious and go to take it but your hand hits another quite large hand that was heading for the same delicacy.
“I’m sorry.” You present your excuses, raising your head to the owner of the hand and gasping.
“(Y/n)’(F/n)?” Mitth’raw’nuruodo asks, sounding almost surprised.
His domino mask covers the higher half of his face but this voice and stature is unmistakable. Only Thrawn is this tall and buff.
Not to your distaste, not at all.
The Senior Captain Thrawn is usually always on the roads of the Chaos, flushing out threats against the Ascendancy before they get too big. You rarely see him at the manor as he usually prefers his city apartment to the political traps that are Chiss houses.
“When did you come back, Senior Captain?” You inquire joyfully.
You are not quite friends but Thrawn was by far the most welcoming of all the Chiss you came to meet, his curiosity and thirst for knowledge pushing him to keep your relationship cordial and pleasant for you to continue to teach him about your region. You once spent an entire evening explaining to him the significance of the clothes you carried in your luggage when he found you half dead on your destroyed, drifting ship. He listened intently, taking close looks to your dresses and robes, the embroideries and laces, the ribbons and colors choices. He took interest in the family heirlooms you brought with you, your jewelry and your silly watercolors doodles and sketches.
What did he see in all of that? Beat you.
But he was really interested and thanked you for all the information you gave him during those evenings and you jokingly responded that you would draw his portrait for him to keep studying you under every angle and very, very closely.
He clearly didn’t catch your innuendo. He seems to have a thick skull for those things.
Which amuses you tremendously, so you started flirting with him each time you met him and he kept not understanding, making you laugh a lot in response.
In some aspects this is truly adorable.
“We arrived a week ago.” He informs you, “I was at my apartment, planning some strategies.”
You also suspect he appreciates your company specifically because as a nobody alien under Mitth surveillance you have no political leverage against him. You picked upon how bad at politics he is and your lack of power in this field must be… reassuring to him.
He doesn’t give you any details about his missions for all that, and you don’t try to know more.
Frankly you are not interested in military matters and Thrawn appears competent enough to protect the Ascendancy so you decided to blindly trust him in this domain.
“What type of art did you use this time?” You smile broadly, ready for the sea of information he will release upon you once he starts speaking about art.
This is his special interest and being curious about it proved to be a good way to gain points in his book.
“I used wood statuettes carved during the eight period of the…” And here he goes.
You sip on a drink while he explains in lavish details his study of the statuettes, explaining any minute clues in long sentences, getting lost in his enthusiasm even if it only reaches his sparkling eyes and not the rest of his face.
“You are so cultivated, Senior Captain Thrawn, when do you find time to study so much during your missions?” You manage to slip between two phrases.
“I sleep very little.” He explains, “And it is an integral part of my strategy, the safest way for me to build my tactics.”
“Could you teach me one day?” You take a step further to get closer to his large, tall body.
Maker, he is so tall… That does something to you.
You smirk in your mind, the misfit of the Mitth and the stray cat…That does sound nice to you.
“I am afraid this is outside of my field of competence.” He shakes his head with a subtle sorry tone, “I cannot properly put into words how I understand other species' ways with art, I just… know it when I observe their arts.”
“Too bad.” You falsely sigh, “Could you at least try? I am a very, very good student and I need to be able to detect traps in my line of work.” You roll your ‘r’ like a purring that they do so well.
You take another step, almost pressing yourself against him. He remains still, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I am afraid it is not possible.” He assures, “But I can propose to you to teach you art history of the different Chaos’ regions?”
You just want an excuse to spend time with him, art history is as good as anything else.
“I would be delighted, Senior Captain Thrawn.” You exclaim joyfully but with a sultry, alluring tone.
You really appreciate Thrawn. He is a refined gentleman, polite and cultivated, never a bad word soiling his mouth, with a deep, melodious and… exciting voice.
And he is not ugly to look at, far from that! His features are elegant and royal, his carmine gaze highly intelligent and inquisitive.
Making your legs like jello.
He is quite different from Thurfian in so many ways. More friendly once you get to know him, more open minded and ready to extend his hand to aliens, proved that they have no ill intents towards the Ascendancy of course.
You chuckle as you remember yourself threatening Thurfian to go see Thrawn if he didn’t spend time with you. It was far from an empty threat. Thrawn was always to your taste.
You imagine yourself well in the arms of such an elegant man.
And if he refuses…Then you will just spend the rest of your day in a little room with a crowd of native Csilla cats, that sounds nice too.
“But tell me rather, Senior Captain. I would have never imagined you playing along in a masked ball! Did you receive orders of some kind?” You smirk playfully at him.
You have a hard time imagining Thurfian ordering Thrawn to come home.
“I am accompanying someone from my crew, she was really interested in this soiree and insisted it would be good for me.”
Crap, he has a partner.
“Oh really?” You swing your hips, “Where is your lady right now?” You ask innocently.
“She left me to salute some people.” He explains.
You gauge him intently and smirk.
“Your partner abandoned you and you rushed to the buffet to avoid people, am I right?”
“I… Yes.” He admits, “I do not navigate political situations well. She was supposed to be my mediator with Syndics tonight and helps with my current image with politicians. But-”
“But she left you and you panicked.” You nod understandingly.
“I tactically retreated.” He corrects politely. “But you have the scene right. I, regretfully, cannot do any good on my own in this field.”
You pass your arms around his, pressing yourself against him. He is really warm, really pleasant to the touch.
“Well, I have no political leverage myself but I met some high syndics for my job as assistant. I can present you to some big guys, be polite and charming as you do so well and everything will be alright!”
And without waiting for his response you drag him into the crowd of masked Chiss, researching some politicians with whom you could smooth out Thrawn’s image.
You spend an hour and a half pulling him from person to person, engaging the conversation with top hats of the family insolently, not hesitating to impose yourself in the groups. Thrawn remained set back, but polite.
If you didn’t know him you would say he was intimidated. But you know better, he just takes care to not slip off.
You, you have your fun. You laugh and clink your drink with other glasses, presenting yourself and the Senior Captain with an impudent confidence. You try to get Thrawn to start on art or military strategies, a field where he is comfortable, trying to offer a nicer portrait of him to politicians.
And a nicer one of yours.
To you it is quite amusing.
Even if you feel a flaming gaze burning the back of your head during all this time.
Thrawn’s partner joined you rapidly after you started your political campaign, a certain Mitth’ali’astov. She was terribly sorry to have left Thrawn alone in this nest of nighthunters and presented you with her excuses, and thanks for taking care of him while she stepped away.
She didn’t seem to mind your humanness that much, all things considered.
You raise your head when you hear the music pick up. You grab Thrawn’s arm and head towards the dance floor.
“You owe me a dance, Senior Captain!”
He follows you without a fuss but with a light chuckle.
“Really?”
“I spent my whole soiree polishing your portrait to all of those stuck up Syndics while I could have danced and drank until I fell on the ground!”
“You seemed to amuse yourself quite a lot on the contrary.” He counters, vaguely entertained.
“Just dance with me!”
He takes you in his arms and starts valsing with you.
He is… not a good dancer, you realize. He has difficulties following the music and offering you a good pace. But you don’t care, it makes you laugh. To be surrounded by such false masks of politeness and flattery and meet such genuine mistakes is refreshing and relaxing.
It makes the atmosphere less oppressive that a man like Thrawn can have difficulties doing something.
“You seem terribly amused once again.” He notes.
“You’re such a terrible dancer, Senior Captain.” You snark.
“I am sorry. Music and dance are not my forte.”
“It is quite good!” You reassure him, “It’s reassuring to know you encounter difficulties too!” You joke.
“You are welcome?” He responds puzzled.
You dance together, threatening to bump into other couples but Thrawn evades everyone with more or less grace. You let yourself be carried by his lead, even if he isn’t good at it, smiling and laughing to your heart's content.
A new sensation of sickness rises and you shiver inadvertently.
“Are you alright? Do you wish to stop?” Thrawn immediately proposes.
“No… No, it’s nothing.” You smile, trembling a bit.
“Do you want some fresh air?”
He is quite attentionate and observant of your well being.
You feel safe and at peace with him. You envision yourself well with him. You would make a cute couple, the misfit and the alien.
“No, everything is fine.”
You pass your hand behind his neck and pull him down and you audaciously kiss his cheek. The burning sensation at the back of your neck gets worse.
“But I thank you for the worry.” You murmur in Thrawn’s ear.
You have no idea how he will react. He has been so blind to any and all of your advances, you are about to discover it for yourself.
He seems to freeze under your lips, but he remains silent, simply straightening his back again. He looks at you intently, his rubies gauging your very soul.
You do not flinch or back down, looking straight in his shining red eyes without any fear or shame and offer him a bright smile in return. His shoulders seem to relax slightly.
“A problem?” You innocently ask.
“No.” He responds and makes you twirl on the dance floor.
He reacted better than expected! You almost thought he would push away for trespassing his boundaries but he seems almost… pleased?
You’re probably imagining things.
As you swirl with him, you catch a glance of Thurfian in the ballroom.
He is fixated on you, not minding the syndics talking to you. His lips thin as a line are a testament of his sentiments right now.
You turn your head away and focus on Thrawn, smiling blissfully to the handsome man. He offers you a light loopsided smile in return, making your twirl and making your head turn in more ways than one.
You giggle and press yourself against the Senior Captain under the pretense to help him lead the dance, if he finds it uncomfortable or too forward you trust he will push you back.
He doesn’t stop you and assures a tighter grip on your back.
The dance regrettably comes to an end but Thrawn doesn’t release you, on the contrary he seems to press you tighter against his muscular body.
“Maybe… You could teach me how to dance properly.” He starts, “Maybe we-”
“It is good etiquette to switch partners at the end of a dance.” A regal voice resonates behind your back.
You spin to meet Thurfian, observing the both of you with a seemingly pissed off expression. But his face is pretty well hidden under his intricate mask.
“You are right, my apologies.” Thrawn admits.
You look at him. Did he recognize his Venerante? He lets you go but takes your hand to gently kiss your knuckles.
“I wish you a delightful soiree, (Y/n)’(F/n).”
You respectfully bow your head to him.
“I wish you the same, Senior Captain.”
And he leaves you.
You do not dare to turn to Thurfian, feeling the flames of his eyes on your neck, absolutely burning your skin.
“Will you turn to me?” He demands.
You bite your lower lips and spin slowly.
He is not pleased, at all…
You bow to him, deeper this time.
“Your Venerante.” You say with the most assured voice you can muster.
He grabs your hands and presses you against him hard, starting the next dance.
He is a well finer dancer than Thrawn would possibly ever be, leading you with grace and elegance, meeting your steps with ease and installing a better pace.
“Are you having fun?” He asks harshly.
He is smaller than Thrawn, but still taller than the average Chiss man and, mostly, human man. He towers over you, gauging you up and down with his scorching gaze. This close his beauty is simply undeniable, making your stomach twist in knots like he can do so well.
“Yes, your Venerante. It is truly a very enthralling ball.” You try to mediate the situation.
His grips tighten almost painfully on your hand and back, making you wince.
“Stop playing with me. What were you doing with him among everyone else?” He bites, making you twirl and turn expertly. “Where is your dress? I chose a red and golden dress specifically for you to honor the Mitth.”
You suddenly feel pissed off to be ordered around like a dog in work and in your private life.
“Well it is part of my elaborate plan to protect your reputation, of course!” You sarcastically bite back, “Everyone but him knows you cannot bear his presence, what better cover but him to hide our little affair?”
You hear him growl under the music.
“What!? Why are you not pleased? You are never pleased with whatever I do!” You press. “Who could imagine the Oh so Great Mitth Patriarch seeing the filfthy human behind everyone’s back if she flirts with the weirdo of the family!?” You bare your teeth to him.
“You play a very dangerous game, (Y/n).’’ He warns with an icy cold voice.
“I’m fed up with your own game!” Your tone is acidic even if your voice is low to not get caught, “I’m always supposed to be at your disposal but you’re never here for me! You offer me presents to buy my silence when you know very well I want your presence more than anything else! You ignore me when we cross paths, not even a polite greeting because you’re just… scared to acknowledge me!”
“Mind your tone, human.”
“You’re just terrified to get caught! You want your cake and eat it too! You parade yourself with all those Chiss women but come back running to me when the flashes of the journalists stopped!” You know you should shut up but you cannot stop anymore.
“Silence!” He warns again.
“That would be terrible for you, right?! If the mighty Mitth Patriarch would be revealed seeing the alien under house arrest! Did you stop once and wondered how I felt to be enjoyed and then tossed aside like a disgrace until you get hungry for me again?! You take advantage of me and then stifle me into silence to not damage your reputation! You buy me clothes for the Mitth’s glory without wondering if it fits my taste or comfort! You come and take and leave me alone, knowing I have no support here.”
“You have the entire Mitth family as support.” He counters with a sharp tone.
“Everyone avoids me! Everyone ignore me! Hell, everyone hates me! This is precisely why I came to you in the first place, I needed guidance and help and you served yourself! The only one I had a remotely good relationship with is a Senior Captain you are way too happy to send away from the Manor! Are you doing it on purpose to isolate me or what?!”
“You give yourself too much importance. You do not enter my plans like that.” He snarls with disdain.
“Fine!” And you pull yourself off his arms.“Then leave me in peace!”
You turn your back to him and walk away.
You kept your tone low all the time and nobody heard anything, only wondering why one of the couples on the dancefloor stopped dancing. You walk away when suddenly all the lights flickers and a black out occurs. A complain from the guests rises as you’re suddenly in a horror holo, surrounded by disembodied red eyes all around you.
You suddenly feel a strong hand gripping your arm and you yelp as you get dragged outside the ballroom by a secret door hidden behind one of the heavy green curtains.
You groan and growl, trying to escape Thurfian’s grips but he has so much strength. The more you struggle the more his grip tightens, digging his nails in the soft flesh of your arm. You wince and snarl, pulling to get away but he drags you across the corridor until you reach a new door you’re being pushed inside a barely lighted bedroom.
You almost trip up on your feet as he pushes you and closes the door. You swiftly turn towards him, absolutely out of yourself, but before you can say anything Thurfian is on you, kissing you harshly, gripping your chin in his fist.
“I never had the responsibilities of such an unruly and ungrateful woman.” He growls, “You are driving me mad, human.”
He keeps kissing you in a demanding embrace but you slap him across the face, sending his expensive mask flying across the room.
He looks at you stunted with a gasp, his hand raising to touch his cheek, not believing you dared raise your hand against his person.
On your hand you are so distressed you start trembling, a sob rising in your throat until you break under his gaze.
“Why?” You start crying, “Why do you never listen to me?” You hide your face in your hands with ugly sobs, “Why can’t we just talk for once? Just once… I am not asking for much…”
He remains silent, stupefied by your action. You see a trail of blood flourishing on his blue cheek where your nails scratched his skin and drops of blood start rolling on his delicate flesh.
“I just want a simple date, anything where we don’t need to hide… Something simple. I just don’t want you to see me as a dishonor…” You gasp, trying to breathe, “Am I such a shame to you? Do you hate me so much?” You sniff with big tears rolling on your own cheeks.
He observes his blood rolling on his fingers, mouth slightly agape. His blood must have rarely been drawn during his life, he is not used to seeing it. He turns his gaze to you, eyes wide open in shock.
Your stomach contracts as a new wave of sickness washes over you and you press your hand against your mouth, taking support on the wall. You feel a cold sweat rising up your spine.
Thurfian seems to calculate his errors and extends his hand tentatively to you but you slap it away.
“Don’t touch me!” You shout. “Don’t…”
Your hand comes caressing your stomach.
What if you are pregnant then?
What now?
What will become of you?
What will he say?
He would surely ask you to abort immediately. He surely could never bear his precious Mitth blood to mix up with alien genes.
But that could be your only chance to have a baby of your own.
No Chiss wants to enter a serious relationship with you, why would they? You’re just good enough for one night and a little taste of exoticism. The only one who would is Thrawn, but even he is untouchable, never taking a hint.
Thurfian kept you as a pet for his private collection, nothing more… You will never be more than the stray cat of the family.
You broke down even more, kneeling down in your pain, holding your stomach to protect your baby.
Blinded by your tears you hear the door shut and steps walking away.
Thurfian left you.
He must finally be fed up with you and your antics
And now you are alone.
Definitively alone…
You raise your head, surprised, as you hear steps coming back.
He didn't leave, he entered the adjacent bathroom and came back with a wet towel that he presses on your neck gently. You look up to him, not understanding anything.
He wrinkles his nose.
“Did you expect me to leave when a woman is in clear distress?” He asks like his honor was at risk.
You gasp and try to get back control over your erratic breath between your tears. He pulls on the strings of your mask and lets it fall on your lap, revealing your face fully to his eyes.
“Can you stand?” He asks a little harshly, but… less than all your previous interaction.
You nod, sniffing. He places his hand under your armpit and helps you to the bed for you to sit. You sit down, still shuddering and hugging yourself, he sits next to you and pat your face with the fresh, wet towel delicately.
“You are impossible.” He sneers.
You shudder again, too thin skinned right now to take the beating.
His action contradicts his mean words, leaving you lost and disoriented. You release your breath as he gently wipes your forehead.
“Now, let’s talk.” He says, a tad nicer but cold, “You had grievances I came to understand.”
You roll your hands into fists, pinching the skin of your arm. Why must everything be so cold and sterile with him? Why is everything deadly serious? Why can’t he smile your way?
You lower your head.
“I just want… You to be more present. To be here for me…”
“Aren’t I present enough? I have little time for hobbies and a lot of other people to meet.” He retorts.
You take the hit, burying yourself deeper in your pain. He prefers seeing his other babies than giving you more time.
“I just want you… To be proud to have me at your arm…” You continue with a shaken voice.
“You know we can’t appear publicly together. I am not ashamed of you but I have an image to maintain.” He keeps rebuffing.
You nod, destroyed.
“I know… I am not good enough for the Chiss, even less a Patriarch.” You murmur.
“Such simplification. You know the political repercussions if the head of a family chooses an alien instead of a Chiss as a partner. The ramifications between families would be so shaken it could lead to a diplomatic disaster.”
That’s all it is about with them, yeah?
Politics, diplomacy… Fruitful relationships between families.
No place for little you here.
And it stabs your heart. You fantasized about your life with Thurfian so many times, waking up with him in the same bed, enjoying breakfast together, preparing his clothes and helping him braid his long hair for the day… A simple domestic life.
But it’s no use now, heh?
“I understand…” You give in.
“If this isn’t to your taste, then… “ He remains mute for a second, “Maybe we should stop here.”
The blade pierces your heart, slashing it open and letting it gush blood. You dare not meet his piercing gaze but feel it on your profile.
You gulp, nails deep into your tender flesh.
You open your mouth to say something but a new wave of sickness comes and seizes you and you shudder again.
“Do you want to go to the bathroom?” He asks.
You shake your head.
It will pass.
Everything does.
“Did you eat something bad?” He investigates with his authoritative tone.
If only he knew…
“No…” You manage to say between your sickness, “No I…. I…”
He looks at you impatiently but remains silent, letting you speak at your own pace.
You gulp and breathe through your nose to gather strength.
“I think… I am pregnant.” You manage to push the words past your lips.
You curl up over yourself, ready to get blasted by a storm.
“My, my. My congratulations, who did you manage to entrap?”
Your eyes open wide.
What?
You turn to him, at loss for words. He’s looking at you with his signature haughty look, lasciviously resting his head on his hand, his elbow on the bed table.
“Etiquette wants the Patriarch to send a bouquet to the couple, as a thanks to make the family grow.” He keeps going, “Did you warn him yet?”
You open your mouth agape. You don't know how to respond to that.
“No I… Thurfian, I think they are yours…”
He looks you up and down, ostensibly gauging you before he cracks up a carefully crafted smile.
“Of course they’re mine, with all the men you must see behind my back they are obviously mine.”
You feel ire spreading in your veins. You never trapt anyone! This isn’t your style, you do not even see as many men as you used to, especially after starting to see Thurfian. You understood rapidly he was quite jealous and even if he never explicitly forbade you from seeing someone else you could feel his disapprobation in his tone and burning gaze. You open your mouth to clap back and another sickness wave silences you immediately. You moan with dizziness.
“Is a child even compatible with your lifestyle?” He thinks out loud, holding his chin between his fingers, “I can find you an abortion clinic if you want.”
You feel struck by lightning and the wound of your heart grows larger. You cannot even have this baby? Will he take everything from you?
“Thurfian…” You plead, “I-I beg of you… do not make me do that…” you manage to say weakly.
He tilts his head in response.
“I am not forcing you to do anything. This baby is not my problem. If you wish to keep it, do it.”
How does he know a clinic name by head so quickly? How many abortion did he ordered already?
“The father may have a different opinion.” He finishes.
“Please listen to me.” You continue, “I am not trying to set a trap for you… This is your baby. The dates correspond, you’re the only man I saw... in a very long time. I beg of you to trust me.”
He sideglances you with a snarl.
“When did your periods stop?” He groans at the end of his patience.
“More than 4 weeks ago.”
His nostrils flare but you see in his gaze the shadow of a doubt flashing. He remembers the steamy evening you spent together 4 weeks ago. And he distinctly remembers the lack of protection. You see him calculating all the possibilities at light speed before turning his head to you, looking at you intently.
“You are lying to me.” He decides.
You groan, pissed off among the dizzy feelings.
“When was the last time I lied to you?” You demand, “Did I ever lie to you once?”
You see him wince for a split second. You pride yourself in your honesty, no matter the problems it might bring you and he knows that.
“Never.” He admits reluctantly, “This is one of your qualities.”
You grab his sleeve, looking into his carmine eyes.
“Thurfian.” You say incredibly seriously, “I am not lying. This is your baby. Everything checks out.”
You see him wanting to say something back, shutting you down definitely and coming on top.
But he finds nothing, and slowly, the realization of his error grows in his mind. He turns away, surely regretting his actions now, regretting seeing you ever.
He is in a dead end.
‘How the mighty fall’ you silently think.
He suddenly turns to you furiously.
“I saw you drink!” He bites, “Did you have the audacity to drink alcohol with my legacy in your womb?”
You're so taken aback by his reaction you can only offer a toneless response.
“No… It was simple juice…” You defend yourself.
He stands up and paces back and forth the bedroom, his hands clasped behind his back and eyebrows frowned, deeply thinking.
How to get out of this with his honor intact?
The alien is potentially pregnant with a Mitth. Worse! With him.
You look at him walking aimlessly in the room, your dizziness subsiding gradually and letting you breathe more easily.
He suddenly stops and flips to you.
“Do you feel better?”
You nod.
He seizes your hand and forces you on your feet and drags you outside in the corridor. You follow, not understanding a thing. He pulls you around many corridors where nobody crosses your path.
He chooses his way with application.
You finally reach a backdoor letting on the backside garden of the hotel, he keep going trough the verdurous nature carefully crafted by the gardeners until you arrive at the parking and he pushes you inside a limousine. His limousine you figure. With a sharp sentence he orders the driver to start and find a pharmacy, pronto!
You cower on your seat, feeling Thurfian boiling in silence on the seat next to you. He remains silent, eyes fixed straight ahead, his mind racing. You only give him discrete side glances, like he would explode to your face if he realized you were looking at him.
Rapidly the lights of Csaplar wrap around the expensive car and you speed in the streets of the Capital City of the Chiss. You lay your forehead against the window, observing all of those Chiss, each with their joys and misfortunes.
Would they sympathize with you despite your alieness? Would they see the distraught future mother in you or just the ‘other’.
“Stop here.” Thurfian orders suddenly. “(Y/n) you remain inside!”
You nod obediently to not get even more on his bad side.
As he enters the pharmacy in his regalia and bloody face you caress your stomach. Trying to find signs of life in your womb. Your hand remains over the place your baby would grow and you feel new tears rising behind your eyes. You hold them back, refusing to let your weak side win once again.
You will need all your strength to fight Thurfian.
Now that he seems to accept the possibility that the baby is his, the threat of the abortion seems to have grown closer, looming over you.
He said he would take care of you and the child but that was only theorical, now that it is here in front of him nothing is less credible than this declaration.
You may need to flee the manor and Csilla entirely if you want to keep your little one!
You need your mind clear and peaceful.
You turn to the door opening once again and Thurfian sits back down… His face is still bloody.
He didn’t enter to get dressed?
“To the Manor.” He orders once again, deadly cold.
He has a little plastic bag on his laps, the thing he bought in the pharmacy surely. You fight the yen to ask what it is, instead focusing in gathering all your points for the future argument.
Because you won’t escape it, that’s for sure.
You reach the familiar Mitth Manor as you go through your bullet points list in your mind and Thurfian grabs your hand once again to guide you to his personal suite. He pushes the plastic bag in your hands and then pushes you inside the bathroom without any words.
You’re left mouth agape and with unanswered questions. You open the back to discover pills against dizziness and vomiting and… A pregnancy test.
The message is clear…
--------------------
You reopen the bathroom door in complete silence and shoulders low. Thurfian is seating in one of his luxurious armchair, sipping a glass of alcohol, surely to calm down his nerves.
You approach with little steps, the will to appear confident and insolent disappeared after all this emotions.
Now you’re just tired and wish of the day to finally end.
He gives you a side glance as you reach his side, silently asking the question.
You gulp, refraining sobs and show the test.
“Negative.” You let him know.
You are not pregant.
No baby, no little one…
His gaze travels from the test to your saddened face. He finally extends his hand to observe it for himself.
“You must be relieved.” You say full of venom but with an exhausted voice.
He looks intently at the single line on the small screen, making the test roll between his fingers.
“It is… relieving indeed.” He finally lets out.
But this is not his relieved tone.
Not at all…
Instead he seems… Displeased? Saddened?
You look at him in silence, trying to decipher his mood. He finishes his glass in one single large gulp and puts it down the table with a resonating clank.
“This is an excellent news.” He repeats louder, but once again without his heart.
You fidget your fingers, not daring to even try to understand this man. You just look at him.
He stands up on his feet, handing you the test.
“You must be relieved too.” He argues.
“No…” You admit, “Not really….”
“Because you cannot trap me with you now?” He asks sarcastically.
You raise your eyes to his carmine gaze to find that the sarcasm didn’t reach his eyes.
Instead he appears… tired, almost disappointed.
“I thought you would be happier?” You ask.
“You forgot the mask we wear, human. I need not an explicit demonstration to let my joy be heard.”
“For now you rather seem disappointed.” You try.
You see a flash of anger in his eyes but it softens, almost against his will, in front of your clear gaze.
“You imagine things, (Y/n)’(F/n).”
“Am I?”
He growls, turning away from you, but you seize his shoulder gently, forcing him to face you again.
“Thurfian…You can speak to me.” You call gently, “I have no power against any of you, remember?” You laugh a little, trying to relax the atmosphere.
He looks into your human eyes, his shoulder tense but they seem to relax subtly under your touch. He sighs and sits back in the armchair.
“I need to father an heir.” He lets out. “As a Patriarch it is one of my most sacred duties to offer the Mitth family a new offspring for the next generation. I must set an example.”
You sit down on the table next to him, higher than him but he doesn’t seem to care.
“You have numerous lovers.” You murmur, “You will have heirs easily.”
Why do you even try to comfort him? He is the one who suggested you go to an abortion clinic because you saw ‘too many’ men!
But when you see his tense expression your heart cannot help but melt.
You cannot help but love this Chiss.
“‘Lovers’ you say.” He scoffs, “Those are paid women. No one would take the risk to end up pregnant, not when their whole livelihood is at risk. The others are women blinded by power and fortune. I need a woman with her head on her shoulders, not one to give in to temptation.”
“You don’t have a single genuine relationship?” you investigate, surprised.
You knew Thurfian didn’t deprived himself of the services of some professional women, but you always thought he also had true meaningful relationships next to it. He sees so much different women you were persuaded at least some were genuinely into him. He is a handsome, rich and powerful man, he still has all his charms and chances despite his older age… He managed to completely enchant you, why not Chiss women?
“No, I have no time for them.” He responds like it was obvious, “I dedicated all of my life to my work and my greatest reward was the Patriarch rank. I need no other thing in my life.”
‘Except a woman willing to bear your children.’ You think but take care to not voice. He would surely slap you for the affront.
“How did Thooraki manage?” You ask.
“He was married young and way before acceding the Patriarch rank.” He answers almost tiredly, his slender fingers combing his luscious hair back.
He sighs deeply, his head laying back on the back of the armchair, exposing his delicate neck to your view. You gulp slightly at that beautiful view. He opens his eyes to fix the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.
You look at him, crossing and uncrossing your legs.
Wait.
Does that mean…?
“So, outside of me you have no true relationship?” You ask.
He growls again, flashing his long, pearly white incisors.
“Do not mock me. I remain your Patriarch.” He warns.
“Technically I am not even a Mitth.” You counter, “You are not my Patriarch but my jailer.”
He shoots you a black side glance, but caves in.
“What a pitiful Patriarch I make…”
You put your hand on his shoulder tenderly, comfortingly…
“No, you are not Thurfian.” You say gently, “You are admirable. You lead your family expertly and watch over every single of its members. This is worthy of admiration.”
He sneers lightly.
“Your Cheuhn vocabulary is still limited even after all this time, human.”
You slap his shoulder to stop his mocking smile from growing wider.
“But you are right. You are the only one I have at this moment.” He says almost to himself.
And his hand comes to lay on your thighs, gently caressing them with his thumbs. You lay your own on his and he grasps it, squeezing it lightly.
“You will find a proper Chiss woman, one that would be happy to be the mother of your children.” You encourage.
“I lack time. I am getting older each passing day and my agenda is always cramped, how am I supposed to meet ‘the one’ like that?” He asks rhetorically.
“Well, if you start by stopping seeing all those professionals you’ll find your agenda surprisingly lighter suddenly.” You gently mock.
He chuckles slightly with you, appearing tired of everything.
“You are wiser than you first appear, (Y/n)’(F/n)” He retorts.
You sigh exaggeratedly, still holding his blue hand. He doesn’t let go either. His eyes remain fixed on the ceiling.
“But when you told me you were pregnant with me, I… had hope for a fleeting moment.” He reveals.
Your heart skips a beat.
What did he just say?
“You mean you would have wanted this child?” You investigate, restless.
“Of course. They remain my blood.” He just says, “I already told you I would take my responsibilities if you ended up pregnant. I would not have abandoned you nor the child. I am not heartless.”
“You have a reputation to defend and protect.” You argue.
“A Patriarch who aborts their own children is a disgrace, we are not held to the same standards as the rest of the Chiss. We cannot renounce them either, and I would not have.”
“Even if they are only half Chiss?”
The question is asked, no backing down now.
He sighs deeply and lays his head on your thighs, to your surprise! You are so taken aback you don’t know what to do, so you tentatively start caressing his gorgeous mane.
He doesn’t stop you, so you keep going. You lightly graze the cut on his cheek. At least the blood stopped flowing.
“The laws are nebulous on this point.” He murmurs, “I have the sentiment no half blood is supposed to see the light of day, that the Chiss are to avoid it at all cost.”
“But… But you came inside me last time.” You say lost, “You told me yourself you would support us.”
“Maybe… I was hoping for a happy accident…” He delicately caresses your round thighs, “I lack time and maybe I hoped you would end up pregnant and give me a baby, despite everything… If I cannot give the Mitth an heir I still desire a child for myself.”
The air is sucked off your lungs by the shock, you feel your hands starting to tremble as you caress his hair.
In that instant you realize you and Thurfian are more alike than you first thought. You both just want someone that will not hate you. You for being an alien and him for the misfortune to be Thooraki’s heir to the Patriarch rank. Thooraki was well respected but above all loved by the Mitths and Thurfian seems to stand on a shaky ground. Mitths have elected him as Patriarch but very clearly appear wary of him... To the point that his first aid Thivik seems to regret their late Patriarch to the new one.
He must feel alone on his throne.
“Thurfian?” You whisper incredulous, “Are you telling me that… You wanted me to bear your child?”
He keeps caressing your thigh, almost like he didn’t hear you, but you know he has.
“Why not?” He finally says, “I appreciate you and your company. You have terrible manners but you save it with other qualities…”
“But I’m human…” You insist
He turns his head to meet your gaze.
“Is your view of my personhood that unfavorable?”
You gulp under such burning eyes. He looks straight at you without shame or reserve, seeing through your vulnerable human soul with his shiny glare. Squirmish, you press your thighs together and wiggle on your wooden table.
But there are some details you cannot look over!
“How could I know? You always refused to adopt me in the family! Right now I am not even a Merit Adoptive!”
“I know…” He admits, “I was afraid they would suspect something if I let you enter. I wanted to cover my tracks.”
“Do you have a single idea how that hurts?!” You greet your teeth. “How rejected I felt?!”
He straightens his back but keeps looking at you.
“I am sorry.” He confesses
His hand caresses your cheek as you tremble, gently tilting your head forward until he can capture your lips in an infinitely soft kiss. Your lips barely graze, like butterflies flapping their wings in the wind, you can feel his warm breath on your parted lips.
“You taste like peaches.” He says lowly and kisses you again.
You cannot help a little smile against his soft mouth.
“How would you treat them once they are born?” You ask, still suspicious.
“They will be blood Mitth, as I am. They will receive the best education the family can offer, they will get a generous pension and lands to manage. I will treat them with all regards due to their rank.” He reassures you.
“And what would I become? Will I remain the stray of the Mitth?” You press.
“(Y/n), if you give me a healthy baby I promise to give you a rank among the family.” He offers you seriously. “You will become a Mitth as everyone else around you, others will give you the respect you deserve for your service to grow the family.” He captures your lips again, more demanding and desperate you ever saw him, “Please say yes. (Y/n)... Give me a child.”
‘Will you marry me?’ The question burns your lips, but you bury it deep.
You never revealed your love for him and know nothing of his true feelings towards you, now is not the time to scare him away and your best chance to get stability in the Ascendancy.
So you kiss him back, with vigor and fervor, circling his neck with your arms as he clasps his arms around your waist.
“Will you?” He parts with you with feverish red burning eyes.
“Yes.” You nod, “I will give you a baby, Thurfian.”
He sighs satisfied and kisses you again, losing himself in you.
“Did you take the medicine?” He stops again.
You pause.
Your stomach stopped hurting and you don’t feel any sickness anymore.
“Yes. It’s surprisingly potent!” You admit.
“Good.” And he lifts you up in his arms with ease.
He’s not a warrior or a soldier but he takes great care of himself! Patriarch duties are incredibly demanding after all, good physical health and stamina are essential to survive a single day here. You yelp at the sensation to be lifted all of the sudden and hold on to him as he carries you to his large bed. He lays you down softly, kissing your neck. He claps his hand and all the lights dim down, accentuating the shimmer of his carmine gaze.
“I need you to be healthy and focused tonight.” He whispers, biting your ear as one of his hands comes to seize the zipper at the back of your dress.
You raise on your elbows to give him better access and start licking and sucking the skin of his neck, letting purple love bites on his flesh. He growls in approval and pulls the zipper down, passing his hands behind the fabric to caress the nude skin of your back. You circle his neck again and pull him down to force him to lay on you.
You want to feel the weight of his entire body on yours.
He is so warm, you can feel it radiate through the layers of fabric of his traditional robe but you want to feel his warm blue skin on yours now! You feverishly seize his collar to find the buttons or chain helding it close but his hand stops you easily.
“Shhhhhhhhh. Let’s take our time…” He calms your ardors down, “Let us savor the experience.” He sighs lasciviously, licking your neck.
Thurfian never wants to take his time. Never!
He wants a good lay and he wants it quick!
You look at him with round eyes, heavy with suspicion.
“Do not look at me like that.” He chastises you.
“You always have your way and throw me out of the room immediately after.” You counter.
He kisses your knuckles.
“It will not happen anymore.” He says tenderly, kissing each of your fingertips and your palms.
You sniff, incredulous.
“You have my word.” He assures.
And he resumes kissing you deeply, languorously… His tongue meets and dances with yours softly as he holds your cheek in his warm palm. You moan in the kiss, demanding for more.
So he gently pulls on the shoulder of your dress to undress your top to reveal your black laced bra to his burning gaze.
“Beautiful.” He approves, “But the Mitth colors suit you way better.”
You chuckle. He really stands by it!
He sucks and bites your sensitive neck, leaving love bites on your own skin, marking you as his. He slowly goes down, kissing his way to your collarbone and further. He kisses and licks the plump of your breast before grazing the thin skin with his long incisors, threatening to pierce the skin. You let your head fall on the bed, leaving your body at his entire mercy, leaving him to do as he pleases with you.
But the bite never came. He kisses your bosom reverently instead.
He pulls the dress til your waist down before slipping the braces of your bra out of his way to reveal your breast fully to him.
“Gorgeous, so round and soft, just as I love them. Your body is a real treasure (Y/n).”
You gasp under his caress and kiss. He never took the time to compliment you or appreciate your body, not beyond the pleasure it could give him, before tossing it to the side without another glance.
But tonight he takes all of his time to explore each and every nook and crannies. He makes your nipple swirl under his thumbs, exciting the nervous buds gently before leaning forward and taking one in his mouth. He sucks your nipples and laps it with his tongue and circling it across. You shudder and moan, combing your fingers in his mane, pressing him down against your craving body. You feel yourself growing hotter and more fébrile under his touch, your pussy awakening from its torpor to demand immediate attention. He growls his own pleasure to you too, not refraining from bestial groans to excite you further. You wave your body and arch your back into his greedy mouth and he purrs in response.
That single sound sends vibrations through his flexible tongue to your bud and you bite your lower lips, taking a fistfull of his shiny hair, messing his coif. He takes a big sloppy lap at your nipple, leaving drool rolling on the plump of your tit. He kisses it a final time and switches to the other, pinching and swirling the left out. You squirm under his weight, desperate for him to go further, to touch you where you're warm and humid.
Because you are definitively wet now!
This change of mood for a gentler lover is appreciated and it excites you tremendously.
“Thurfian… Thurfian…” You whine, trying to get things moving but he growls a warning, sucking conscientiously on your nipple.
He kneads and massages the other with his large palm like the soft and delicate matter that it is. He offers so much care and attention to your tits, kissing them like holy relics. A tremble shakes your entire body, making you squeeze his head against your breast, choking him for a split second.
“Sorry.” You present your excuses.
“There is no need. Suffocating on your tits is far greater than good. I bet suffocating between your thighs is even better…”
You choke for a split second.
Did he just propose to go down on you?
He never did that! He is above that!
But he is kissing his way down right now, licking all across your stomach, soiling you with his drool. He stops just ahead of the folds of your dress, giving it a last lick with the tip of his tongue.
“Place yourself correctly on the bed.” He orders, rising back on his feet.
You crawl on your back, aligning you correctly with the large bed and coming to rest on the fluffy pillows. You observe Thurfian getting rid of layers and layers of his robes. When he notices you looking at him like a delicious meal he smirks smugly and puts on a little show undressing for your viewing pleasure. Slowing down his gestures and caressing his own body as he finally reveals his chest to you. There is a layer of fat on his chest and stomach but the hard muscles are indisputably here, carving his body out of pure marble.
He is really well made… You gulp, almost intimidated.
It feels like discovering his body for the very first time.
And he is scorching hot! His older age doesn’t spoil a single thing either, Chiss growing older much more gracefully than human and enhancing their haughty air and elegant regal features...
Your mouth opens slightly, drooling in hunger especially subjected to such alluring spectacle, and you press your thighs together while one of your hands scoops your sex and massages it through the fabric of your panties. He finishes his little show in his boxers and by liberating his mane of all their hair ties and ornaments, letting all his long hair flow in his back freely. He slicks the front strands back with his hand as he crawls towards you like a hungry predator, a growl resonating inside his chest and in the large suite.
You gulp, his flaming gaze devouring your form like a costly dish he is about to feast on.
He seizes your knees and opens your legs wide open and his slender hands snake their way up your inner thighs, caressing your flesh lovingly, pushing the dress out of his way up to your hips, revealing your little laced panties.
Green and blue too.
He snarls.
“You have some nerve to come dressed in Stybla's colors to my ball, woman.”
“It’s the only dress I paid for myself that could make the cut for such an event.” You try to explain.
“When you get pregnant I only want you to wear burgundy and gold.” He orders, “No strutting around with my child in a rival family’s color, understood?”
You swallow before his inquisitive gaze.
“Could I at least choose the clothes for myself this time?” You negotiate.
His expression relaxes and he leans forward to tenderly kiss your thighs.
“Yes, Vutucni.” He purrs, and your pussy clench at how sweet his tone sounds, “But you still deserve a punishment. I will make you come so hard you will beg me to stop.” He warns, licking his lips with a predatory look.
You shiver, but not of fear or anxiousness, but of desire and anticipation. You’re dying to feel his touch on you, you feel a single caress would make you implode on the spot.
“That doesn’t seem to trouble you.” He notes, slightly amused, “Quite the contrary.”
You nod your head enthusiastically and open your legs wider for him. You cannot help but bite your lips with expectation. His large hands hook your panties and pull them, not neglecting to leave love bites all along your legs, sucking on the sensitive flesh.
But never where you crave it the most.
You whine pushing your hips closer, begging for him to start, shaking all over with desire. He darkly chuckles.
“I always appreciated your enthusiasm.” He lets you know, “Sex between Chiss is more… restrictive in some ways. You, you abandon yourself completely to me… I love that.” He praises.
Your heart clenches, Chiss view on sex is more practical than pleasure oriented. They love not letting the mask of ‘perfection’ slip off their face and a sweaty activity demanding you to be vulnerable and open to the other might be a bit of a threat to their honor.
Not to say they don’t have pleasure! There is always exceptions to the rule and you know somewhere in Chiss space a lot of couples are fucking like snowrabbits in rut but you also remember how closed off and terribly sterile and formal Thurfian was during your first times, until he started to relax and show his true deviances and kinks to you.
Cause if you ever started to claim the Patriarch of the family was as perverted and touch starved as everyone else who would give credits to your words? You remained an untrustworthy alien.
You grab his cheeks and pull him closer to capture his soft lips. You kiss him deep and languorously, robbing you both of your breath. You just felt this pressing desire to kiss him at his words, to make one together. You moan and mewls for his pleasure and he bites your lower lips with guttural groans. His hand sneakily reaches your gaping pussy and trails your fold up and down with his long fingers, coating them well and flicking your little clit with his thumbs, making you react instantly. You gasp in the kiss and he pushes his tongue inside your mouth instead, pressing them together to dance and hug. His second hand comes behind your head to press you tighter, gripping your hair in his fist and pulling on them. Your head is yanked back, exposing your neck to his greedy mouth that he licks thoroughly. He peppers kisses on the bruised spot where the love bites are already appearing.
“Do not hide your marks tomorrow.” He orders.
“Will you hide yours?” You tease.
But you also want to make sure he doesn’t want to show you off while hiding the proof of his sin.
“Depends.” He sneers darkly, “Will you be good for me tonight?”
You scoff offended.
“Am I not always good for you, your Venerante?!” You demand.
He nudges the tip of his nose with a hickey, a satisfied grin flourishing on his face.
“I am playing with you, Vutucni.”
You purse your lips, pouting. He circles your clit harder to make you jolt and gasp, his other flexible fingers toying with your little cunt with practiced ease.
“You make me lose track of all my objectives, you unruly woman.” He bites the crook of your neck, “Don’t move.”
He reverently kisses your two tits and places himself correctly and comfortably between your legs, grabbing your thighs with his large hands, keeping them wide apart.
“You are already wet, but I want you absolutely dripping like a fountain.” He blows on your exposed pussy, making all your inner muscles contract in response, blocking the air in your throat. He takes a tentative lick at your nervous bud, making you jolt immediately. You’re so thin skinned and sensitive at this moment…
His purr deepens.
“Very nice reaction, human.” He praises, “But how loud can I really make you scream?”
And without leaving your time to respond he dives in to take a big sloppy lick of your pussy and starts working. Obscene moans escape you as he works diligently on your folds, trailing the slit up and down with his flexible warm and wet muscle. You feel your legs starting to shake and willing to close to deny him access but he holds them firmly open without difficulties. He kisses and licks your pussylips gluttonously before focusing on your pearl.
He darts his tongue and titillates it sadistically with light touches, making you crave and beg for more as he just pokes and gives little licks to the heart of your desires. You squirm and whine, inadvertently trying to get away from those torturous touches, but he assures his grips on your plump thighs and starts sucking on your clit like a candy, making it roll between his swollen lips, circling it with his tongue, crossing it and lapping at it. Your hands get a grip on the soft covers, digging your nails in the fabric as you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, your essence leaking down your puffy flesh but he is here to drink from you, licking you clean, delighting himself in your taste. He doesn’t refrain from voicing his satisfaction to your ears, purring and growling like an actual beast.
One of his hands leaves your thighs to open your pussylips with two long fingers to expose your hidden flesh to his assaults. You feel your abdominals and inner muscles contracting in waves as he laves at you enthusiastically. He suddenly bites down your clit and you start in pain and pleasure, owning an amused purr in response. Once again, the vibrations of his purr travel through his warm tongue to tease your pearl even more, absolutely forcing you on your knees.
“Thurfian…” You gasp.
He hums in response, very pleased by your various reactions of obvious pleasure, encouraging him to continue further.
He will push your limits until you are screaming between his hands.
He enters your most secret place with a finger and starts caressing your G spot expertly while sucking on your clitoris. You feel his long finger caressing every inner curves with flexibility. He was always so good at fingering you and loved to flex his talents by having you cum with his fingers alone. He prided himself in making you come undone with a single finger!
But doubled up with his mouth…?
This is so much more intense and pleasurable!
By sheer despair your hands come entangle themself in his luscious blue-black mane, combing your fingers in his locks and holding him against the heart of all your desires. Your legs shake so much you’re affraid to hit him with your trembling heels. He throw your legs over his shoulders and you cross them, keeping him prisoner between your luscious tighs. He sucks and licks like a machine, unstoppable and tireless while you spend more and more energy trying to keep it quiet, a scream of pleasure rising and growing in your throat, threatening to pass your lips at any second if your not careful.
Thats when he pushes a second finger inside your gaping pussy, curling them against your gummy spot.
You cannot hold it back and scream. You immediately bite hard into one your finger to silence yourself.
And he doesn’t tolerate it, he bites hard in your inner tighs with a pissed growl. The pain forces your mouth open, releasing your finger.
“Scream, Human. I do not give you the right to remain silent.” He orders curtly.
“But we will be heard, we-”
“They are all at the ball at the Hotel Particulier. We are alone, there is only us.”
You gasp, trying to catch your breath from the drowning pleasure you are feeling.
“What about the domestics?”
“They are contractually mute and deaf. Do not bother yourself with them and focus on our pleasure!”
‘Our pleasure’...
It makes your heart pumps harder. Makes you feel light...
To prove his point he scisors you, hooking your little pussy with his long fingers efficiently as he torture your puffy clit, forcing all of those obscene pleas like an obsessive littany. Your fluffy inner fleshes puff up, gorging themself with warm blood to prepare for the upcoming, roaring orgasm you feel just over the curb, right there, you could almost touch it...
And then
It snaps.
Fire flow through your veins and your pussy clench hard around Thurfian’s fingers, retaining them deep inside, contracting as waves of pleasure travel your entire body, immobilizing you in a deliciosuly torturing embrace...
Your little pussy tightens so much so suddenly you squirt into Thurfian’s mouth and your toes curl, your eyes roll inside your head as you scream again the Patriarch’s core name for all to hear. Your entire body tenses up like you were electrocuted and suddenly relaxes with a ‘oof’ on the large comfortable bed.
You can only hear your own heartbeat resonating in your ears and Thrufian’s satisfied purr as he lick the remnant of your essence off your sweet cunt, drinking your pleasure raw and pure like ambrosia.
You pant, feeling your sweat rolling on your naked skin as Thurfian stands up, licking his fingers ostensibly, sucking them clean obscenenly as a power move as your slick still beads off his perfect jaw.
“You taste sweet.” He compliments, “Quite savory. You make for a very tasty dinner, Vutucni.”
His eyes shine so much you cannot see any pupils anymore, lighting up the bedroom of a dangerous red shade.
But you feel at ease.
You like to bath in all this red, surrounded by darkness and warmth. It feels so right.
He leans forward to capture your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He invades your mouth, caressing your tongue as he holds the back of your head to keep you in place without any chance of escaping.
He purrs so loudly, so unashamedly you want to purr with him.
“It was a really good performance, Vutucni. I want you to do it again with my cock this time.” He licks your jaw and bites your ear.
“Then give it to me.” You lick his blood off his cut cheek.
He raises on his knees to lower his boxers, freeing his erection. It stands proudly erect, girthy and long with delicious ridges, you take it in your hand and start pumping him, playing with the crown of his cock, pulling on the skin to reveal the head that leaks pre-cum.
You’re about to take it in your mouth when Thurfian seizes your throat to gently push you down the matress with his eyes silently ordering you to remain still.
You pout, making him chuckle in return.
He places himself correctly between your open legs and starts brushing his long member against your soaked folds, he coats it well and good with a back and forth movements and spreading his pre-cum all along his lenght with one hand. He pokes and nudges your tight entrance with his tip to tease you, amusing himself at how pissed off you get as he doesn’t enter you right away.
His expression loose its light to become grave and serious all of the sudden, burying his gaze in yours.
“(Y/n), there is something you must be aware of beforehand.” He starts gravely.
You slowly nods, unsure of what he is about to unleash on you and slightly affraid by the sudden change of tone.
“This child... Could not get accepted by the rest of the Chiss. It is very clear to me that they would never accept them as my heir.”
“Can’t you... force them? You are Patriarch after all...”
“They will receive the privileges of the blood Mitth, but I am affraid their life will be... lonely and mostly without ties.”
“Are you affraid they will look too human?”
“They won’t. Chiss genes prevail.” He immediately hardens his tone.
You open your eyes slightly at that aggression and he relaxes seeing your expression, his hand coming to caress your cheek delicately.
“They will look Chiss, they will just... feel it on them, that they are not pure Chiss. And I worry it will weigh on them.”
You are alone since day one in this Society and you managed but Thurfian could give them what you never could.
“As long as they have the power of the blood, I can teach them to live in this unforgivable environment.”
“How?” He asks softly.
You scoff.
“I do it daily! I know how you operate and I’ll prepare them to take down any challenge!” You greet your teeth.
‘And take down any of you!’ you add in your mind.
His thumb gently caress your cheek, like he is lost in his thoughts.
“You speak so harshly of us.”
“You are not exactly welcoming with outsiders.”
“You have me now.”
You tuts.
“Will you be here for them as well?”
“Everyday.” He gently assures, “They are my child as much as yours.” He leans forward to kiss you again and lets his forehead resting against yours, “I worry the same for you. They will give you respect but close their hearts to you.”
“As long as they bow to me I will be magnanimous.” You half jokingly lets out.
“I will also probably need to father another child.” He keeps going, “A pure Chiss, for my lineage.”
He lets the information sink, and with it your heart.
He will not remain with you?
“A half-blood could never be an heir of one of the nine...”
“Yes I understood the first time!” You spit, annoyed.
“I cannot be exclusive with you.” He insists.
“I know.” You sulk in your pain, “I figured as much...”
He brushes your foreheads together.
“I am sorry, (Y/n). You may have been the only one who were ready to stay with me no matter what.”
You bury your heart.
You would have followed Thurfian to the other side of the universe if he just asked, you would have done unforgivable things to remain with him...
But such are the Chiss.
Heartless and practical.
“I just hope you’ll find the right woman quickly.” You hide your pain behind and encouraging smile you shine to him.
He inhales, still caressing your cheek.
“Do you still want this?” He offers you an escape door.
But you circle his neck with your arms and his waist with your legs.
“Give me your baby.” You bury your nose in the crook of his neck.
You cannot have his undivided attention and love, but you can still give him a family... His own little family.
He embraces your shoulders tight and you feel him slowly invading your pussy. Your mouth open in a perfect ‘o’ at the sensation to finally be full. He pushes his cock inside easily to not hurt you.
But he hurted you deeper he ever could already.
You hiss at his size. He is well endowed and always a little tricky to fit, but your first, fantastic orgasm helps a lot and he finally sit fully inside. He remains still for your comfort, letting your pussy time to adjust, patiently. When he feels your muscles relaxing all around him like a fluffy pillow he gives you one shallow thrust, testing your reactions. It slips easily and without hurting. Without you asking him to stop he takes it as a ‘go’ and starts a back and forth movement, leaving just the tip inside and pushing it back his whole lenght inside.
He makes gentle love to you, with deep and languid thrusts, kissing the crook of your neck and nibbling your ear. Your pussy welcomes him fully, eagerly inviting him inside, his numerous ridges grazing and teasing all your deep hidden spots so easily...
You gasp and mewl, a comforting pool of heat getting born in your bundle of nerves and small shockwaves of pleasures spreads through your veins. Thurfian hiss and grunts as your cunt squeezes his cock, absolutely torturing him, tearing him apart.
You feel his eagerness to speed up the pace but he keeps it slow and languorous as he licks your shoulder to your jaw before kissing to corner of your parted lips.
“You are strangling me, (Y/n).” He groans, “You’re forcing me on my knees...”
Serves him right!
He pushes it back in terribly slowly, a creamy ‘o’ starting to form at his base. You gasp as his dick brushes your spots without breaking a sweat. His purr resumes, resonating in the large bedroom and with your heart as he hugs you close against his own. He suddenly grazes a spot that makes you shudder in bliss and clench your pussy around his cock.
“Ch'etecerci!” He curses, “Stop doing that!” He rasps, sweaty and trembling.
You gorge yourself with pride, he is not insensible to the pleasure you give him! You can reach him too and touch him.
He isn’t closed to you.
To toy with him you contract your inner muscles several times and he throws his head backward in pure bliss.
“(Y/n), (Y/n), (Y/n)...” He chants breathily, pecking your face all over, “You are torturing me so deliciously, you temptress.”
You whine as he slowy starts to increase the pace of his hips. The entire room reeks of sweat and sex and your only source of light is his carmine eyes, burning everything it remotly touch such as your shuddering body. His hips meets yours sloppily but lovingly, tenderly, gently...
You gasp as he sough sweet nothing in your ear, kissing it foundly as he presses his cheek to yours, his entire perfect body weighting on yours, wrapping you in a sweet warmth that you never felt in any other lover’s embrace. The rythm is slow but fill with love and passion, just expressed differently than what he is used too.
He always liked it rough and harsh, far away from tenderness and gentleness. He kept this side of him locked and hidden.
He could never show another side but conquering and dominant to the alien as the Patriarch and more importantly as a Chiss. Their fierceness must be displayed at any moment, especially to outsiders, never showing any weakness or soft sides.
So,
For him to allow you to see that part of him... That vulnerable part...
It is probably a one time thing and you should enjoy it for the little time you have, he would probably close himself back to you after, even if he promised to take more care of you.
His attention is earned but never his affection.
You embrace him tighter to emprison him, letting your pussy adjusting to his size to let him pass, your inner secret place all puffy with blood and fluffy like a pillow for his cock, like a velvety sheath made for him.
He rolls his hips rythmically with your breathes, letting you guide him for the pace and making sweet love to you like he never did before. You turn your head to kiss his cheek with a mimic of their deep purring sounds. A poor imitation from your human vocal cords but you hear a very faint chuckle and his own purr gains in intensity. It’s like music to your ears with his groans and pants.
His hands leave your shoulders to grip your hips and ass to position you in a better angle, allowing him to go even deeper wich seems almost impossible.
But he does, brushing your cervix with his leaking tip.
This new sensations sends fire to your nerve endings and you tremble dramatically in his arms, a tsunami of pleasure ready to crash upon you.
“Oh Maker...” You breathe, the warm waves rising in your veins almost comfortingly, “Keep going, please!”
He lay his forehead on yours, looking into your human eyes and you suddenly feel incredibly shy to be seen and perceived in such intimate moment you close your eyes to protect your sanity.
“Look at me please.” He calls majestically, “Look into my eyes when you cum.”
You squirm and shake your head, your eyes shut close. He takes your chin between two fingers and tilt your head towards his face.
“(Y/n), look into my gaze.” He orders, “As a Mitth you must always obey your Patriarch.”
His other hand leaves your hip to take yours and entertwine your fingers together. You whine but open your eyes tentatively, looking up to the Chiss looming over your naked, exposed form.
You immediately drown in an ocean of red, hypnotized, witnessing the Universe expending in his carmine jewels burning so bright with excitement and lust you are almost blinded by such light.
And you immediately cum.
Your pussy clenches and squeezes around his girthy shaft, trying desesperatly to retain him deep inside. You close back your eyes in shock, hyperspaces draw in white light behind your eyelids. Thurfian cock is compressed and massaged by your inner muscles, getting pulled deeper in voluptuous sensations, dragging him further in red-hot pleasure and he comes inside you, painting your little pussy in white as he spurts his semen deep inside your womb.
You feel his shaft twitches and didders almost painfully, forcing a deep guttural growl off his throat, and your pussy milks him dry, pumping everything greedily inside your warmth.
He didn’t let go of your hand.
You remain silent, gasping for air, Thurfian laying on your body, both sweaty and burning hot. You dive your head in the crook of his solid neck to inhale his natural musk enhanced by your efforts.
It is manly, with strong notes of pine and sex and... comforting, like a scent you smelled in your childhood.
You can also feel your two beating hearts pumping quickly from the physical efforts through your respective chests, you slide a hand between your two bodies to place it on his large peck to feel the vibrations through your palm. You cannot help a little chuckle when you feel his heart jumping at the soft contact of your hand.
He gently kisses your shoulder with the ghost of his lips, leaving pecks as light as butterflies wings. As you go down from your daze he gently slips off of you to straigthens his back, well grounded on his knees on the matress. He rises his head high and dramatically slick his hair back, looking down at you regally.
“Turn around and raise your hips.” He orders.
His shaft is still well erected, standing tall and proud, making you slightly anxious of what is to come...
You groan, tired and sore but you roll on your stomach with a sigh and raise your hips in the air, to soothe yourself you take one of the pillow and put it under your head to hug it and dig your nails in the fabric.
Thurfian large palms caress the plump or your ass before gripping your hips and harshly bring them closer to him.
You feel two of his fingers trailing your slit up and down, coated with his sperm and your essence that you feel rolling along your thighs.
And he noticed too.
He flicks your pussy making you start at the sharp pain disolving in numbing pleasure.
“You are already wasting my semen, woman. How am I supposed to get things done around here?”
“I am sorry your Venerante.” You swing your hips to taunt him, “I am a bad girl!”
And you both burst out in a light chuckle.
You could never say such things seriously!
Thurfian clears his throat to stop while yours finish in a deep, long sigh, pleased to have relaxed the atmosphere a bit.
“Keep steady, Vutucni.”
And that’s your only warning before he pushes back his cock inside your gaping pussy. All air is chased or your lungs at the sudden fullness, feeling stuffed to the brim by his glorious member. He takes two shallow thrusts, testing your wetness and flexibilty and starts to fuck you like he loves to.
You’re forced to open your legs wide to stabilize yourself on the soft, fluffy matress to not get pushed over, and you dig your nails in your pillow, menacing to tear apart its fabric. You focus on your breathing as he rams his lenght inside without an once of mercy for your exhausted, more fragile human body.
You have no Chiss stamina nor resistance. You are far more limited as a human, wich was tricky at first when they gave you a standardized agenda for Chiss. Numerous time you tought you would pass out of exhaustion for Thurfian to keep fucking you while you’re unconscious.
He would not stop for so little.
You hiss as he bullies himself deep inside, hitting your cervix with ease.
It is more painful than pleasant and each hit gets more painful than the former.
He seems to take it into account as he slightly tilts his pelvis to change the angle, making it more comfortable for you, easing your pain to a more voluptuous and warm sensation. He slightly slow down his rut to test this new angle before resuming his merciless pace, hitting all your spots even better and making you see stars. You feel yourself drooling on your jaw as the pool of heat in your stomach grows more and more at each of his profound thrusts, like ebullient lava ready to spill and burns anything it touches.
Thurfian lets out a deep sighs as he keeps fucking you hard and good, holding your hips firmly for you not too fall or escape.
“(Y/n)... (Y/n)...” He chants in his melodious accent, “You let me discover my true desires.” He accentuates each words with a good hips movement, making you whimper each times as you threaten to fall off the bed, “You let me breed you, my little human. To do as I please, to fuck as I want...”
In this frenetic frenzy you feel his hand snaking it’s way under you to play with your puffy clit.
You jolt with a breathy moan, making your pussy clenches around him.
“Ravri'ihah!” He curses with a deep voice, “What did I told you about that?”
But he keeps playing with your pulsating pearls expertly, making you whimper louder and louder and your legs tremble so much you feel they are going to give way under you.
You bite into the pillow to silence yourself, earning an instantaneous slap on your butt.
“I ordered you to not silence yourself, I recall!” His regal voice rising imperiously over you, “I am going to make you scream for your transgression.” He sentences.
And he increases his movement, installing a brutal pace, fucking you like an animal. This time he truly is bestial, bullying himself meanly into your poor pussy.
Your poor body isn’t meant to bare such intensity. This time you feel like you’re really going to pass out! Air is pushed out of your lungs with hard shockwaves each time you try to open your mouth.
“Wait... Thu-Thurfian, please... Slow down, I-”
“Oh you want me to slow down now? You want my mercy? I generously warned you but you kept disobeying your Patriarch. You thought I would not stick to my words and leave you unpunished?” He taunts, a sadistic notes in his pleased tone.
He sure is enjoying himself.
“I will have you learn who I truly am, (Y/n)’(F/n). You will learn to obey your Patriarch by the end of this night.”
He slaps your ass again and resume his torture on your clit, making you clench harder and harder.
He knows all your sweet spots, he learned them by heart by know. If he wants you screaming in debilitating pleasure, he will have you screaming!
“Now learn your lesson, woman.”
He twists your clit between his fingers as he hungrily fucks you like he never did before.
Soon enough you cannot refrain any of the inadvertent cries that escape you under such terrible assaults, they get louder and louder as you dig your nails in the matress, trying really hard to not silence yourself again to not aggravate the situation, but also trying to keep them in check to not outright scream for everyone to hear again.
Thurfian laughs contented at your pitiful efforts.
“I was being nice to you until now.” He flicks your clit to have you trying to squirm away, only to impale you back on his cock, “And I will breed you. You will give me a child, several even. You will remain with me, not to see any other lovers. You will be mine, and mine only!”
To prove his point he fucks like a jackhammer, forcing your sore pussy to take him whole, strecthing it at it’s maximum, ruthlessly torturing your nervous and thin skinned body.
It should be painful with how violent and heavy it is, but each push just makes you cream more and more around his girthy shaft.
This time your legs do give out, but Thurfian holds you firmly with his strong arms.
“Tired already?” He mocks “You human are such fragile creatures it is comical. How do you intend to carry a Chiss baby, I wonder?”
You greet your teeth.
“Fucking try me!” You manage to spit between two gasped moans.
“Still snappy I see. If you have the energy to talk back you have the energy to scream. So please, Vutucni, humor me!”
And he leans forward, his bust agaisnt you back, deepening his thrusts, and bites down your shoulder with his long incisors.
You shout, the pain melting in a numbing bliss rapidly as he licks the blood rolling off your shoulder. His purr gets deeper and seems to roll on both of your skin as ocean’s tides.
He forces your body to lay down, following you down and ruts inside you, toying with your little pearl, worsening the clasp of your cunt on his member wich he actually seems to enjoy a lot!
Having his cock strangled by your little creaming sex his such a delight! Such a high!
He growls satisfied as you babble incoherently under his languorous offensive, your hips meeting with wet obsessive sounds, flesh hitting flesh obscenely, perversely.
“Oh Maker please slow down!” You breath, “You-Your Venerante! I am sorry!”
“Keep begging, cheo Vutucni. It suits your cute voice so well...” He teases.
He doesn’t slow down for even a second, his throbbing cock invading your intimacy, forcing it’s way in as your poor cunny cannot do another thing but to take it.
‘’You are so tight, Vutucni. Tighter than any Chiss cunt. You were made for me to fuck you. You were created to serve your Patriarch and bear his children.’’
You whimper at his words, melting on the spot as your toes curl.
‘’You want this ? You want my babies ? Do you, human ?’’
‘’I-ah !... Yes your Venerante.’’ You gasp, trying desperatly to focus but his ministrations on your clit and his rut just scramble your mind.
You are drooling all over yourself and the pillow is soaked.
‘’What a good little human, eager to please and be breed.’’ He kisses your cheek almost tenderly, ‘’Give it to me Cheo Vutucni. Give me all of your pleasure.’’
And he punctuates his words with his finals hard thrusts making you scream and squirt on his cock. A long high pitched scream of his name that surely made the manor tremble.
Your body tenses up, blood transformed in pure fire, your sweet cunny convulsing desperatly. Your eyes close shut with bright fireworks as your inner muscles undulate around Thurfian’s cock finishing to unload deep inside of you again. You feel him twitch as the last ribbon of creamy seed paints your vagina white.
He keeps circling your clit fondly as you go down your high, prolonging your orgasm and rolling your pleasure.
He starts kissing your shoulder gently, licking your sweat off your body.
You huff, in desperate need of a glass of water but Thurfian doesn’t seems disposed to move off you, laying on your body like a lascivious king.
His purr resonates loudly between the four walls of his bedroom.
You weakly try to raise your head off the pillow and he takes the opportunity to kiss your cheek once again.
‘’Are you alright Vutucni ?’’
You weakly nod, feeling shadows circling you.
He nuzzles his nose against your cheek with a loopsided grin.
‘’It was fantastic.’’ He praises, ‘’Did you like it ?’’
‘’Yes …’’ You sob, laying your head back on the pillow.
‘’Vutucni ?’’
And the darkness takes you…
You yawn and open your eyes… To discover you are not in your room but Thurfian’s ?
You start back at that realization, only to hit a body behind your back. You turn your head to discover Thurfian sleeping soundly, hugging your naked body, embracing it tight with his long arms around your tummy.
You look around to see both of your clothing tidied up and a glass of water waiting for you on your bedside table.
You turn in his arms, observing his relaxed features. He looks so different from his usual self, more moving and at ease.
He didn’t throw you out. He kept you in his bed with him for the first time… Letting you see that secret aprt of him.
You simply cannot help yourself but tracing his features with your fingers delicately, the softness of his forehead ridges, the point and curve of his nose, the delicateness of his eyelashes and the sharpness of his cheekbone, the hollow of his cheek, the perfection of his jaw and the plump of his lips.
‘’Are you having fun ?’’ He sighs.
You squeele in surprise as he slowly opens his eyes to meet yours.
‘’Good morning your Venerante.’’ You greet, disapointed to have been busted.
He grips your hand before you can take it away to kiss your palm and leans in to take your cheek to kiss your lips. Sweet kisses for a sweet morning.
Thats when you realize the sun pouring in the bedroom.
‘’Fuck! What time is it!?’’ You shout, jumping on a seating position, parting from his kiss,‘’ I have a shift this morning!’’
You go to leave the bed but Thurfian grasps your arm and pulls you back in his embrace.
‘’Thurfian ! We both have work, you more than me!’’ You try to reason him.
‘’And we will get to it.’’ He holds you down, ‘’But for now let’s enjoy. It’s been so long since I had a day off…’’
You try to wriggle your way out but he snarls and rolls on top of you, capturing your lips in a ravaging kiss, holding your wrists above your head in one hand.
‘’Do I need to fuck you into unconsciousness again ?’’ He taunts, his long hair framing his gorgeous face.
You just shake your head silently with pursed lips.
‘’Good. Remain.’’
‘’I have work to do.’’ You insist.
‘’Your workday is adjourned. Today your Patriarch demands your undivided attention.’’And he leans to kiss you again, brushing his hot loins agaisnt yours.
@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay, @obbicrystaleo, @germie2037
#thurfian#thurfian x reader#mitth'urf'ianico#thrawn ascendancy#thrawn#thrawn smut#fanfic#vibratingskull
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If the woman next to Nathalie is indeed Amelie and Emilie is still dead, how do you imagine Amelie and Felix will redecorate The Agreste Mansion? (Assuming that they move there since Amelie is now Adrien’s only adult relative left.)
Oh my gosh Anon. That is SUCH a cute ask, but let me tell you, you have opened Pandora’s box and unleashed 50 levels of overanalysis upon the world. Time for me to turn into an architecture and interior design major for the sake of this post.
In order to get a good sense of Amelie’s taste and of the massive work that needs to be done, let’s compare the shared spaces in the Agreste mansion to those in the Graham de Vanily penthouse.
The first thing that strikes me is that the palettes are exactly the same: white and black are the dominant hues, with a pop of colour coming from earthy tones. And yet, the two atmospheres could not be more different! In my opinion, this boils down to a few key elements: lighting, shapes, space, and purpose.
1. Lighting
The most obvious one. Just look how miserable the Agrestes’ living (?) room looks in comparison to the Graham de Vanily’s. There’s an interesting subversion here when it comes to lighting sources.
The Agrestes’ mansion relies mostly on natural lighting, which gives it a greyish, depressing look. Windows are everywhere, and they’re big, but they aren’t meant to let the sun filter through; instead, they ressemble a cage keeping Adrien in.
Sunlight represents the outside world, which Gabriel "No one matters except us" hates. In his mind, whatever looms outside of the mansion is dangerous. Hawkmoth’s attacks always start with letting the light in, the same way he welcomes his victims’ negative emotions; while he keeps Emilie safe in the crypt, as far away from the sun as possible (even when we do see it fully illuminated, it has to come from an artificial source).
Emilie’s cosy little basement, Gabriel’s office and Nathalie’s room — the adults’ world — are the only spaces that get the courtesy of significant artificial lightning. In other words, there is not enough light and joy coming in from the outside, and definitely not enough coming from the inside to compensate. Which is super sad if you ask me.
Now onto the Graham de Vanily penthouse. We do not get many shots of it, and most of them are taken at night time, which I (want to) believe is a very conscious choice on the writing team’s part.
While Gabriel refuses to let sunlight, and everything good it symbolises, into his son’s life, Amelie welcomes the night and the potential dangers it carries with it. The windows make up two entire walls, offering a full view of the outside world.
Notice how the moon and stars are nowhere to be seen in this shot, yet the penthouse remains significantly brighter than the mansion on the sunniest day. The abundance of artificial light in the Graham de Vanily home, light that comes from within, is a symbol of the love they share as a family.
So obviously, we need to get Adrien some lamps, urgently.
2. Shapes
The thing about the Agreste mansion is, it has potential.
No really. Hear me out.
The use of straight lines (vertical in the overall architecture, expanding like sun rays in the minimalistic decor) is reminiscent of Art Déco, which is a very fun style. For instance, it gave us the Chrysler building:
But here, it’s just… Not working. In fact, these same lines are what makes the entire building look like a cage — not just the windows I mentioned above, but the entire structure of the place, trapped between vertical lines like behind prison bars.
On the other hand, the Graham de Vanily penthouse is ruled primarily by horizontal lines, which expand the space instead of compressing it. It’s smaller, but it feels bigger and more breathable.
This difference in structure directly contributes to my third point:
3. Space
More precisely, how it is organised to make the mansion look threatening, and the penthouse cosy.
And by that I specifically mean this AWFUL NO GOOD TERRIBLE STAIRCASE.
It’s the first thing we think about when picturing the mansion; how it towers over the characters and crushes them. There’s a reason Marinette’s act of defiance in Pretension was to rush up those despicable horrifying very very bad stairs to find Adrien; they are a symbol of Gabriel’s power over his world, his fans, his son, his victims.
Interestingly enough, the penthouse is also built on several levels — which we can infer by the presence of a very discreet mezzanine. This implies the existence of stairs, right??? Where are they???
It’s very blink-and-you-miss it — the exact opposite of the Agreste staircase. To the Graham de Vanilys, stairs are just stairs: a necessity for their comings-and-goings, a useful infrastructure in their day-to-day life as a family. Not a display of power and control.
Oh? Is that a transition I sense? Absolutely, for it is time to move on to the last part of our analysis:
4. Purpose
Just like the staircase, every single piece of furniture in the Agreste household serves a purpose. Adrien’s room is the best example of this phenomenon.
On top of the essentials (bed + desk & computer combo), we immediately notice:
- A plethora of trophies, reinforcing the message that Adrien has to be the best at everything he does, always;
- An impressive bookshelf, illustrating the top-notch (and somewhat elitist) education Adrien has been receiving at home.
"But Nina!" you might ask, "What about the fun stuff? What about the arcade games and the basketball hoop and the climbing wall?"
I hear you. Those things look pretty cool, don’t they? Until you remember that Adrien has spent his entire life in isolation. These are all appliances that would normally be found outside of the house, giving him an opportunity to socialise. In other words, they are meant to deter him from seeking enjoyment in the “real” world. If, like me, you were obsessed with N Harmonia as a pre-teen, you might notice some striking similarities to his cage room:
Still not convinced? Say hi to our friend the foosball table!
Meanwhile, on the actually loving side of the family, you get an entire piano and AN ACTUAL ABSTRACT PAINTING:
It’s not even figurative — unlike the portraits of the Agreste family members or the statue in the garden, constantly reminding us of Emilie’s absence. It’s art for the sake of art, which makes a massive difference. Things are allowed to be there for no reason other than Amelie and Felix like them.
So now that we’ve established that
How would they redecorate the mansion if given the chance?
1. Lean into the Art Déco aesthetic for a much needed dose of actual (yet elegant) fun. There are so many lines and curves to play with to get rid of this feeling of imprisonment we get from the pillars!
2. BLOW UP THOSE FUCKING STAIRS. No, really. We can find a much cuter, less pretentious alternative to whatever kind of power trip that was.
3. Get rid of the stupid bars on all those windows. Replace them with literally any other option that doesn’t make you want to choke on a pancake.
4. Also, get some lamps. Lamps EVERYWHERE, on the walls, on the ceiling, on the furniture. The resident vampire is GONE, we can have some goddamn light in this goddamn place.
5. Indulge in the pleasure of buying things just because they’re pretty. Trash the paintings and put up some actual art (abstract or not) instead. Exorcise Emilie’s ghost and Gabriel’s tacky tastes out of this place. This process has already begun, given that the statue in the garden is now gone!
6. Let Adrien decorate his own room, and have fun with it. This part may be tricky because our boy doesn’t know what he wants, but you know what, it’s part of the process! Giving him total creative control over his own space is a first step towards his making bigger decisions for himself, like choosing what he wants to be when he grows up. As requested by my ✨ awesome girlfriend ✨ @paracosmicfawn, he can also redecorate the entryway, which carries sooo much trauma for him. Maybe he can put up some cute cat statuettes along the new staircase, or something equally cheesy.
7. Build a pool, apparently
8. Last but not least, block all accesses to the basement and the attic. Hide them behind these new Kandinsky paintings they just bought. Pray to Gimmi Adrien never finds out (he will).
And that, my friend, is how you take a prison and turn it into a home full of secrets!
#miraculous ladybug#adrien agreste#felix graham de vanily#senticousins#amelie graham de vanily#graham de family#gabriel agreste#hawkmoth#monarch#emilie agreste#kagami tsurugi#feligami#mlb spoilers#ml spoilers#mlb recreation#ml recreation#recreation spoilers#re creation spoilers#random ramblings#anon asks#Sorry for the wait Anon!#I went wayyy overboard with this one#But it was so fun to make!
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all i need to hear
“I love you, I love you!” he chanted, and I held my breath.
It was just a small group of our friends in an empty bar, but I was still so nervous that my hands were shaking. Maybe I should’ve had another drink. I sat at the front of the room, hands gripping my notebook, and leaned forward to meet the microphone.
“Hi, everyone,” I said, a bit startled at how loud my voice sounded over the speakers.
“Hi!” he called from the crowd, waving encouragingly. I laughed, steadying myself as I looked at him, eyes glittering and focused on me. It’s just for him, I reminded myself.
“So, um, I was convinced by someone,” I wagged a finger in his direction, “That some of my work should be spoken out loud.” He clapped, and others joined in. “I suppose I’ll let you decide,” I shrugged, and opened my notebook.
“This one is about you, darling,” I smiled, and he clutched his chest, eyebrows knotted together. “Okay.”
“I wish I could say all that’s on my mind
That my heartbeat could write cursive
That my fingertips and lips
Could sing their memories
That you could see all your etchings on my skin
That each time
You ran through my mind
A tally would tick above my head
And when I’d see you again
We could crunch the numbers
Skim over the letters
And play the songs of my body on repeat
So do not mistake
My absence of words
My miss-use of language
And abnormal tongue
For lack of caring
For lack of love
It’s not just my words that are in love with you
It’s my eyes, my toes, my fingers, my spine, my ears, and all my skin
All my skin for you.”
I closed the notebook, and he screamed, clapping and standing, just for me. He was the picture of joy. I could feel the tears behind my eyes, so I walked off the small stage to meet him. He wrapped me in his arms, picking me up and spinning me once.
“Was it good?” I asked, and he cradled my face.
“It was more than good,” he shook his head, “I felt every word.”
“Okay,” I smiled, laughing as he hugged me tightly. I knew it was nothing special, but it was for him, and that seemed to be all that mattered.
One of our friends approached the stage, grabbing the microphone.
“Alright everyone, another round of applause, that was fantastic!” she said, “We’ll take a ten minute break, and then we’ll hear something from the man himself!”
He nodded in response, and grabbed me by the wrist.
“Let’s pop outside for a minute, ok?” He said, his grin widening. He kissed my cheek, pulling me to the exit before I could answer. He opened the door, the warm night air spreading over my skin. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my heart.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said, pulling me against his chest. It was quiet outside, the street unusually empty.
“Thank you,” I sighed, “I hope I didn’t sound like a fool.”
“Of course not,” he tutted, rubbing my back to soothe me, “Art is inherently foolish, but you were full of grace and emotion. Gorgeous too.”
“Well, I’m glad I made you happy, at least.” I said, kissing him quickly. “I can’t wait for what you have to say.”
“Oh, you’re gonna love it.” he assured, “I’ve been thinking this one up for years.”
“Really?” I said, staring up at him. He raised his eyebrows, nodding.
“Many years.”
“I’m excited,” I said, squeezing him tightly.
“Do you remember this place?” he asked, nodding to the bar we were just in.
“Yeah, we came here once, didn’t we?”
“Yes, we did,” he kissed my cheek, “You kissed me here. Right here.” He pointed at the wall behind him.
“Oh, I did! I remember that.” I said, thinking back, “God, that was so long ago.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly, “For kissing me.”
I hummed. “Keep talking sweet to me, maybe you’ll get another.”
“I was so nervous then. You were perfect and fragile and I was so scared you’d slip away from me.”
“Is that what you were thinking?” I laughed, “I thought you just wanted to sleep with me.”
“Well.” He looked away, “I also wanted to do that.”
He laughed with me, burying his face in my neck.
“Oh!” I gasped, “I almost forgot!”
“What?” His eyes were wide.
“You said you’d have a surprise for me. If I read my poetry in front of everyone.”
“Oh, did I?” He held a finger to his mouth, pretending to have forgotten.
“Yes, you did.” I insisted, holding a hand out. “Hand it over.”
“What makes you think it’s a tangible item?” He looked down at me, eyes gleaming. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Alright,” I squinted, “If you’re gonna be so secretive, I don’t want it.”
“You don’t?” he frowned, disappointed.
“Wait. Maybe I do.”
He threw his head back, laughing at me.
“My darling,” he began, tracing his thumb over my cheekbone, “Thank you for your patience with me. Thank you for kissing me, here, all those years ago.” his voice was quiet, and he was trying hard to keep it steady. “I’m so… grateful. I think I’ll spend a lifetime thanking you, if you’ll let me.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, stepping backwards.
“Would you spend a lifetime with me?” he asked, and knelt on one knee. I froze, mouth open, as he reached into his pocket. “I’ll spend this life, and a million more, following you and loving you. I need a hundred years to kiss you, a hundred more to touch you, and thousands to call you my wife.” Tears stained both of our cheeks, and I reached out to grab his hands.
“Marry me, darling?” He whispered, opening the box.
#matty healy#the 1975#the 1975 fanfic#matty healy fanfiction#matty the 1975#matty x reader#matty healy x reader#64matty#Spotify
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Thrawn's Proposal 💍 - a headcanon
I can't stop myself when it comes to this man help
I have been very busy thinking this through and writing it down, and here it is - the engagement headcanon I promised you guys! 😘
Enjoy!
🔞 NSFW content 18+ only! 🔞
Reader's gender is not mentioned.
So you made a certain Grand Admiral fall for you and have established a relationship? You're doing amazing, sweetie!
I bet you can guess what the next step in your relationship is. (Who am I kidding, it's literally in the title)
The moment Thrawn knew was when he discovered a painting you had made that you kept from him. Whether you're a good artist or not doesn't matter, to Thrawn every painting is worth looking at. And seeing a sketch of him made by you made his heart swell.
He analyzes art unlike anyone else. To him this drawing was a visualization of your feelings for him. Your unwavering loyalty, your keen mind, and all the little quirks to your character he has fallen in love with. On top of that you’re the most stunning person he's ever laid his crimson eyes on.
It was at that moment he looked at your painting that he knew he wants you by his side for the rest of his life - and he hopes you want the same.
He has gifted you jewelry before, but an engagement is something else entirely. In his culture engagement and marriage are taken very seriously and he knows he can't just give you an ordinary ring from some Coruscanti high-end shop.
No, you deserve better. You're not getting engaged to anyone, you're getting engaged to Mitth’raw’nuruodo of the Chiss Ascendancy and Grand Admiral of the Galactic Empire. An ordinary ring won't do!
He contacts his people and explains the situation. It takes a while, but when he receives the ring he looks at it with a satisfied smile. It's so unique, just like you!
During your relationship you have learned to read Thrawn. He may keep up a stoic facade most of the time, but you have started to notice little changes, like the way he pronounces words or the varying brightness of his glowing eyes. You think even Eli Vanto can't read Thrawn that well.
The night he wants to propose to you he takes you to a city on a planet you've never heard of. It's late in the evening and you can tell from his stiffer than usual posture that he's nervous.
You're worried, ask him if he's alright and he simply nods. He's a bit absent-minded too, you notice.
You finish your dinner and afterwards go for a walk in the warm air of what you assume must be early summer or late spring.
Away from prying eyes he removes his green shade sunglasses and takes your hand in his.
Your walk takes you to a park, away from busy speeder lanes. You have some easy conversation, but you can't help but notice how tense he still is. You think you might have to help him relax in his quarters when you're back on the Chimera.
To anyone else you two would look like a cute civilian couple enjoying a walk in the moonlight.
Some of the flowers on this world bloom at night, spreading a silvery light along with the lanterns lighting the paths. You think this particular lighting makes Thrawn look ethereal.
The scent of the flowers lingers in the air, the safe feeling of his hand in yours makes your heart flutter in bliss and the soft waves breaking on the shore of the lake mixed with the occasional sound of nocturnal birds has something so fundamentally peaceful.
Distracted by your beautiful surroundings you don't realize at first when Thrawn lets go of your hand, takes a small black box out of his pocket and drops to one knee in front of you.
You're taken by surprise, the look in his eyes shows a vulnerability you have never seen before.
He pops the question in the most charismatic way possible. I mean, what did you expect? He makes it clear that he intends to spend every day of the rest of his life with you. The choice is yours.
You see the stiffness leave his shoulders when you tell him ‘Yes!’
He puts the ring on your finger. The gem, not too big, looks unlike anything you've ever seen. In the light of the lantern it looks dark blue with swirls on the inside of the crystalline stone that reflect the silver light.
When you ask him about it, he explains that this rare mineral can only be found in the depths of his homeworld’s glaciers. It's very expensive, even within the Ascendency, and is used as a symbol of status in Chiss society.
He kisses you deeply when you shed a tear or two of joy, the scent of the flowers mingling with Thrawn's own crisp musky scent.
His lips wander from yours down to your neck, but since you're in public he doesn't go much further.
You wait with that until you're back aboard the Chimera where he carries you to his bed and takes you exactly the way you want him to.
He makes sure you cum at least five times that night - on his mouth, on his fingers and on his cock.
He doesn't require much sleep and could last all night, but he knows after a day of work and a very special evening you must be very tired.
This is one of the rare instances where he gives you the next day off. For one, because you deserve to sleep in after the first night being the Grand Admiral’s fiance, second because after he fucked your tight heat for hours and hours you visibly walk funny, and Thrawn is not a fan of the gossip about his private life that makes its rounds among his crew.
Decisions would have to be made. Would you continue your service to the Empire as his wife-to-be?
All he knows is that he wants you by his side. It's where you are safest and also where you want to be.
No matter how much he dislikes the gossip about his private life, he will eventually have to tell the crew about his engagement.
When he does announce it, he does it with you by his side, holding his hand. Another step you take together.
Let's just say that nobody is surprised about your engagement. So many crew members you know from the bridge congratulate you, even officers and troopers you have never talked to congratulate you in passing.
Your future with Thrawn looks bright. While planning a wedding is extra stressful with a workaholic like Thrawn as fiance, both of you manage that together too.
Thrawn lets your contract with the Imperial Navy end the day before your wedding.
In the Imperial Navy you can't work for your own husband, it would be a conflict of interest and neither of you want you reassigned to some other ship, away from each other.
You can search for different ways to earn credits after your wedding though. In fact, Thrawn encourages you to find work for yourself that you find joy in.
Being engaged to Thrawn is the happiest you have ever been so far. You're excited, well fucked, and feel a sense of belonging you have never known. If you believe in soulmates, then you believe that you have found exactly that in Thrawn.
Well that was fun to write! Thank you guys so much for liking my work! 💙 Next up will be ✨the wedding✨ headcanon.
#thrawn#grand admiral thrawn#mitth'raw'nuruodo#thrawn x reader#thrawn x you#thrawn fanfiction#thrawn headcanon#thrawn smut#star wars rebels#ahsoka series#star wars#blue man hot#star wars fanfiction
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Okayokayokayokay one niche kink I never really get into because if it were real it would be gore and I dislike seeing it in art because it’s anatomically sanitised (if that makes sense) is “all the way through”. But since you’ll def write gore I HAVE to ask
Would any of your OCs fuck somebody to death this way? Like I know many wouldn’t have the body type to actually manage this, but those who do.
(And on the other side, who would like to be fucked like this? Aside from Patches the Whore)
[I think you're talking about the types of goofy porn where someone gets fucked through but it's just the head popping out the mouth, that's funny as shit.]
TW: Absolutely nasty levels of gore.
It's not really that surprising who'd go for this.
Kalymir is a big fan of impalement. And he doesn't always get to do it, so he cherishes the times he does. He remembers the old days, where a couple of humans would be stupid enough to summon him, but they never provided big enough sacrifices of flesh, so he'd take matters into his own hands and snatch the nearest cock-sock available. Mouth? Ass? Who cares, it's going in one hole and out the other! He finds it funny really, seeing the guts get squeezed out of his fucktoy with only a couple of thrusts. Kalymir makes sure the other ones are watching when he lets the broken pile of a former person drop to the ground before he picks a new, tighter little fuckpocket. If you're sick enough for it, you could suck the tip of his cock after he skewers someone on it. He'll really lose it.
Vesper isn't often that violent, you know this, but foul moods are still foul moods- And maybe you have to fuck them away. Sometimes he's cruel enough to shove both massive cocks into someone's poor hole, but they usually tear in two before he can reach the mouth, which is a shame, it tends to happen no matter how hard Vesper tries to hold the fucktoy together. Other days he'll only use the tendril between his cocks, jerking off to the sight, extending some magic to make sure his little meal keeps squirming long after they're supposed to. It's more practical to just impale two at once, flex his dicks and watch them hover like depraved little cock rings. Hah.
Krulu has had many opportunities to treat humanity like the garbage it is. And you, his sweet chosen, are often the one who goes hunting for his next warm toy. They usually start dying from exposure to him before he's even properly started, so the sensation of being impaled is probably only a tad more aggravating. Nevertheless, Krulu fucks them open hard and fast, which means he burns through fuckmeat pretty fast. But it's worth it, right? All that work is worth it because you can see his face twist in mad pleasure, his id fully satisfied in these moments as he gets to deform and disrespect the creations of his brethren, cum-soaked guts splattering on the altar.
Miara hasn't done this in ages. But it can and will happen when she wants to deal with wastes of breath on her own. It's not exactly hot for her, so much so as it's done out of pure malice. However, taking a sharp turn, if you were to present yourself to her and plead to die impaled on her cock (an honor), she would happily grant that end to you, affording you time to schedule it and making sure all of your last moments will be spent in pure ecstasy, even as your poor body tears at the seams to welcome her girth. People will remember you fondly, as someone whose devotion was unmatched. Miara will miss you.
Zizz doesn't really do it on purpose. He's just... A big boy. And sometimes he forgets to lend magic to his casual bed partners, especially when he's sleepy. And it's hard to notice when he's going too far when he's basically half-conscious, they don't get to scream for long anyway before he breaks the parts that let them do that. Yeah sure, it's weird how wet it's getting and there's an odd smell in the room, but it feels nice. Really nice. So nice. He doesn't want to stop it, even if it's evident something's gone wrong by that point. Then Zizz cums and promptly realizes he's holding onto a disemboweled sack of a person.
Gallon has done this. Very rarely, but he did. Slimes in general can be horrifying killers. The most skilled of them easily climb into your insides via a big-enough orifice and can effectively expand inside your organism until you hemorrhage internally and tear apart. He's more fond of just using his tendrils to suspend someone and carelessly push through every section of their insides. It seems to amuse his clientele too.
Vinnel would do it the exact same way if he didn't fear dying with enough mass outside of his own suit. Cured Vinnel definitely does this regularly, with several tendrils at once, taking a wild sexual thrill from it.
Sever has never impaled someone, but he might if angered enough. It's more of a domination thing than a kink for him.
Magus has no real desire to sexually skewer someone on his cock, but it has happened on a handful of occasions. Mostly when some unlucky small mer stumbled upon the bigfin squid mermonster while he was in heat. He didn't even think, just senselessly bred them to death, their bleeding body glowing a faint bluish hue from top to bottom. He doesn't feel particularly bad about it, as anyone with two brain cells can scent the male in rut, so only a fool would swim to their certain death.
I can't really think of anyone who would enjoy getting fucked this way apart from Patches, to be honest. Maybe Shags. He does love his erotic self-harm, and shrooms live through very grievous wounds, so it's likely he'd take enjoyment from feeling his insides get a little ruined. Not enough to die.
#Krulu oc#Kalymir oc#Mother Miara#Magus oc#Gallon oc#Vinnel oc#Vesper oc#Patches oc#Shags oc#Sever oc#Zizz oc#vaya-mernda#cw: gore#tw gore
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