#took a little longer to post this one. i was quite conflicted. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

space-mango-company · 9 months ago

Text

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune part two #baron harkonnen #baron vladimir harkonnen #house harkonnen #house atreides #giedi prime #austin butler #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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bonefall · 10 months ago

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Reading your post about the DOTC leaders made me wonder - in BB, when does the DOTC naming style shift into the modern naming style? If they're already using modern-style names by the time Windstar's (possible) grandson is leader, that seems pretty quick - unless Cloudberry and Ryewhisker had DOTC-style names originally, and just got called modern-style names later on.

They did originally have DOTC style names! There's going to be more shuffles soon as I move to expand the Forest Cats into a third major cultural group, but I'm planning for all three of these groups to contribute to the naming system.

The older story, which I'm going to be shuffling now, is that two-part names came from Mountain Cats, but the name changes come from Park Cats.

Mountain Cats have a given prefix, and a familial suffix.

Whichever familial suffix the kittens receive is "political." Usually the names are split evenly, so as an example, Jackdaw Cry and Hawk Swoop named one twin Lightning Cry, and the other twin Acorn Swoop, but Clear Sky insisted that ALL of his kittens receive Sky as their familial suffix. Except Thunder Storm, of course, who he disowned.

This stops being used after the collapse of the River Kingdom and the massive conflict that came from the succession crisis. After that, Byyrkabraw, directly translated as "scab-forming" and roughly translated as "nepotism," becomes a taboo to be avoided. Sharing last names with your parents and family took on a bad, biased connotation for several generations.

Thus, the system dies in Clan Culture. However, it persists and evolves in Tribe Culture! Brook's name in BB is Brook Where-It-Swirls, and she shares the last name with her two brothers. They've kept last names, but the last names have gotten longer.

What DOES remain in Clan Culture is that Mountain-descendant cats 'prefer' 2-part names, and like to say the entire thing. It's Mountain culture that creates Clanmew's preference for contractions rather than syllable-shortening.

As an example, for a long name like... Dandelionbreeze, send her back in time to talk to a Park or Forest cat and they'll shorten her name to "Dan" or "Lion" or "Bree." It's the Mountain cat who would call her "Danzy," which becomes part of being 'polite' in Clanmew name shortenings.

Park Cats are born "nameless," and earn names as they grow.

It's PARK culture that was so centralized and ceremonial, with kings and a clearer hierarchy. As kits, they're just called by a characteristic trait. The Biggest One, Little Ears, Ginger. Their first real name is given when they're assigned as an apprentice, and they become [Mentor's Nickname] [Dominant Paw].

So as an example, because the prince is always mentored by their father and the king at the time was Arc-of-Park, Riverstar's very first name was Arc's Paw.

Once they're fully trained, they can earn titles. On average, a cat will earn two or three of these in their lifetime, discounting outliers like Titles Georg. These are three words or less, and usually reference strengths and achievements. Willow Flayed Bare, Slate Keeper, The Wind Runner.

These titles are made official by the King, which is where Warrior Name changes originally stem from.

In a situation where Park Cats have left their kingdom, they will turn towards the cat they recognize as an authority to make these name changes. In WindCo, either the "parriarch" of a homestead would bestow these names, or The Wind Runner herself. Thunder Storm began doing it on request, as the Park Cats who joined his cause wanted their names to come from him.

It's not seen as "appropriate" for a cat to name themself... but there are rebellious cats, who may forge their own titles, if they're willing to eat the social implications.

River's Ripple was quite independent. He came up with his own name, and then asked his papa to make the name official. King Arc of Park argued with him a lot about this, especially because the name he chose sounded a lot like an apprentice's title, and only caved in when he realizes there would be a MASSIVE scandal if it looked like his prince would willingly bypass the will of his father entirely.

(The Wind Runner's name was "crowdsourced." She didn't give it to herself; that's what WindCo calls her.)

Forest Cat names...

So there's the two-parts from the Mountain cats, and the name changes from the Park cats... and now I'm trying to work in a third element here, which I'm still trying to figure out.

I'm thinking of putting ranks into their names, since I'm starting with a given that Slash/Shai/Silverpelt is their leader. Maybe have it so that the name the Park/Mountain cats call him is "Slashes" in reference to his leg markings, but his real name is Silver-Star, with all of his cats just referring to him as his rank, Silver (formally) or his given name, Star (informally)

(Over time his name is going to become Silverpelt. They believe that he became heaven itself. Ssoen becomes Clanmew's opening particle for omnipotent knowledge, Star becoming the leader suffix.)

Then make it so that his followers follow the Rank-Given name system. So there's Claw-Milkweed, her daughter Kit-Bramble, a good hunter might be Whisker-Violet. So, over a very short number of generations, both the Forest Cat and Park Cat naming systems start to meld, since it's not all that different.

ALSO NOTEWORTHY: The Wind Coalition was more mixed with Forest Cats than the River Kingdom was. So the Park/Forest name schemes beginning to mix together would be beginning up on the Moor, while there would be more Mountain/Forest mixing happening in Thunder's Clan.

This is a WIP section btw, these guys are still extremely new.

Anyway, skip forward a few generations

Cloudberry's and Ryewhisker's names aren't the ones they had in life. The were active 25-ish years after DOTC, after the collapse of the River Kingdom when things had begun to "settle down."

With the Law of the Deputy, Commandment 3, WindCo and River Kingdom are now Clans. They operate with a Leader and a Deputy.

In-canon, Cloudberry is the daughter of the RiverClan leader, Emberstar. I'm not sure if that's going to remain; because I still haven't chosen who Riverstar's successor is. The Law of Loyalty is Commandment 4 and I'm committed to Duststar of WindClan being alive and in a position of power during the succession crisis.

It could be that Cloudberry's father is Riverstar's successor, OR I swap Ryewhisker to be Duststar's son/grandson instead and include a small detail that Duststar feels a need to prove he's NOT being biased in favor of his dead descendant by forcing this commandment through.

Maybe both, that could be fun. Romeow and Mewliet type thing. Two Clans, alike in their digkitty.

Anyway, point being, Cloudberry is from Park Cat culture as a member of RiverClan, which was heavily influenced by some pretty open travel between the groups under Riverstar's rule. The modern naming system was coming together, as cats of these three cultures mixed, but it wasn't quite there yet. So Cloudberry probably had a full title, while Ryewhisker had a title and a rank.

It might even be a translation quirk. Cloudberry is also called "knout," and it's a red-orange fruit that comes to be heavily valued in the Clans. Knout Berry Keeper, which is only remembered as Knout-Berry, written as Cloudberry.

(It would be cute if the direct translation was Cloudberry Cloud.)

For Ryewhisker, the most I know with him is that he's somehow related to the guy who invents Tunnelbuns, or at LEAST some kind of inventive contributor (such as a person who invents bread). He gets his name from that-- Rye is one of the most easily accessible grains.

I haven't nailed their names down yet, since by the modern era, they're known as Cloudberry and Ryewhisker. But they did actually have different names, which have changed over the years.

They also didn't speak Modern Clanmew, their native tongue was actually the border between the Mountain/Park/Forest pidgin and the creole language that would soon be born! A linguist might describe it as Ancient Clanmew.

#BB!DOTC #Better bones au #BB!Cloudberry #BB!Ryewhisker #Clan History #Park Cats #I think it's one of the most interesting periods in Clan history. Though unfortunately won't get a lot of spotlight #Since BB is still a rewrite project at the end of the day #And all of that is like... loosely based on COTC (my beloved) but also full of original content #I once made a joke about Cloudberry opening her mouth and olde english tumbling out #Dark: ''hey cloudberry hows it hangin''#Cloudberry: Cnut cyning gret his arcebiscopas and his leod-biscopas and Þurcyl eorl and ealle his eorlas and ealne his þeodscype #Dark: *clicks tongue* ''i see''

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greetingfromthedead · 5 months ago

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1. Death's Door

Series: Apple Blossoms Series Plot: Knives is finally crushed, his plans in ashes, his body at Death's door, but Vash decides to spare his life. With the last power he has left, he carries his brother to a person who has nursed him back to life, now begging for you to save his twin too. A tattered Knives finds himself in the care of a human and as time goes on, he has to come to terms with uncomfortable truths about his skewed world view and the strange feelings he discovers blooming in his chest for you. // Contains some Trimax spoilers. // A slight mix of all the Trigun iterations, but mostly Trimax Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Series Rating: PG-13 + pwp BONUS chapters Series Tags (initial): No use of "Y/N", Redemption, Love, Romance, Sickfic, Medical Inaccuracies, Knives is injured, Caretaking, Falling In Love, Adventuring, Cowboy vibes, Knives is introverted, Knives has a crush and is very lost, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, No use of y/n, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Forced Proximity, Trauma, Knives pouts a lot Word count: 3.3k

Author's Note: It is not yet a fully fleshed out story, I have the first few chapters planned out, but keeping it going will depend partially of the interest shown for it and how things will work out. All in all, I would be grateful to hear your thoughts. What is something you would love to see in such a story, scenarios and dynamics you would like to explore. Perhaps I will adopt some of them.

Yapping | Next »

It has been many long months since the communications were cut off as the satellites fell from the sky as comets. Since then, the only source of information have been the criers, who travel from village to village, sharing news and stories. Sometimes you hear different stories from different mouths and really can never be sure what the truth is. Apparently, at least most of the Seven Cities have been decimated, and a giant ark is destroying everything in its path. The criers are warning people to seek shelter and prepare for the worst, but you still hold on to a sliver of hope. You've heard that Vash the Stampede is somehow involved in this whole mess. The man with a giant bounty on his head is rumored to be the Devil himself, the Humanoid Typhoon. Some sources say he is behind all of this; he is the one who is raining down destruction as he always does; others say he has stepped up as the protector of humanity on this desolate planet. And the truth remains a mystery, hidden behind the game of telephone and conflicting accounts. Deep down, you believe that he is on your side, fighting to keep humanity safe from the impending destruction.

You have met that strange man before. He arrived in your care with multiple gunshot wounds in the dead of night, or rather, you stumbled over his dying body in the dark desert. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he had evidently walked from the next town over towards your lonely house before collapsing. And it was even more of a coincidence that you found him at all. Vash the Stampede truly has the luck of a demon, or perhaps it was fate. Who's to say? But you did dragged him home, patched him up, and took care of him until he awoke from his week long slumber. He remained under your watchful eye for a bit longer, and as the closest thing to a doctor this area has, you felt it was your duty to make sure he fully recovered before letting him leave. You got to know him quite well during the time he spent at your house. You quickly realized who he was, but let him introduce himself. It became clear to you that the vicious rumors held little truth. He might be clumsy, but not evil. He was nothing but kind and grateful to you, helping you however he could and paying you for the time and medicine spent on him even as you tried to refuse. All that happened a few years ago, but his generosity and kindness still stick with you to this day. You still remember his smiling face as he turned to leave into the empty desert where you found him in the first place.

Nowadays, you live quietly in your lonely house. The closest village is half a day's ride away, and you rarely see anyone besides the occasional messenger passing through. The closest city is Octovern, but to reach that via tomas, it would take nearly half a week. You occasionally take your first aid kit and go through the nearby towns to help anyone in need, but you have been blessed to not be dragged into the larger war decimating the planet. You have been able to maintain a sense of peace and purpose amidst the chaos, but you can only hope things will return to a sense of normality soon, as much as that can be found in this place.

Little did you suspect of the evening where a loud and insistent banging on your door would shift your life entirely. A rap like that always means trouble, and instinctively, you hurried to open the old creaking door into the cooling evening air. The golden light of the setting suns tries to flood into your hallway, only to be obscured by a giant figure. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to see more than just the silhouette, but still, the sight leaves you dumbfounded. Before you are two people, but they aren't entirely human as wings spread from their backs, not quite covered in feathers like an angel, partially reminding you of roots and stone, partially of shattering metal. Two wings, one on each of the bloody men. One holds the unconscious body of the other. He struggles to stay upright, one knee on the ground, the other supporting the limp form of the other as his singular arm wraps around the other's waist. The stump of his left arm has wires tangling from it, and it must have been what he used to knock on your door. It takes you too long to realize who that man is—Vash. His blonde hair is now entirely black, and his features are obscured by dirt and blood.

"Please. Help." He pleads with desperation in his eyes. "Can you save him?"

Your eyes shift to the man in his grasp. He is looking even rougher than Vash; his clothes seem burned and torn, and his skin is covered in blood and open wounds. His face is bruised and swollen. He hangs limply in Vash's embrace, his arms dangling lifelessly at his sides in an uncanny fashion. He's barely breathing, and it's clear that time is running out.

"Right!" You stir from your shock. "Let's get him inside!"

You push aside the weirdness and the unnatural aspects of the situation you find yourself in and slip back into the familiar feeling of urgency. You rush forward to put a shoulder under the unconscious man and lift him up with the help of Vash. You drag him not to the cot that's reserved for your patients, but instead you haul him onto the long dinner table that doubles as an examination table in a pinch. Your hands move on their own as they grab what you need: shears and cloths, first aid kits, bandages, medicine, water, and alcohol. You firmly tell Vash to sit down on the stool in the corner and not get in your way. You feel bad for being so stern with him, especially since he is injured too, but the man on the table is already playing dice with death.

You get to work quickly, knowing that every second counts. You remove the tattered clothing and assess the extent of his injuries. You're surprised he still has life left in him with the amount of blood he must have lost, chunks of his body apparently missing, gashes, and cracks covering his skin. You do as much as you can, focusing on the larger wounds first, knowing that time is of the essence in saving him. To your surprise, he doesn't bleed nearly as much as you think he should, given the severity of his situation. You roughly stitch him up and pull a few bullets from his flesh. His internal organs seem in good enough condition, and you're glad you don't have to operate on them further. As you work away, the wing on his back crumbles; the chunks feel strange, and you can't begin to guess the material, but you don't have a chance to analyze it either. By the time you are done, the wing is gone, leaving a chunky heap on the ground, almost like sand. You clean his body with water and alcohol before checking his skeleton and joints. There are no broken bones, but the right shoulder is dislocated. You take care to pull it back into place with a snap, and you continue to examine him. Much of his skin is cracked; it looks strange, and you can't begin to guess what caused it.

After hours of grueling work, you administer him medicine to hopefully avoid infection, another dose of strong painkillers, and some saline to help with his recovery. You lift his head carefully as you smear the gooey concoction on his gums for a longer lasting effect. To be doubly safe, you inject more drugs directly into his bloodstream and lather the wounds with ointment to help them heal. Wrapping him in bandages takes a lot from you too, especially since you can't accept Vash's offer to help since he is still dirty. By the end, your patient is almost entirely covered in bandages but still breathing. You throw a clean blanket over him and a pillow under his head, too worried to move him off the table onto the bed. It will have to wait, perhaps if he survives until dawn. But the chances of him making it through the night seem slim.

"Right." You let out a deep sigh. You can finally shift your attention from the dying man to Vash. You are deep into the night, pushing the morning hours, with dark circles forming under your eyes, but there is no rest for you yet. You turn towards the man in the chair; he looks like hell. You have never seen him look this bad before, and last time, he was the one whose life was dripping from his body on this table. Tears have carved deep lines into his dust, ash, and blood covered cheeks. There is an unusual mix of emotions on his face, but worry burns the brightest.

"It's your turn now," you say to Vash, catching his attention. His gaze lifts from the floor, and for a moment, it seems like he didn't hear you at all. You just continue, getting a washbasin, cloth and a jug of water ready. "You can use these to clean up; I'll help you with any spots you can't reach in a bit; I'll clean this mess up first."

"Will he survive? Will he be alright?" he asks instead, ignoring your comment completely.

"I do not know. I tried my best. The rest is up to him and fate itself. Whether he makes it or not is out of my hands." You look at him sympathetically. "Hopefully dawn will bring good news," you say softly.

As you pick up your bloody tools and cloths, you hear Vash stand up, but instead of walking towards the counter where the washing supplies are, his steps lead away, towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" you ask resolutely, a nip in your voice. He pauses in silence for a moment.

"I must go. I have some things to take care of still," he answers, a note of guilt present in his tone.

"You will clean up, have me patch you up, and take a nap before you can think about leaving. Doctor's orders!" Your words are commanding, leaving no room for argument. You're both tired; he looks awful, and you almost sway on your feet. But your work is not yet done.

Vash stands quietly for a moment longer before turning back and stripping a few layers of his tattered clothing. Exposing the bruises and wounds covering his body. He struggles a little with the setup at hand, using the reflection of your window to try and see where he has to reach. At the same time, you clean up the mess you made while working on your patient. You wipe the surfaces and wash the tools, and finally, you can discard the bloody robe, mask, and gloves.

You help Vash wash away the dirt from any spots he can't reach and have him sit on the chair in his underwear. You stick a cup of warm tea in his hand and down a strong coffee yourself before washing your face with cold water to wake up again. After that, you set everything up to stitch him back together and get to work. You examine him thoroughly and give him pain medication before getting the needle out. His body is tense and his pulse is still high; he has yet to calm down.

"Is he your brother? Even under all that bruising and swelling, I can tell the similarities." You speak softly to him to get his mind off the things that are hurting him at the moment.

"Yes, my twin," Vash replies, his voice hoarse and filled with pain.

"I didn't even know you had a twin. What's his name?" You continue as you tie together another suture.

"Knives."

"That's an interesting name," you say with little emotion in your tone, most of your attention going into taking care of his wounds. A stray thought of the wings crosses your mind; Vash has lost his too in the time your focus was on his brother. There is clearly something weird going on, but for now you are too tired to ask the relevant questions, and you need Vash to relax.

"I guess…" His voice trails off, and you can see him staring at the unconscious body on the table.

You keep talking as you work on him, stitching, disinfecting, and bandaging the larger cuts one by one. You give him a checkup and pain medication, and as you take his pulse, it is normal again. You are relieved; he seems to be stable and doing alright despite the way he looks. You provide him with some loose clothing you have laying around just in case and make him get in the bed you have in the other room to rest and recover for the night. He is hesitant, but the tiredness in his eyes tells you that he needs the rest.

"I will stay up with your brother; I will check on him, and I promise I will wake you up if there are any issues. Sleep. You need it." You assure him as you throw a cooling blanket on him before turning off the light and leaving the room. "Rest easy; everything will be alright now."

You return to the patient on the table and check his vitals again. You take his pulse and check his light blue eyes. His breathing has returned to normal, and he looks to be doing better, but as you press your hand on his forehead, you feel the developing fever. You know that this could be a sign of infection, and it makes you slightly nervous. His jet black hair feels damp as your hand glides over it, and you notice that his skin is sticky to the touch. However, you try to remain calm and decide to check again soon and keep a close eye on him.

To keep yourself from falling asleep, you keep yourself busy with whatever tasks you find. You clean up your kitchen from everything, organize your cabinets, and even clean Vash's clothes and hang them to dry outside. Dawn comes, but nothing changes; the slight fever still lingers, and Vash is asleep. You mix up some sugar water and carefully drip a few drops into Knives's mouth. He swallows painfully, and you continue administering him the water for a few hours. You're losing the battle with your exhaustion, so you make yourself a cup of coffee again, letting it steep while checking on the wounds. They look good, and it almost appears like they've started to heal a little. You write it off as your own delusion. The rising suns cast their hot light on the desert, and Vash's clothes dry in no time. You pick them up and get to sewing the dark shirt and his pants; the red coat is mostly gone, burned, and torn.

You realize that it has been a while since your last meal, as you even missed yesterday's dinner. You get to cooking up some porridge after leaving Vash's clothes in the other room and making sure from afar that he is still breathing. Every quarter hour, you return to the man on the table, check on him, and give him some water and medicine if necessary. Nothing has changed, neither for the better nor for the worse, and you are grateful for that, counting your blessings as you remind yourself of the condition he arrived in.

Another hour passes as Vash appears in the door-frame, his eyes first falling on his brother before moving to you. He looks better; he is still covered in bandages and bruises, but the wary tiredness is gone from his eyes. He wears the clothes you mended for him, and his expression softens as he takes in the sight of you checking the pulse of your patient.

"Good morning," you tell him with a slight smile. "I made some food, but it's probably cold by now. Feel free to take as much as you want. Your brother is doing alright; he has a slight fever, but it hasn't gotten worse. The wounds look good, and I've given him water and medicine. For now, it's okay; he is not out of the woods, but he's getting there."

"Morning," Vash says as he walks closer to you. He doesn't say much; there is an unexplainable expression on his face as he pulls you into a one armed yet crushing bear hug. You feel his breathing get more ragged as he holds you; he repeats seemingly endless "thank you"s until you feel tears soaking your shirt. He finally lets you go, holding your shoulder and looking you in the eyes, tears and snot running down his face.

"You're welcome, but don't get too carried away, okay? I cannot promise you anything other than that I will try to get him back to full health; it doesn't mean it will happen." You try to calm him down again, reaching for a tissue to hand him. "Now eat; I will check your wounds again after that."

And so it goes. Vash eats his fill, dragging his chair a bit closer to the table but not quite next to it, as you gave him a stern look, worried for any contamination. He finishes his meal quickly, eager to have his wounds checked, as if he is in a hurry. Luckily, they look fine, and you lather him in ointment and cover everything with fresh bandages, relieved that he is okay.

"You said you had some business to attend to. Is that why you are vibrating on this chair?" You ask calmly, checking the strange cracks in his skin on his cheek.

"Well, I have to go. I promise I will be back as soon as I can—just a few days at most. I am sorry to just dump him on you, but I beg you. I only go to keep both of you safe." His sky blue eyes try to track your movement the best they can as you put a bandage on him.

"It's alright; I'll take care of him. I doubt he will regain consciousness anytime soon. I can only hope he won't get worse." You take a step back, happy with your handiwork, as nothing is bleeding. It's the best you can do for Vash right now.

"I will forever be in your debt. Thank you for everything. I will pay you once I get back, I swear." His eyes look pleadingly at you as he gets up from the chair.

"I believe you; don't worry about that." You smile, recognizing the honor in his face.

Vash gives you a nod and goes closer to his brother. He says something quietly to him, and you don't quite pick up any of the words. With that, Vash turns and walks to the front door, and you follow.

"Thank you again," he says to you tenderly, and then more loudly over the whole house: "Get better soon, brother!"

You watch as Vash steps outside, heading into the desert. Only a little while later, you figure out he has nothing with him but the clothes on his back and the gun on his leg. No water, no food, no shelter—nothing. You turn and see what's left of the red coat on the chair, now realizing you must really be out of it to not notice it sooner. But it's too late to go after him now; all you can do is hope that he has a plan.

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#trigun #fanfic #fanfiction #millions knives #plant boi #x reader #writing #knives x reader

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kyeomniscient · 1 year ago

Text

seventeen ao3 fic recs

other rec lists

pt. 2 (completed mid-length fics, <50k words)

pt. 3 (completed shorter fics, <10k words)

pt. 4 (incomplete fics)

so i recently got into reading svt fics and this is a compilation of a few of my favourites :) all recs here are completed (yay no cliffhangers)!

these are mostly minwon, but there are some other pairings as well and i'll be updating this as i go~

also props to anyone who writes!! both fics and in general bc writing is not easy and the creativity and flair that some of these authors have... simply unmatched

edit: i've split the original post into several shorter lists (according to fic length) so each post is a little more readable - links above, happy reading!

---

all-time faves (last updated 9/5/2024)

as y'all can tell i love the longer fics bc they are j so immersive and memorable esp when the characters capture the essence and little quirks of svt so well sooo here goes

Catch the Stars (minwon, 150k words, completed)

this is often hailed as one of the top 3 minwon fics of all time and i wholeheartedly agree!! this might be my fave fic of all time - i really love the city boy x country boy trope, where the mcs form a connection in spite of their different backgrounds and life experiences hehe also random but some of the scenes reminded me of cmbyn (small town italy peachy summer vibes) lolol

Kalon (minwon, 200k words, completed)

my heart broke for wonwoo in this fic and it was absolutely worth the read :"") it's by the same author as catch the stars and her writing is just *chef's kiss* really loved how each conflict and setback was handled and built upon, and wonwoo's inner conflict due to his fear of relationships was really well-depicted and realistic, and the intimacy of them spending time together in the spectacle shop after hours was everything i could've asked for

Love Stuck (minwon, 200k words, completed)

don't usually read parent aus because i prefer stories where the mcs are closer in profile to the actual pair but this was very well-written!! loved how the author handled the struggles of single parent-child dynamics as well as the slow burn - each character was really fleshed out, the chapters didn't feel repetitive despite the fic being quite long and it was all in all a vv wholesome fic hehe

'til kingdom come (minwon, 160k words, completed)

this was a historical au and the writing was so poetic!! and exquisite!! not forgetting the tension and drama of it all, how the world-building was so intricately wrought out, the language so befitting of the period, the development of the entire war arc beyond the romance, each character so original yet still bearing hints that remain true to their persons, the chapters being well-paced, the epilogue that wrapped things up so beautifully... i can't even begin to fathom how long it took the author to come up with this gripping masterpiece askshdfjkdsf i'd give a million kudos if i could

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others (in order of descending word count)

the sun and the silver lining (minwon, 60k words, completed)

this one made my heart feel things :"") really loved this author's descriptions (the metaphors in this fic were unparalleled) and how they give nuance to the internal thoughts and feelings of the characters!! slight b99 vibes with policeofficer!wonwoo x paramedic!mingyu lolol

Like the Beginning (minwon, 55k words, completed)

this was heartbreak/comfort with a second-chance romance and slight hospital playlist vibes lol i relish in the pain of reading about wonwoo trying to go back to how things were, mingyu being torn between indulging him and wanting to keep his distance, that feeling of looking at someone you once loved only to realise that you never moved on in the first place ugh

in defense of the side character (minwon, 55k words, completed)

actor!mingyu x scriptwriter!wonwoo - super well-written and it even has art!! the scripts made it all the more realistic and i have a soft spot for fics on the entertainment industry bc the overall atmosphere is always a little different from the slice of life/school aus like there's this underlying tension of being under public scrutiny and the pressure of being public figures and i j love when the fics capture these nuances in the story hah

Ask me no questions (and I'll tell you no lies) (jicheol, 52k words, completed)

jicheol: island survival edition

Change of Ends (soonwoo, 52k, completed)

tennis!au - this might actually be my favourite soonwoo fic ever?? loved how their relationship was fleshed out over the years with the use of a non-linear narrative to sprinkle in memories from their past between their moments at present, and wonwoo was so sweet and loving here and it was such a refreshing take on his character bc he is usually the colder one. also, the level of detail for the sport was incredible and made the reading experience extra immersive so highly-recommend!!

A Mighty Stranger (minwon, 50k words, completed)

a fantasy minwon au for a change! really cool concept for a fic and there was so much effort and research that went into this bc the story spanned across different continents and time periods so i'd recommend this to those looking for smth diff

feel free to rec any fics based on what i've shared!! would really appreciate it thank you hehe

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blacklegsanjiii · 9 months ago

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I’m rolling around in my head that loved!Sanji post of yours where it’s the vinsmoke grandpa messing with everything and not judge … so very hard

Mostly thinking about how Sanji would end up feeling about everything at the end of the day. His family comes back into his life after him being away from them for all of his teenage and adult years, and his brothers are different. They feel. They’re, somehow, excited to see him. That’s a good thing, no? They’re no longer unfeeling weapons.

But that doesn’t really change what they did to him at all. They’re still the people that beat and abused him at every possible opportunity, that put him into some of the worst states he’s ever been in. That doesn’t suddenly go away now that they’ve been fixed by their father and given a normal emotional range. That alone isn’t a resolution.

I can’t help but feel he’d end up quite conflicted about it, at least at first. Thoughts?

You're not wrong. Sanji, who Ichiji kidnapped, being held and scolded by Ichiji. Not like when they were kids because it is so full of kindness and worry it makes Sanji reel. Yonji who uses his hands to wrench Sanji to him and hold him and excitedly tell him all the rebuilding Germa has been doing to the world, changing from a conquering kingdom to a kind one. Reiju chastising them and apologizing to Sanji for them as Niji takes his turn hugging Sanji.

Sanji has to have a complete meltdown over it, in front of them and Judge. Just gripping his hair and screaming with his legs on fire. How much they hurt him, how he was just ripped away from his crew. If they think everything is suddenly fixed they're wrong. Sanji has a full blown panic attack and Judge has to ground him and console his son like he used to.

Maybe that makes his siblings realize how fucked they made. The death grip he has on his hair, how much smaller than everyone else he is because they helped starve him. Imagine if a bug lands on him and the absolute horror on his face. Just everything they've done and they all apologize to him individually. Take their time and truly mean it. Sanji is trying to understand they've changed, he is trying but fuck how much they hurt him when they were little.

Luffy absolutely punches Ichiji for stealing Sanji and then Luffy sees how Sanji is doing and is all over him with Nami and the rescue team. Luffy demands to know why they took his cook and Yonji says he's their brother and they haven't seen him and they got too wound up over him coming home. Luffy is like 'his home is the Sunny, not whatever this is!' and Sanji is trying to calm Luffy down and Nami yells at him for his self sacrificial tendencies and leaving his boyfriend like that.

The Vinsmokes dealing with that as Judge nods and says Luffy is right, they had no right to bring Sanji to Germa, this hasn't been his home since he was a child and even then it hardly was. They send them off as Big Mom starts attacking, saying Germa will deal with the brunt of it. What's important is Sanji is with his family as and he is given the canister. Sanji may never view his siblings as family again and that's his right. Reconciliation can take years and he knows his father loves him, that has never changed and never will.

#black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #the vinsmokes #vinsmoke judge #vinsmoke family #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke reiju #vinsmoke yonji #loved!sanji #monkey d. luffy #straw hat luffy #lusan #sanlu #answers

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vibratingskull · 11 months ago

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Hello hello! happy new year 🎊🎊🎊!!! I was just wondering if you could do a part two to the stranded fic you wrote for Thrawn (totally optional ofc ignore this if you want‼️‼️‼️) I think it would be interesting to see the aftermath of their relationship like are they rescued or not? If they're not do they just say fuck it let's start a family? If so do they eventually get discovered by the rebels/empire (sort of like the plot for Ahsoka ig???) And they're like yo look at me and my family haha fuck y'all I'm not going back to civil society I love my partner and our children! (If you can't tell I have been thinking about this situation for ages it's making me go crazy with the possibilities) Your fics feed my soul tbh I'd actually die for your writing I go feral when you update the JC series or just post something in general 💞💞💞 (idk how to end this lmao I barely request stuff LMAOOOO idk if I'm even doing it right 😭) (also feel free to make it as horny as you want you can literally make it the sexiest of smut or just make it completely cute and tooth rottingly sweet!!!!!) (Again ignore this if it's something you're not interested in or if it breaks a rule or something!!!!!!)

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw thank you love ❤️Happy new year to you too❤️Thank you for your support, my dear. I hope you will love this one too❤️

Part 1

ThrawnxF!reader

Tag : Non descriptive birth, cunni, P in V, creampie

You open your eyes, your face bathing in a ray of sun. It is already quite hot outside, but the hut retains the freshness of the night quite well. You rise in a seating position, on your mattress of hay and palm tree leaves in a sheet of linen. Next to you Thrawn’s spot is cold already, he must be awake for some time now. You wince as your baby hits your tummy.

“I’m sorry darling, you must be hungry.” You gently caress your swollen stomach. “I will find something for us to eat.”

You stand up on your feet, a little bit unbalanced by your pregnant stomach and head for the main place. You wave at your neighbors that go around their business, greeting you in return.

A month after escaping the cannibal village you crossed paths with another alien species, beings you can at best described as frog people with their globulous eyes and slimy greenish skin, but full of kindness and a strong community sense. They welcomed you in their village, feeded you and soothed your wounds, and contrary to the cannibal village Thrawn did not detect any ill intent or habits in their art. He analyzed that they were former peaceful wanderers of the universe that crashed on the planet like you did millennia ago. In fact, the village is right next to the destroyed carcass of the ship that brought them here, the survivor took everything useful from the ship and built a new community.

They now speak a bastardization of Basic, permitting you to communicate with them quite well, even if there are still some mishaps here and there. You came to discover the cannibals took them regularly for preys and they had the greatest difficulties at repelling them, their former peaceful ways led to a more armed culture but they are still not efficient soldiers. That’s when Thrawn intervened. He trained with their warriors to get used to their different weapons and tactics and convinced the chiefs to let him lead their warriors on the next attack.

And he did.

Successfully.

For the first time in the millenia of conflict between the two species the frog people didn’t lose any lives or children to the cannibals. The party that followed that night was grandiose and flashy, the frog people warmly thanked Thrawn and offered you both to stay at the village.

You accepted, given they weren’t murderous cannibals. Thrawn pondered the question longer, still focused on the possibility of finding a way to come back to the Empire.

There wasn’t.

The frog people spreaded all around the globe of that planet and established colonies on all the continents and kept a tight diplomatic bond between each colony. The chiefs proposed you remain in the village to relax for while they sent messages to the other colonies to ask them. You have been in the village for some weeks now but Thrawn decided he would go to meet the other colony and have the chance to ask for himself. And you would not let his politically incompetent ass go anywhere alone unless you wanted him to create chaos, so you decided to go with him. But the morning of your departure you started puking and couldn’t walk without feeling weak so Thrawn carried you bridal style to the healer of the tribe, deciding to postpone his travel until you knew what was going on.

And you didn’t have to wait long.

After examining your body and checking your hormonal balance with some reactives plants the healer determined that you were pregnant! You had a moment of silence, brain frozen, taking in the news and asked for other tests to be conducted immediately, she obliged, and ended up with the same results. Thrawn wasn’t in the hut, politely waiting outside while she examined your body.

You were at a loss of words. A multitude of contradicting emotions raging in your brain and heart.

You were pregnant? Chiss and humans are compatible?

How would Thrawn react? How should YOU react? It was one thing to share a night of passion with your enemy turned ally while you were stranded, carrying his child and heir was a complete other matter!The healer noticed your clear lack of enthusiasm and asked if you wanted to terminate the pregnancy now.

You had no words. Should you do it? Should you not? How would your comrades react at the sight of you bearing the child of the Grand Admiral Thrawn?

Should you even tell him? If you took the preparation she was handing you and terminated the pregnancy in its early stage, was it even worth informing Thrawn?

You decided that yes.

It was.

You called for him and he entered the hut, kneeling down next to you he gently put a strand of hair out of your face with his fingers in a reassuring gesture. You smiled at him gently and warned him to stay seated for the news. He turned to the healer, squinting his eyes in concentration and maybe some worry.

“Is it a dangerous illness?” He asked, “Is her life at risk?”

“Her life is at risk, but not by an illness. This is simply the circle of life.”

He tilted his head, clearly not understanding the healer's words. You took his hand and squeezed it, looking at him in the eyes.

“Thrawn…” You started, deadly serious, “I am pregnant.”

He fully turned to you in complete silence, his eyes barely rounding up in surprise, his control remaining total. Will you one day be able to surprise this man?

He remained mute for a full minute, eyes fixed in yours, before opening his mouth.

“Do you want this child?” Was his only question, his only worry.

“I… Do not know.” You confessed. “What if we find a way to go home?”

“I would not impose you to follow me in the Empire’s ranks.”

“Then could I deprive this child of their father? Could I tell them their parents are mortal enemies?”

“Maybe you could send them to me.” He proposed.

“And have them in the Imperial system? Out of the question! My child will not be an imperial pawn!” You exclaimed resolutely.

“I could send them to the Ascendancy.” He proposed again.

You pondered that possibility. You live a dangerous life made of battles and combats, constantly on the run. Thrawn has more stability, but you will not make your child and Imperial citizen, they will be free and nothing else. Sending them to the Ascendancy, to Thrawn original worlds however… might be their best chances. He talked to you about it for long hours, revealing to you his memories, maybe… Maybe this is the best you could offer that child.

Of course it would mean being separated from your own flesh and blood, but the life you would give them isn’t a life for a child.

“That’s a good idea.” You finally nod. “It would be a more stable environment for them.”

Thrawn squeezed your hand approvingly in response

“But do you even want this child?” You raise your head to him, “We never talked about it. We don’t even know what we are.”

Since that night you shared, you didn’t leave each other's side, living, sleeping, bathing together, just spending the days hand in hand. But you are not in a regular situation, is a relationship started in such extreme conditions as of a crash a stable basis for a healthy couple? Do the standard relationships apply to you? So far away from all laws and civilization do putting a label on your situation even make sense?

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You are the one carrying the embryo, you have the final word. But if you ask me : yes. I want that child.”

But you are still unsure. Are you ready to be a mom? Delivery in those conditions could be incredibly dangerous for you and the baby, what about infections, complications? The frog people kept some techniques and technology from when they still traveled the universe but a lot of machinery simply died for lack of energy source or repair pieces. Could you give birth away from the comfort and security offered by a hospital?

The healer took the powder and poured it in an envelope that she handed to Thrawn.

“Take the time to think about it.” She simply said, giving you a bay to eat to help with nausea.

You exited the little hut in silence, the envelope pressed against your chest. Thrawn circled your shoulders with his arm.

“We need to talk.” He said very seriously, “Let’s put you to bed, first.”

He guided you to your hut and helped you lay down, putting the traveling gear in one corner of the room.

“I am sorry.” You breathed, “I’m slowing you down.”

“No need for excuses. You are forgiven.” He responded by coming back to you, kneeling at your side.

He put his hand on your forehead to take your temperature very delicately.

“Are you comfortable?”

You nod, the nausea slowly subsiding. He remains silent for a long moment, only caressing your forehead, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. But he is never lost, merely reorganizing his brain like a computer.

“What?” you asked with a little voice.

“Nothing.” He said.

“You are fixing me so intently.”

“I am simply thinking, I thought about what you said: “We don’t even know what we are”.”

You purse your lips. It’s true you said that.

You were content about what you had all this time but the prospect of a child put everything into perspective and demanded clarifications.

“I am not wrong. We never really discussed about us, just lived in the present moment.” you argue.

“You are right, it was not a criticism.” He tampers with his deep melodious voice, “Were you happy during those times?”

“Yes.” you confess.

“Me too.” he admits too, “Do you envision yourself pursuing this relationship seriously?”

“I… Is this what you want? We talked about keeping seeing each other and all that, but… Does being a couple make any sense here? Does going official have any weight in our situation?”

“To me it does.” He tilted his head, “I want to be with you. Live with you, build a family with you.”

“And when we get rescued?” You ask, “You didn’t renounce that possibility. What then? We go our merry way, tearing the family apart?”

“I am afraid we will be blocked here for some time.” He responded, “If we ever get rescued.”

You frowned.

“You think there is a risk we stay stranded here?”

“This is a possibility to keep in mind.” He ominously said

You sighed, suddenly exhausted. You closed your eyes, trying to clear your mind.

“Do not take the medicine, please.” You suddenly heard him murmuring so low you almost doubted you heard him.

You reopen your eyes to look at him interrogatively.

“I want this baby. I want to be a father. I want to live with you and see our children grow. Leave me a chance to prove to you I am worth it.” He said, looking into your gaze with sparkly eyes.

His tone was assured and affirmative but you saw so much hope in those red eyes, all the dreams he had to leave behind when he became a Grand Admiral, he could live them here. He could restart anew, fresh, become the man he dreamed to be deep inside himself.

You raised in a seating position with a grumble.

“I do not doubt your worth, nor your capacities to be a father, but… There is so much uncertainty, so much fog… I cannot take that decision carelessly.”

“I understand your doubts and difficult position. And whatever you do, I will respect your choice. But, if I may tell you my opinion, again, please do not take the medicine. I will be here for you and the child, I want us to live all together. As a family”

“I will think about it…” You clench your fist around the envelope.

“Of course, Cha’cah.” He leaned forward to capture your lips in an infinitely soft kiss that you would have never believed him capable of, “The final choice is yours only.”

He caressed your cheek, kissed your forehead and left you alone to nap and gather energy.

You didn’t sleep, a headache threatened you all day long. And as usual, when night came you felt his arms wrapping around your form, tighter this night. You were pressed against his broad chest, his warm body, shielding you from the rest of the world.

You never took the medicine.

You pondered it during long weeks before one day standing still in front of Thrawn and handing him the envelope.

“Get rid of it.” you simply said.

He looked at the envelope, squinting, before grasping your arm and pulling you in a tight hug.

“Thank you.” He murmured, nose buried in your hair.

And that is how you ended up giving birth to your daughter. A healthy little girl in a rush to come into the world.

You woke up in the middle of the night like someone stabbed your womb before realizing your waters broke. Thrawn, awakened in a flash, helped you to the healer and she woke up all the women of the village, all came in the middle of the night to help. A birth is a matter of the entire community here.

They helped you to get rid of your tight clothes and enter a bath, trying to help you relax and relieve any tension. Thrawn was pushed outside the hut unceremoniously at first, “it is a women’s affair only.” They said to him, you don’t know what he responded but he was finally authorized to stay after a back and forth. He came to your side and took your hand, circling your shaking shoulders with his long arm.

“You got this, Cha’cah. I know you can do it.” He praised and supported you.

He talked to you during the whole process, taking your mind off the pain, kissing your temple, squeezing your hand.

Until finally, you heard her first scream.

She was as blue as him, with the same red eyes, but she inherited your hair. You immediately took her in your arms, still shaking and full of sweat but so relieved and happy.

Your little baby.

Your daughter.

Thrawn cut the umbilical cord with the fang dagger he gave you and came to your side to admire his daughter, delicately caressing her head still full of blood.

“She looks like you.” You say out of breath and the heart spilling love.

“Indeed. But she has your features. She will be as beautiful as you.”

He hugged you both like you could vanish at any second.

“Welcome to the world, little one. I love you so much.” He murmured, taking her in his large hands.

“What should we call her?” You ask. “We should pick a Chiss name.”

He looked at you with a hint of surprise and gratitude.

“What do you think of… Thaishi?” He proposed with a thin smile, eyes fixated on the baby.

“Taishi… Little Thaishi.” You make the name roll on your tongue, “I like it a lot.”

“Welcome Thaishi. My daughter.” He let out still incredulous, but the love and warmth was unmistakable in his voice. He immediately initiated skin-to-skin contact, trying to appease your daughter’s cries before the healer took her to examine her.

It was four years ago.

Thaishi speaks and sprints everywhere now, she is unstoppable, making you run after her all day long under Thrawn’s amused loving gaze.

She is already at the buffet this morning when you arrive at the center of the village. The frog people cook for the community and not for individuals, hunt together, fish together, gather together and they eat all together. But today is not your day to cook so you slept late.

You caress Thaishi’s head who doesn’t even take the time to sit with others to eat, she just picks what she wants and eats it immediately. She looks up to you with her mouth full, making her look like a hamster.

“Go sit with the kids, little terror.” You kiss her forehead.

She picks up three other fruits and runs to the kiddos and sits with them.

“(Y/n), we could have brought the food to your hut!” The lady in charge of the cooks today chastises you.

“No, it’s better if I come to eat with everyone.” You respond with an appeasing smile, “Did you see Thrawn this morning?”

“He was out hunting with the youngs early, they should… Ah! Talk about the wolf!”

You spin on yourself, your plate in hand, to see the hunters entering the village with their games. Thrawn stands out with his deep blue skin against their green ones, you notice him immediately. Everyone comes to them to inspect the meat and congratulate the hunters.

“How is my wife this morning?” Thrawn asks, pulling you in his arms immediately.

You giggle as he presses you against his large body, your pregnant belly in the way. He leans forward to kiss you tenderly and then kneels to caresses your belly with enamored red eyes.

You feel your baby giving a kick against his palm.

“They are full of energy.” He notes satisfied.

“Thaishi is too! I have trouble containing her sometimes.”

“Thaishi, listen to your mother.” Thrawn takes his daughter's shoulder in his hand, “It is important to obey adults, young one. We do it for your protection.”

“But I can’t help it, I want to run and jump everywhere!” She responds with her mouth full.

“Young lady, your table manners are lacking. We need to correct them.” He boops her nose.

She gulps her bite down and smiles at him with all her teeth.

“Go play, we will study Cheuhn later.” He smoothes her hair and pushes her gently towards the kids.

You both look at her running again to her comrades, the only blue skin and red eyes in the green and globulous eyes.

You sigh, the heart so full of love it could explode any minute now, when you feel Thrawn arms circling your shoulders.

“She’s four already.” You let out.

“Yes. She is growing quickly.”

“I feel like I gave birth to her yesterday and now look at her… Running all over without losing her balance. Maker… Tomorrow she will be a fully grown adult.”

“She will not, do not worry. She will remain our little lady whatever happens.”

You glance at him with a little grin.

“Are you becoming sentimental, Thrawn? What’s happening to my tough warrior?”

He chuckles lowly in response, amused.

“I have always been sentimental since she was a baby. Do not tell me you never noticed?”

“Oh I did notice! It was quite endearing to see you melt before her by the way! Seeing your facade cracking before your own baby…” You lay your head on his shoulder, caressing his cheek. “You have a good heart, Thrawn.”

“When it comes to you three, I always do.” He puts a hand on your tummy “What did the healer say yesterday?”

“They are growing quickly and well. I gained plenty of weight, my hormones are balanced and she didn’t notice anything wrong.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t have the correct equipment, so much could escape her.” He argues, suddenly frowning.

“Thrawn… Women have been giving birth here in those conditions for a millenia! So much they spread all over the continents, their death rate is really low. She knows her stuff.” You comfort him, holding his cheeks in your hands.

He slowly nod.

“You are right, as always.”

“I already gave birth, I can do it. I know I can.” You insist.

He kisses your palms delicately.

“I trust you, Cha’cah.”

“Good.” You raise on tiptoes to brush your nose with his. “Did you eat this morning?”

“I did, right before the hunt.” He squeezes your hand, “I will be on the ship if you need me.”

He kisses your forehead and grabs and carries Thaishi on his shoulders making her scream laughing among the children.

You go back with the others, sitting on your ankles, observing your husband and daughter as you eat your fruits. Your minds start wandering back to the night you wed Thrawn, you remember being in his arms, heavily pregnant with Thaishi, laying on your mattress. He was caressing your hair as your cheek was pressed against his chest, listening to his beating heart.

“We should get married.” He suddenly said in the dark of the night.

“Why?” you asked, yawning.

“We have a baby on the way. We should do it for them.”

“For them? Not because you’re so in love with me you could feel your heart explode?” You tease him with a light laugh.

“Do you doubt my love?”

“No Thrawn, I was simply joking. I do not doubt you.” You brush your cheek on the skin of his pec to reassure him.

Something you picked up on is Thrawn's low self esteem, or rather poor view of his own person. You realized it listening to him talk about his time in the Ascendancy, he measures his self worth though his capacity to serve and obey his people, completely ignoring his innate value as an individual being. He thinks of himself as a tool, a cog, in the great scheme of things. Just a usable asset to throw away once he has served his purpose. And maybe the most terrifying thing in this situation is that he was contented by this. To him he isn’t deserving of respect and love if he fails his duties. It is a completely normal situation to him, something he has internalized and never questioned.

So he didn’t understood you throwing yourself at him to hug him tight and reassuring him that you loved him. He stayed still, like frozen, listening to you declaring your love to him so suddenly he had nothing to say, maybe a bit shocked.

From this day on you took care to tell him everyday that you loved him, hugging and kissing him, showering him with your love, proving to him that whatever flaws he had or whatever failures he may have committed, he was worthy of unconditional love.

“I love you, (y/n). It is a fact that I cannot deny. When I realize you are in my presence, my heart tightens. When you speak, my heart seems to jump. When you are in my arms, it races. I daresay those symptoms point to love.”

“I know, my love.” You grazed your finger on his chest, “I love you all the same. I am truly at ease and relieved when you are at my side. I worry when I do not feel your presence.”

He took your hand to kiss your knuckles.

“I will not leave you. I am whole and appeased only with you.”

You raised your head to kiss his jaw tenderly.

“I want to tie my legacy to yours, be a family.” He continues.

You looked intently at his laying form silently.

“Because you miss yours?”

He remained silent and his gaze fixed on the ceiling seemed to harden.

“There is no need to hide it, love. It is natural to long for the presence of your family, whoever you are. It means you have a heart and a home to go back to.”

“I have a duty towards them. I will not go back to them until it is done.” He finally said with a hard tone.

It wasn’t directed against you, you knew it, it was simply a testimony of his resolution.

“So you truly want it?” You questioned gently.

“It would fill my heart with bliss if you bestowed yourself to me.” He confessed with a tone of confidence, caressing your cheek.

“If you promise to love me for all eternity, I accept to be yours.” You said.

He kissed your knuckles again before putting your hand on his beating heart.

“For all eternity, Cha’cah. You have my word.”

You lowered yourself and kissed his lips gently, he responded lasciviously, deepening the kiss.

He stood up, helped you rise on your feet and you sneaked away in the night to the Chiefs hut like children who would have stolen a cookie jar. The chiefs performed the ceremony according to their traditions and you were married to Thrawn.

To your Grand Admiral.

And him to his Rebel.

You shared the decisive kiss with the chiefs benedictions and felt your heart tightening with love. He kissed your forehead tenderly while caressing your cheek and you hugged him tight.

Now, with you pregnant, your destinies were intertwined forever.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You never told the rest of the community, they didn’t need to know. You were together and that is all that mattered.

But there was one dark stain on the canvas.

You made peace with the fact that you wouldn’t get rescued by now. That is also why you carried the pregnancy to term and accepted his hand in marriage. Because deep down you felt you would never get out of this isolated planet.

But Thrawn didn’t.

Thrawn keeps fighting everyday to go home.

And you’re not sure how to feel about that.

Was it his loyalty to the Empire or his relentless devotion to the Ascendancy that pushed him so much? He refused to answer.

But coming back signifies saying goodbye. And that’s tearing your heart apart. When you realized he was tempering with the ship communication device to send messages to the Empire you badly reacted, you had your first real fight. He refused to stay arms dangling when his duties called for him and you refused to help go back to his murderous Empire.

In the end you remained a rebel and a Grand Admiral.

And it created the first cracks in your marriage.

A chance Thaishi was still a baby and couldn’t understand why her parents were arguing, but she did pick up on the bad vibes and your cracked voice and started crying. Before Thrawn could pick her up to console her, you took her, shouting he better get used to not seeing his family if he wanted to go back to the Empire so badly and ran off to the hut of friends and remained here for a full week.

You regretted those words. So badly. He never once raised his voice against you, remaining calm, but also so cold, so calculating, his determined gaze terrified you so you preferred to flee with your daughter.

He came to your friends’ hut everyday to see his child and everyday you refused, hugging her against your heart. You were so mad, so terrified, so… So betrayed! How could he dare do that to your family?

When you accepted to receive him, he sat down in front of you in silence, just observing his baby in your arms with a loving gaze.

But he was actively trying to tear his family apart and you couldn’t forgive him just yet.

“How is she?” he asked

“Good.”

“Can I hold her?”

“No.” you placidly answered

He simply took a deep breath in response before opening his mouth again.

“We should talk.”

“Indeed we should. You have a lot of explaining to do.” You frowned.

“I had good reasons to try to go back to the Empire.”

“Yes, evidently you are still very much attached to this tyranny.”

“You do not understand. I didn’t tell you everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, what could he say to save his image now?

“If I am so attached to this tyranny, as you call it, it is to save my worlds.”

And he explained everything to you, all the secrets he kept hidden all this time, secrets nobody’s outside of him and a certain Ba’kif knew about. The true reasons of his mission and allegiance to the Empire, anything he didn’t tell you before.

You just listen silently, eyes round and mouth agape.

“... You may hate me now, but I will demand to keep seeing my daughter. This is all I ask for.”

“I…” You just manage to say, lost “I am sorry, Thrawn.”

He remained silent, sounding you with his inquisitive red gaze, awaiting your reaction once you gathered your thoughts.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” You concede, “But I couldn’t turn a blind eye either…” You try to show him where you come from.

But he is determined.

“I know. But my success depends on the success of the Empire.”

“The success of the Empire implies the subjugation of all races and slavery.”

“Not when I will have taken control of it. This is a necessary evil for now.”

“This is horrible… How can you say that?” You said, pained.

“This is war, casualties are inevitable. ” He insisted, “But when I will lead it, everything will end. You need to trust me.”

You lower your gaze to observe your daughter’s face. She is peacefully sleeping in your arms, soothed by both of your voices. She is as blue as him, with the same red eyes…

You already tied yourself to him, for better and for worse…

You sigh, closing your eyes. You hear him getting closer and circling your shoulders with his arm.

“I need you to trust me, cheo Cha’cah. I do it for the greater good.” He murmurs soothingly.

You purse your lips.

“I will not hinder you, but do not expect me to help you in any way!” You annonce with tenacity.

“Alright.” He gently kisses your shoulder, “Are you still mad?”

“Yes! A lot! But… I understand better now.” You say giving him a side glance.

He looks deep into your eyes, squeezing your shoulders against his body.

“I love you…” He confesses like a secret.

“Me too…” You reassure him. “But I will need time.”

“Will you let me hold our daughter?”

You gently give him your baby and she opens her eyes to meet his. He presses her delicately against his chest, a skin-to-skin hug so important for babies. She grabs one of his fingers in her little fist and starts babbling, smiling at her father.

“Hello you.” He gently says, “I missed you.”

You purse your lips, feeling like a heartless monster for depriving him of his child, and her, her father.

He slept with Thaishi in his arms that night and you pressed yourself against him, looking at your baby, cheek pressed on the chest of her father, sleeping soundly, at peace.

And you cried, knowing that this could come to an end one day.

You’re being brutally called back to reality when Thaishi sprinted into your laps to smash into you.

“Leys proposed to me to spend the day with her!” She exclaims joyfully as you try to catch your breath after that hit.

You turn towards Ley’s mother, slowly nodding.

“You need some peace and quiet at that point in your pregnancy, (Y/n). Relax for the day, we will take care of the kids.”

You turn back to Thaishi, eyes full of hope.

“Alright, but you must promise to behave well when you are with them! And don’t forget your Cheuhn lesson with your father.”

“Yes, mom!” She already sprints back to her friends group, barely listening to you.

She only listens to her father. You sigh, shaking your head.

Kids…

You yawn and decide to use this newfound liberty to take a nap, even if you just woken up. You were soundly sleeping for some hours now, back at your hut, when you felt a warm body pressing itself against your back and strong, large hands caressing your pregnant belly.

“Welcome back, sir…” You yawn.

Thrawn kisses your shoulders, pressing you tighter against his large body.

“How are you feeling?” He whispers.

“Heavy!” You burst out laughing “And fat! This belly gets in the way of everything, it’s impressive.”

“You are beautiful like that.” He insists, “I found you more and more hypnotizing as your pregnancy advances” He keeps caressing your tummy tenderly.

“Are you sure you are the most objective person in this situation?” You argue back with a side grin.

“I need not to be objective, I only need my eyes to witness your bewitching beauty. And I can confidently say you are the most beautiful of all.”

“Even when my body is limp and bloated like that?”

“Especially like that. You being pregnant is a real… Temptation.” He breathes lowly in your ear, “I have all the pain in the world to maintain my control.”

“You? Struggling to keep your control in check? I do not believe you sir.” You laugh.

“And yet, such is the effect you have on me.” He starts kissing your neck, slowly going up. “You mesmerize me in every possible way.” He licks your ear with the tip of his tongue.

“You are really touchy today.” You squirm in his embrace, brushing your soft body against his muscles.

“I have been struck by a real vision.”

“Well thank you sir, I take care of myself!” You joke. “You are quite handsome yourself!”

Your hair has grown too by the time and he buries his nose in it to inhale your scent.

“I want to eat you up.” He says with a growl.

“Aren’t I delectable?” You keep joking.

“You are. Exactly to my taste, but you misunderstood me.” He leans again, blowing on the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “I want to eat you out until you are a shaking mess in my hands, until you can not remember your own name.” He gives another quick lick to your ear.

His deep voice has such an effect on you, you can’t help but shudder in response, much to his satisfaction. Thrawn proved himself physically affectionate, not shy to express his love physically in public or in private… Especially in private! And even though Thaishi’s birth didn’t stop your sex life, it is true it slowed it down a bit. Your last sexual relationship was some months ago and the new pregnancy didn’t help, even though… Thrawn looks at you differently when you’re pregnant.

You're convinced it teases something deeply buried in his psyche and entrails, it excites him, always looking at you wherever you are, always holding you in his arms in some ways, keeping you to himself…

You remember your first pregnancy, he had his hands all over you all day long, drinking between your legs for long hours, getting more and more unhinged as your tummy started to get bigger and bigger.

Maybe it is one of his kinks… You have the occasion to verify it today…

You turn to face him with a cheeky grin.

“So you like me pregnant.” You state.

“It is a wonder of nature.”

“Is that it?” You innocently pull on your shirt to reveal your belly to his eyes.

The light growl emanating from him was unmistakable. His gleaming eyes seem to shine brighter and you think you see him gulp.

“Just a wonder of nature?” You insist, blinking your eyes naively.

“I wonder what kind of reaction you expect of me, flashing your pregnant belly to me.”

“I don’t know… Maybe I am simply curious?”

He raises an eyebrow in response, not buying your innocent act.

“Curious?” He repeats cautiously.

“Curious about the fantasy of my man… What titillates him, what excites him, what drives him absolutely…” You keep your act, drawing sweet circles with your nail on your heavy tummy. “... Crazy.”

He takes a deep breath, eyes locked on your round belly, clearly interested in what you have to offer. His growl takes a dive in the deeper tone, squinting his eyes, trying to maintain his cool in front of your insolent temptation allurement.

He remains very set back in his fantasies, never truly revealing his true taste, preferring to oblige yours instead so you have only an unfinished portrait of his kinks.

But this…

This caught his attention well and you intend to play a bit with it.

“I feel like I have your full attention.” you smile cheekily.

“You do.” he says, cautious of your little game, but so tempted.

“My belly is so soft and warm, if only you could feel it like I do.” You tease mercilessly. “Do you like me pregnant with your child?”

“Yes. A lot.” His voice is no more than a growl now.

He extends his hand to caress your tummy and you slap it immediately. He groans, displeases, and frowns in response.

“No touch. You can only admire.”

“You have no mercy.” He mediates, “Will you really deny me?”

“Maybe. After all, physical exhaustion is really bad for me, I don’t know if letting you do what you want is good for the baby.” You clap back without pity for him.

“I do believe what I have in mind is really good for both of you.” He insinuates lowly.

“You have no proof of what you say.”

“Really? We can go ask the healer right now and we will know where we stand.” He responds without missing a bit, absolutely serious.

You observe him haughtily, like you’re not believing him and don’t intend to give up. He presses himself tighter to you. You wonder how it would get if you pushed him to his limits…

He has always been soft and tender to you, but you’re curious. How is he when he is mad? When you push his dominant tendencies?

You refrain from smiling like a deviant.

“Let me show you what I mean, and you will judge for yourself.” He proposes.

“I do not know if I will let you, mister. I am not convinced.” You put your hand on his mouth to push him back with a grin.

He licks your palm to get rid of your hand with a dark gaze.

“Do not play with me.” He warns.

“Or what? What will you do to your heavily pregnant wife?” You tease.

He flinches imperceptibly at the mention of your pregnancy, growling deeply like an annoyed animal.

“You couldn’t hurt a fly. I am not afraid in the slightest, mister.”

He looks at you intently and suddenly his Intense gaze melts into sparkling eyes and he lets out a sneer.

“You will not gain what you want by playing with my ego, Cha’cah.”

Oh Makers damn it!

“Come on!” You insist, pressing yourself more against him, “Humor me!”

“No.” He chuckles, amused like he would with a child, “You will not win that fight.”

“Pffffff… You’re no fun.” You purse your lips, sulking.

“On the contrary, I can be a lot of fun.” He embraces you tightly, “You just need to find the right levers.”

“I had one! You clearly were hanging onto every word when I showed you my belly!” You contest.

“Indeed. And you would have won if you kept playing with this strategy, but you made the tactical error of changing the point of pressure.”

You grumble, frustrated. You were really curious, how is sex with him when he’s mean and overly dominant?

“Do not frown, cheo cha’cah. You need not to play the temptress to seduce me, your innate charms work wonders.” He tries to soothe you.

“I wanted to see how it would go if you were mean and harsh.” You pout.

“Being mean and harsh to you is not appealing to me. I would rather honor you than demeaning you in any way.” He kisses your forehead.

You’re still deadly curious.

“I will find a way, one day.” You promise, seething.

“Do not sulk, my love.” He smiles, entertained, “Let me take care of you, it will ease the tension between your eyebrows, my darling.” He continues, lowering himself to kiss your clavicle and going more south.

He kisses your tummy reverently, leaving sweet kisses all over it while caressing it. You feel the baby giving him a kick and he responds with a final, loving peck.

“They too are quite energetic.” He notes, satisfied, “You keep giving me healthy and strong children. Thank you.”

He then reports his attention to your skirt that he slides down your hips and legs with ease. Still pouting, you close your legs shut to deny him, he chuckles again, sliding his hands between the flesh of your thighs and successfully opening them for him.

“Come on now, there is no need to be difficult, sweet thing. I know you love it when I go down on you.”

It’s true.

With him being so good at it, you can only love it in return. But he doesn’t want to entertain your fancy so you won’t entertain his. You cross your arms over your chest with a grumble.

“You are unbelievable, cheo Cha’cah. You act like a spoiled child.” You hear his smug smile in his voice, hidden behind your stomach. “But I know how to make you react, I know everything about you.”

You feel the cold air on your pussy as he slides your panties on the side, he blows on your clit playfully, sending a shiver down your spine again but you refrain from the whine that threatens to pass your lips.

“I will have you sing soon enough, my love.” He says with his usual confidence.

He takes a sloppy lick at your pussy and you greet your teeth together.

Do not make a sound! Do not make a sound! Do not make a sound!

Unimpressed by your headstrong attitude, he keeps licking your pussy lips lazily, like a tired, lascivious king, moaning his own pleasure for you.

He also knows that you absolutely love hearing him moan and groan, vocalizing his pleasure out loud, it goes straight to your empty pussy that starts to signify to you that it is scandalously empty.

He laps at your cunny slowly with the flat of his tongue, trailing your slit with his tip and sucking your nervous clit. You bite your lips and dig your nails into the flesh of your arms to maintain control over yourself.

“Your pussy is more honest than you are.” He notes, “It gets wetter to my touch while you childishly refuse to indulge.”

Oh, he’s one to talk about indulgence, mister frugal lifestyle!

“You do not! I am a dry ice cube! In fact I’m starting to get bored!” You manage to let out in a hurry before any tremors come to shake your voice.

Again he simply chuckles at you.

“You will break, my love.” He simply announces, kissing your sweet pussy between each word. “That is an absolute certainty.”

You’ll show him you can maintain control over your own person. You will not break!

But he is right on one point, your pussy does get wetter by the seconds, at you great damn.

You keep your jaws closed shut, froward. He resumes laving at your soft pussy that gets softer and softer as your blood travels south. You feel him spread your pussylips with his fingers to lick your hidden, tender flesh.

You feel your abdominals contracting at his sweet touch, and it didn’t escape him.

“Oh? Are those the first shivers of your undeniable pleasure?” He teases.

“I’m just cold.” You bite back

“Not for long, sweet thing. I will make sure of it.”

As he keeps licking your now dripping pussy you start hearing his purr resonating in the hut. He enjoys himself very much. He loves eating you out as much as you do, if not more. You suddenly feel his tongue entering your wet cavern and start tonguefucking you.

A single moan escapes you before you press your hand on your mouth. His purr drops down to deeper tones, sending shivers through your puffy, wet, walls, raising your hardly refutable pleasure…

“My little bird does not wish to sing for me? It is alright, I will have you crying, Cha’cah.”

And he starts fucking you harshly in retaliation, his tongue waving and grazing your G spot with such ease it is almost comical. His hand comes to flicker and press your clit, puffy with blood. He makes it roll between his fingers, titillates it consciously as he drinks your slick as he would drink water.

Maker those debauched sounds…

How the wet sounds of your little pussy and his grunts sound to your ears… This is highly depraved and debaucherous.

So exciting… Argh! Get a grip of yourself! Do not let him win!

He is… motivated, to say the least. He must have taken your vow of silence as a personnel challenge because he seems determined to have you cum hard and rapidly. He is eating you out with energy and a will you only encountered when you fought him in battle.

Despite your closed mouth, your uncontrollable whimpers can be heard well in this little room and it is the sweetest melody to his ears, only encouraging him to double his efforts. He eats you out enthusiastically, nastily, roughly, abusing your tender flesh with his swollen lips. He continues moaning without any shame, letting you know that he has no qualms enjoying himself to the fullest while you hold on to a childish pride.

Your dripping pussy convulses around his wet, flexible limb as he brushes your gummy spot with his tip expertly, making your pleasure rise more and more until it comes crashing down upon you. Your little cunny clenches painfully around his tongue and you come against his mouth and against your will.

“What a remarkably honest body you have, cheo Cha’cah. Letting me know everything I need to know without a fuss. Guiding me through your true desires so eagerly.”

“You’re full of yourself!” you spit out.

He gently kisses your thighs, licking you soft, plump flesh with a deep moan.

“Abandon your immature act and just enjoy yourself. Why deny yourself like that, little rebel?” He asks curiously

You do not respond like a mutineer.

“Sometimes I do not understand you.” He sighs.

He kisses your pussy reverently, like he gallantly kisses your hand before rising up to free his erection of his constrictive pants. You look away, stubborn, refusing to look at the member that used to give you so many orgasms before.

“You looking away will not impede the inevitable.”

You feel him coat his shaft with your essence, brushing his cock between your slit back and forth, soaking it with your slick. It brushes against your erected, nervous clit and you have to fight another mewl rising in your throat.

“Your body gives me so much pleasure, I am thankful to you, my love.” He lets you know with a tone of secrets, “We should indulge more, sharing such intimate moments is so important to build a healthy relationship. I know our sex life slowed down since we became parents, but I still look at you as a woman first, not only a mother, with all the desires and craving it implies.” He continues.

He’s trying to win you over! To make you lower your defenses! You’ll not surrender for some sugary words, you have more will than that! He sighs lasciviously and unfastens his long hair, letting them frame his handsome face and draping his large shoulders. You gasp at this gorgeous sight.

“I know you think I am trying to sweeten you. I am simply telling my truth.” He brushes his noses in the crook of your neck, caressing your full tummy so tenderly. “Even if you obstinate yourself to deny yourself pleasure for an infantile vagaries, it will not prevent me from doing my best to satisfy you as it is my duty, cheo Cha’cah.” He informs you as a sentence.

You close your eyes shut as he pushes himself inside you, his size making it difficult for your little pussy. You press your lips in a thin line as he splits you in two with his massive member.

“I missed how your little pussy strangles me.” He gasps, deeply satisfied.

He keeps pushing further, pushing your inner flesh apart until you feel his tip brushing your cervix deep, deep inside your most secret place.

You gulp, bracing yourself for what is to come.

“You are so tense, my love. You should relax.” He says tenderly, “There is no need to make the experience uncomfortable for you.”

“I am 8 months pregnant, I do not simply "relax "." You mock.

“A deep and warm orgasm should help you get more comfortable, my sweet. You can count on me.” He keeps offering you sweet words.

He starts moving, with shallow thrusts, taking it easy on your sore body. You breathe deeply through your nose, trying not to focus on the delicious sensations his ridges give you, how wonderfully full you feel with him inside, how right it feels to have your husband like that. A strangled yelp escapes you as he resumes teasing your clit with his hand as he thrusts into you.

“Give me your hand.” He orders softly.

You feel him trail your arm until he reaches your hand and intertwines your fingers together.

He deepens his thrusts, going deeper, slipping out almost entirely leaving just the tip inside and pushes it back in languorously, undulating his hips against yours.

You try so hard to fight back the waves of pleasure, tensing up your muscles under his inquisitive gaze, but he gives you so much, it is so hard to shield yourself completely when he puts so much energy and love in each of his thrusts, forcing you to endure the delight he offers. You feel tears building up behind your eyes.

You hiss as he rocks his hips with a quicker pace, sliding in and out easily thanks to your first orgasm, the waves of pleasure poisoning your veins and nerves ending.

“You are so reactive for someone who refuses pleasure.” He placidly notes, “You can try and hide as much as you want, you cannot lie to me, my love. I know you too well. Your body is an open book to me. Denying it is… useless.” He says, modulating his deep, melodious voice as he knows you prefer.

You shake your head vehemently.

“I experienced your body for years, sweet thing. I know it as well as mine. I studied it carefully, each and every single one of your reactions. I know how to please it, I know how to bring it to the verge of an earth shattering orgasm.”

He is so confident in his capacities to please you, you’ll give him that. He keeps rubbing your clit and you try to escape his sweet touch but he grasps your hips and impales you back on his cock, burying it to the hilt. You whine.

“You will not escape it.” It is as much a promise as it is a threat.

He accelerates his pace again, bullying himself into you without any mercy. Your cunny desperately tries to accommodate his size, clenching pathetically around his girthy shaft.

“Those are the reactions I like.” He says smugly. “Kiss me, cheo Cha’cah.”

He lowers himself to reach your lips but you turn your head away.

“Are you so cold hearted to deny me your lips?”

You grumble and swiftly kiss his cheek.

“Satisfied?” you bare your teeth.

“Thank you. But I hoped for more.”

You purse your lips but let him kiss you, you feel him purring against your mouth. You open your mouth and he enters it with his tongue to dance with yours. He squeezes your hand with his as he deepens the kiss, looming over your body. You growl in the kiss but feel his lips draw in a smile.

So you bite his lips in retaliation.

He licks the little bead of blood away, looking at you with a pleased expression.

“I love when you defy me.” He says lowly, keeping his hard pace, “I love it even more when it is clear you will lose.”

“I am losing nothing!”

“I have the clear memory of making you cum two minutes ago. And you will suffer another defeat in less than three. How does it feel, little rebel? Knowing your greatest efforts go to waste against a superior will.”

“Imperial dog!” You spit.

“Keep that energy up, my love.” He kisses your cheek.

He accentuates his hips action, making you squeal uncontrollably.

“Ca-Careful the baby!” You warn indignant.

“The baby is fine.” He replies with a mocking tone, “In fact, they can sense how good their mother feels. I reckon they must enjoy themself thoroughly with you squirming so desperately under my touch.”

“I… Fuck you!”

He snickers and raises on his knees, forcing your hips up in the air. He digs his fingers in the flesh of your plump hips to keep you in place, doing so he removed all control you had over the action. Now you are truly a victim of his will.

“Such foul language. I better understand Thaishi’s manners.”

He slows down the pace to give a circling motion of his hips to vary the sensations, making sure his girth rubs every sensitive spot in your vagina. You tremble terribly in his hands, like struck by lightning. You bite down your lips terribly to not moan.

To no avail…

“Ah yes, the sweet moans of my muse. It only motivates me to work harder for you.”

He plundges his cock deep, scratching every itch, making you sing against your will. You feel tears rolling on your flushed lips as you try to catch up your breath under such physical exercises.

He leans forward to lick your tears away, the salt tingling on his darted tongue deliciously.

“You are beautiful, my sweet. Crying your pleasure out loud like that.”

Embarrassed, you hide your eyes with one arm, only for him to grip it immediately to take it off.

“No, Cha’cah. You do not get to hide from me.”

“Pl-please finish soon…” You beg.

You have enough of this trial and humiliation, you’re too tired to get this beating. Something snapped in your stomach, begging for him to reach his climax and yours with it.

“Finishing this early? But I feel plenty full of ardor today, I had in mind to keep going for one or two hours more. Just to be sure you orgasmed correctly, I would hate to have you unsatisfied, my love, your enjoyment is my priority.”

You tremble, shaken by spasms, convulsing in pleasure, stiffness reaching all of your limbs as the waves of pleasure incapacitate you as they spread in your veins. You feel your little pussy gaping around his shaft desperately trying to keep him in.

“Okay… You won, I surrender. Please, finish soon..” You say panting, gasping for air at each of his powerful thrust.

“My, my, you are giving up so easily, my dear. But your wish is my command.”

He adjusts his position, and installs a break-necking pace. You’re being pushed against the mattress without mercy and you bite your tongue in the confusion. You cannot help the squeals escaping your pretty mouth while he moans in tandem with your plaints.

Your pussy clenches hard as you come, trying to retain him inside, strangling him just like he loves sending him over the edge. He slows down his pace and comes undone inside.

You’re shaking, crying, getting back from your high as he puts his forehead against yours, caressing your cheek.

“Cha’cah?” He calls in a whisper, “Are you alright?”

You nod, your visage hidden in your hands, catching your breath. He kisses your hands before taking them off your face and pecks your cheek and nose.

“Breath deep, cheo Cha’cah. Easy.”

He holds you tight, cradling your body tenderly.

“There… Breath. Everything is alright.”

You gasp, wiping your tears away.

“Oh Maker…” You whimper.

He brushes his nose with yours, his long hair framing his gorgeous face.

“Everything is fine, you are with me, my love.” He keeps soothing you.

A sigh mixed with a gasp escapes you as you feel your heart calming down in your chest. Thrawn keeps kissing your face tenderly, holding your cheek in his warm palm. He slips out of you, leaving you intolerably empty and slides to the side where he takes you in his arms to hold you close. You bury your face in his neck and breathe in his musk to calm down, his hand comes caressing your hair gently, appeasingly.

“I love you.” He murmurs.

“I love you too… “ You respond, exhausted.

“We should bathe.”

“I'm too tired… “ You complain, nudging against him

“Come on, ch'eo vir. Let me help.”

He rises with 8 months pregnant you in his arms and heads towards the river where he bathes you both conscientiously, laying you against his naked chest, surrounded by fresh water. You doze off, too relaxed to keep your eyes open.

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

You were playing with Thaishi when you heard a familiar sound resonate through the air like a loud bang. Immediately, the sky darkens, the sun disappears and a weird silence takes place in the village, everyone looking up.

You raise your head, gulping, and Thaishi points to the large object in the sky.

“Mum, what's that?” she asks, as fascinated as she appears terrified.

Massive and large, the ISD floats over the village like a dark presage, brining death and fire with it.

“This is…” You start, feeling panic rising, “This is…”

The two headed serpent leave no doubt who’s ISD it is.

They’re here for Thrawn!

You pick up Thaishi in your arms precipitaly, making her yelp in surprise and run to your hut, hugging her tight. When you arrive you see Thrawn passing the doorframe in his white uniform, hair cut and black boot unsoiled.

You almost hit him with your speed, but you stop just in time.

“Thrawn!”

“I know, Cha’cah. Do not worry.”

“But… Where does this uniform come from? Why are they here? Why-”

“I managed to contact them.” He drops the bomb.

You look at him completely dumbfounded, at loss for words.

“What? But… How could you…”

He put his hands on your shoulders to ground you.

“Cha’cah, we are going home.”

You feel like the ground just opened under your feet and would swallow you whole. Your legs give up under you, in shock, but Thrawn catches you and Thaishi expertly.

“(Y/n)! Are you alright?”

“Mom?” Your daughter calls for you in the hands of her father, afraid.

You close your eyes.

You cannot believe it.

The day you feared the most came. You will be separated, torn apart, never to see each other again.

Some villagers came to you when you fell, Thrawn let you in their care, kissing your forehead and heading towards the Chief huts.

When you reopen your eyes, you are in the healer’s hut. You discard the wet fabric she placed on your forehead and go outside.

The ISD is here.

Ominous and threatening.

You reel for some steps before straightening yourself. Here you find Thrawn holding Thaishi, the Chiefs and a woman in an imperial uniform.

Where did he hide this perfectly neat uniform? During all those years he hid it from you, well tidied in a box, awaiting its hour. You suddenly feel a spick of ire in your vein at the sight of that clean white.

Thrawn turns towards you, and a light smile comes lightening his face.

“There she is. Commodore Faro I want you to meet Lady (F/n). My wife.”

Faro slowly bows to you, but something in her eyes displeases you.

She knows who you are.

She doesn’t recognize you as a crew member of Thrawn ships and the only other people present that day were Rebels.

She knows.

She gives a side glance at her Grand Admiral but abstains from any comments.

“Lady (F/n).” She politely but coldly greets.

“Everything is taking care of, Cha’cah.” Thrawn continues, “We will embark everyone on board and exit that planet.”

You turn your head to the chiefs, interrogating them with your eyes.

“We agreed to let your husband temper with the ship if he promised us to take us with you.”

“But.. You’ve been here for a millennia… This is your home… Your planet.”

“We are wanderers at heart, our place is flying through space, not remaining on a single rock.”

You turn back to Thrawn, mouth agape and tears behind the eyes.

“Thrawn… You cannot be serious…”

“Cha’cah.” He cuts you softly, “Our place is not here, our home and duties are away from this planet. It is time for us to go.”

You want to slap him across the face, scream at him, telling him that he will never know the child you bare, that he is killing this family.

“Leave me here with Thaishi.” You just say weakly.

You cannot resume your combat, you cannot fight your husband even if you know you’re in the right, you cannot say goodbye to your children and leave them alone.

“I am not leaving you on this backwater planet, love.” He warns, “We discussed this subject matter and agreed. Thaishi and the baby will be sent to the Ascendancy and live a safe life while we will go back to our responsibilities.”

“How can you say that?” You feel ire rising in your veins.

“We are both warriors. We both know our duties would supplant everything in our life.”

“Thrawn…” You beg.

He caresses your cheek and his thumb swipe one silent tear that rolls on your skin, you sob.

“Those four years have been a blessing. The miracle I stopped hoping for.” He presses his forehead against yours, looking you in the eyes with a sigh, “But the dream must end. It is time now to wake up and advance.”

“Thrawn…” Your voice is no more than a pathetic plea.

“I know, Cha’cah. I will never stop loving you and will cherish those memories I have with you both. But it is time…”

He extends his hand to you with a comforting smile while your image of him gets blurry with tears.

“Come home with me, my love?”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

☆Tag list

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull #thrawn smut

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wanderingaldecaldo · 7 months ago

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WIP Whenever on a Wednesday

I am terrible at keeping up with tags in general but I am aghast to see my oldest WIP Whenever tag was from nearly 8 weeks ago. I completed a couple of things since my last one, namely the sock garters and the boots, and added quite a few more projects to the list than I scratched off. 😩

Tagged by (and tagging back) @fly-amanitaa @streetkid-named-desire @ouroboros-hideout @aggravateddurian @luvwich

@ghostoffuturespast. Also tagging with the usual zero pressure @olath124 @dustymagpie @medtech-mara @corpo-cunt-couture

@merge-conflict @blackrevell @fereldanwench and YOU reading this! Share and tag me!

Modding

Shocking that it's still my main focus 🙄 but the first one is in support of a couple of VP project:

Presidential Props which include a variety of flags and the NUSA medal with box. The flags are part of the VP set below, though I didn't actually show them here.

Featuring: five different flag varieties with five appearances each; medal box in multiple states, plus the medal itself; and the presidential coin, scalable and with multiple appearances.

SlutWear, a new line of clothing that will tell NC just how slutty your V is. It will be gender and (smaller) size inclusive. 😊

Does Val really heart NC?

An update of my tee framework for dynamic AXL just in time for Pride, though there are no interesting pics to share. Sorry!

However, in support of the previous two items, a modder's tool: a CodePen to generate instances for the yaml. Both the SlutWear shirt(s) and the custom logo tees will require a lot of instances to get all of the color and logo combinations that are possible through dynamic AXL. There's still a little work to do, but it's already been of great use to me, as it wrote 220 lines of code for me. Let's not discuss how many lines of code I wrote to save those 220. 😂

Me using the tool to generate instances for the custom tees yaml. This will remove the limit on colors available to the user, so they can have any color with any of the logos!

VP (and Writing)

A glimpse at a set I took last week for inspo in the presidential PWP that's been stalled out at 5.7k words. More on it in a minute...

Even though the pics are cropped, they're still on the risque side, so I'm sticking them and the rest about the PWP behind the cut.

Not shown: Johnny both rolling his eyes at V and enjoying the show

I've been working on a PWP that was unrelated to the President's Merc AU for months now, but have been stuck because, well, I don't know how to wrap it up. I posted about it a little ways back and someone helpfully suggested that I just have to keep going until one of them passes out. Which, is what does happen, but I don't have that kind of patience to write it out and nearly 6k words is already well longer than my usual PWP, so I went in game to set the scene and possible prompt some ideas for a potenial ... climax to the scene.

It worked! I have a plan, and I think it won't take more than 500 words to reach the end, plus a few more touch-ups to help set up everything, then a rewrite or two for cleaning and polishing.

In the meantime, as I've been working through this version of Val and how she responds to Rosalind, it's the perfect prologue to The Tower story that I've been writing longhand. Val is going to leave this encounter fully loyal to Rosalind and will turn So Mi over with only a moment's hesitation. She doesn't have any attachments in this universe other than Misty and Vik, and after she wakes up to what Night City has become, it's easy for her to walk away from it forever. Especially when it puts her closer to Rosalind.

What about you? What are you working on? 👀

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk modding #wip wednesday #wip whenever #tag games #cw flashing #mods i made #coding things #valerie vermilion #streetkid!val #rosalind myers

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colourstreakgryffin · 2 years ago

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Yandere! Romantic! KNY Shinazugawa Sanemi Headcanons

(My apologises that the pic is bad. I had to cut out the background since spoilers and would prefer to be careful)

(Sixth posstttt, let’s go! Three more to go! This one’s scarier at least to me than Shinobu! Welcome the great lord of the winds, he’ll take your breath away!)

Sanemi as a romantic Yandere has the Yandere traits of; Delusional, Loving/Clingy, Murderous, Possessive, Overprotective, Scary, Devoted and Twisted

- A new Hashira you say? Well, that doesn’t really bother Sanemi at all. In-fact, he is secretly grateful that the Corps is getting more reliable firepower for this ongoing war. You’re strong, he likes you as a fellow but he’s not really a chatter. It’s you who has to start conversations

- Sanemi is actually one of the hardest Hashira or perhaps, the hardest to evolve into a Yandere for his love interest(beats Gyomei and Shinobu by a long shot). He is very closed-off and keeps his interactions with people, other than pleasantries with his fellow Hashira, to a minimum. Though, he is emotionally weak to a kind, gentle and warm-hearted person like you.

- You ripped his heart out and sent it away on powerful gushes of wind. Sanemi is originally conflicted about his growing feelings for you. Not because he hates you, but because getting too close to people always makes them disappear. He has, like Giyuu, dealt with a lot of loss in his life and would prefer to stay out of your life

- Though, he is losing his composure around you. He can’t stay his usual intimidating, unbothered self when you’re in the picture. His rapidly beating heart and screaming head is telling him to talk to you. And after quite a few months, he decides to try stir up a friendship

- A bare friendship is not what he wants though. You’re available and so is Sanemi. It’s so perfect that it seems to be fate. He already has the right method to swoop in and take your heart like you took his

- Sanemi, honestly, does take the longest to befriend and connect with but takes a bit less time to become a full-fledged Yandere, though, he is a very scary Yandere. Like Shinobu, Sanemi will have rising jealous anger over other people taking away your time

- That single mix of anger and jealousy forms his Yandere traits overtime with the more he sees you and those horrible thoughts attack his senses until they override his entire perception. His goal, no longer, is protecting humankind from demons, his goal now is to win your heart and make you his wife. And he will never have a issue with what he has to do to get it

- Sanemi has about NO limits, as mentioned in the Obanai post. He’ll do literally anything and everything he possibly can to make you love him back. He’ll hunt down his fellow Hashira, he’ll hunt down the Upper Moons, he’ll slit his own wrists. He takes the phrase “anything for you” to a extremely extreme

- Sanemi is delusional as f**k, and that delusion has gifted him a bit— just a LITTLE bit— of entitlement over you. He furiously demands that you stay at his Estate and blocks your every escape attempt until you’re forced to follow the Hashira’s request. His delusion makes him believe you have to leave for a important reason, not because you don’t wanna see him anymore. Though, he doesn’t accept that

- Sanemi will kill love rivals and he kills with literal pleasure. He is definitely more murderous than Shinobu, though, he sees a reason to hide it. Like Giyuu, he doesn’t want you to view him as a monster because he took a life or two or… maybe five. So, he keeps his murderous thoughts about the people he flirt with you a secret well until either he or you is away on Hashira duty to take care of the little issue

- Like about 90% of the Hashira, the all-so-feared Wind Hashira won’t lay his hands on you in the slightest, no matter how mad at you or mad in general he gets. He may verbally abuse you every once and a while but that’s mainly out of frustration. You’re not understanding his point of view, and you rejecting his statements without hearing any of them out is eating away at his patience

- Sanemi’s a ticking time bomb that will explode into one gigantic explosion once he’s pushed past his own limits but he’ll grow back as a calm, timid little fuse. He is a lot sweeter than he is horrible in all honesty, his temper tantrums are rare but they’re deadly

- Sanemi is quite possessive over you, rather this be before or after he has forced you into dating him. Stop smiling at that creep! Your super cool, strong, loving boyfriend is right here! Nobody else is like him, he is a Hashira and a powerful one too. There is no competition, those people don’t have anything on Sanemi but his confidence there doesn’t stop him from getting furious over people simply complimenting your appearance and makes him chase them away

- The only person Sanemi is soft and vulnerable with is you. He willingly shows his secret gentleness whilst he is clinging onto you and spitting out random compliments. You make him unbelievably happy and for that feat, he will treat you with the highest love and care possible. He apologises for his outbursts and makes it his mission to win back your smile

- “I’m sorry, okay… I just… I need you to listen to me more. I’m only trying to protect you, you know that I love you, right? Well, do I. I love you more than life, and your happiness is mine, your safety is mine. See? I don’t wanna hurt you and I’m sorry for snapping…”

- Sanemi, as mentioned before, has lost a lot throughout his entire life and that trauma caused him to cling onto you desperately. Just stay with him, don’t go outside or go over the rainbow bridge. Stay at the Wind Estate, it’s safe and it’s comfortable. Sanemi is attached to you to a extreme-extreme and will drown you in his overwhelming love

- Gifts, hugs, kisses, attention, fun events. All of these are fruitful attempts to keep you happy and also expressions of his love for you. You deserve the world in Sanemi’s mind and he’ll move the heavens and earth to give you what you deserve

- Shinazugawa— more like Overprotectzugawa as he will never let you go out alone without him and his trusty katana. No matter how peaceful the road may seem, anything could happen and his anxiety is also very extreme so he’ll force himself into whatever you wanted to do to ensure no demon dares to lay a hand on you. Your safety (with happiness) is his top priority and if being overprotective keeps that, he’ll do it

- His devotion to you is endless. He doesn’t even look at other girls anymore, why would he enjoy the sight of any of those disgusting sl*ts when the most beautiful angel ever is by his side. However, his devotion is almost psychotically intense as he obsesses over being able to bask in your looks, he has a entire notebook full of drawings of you and has even carved your full name into the pec over his heart

- Sanemi is the type of Yandere to have a powerful trait of twisted. He is the embodiment of a real threat in his Yandere mindset. He is very mentally unsound and it makes him a danger to everybody around you, and I mean EVERYBODY as not even the Hashira nor the Master have defence against Yandere Sanemi. He is extremely erratic, he raises his katana to attack in a split second, he has intense mood swings that go from calm to murder and worse, his obsession with you gets bigger till he starts stealing and/or going through your belongings to please himself

- Do you think about a married life and/or having children? Sanemi does. He wonders why he thinks about it so much, alongside you. Is it because he wants to make himself a new family? It must be. He won’t do anything right now, this world needs to recover from the Demon disaster but once the Demon King falls, Sanemi will work and work to create the best future for you

- Sanemi is, once again, conflicted. Should he kidnap you? It would solve all of the issues but it would further ruin your relationship with him! He doesn’t really know what to do but he does hate each time you finally leave his Estate. At the moment, Sanemi won’t take away your freedom but always be prepared, he’ll make up his mind any day now

- Sanemi is scary in the sense of his unhealthy obsession over you. He values learning about you, watching you sleep at night and getting to look after you very much and he proudly rants on every little detail about you he has till the point your horrified by how deranged he’s become. He is also scary in his anger towards others, he unleashes dangerous threats after death threats and the argument he started gets so bad that you’ll have to knock him out to prevent a murder escalation

- You’re his, his love now and beyond this life. Nobody else should be able to breathe the same air as you and you just having friends disgusts Sanemi. All you will ever need is with him! Those limbless pathetic pieces of s**t called people don’t know you and will devote their life to you in the same way Sanemi does!

- “Can’t you just stay here for more than a few hours? Like, what’s the problem? My Estate is just like yours. Am… am I scaring you or something? Me, scary? It’s because I like fighting demons, huh? Well. Stop being ridiculous and get rid of that thought, I love you and I want you to stay because I love you, isn’t that clear?”

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #anime and manga #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #yandere #yandere romance #Yandere sanemi shinazugawa #kny hashira #wind hashira #yandere imagines #kny imagines #headcanons #sanemi x reader #shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #yandere headcanons

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kirwell · 3 months ago

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I don't have to voice that the new era of warrior books are,,, struggling creatively,,, to put it nicely, cus everyone's who has been here for a minute already knows. But A Starless Clan is already coming to an end,, and I just feel like it was all REALLY short. The final book drops in November before we immediately move onto Changing Skies in January, but I feel like we should still be in the middle of THIS arc. The conflict is so short-lived.

Maybe it's just me, but when comparing TBC to ASC, the former felt it had a much longer, drawn out and more involved story and plot, with all the POV characters going through plenty of experiences that impacted them before the final endgame.

Rootspring dealing with Bramblestar's spirit. Direct involvement. Shadowsight being manipulated by Ashfur. Direct involvement. Bristlefrost and her complicated involvement with the imposter, the Rebels, and ThunderClan. Direct involvement.

That's not been the case for half of our protags in A Starless Clan. Not that Nightheart and Sunbeam don't do anything at all, but compared to Frostpaw, who is literally carrying everything, they might as well be background characters. Damn near the entire plot has been carried on this poor girl's shoulders, and it shows, because Nightheart and Sunbeam are suffering from lack of important character progression and main plot relevance.

Nightheart's most prominent arc was his angst phase and temporarily switching clans for his crush. Even when he and Frostpaw were traveling and met the park cats, he took a major backseat compared to Frostpaw. The book told us that Nightheart and Frostpaw grew closer on their journey together, but it really doesn't feel that way. It would've made more sense for a banished Frostpaw to stay with Thunderclan rather than ShadowClan. We'd get more Night and Frost interaction, and now all our protags are together as well.

And Sunbeam, don't get me wrong, I like her, and I've been much more invested in her emotional journey then Nightheart's, post his ShadowClan arc. Breaking up with her best friend, crush rejection, her overbearing and phobic mother, leaving her birth-clan, being abandoned by Nightheart more than once, and her family (aside from Spireclaw) living in exile. However, Sunbeam has little affect on the overarching plot, compared to Frostpaw. Sunbeam's chapters in Wind basically consisted of her worrying about her mother and crossing the border to check up on her family. As for Nightheart, all that he was really doin' was trainin' Waffle (our precious waffle boi) and being his girl's yes-man for the majority of the book. It also seems like Sunbeam's and Nightheart's romantic arc is just finished now i guess. We'll probably see their kits in Changing Skies, and Sun and Night will be put on the backburner of obscurity.

I just wish Nightheart and Sunbeam took a more pressing role in the plot and were more emotionally invested in the main conflict. Their personal stakes aren't nearly as high as Frostpaw's, who is truly burdened by the weight of so many responsibilities, on top of having damn near no one that supports her. A Starless Clan is truly Frostpaw's series- and ya can't tell me otherwise.

Nightheart quite literally has nothing to lose if Splashtail takes over RiverClan completely. He has Sunbeam, and that's all he wants.

Sunbeam has an emotional investment now with BerryHeart being Splashtail's cohort, (and now deputy), but her focus is less set on RiverClan's wellbeing, and more so directly on her family's. If Berryheart wasn't involved with Splashtail, I feel Sunbeam wouldn't have gotten herself up in RiverClan's business after the ShadowClan warriors left.

Frostpaw is carrying an absurd level of trauma and personal involvement with what's going on, as she's entangled in everything that's important within the plot from every single angle.

ASC just feels really, really short and underwhelming, in terms of it's supporting cast and main villain. Part of me kinda likes that Splashtail is a sleezy snake, but he's still just sooo,,, boring, especially when putting him up against other villains like Ashfur and Darktail. Curlfeather didn't even get a chance, and she's by FAR, a much more interesting choice for an antagonist.

Off the top of my head, a better plot could've been Curlfeather successfully pretending to be Curlstar, and Splashtail being discontent with only being deputy, and stirring up chaos and plotting to overthrow Curlstar. The endgame could've been Splashtail trying to kill Frostpaw (again), but Curlstar refusing to let her daughter be murdered, and in the end, sacrifices herself to take down Splashtail for good. And then, like what a lot of us are expecting will happen at the end of ASC, Frostpaw becomes Froststar (i love frost so much this better happen dont let the flame die out!!)

The theme of this season has 100% been family issues/trauma, as every protag has stuff goin' on with their moms, but we get Splashtail as a main villain, with no prominent ties to anyone except Curlfeather (tho we don't rlly see much of it)

but anywayy,,, enough rambling and GIVE IT UP FOR ARC 9 EVERYBODYYYY!! ARC 9 COMING SOON LETS GOO !! WE'RE GONNA BE READING CAT BOOKS TILL WE'RE 90 :)

#Frostpaw is the main character- change my mind #this arc feels SO short #warrior cats thoughts #rant #Warrior Cats #WC #A Starless Clan #asc #asc spoilers #asc wind #Frostpaw #Sunbeam #Nightheart #Splashtail #Berryheart #Curlfeather #LETS GO ARC 9

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tieflingfingers · 9 months ago

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Foraging for Ripened Fruits

What and who: Soft Dom Astarion smut, Character Study, Half-Drow Bard OC. Summary: Thomasin goes off to forage for a meal for camp, but Astarion pops in to remind her of a bet she lost. Realizing he's rehashing an old promise, she reluctantly agrees in hopes of enjoying his company. Warning/Content: 18+, Reimagining of first sexual encounter. Post bite-scene, part of series. A lot about two elves that are bad at feelings. Partial mentions of past traumas that inform their current actions. Word Count: 4,174 Ao3 Link

Thomasin wandered off the beaten path. Unknown thickets and brambles were an easy trek though. From a young age, the half-elf had been taught a labyrinth of knowledge about living off the land. A library of resources left to collect dust with each decade for she’d become dependent on ship crews and city streets with passing years. Now to only blow off those dusty tomes to reread with fondness.

Although, camp was just thankful she could identify a meal.

There was escapism in placing a floral handkerchief and guidebook in her wicker basket. Buckling her skirt at the waist to watch the length sway at her feet. Perhaps she’d find the same little blue flowers dancing along its hem. Handfuls of berries. Bitter leafy greens. Hidden roots revealing hearty starches to soak in broth. Dirt, crisp and cool, compressed beneath her boots. Patches of grass where plants raised their heads to the sky, bathing in sunlight and twisting at its joints.

Pinched between her thumb and forefinger was a leaf whose colors were difficult to distinguish.

She narrowed her vision and wracked the encyclopedia embedded in her memories.

Poisonous markers found themselves hazier and hazier as the years went on. Rhymes recited to know danger by its features. Whether speckles and lines were meant to be fine. Whether pinks and blues sent you praying at the pews. Or was it yellows at the tips? Spikes and spines? The longer this troubleshooting ran through her filters, the more she felt the urge to laugh. What a thing to have a lapse of judgment on. Poisoning the camp on the off chance their stew was more savory than usual.

Just as absurd stakes set in, the leaf was flicked away from her fingertips. The ball of her foot spun in the dirt, twirling in whimsy to head another direction. Skirt in tow. Light dramatics to match the melody humming from her lips.

That was, until the sight of another in her presence. Astarion had created a habit of startling her for his own entertainment. Knowing the windows of calm and isolation meant her propensity to be skittish. Thomasin scowled, immediate embarrassment melting into frustration.

“In the gods’ names, Astarion! Make your presence known or I’ll start sharpening every shard of wood in our vicinity.” She took a deep breath to calm herself from offering more creative threats.

Astarion couldn’t help but clutch his stomach in self-satisfied laughter. When they approached conflict, Thomasin was no stranger to deescalating those with sharp tongues or unflinching convictions. Her own proclivities for chaos even pulled the group into a few hi-jinks. She always wiggled her way out of things unscathed for the most part, from his short experience.

And so, how could he not take advantage of such a glaring pitfall? A gap exposed in her armor? Only for his own amusement, of course. Each of his steps became looser, bouncing with their weight, partaking in one of his favorite activities. Peacocking.

“Is it not hilarious that you’re more frightened of me than those giant bandits we encountered? Although…” He placed a hand upon his chest. “Maybe it’s a bit of a compliment. Thank you for that. I have felt quite the masculine energy in me with all this newfound freedom.”

Thomasin snickered. “Glowing. Don’t look a day over three hundred years old.”

“Excuse me, it’s not my fault you hop around here like a scared little fawn.”

“Okay, fine. What are you doing out here anyways?”

“It is a curse to simply be, I don’t know. Bored? The woods aren’t as magical as druids like to make a big fuss about. ”

Finding his answer lackluster at best, Thomasin continued to search her surroundings. Like a puppy gnawing at her ankles, he followed her trail, preparing quips to throw over her shoulder. Watching her pluck foreign fruits from mysterious branches. He’d offer an agreeable “hm” and “ah” in half-hearted acknowledgment as she conjured up ways to poison Cazador.

Nothing worth pocketing for later though. Scary flowers? To defeat the reign of vampiric terror? Child’s play. Absolute yawn.

Thomasin turned to be greeted by his eyes wandering about the flora with little thought brewing within. She found his predictability charming.

“You’re not even listening,” she said.

“Bah, nothing but accusatory language. I am immensely interested in what the leaves are up to. Which herbs are the biggest gossips or whatever,” he followed up. Almost too immediately. “I did have something to bring to your attention though.”

“Hm? Another confession? Lycan blood also in your veins?”

“Oh, I’d be unstoppable with Lycan blood in me. Imagine? A dinner of champions– Although I wouldn’t want to spoil my snack.” He inched toward her, keeping just enough distance to offset potential rejections.

Thomasin arched her brow, leaning back and compensating for the closing quarters between them. “Are you going to kill me now?”

”This is a peaceful coup, on my heart, I swear it.” One hand raised, chest puffed and proud. “Consider this a midday snack. Don’t be a sore loser now. A deal is a deal.”

Thomasin slipped into momentary bemusement, attempting to recollect what bet they made. The prize seemed obvious at least. His glances failed at subtlety and she’d catch his eyes dart to the clavicle peeking from her neckline. Not the most bizarre way she’d been objectified, but it still took some getting used to.

It was all uncharted territory. Even if she felt flustered, she had to press it down. Blushing admitted defeat. Docile defeat wasn’t in her vocabulary nor her nature.

He twirled his hand about, gesturing to matters as casual as the weather. “You cannot tell me my winning hand at cards is suddenly incorrect, Thomasin. I love delusion as much as the next man, don’t get me wrong. I mean, Karlach and Wyll could read you the contract as if straight from Avernus itself. Just a light nibble of thy neck.”

Thomasin wanted to retort. Yet, she had been around the campfire those long nights. She was aware of exchanges lightening the load of their gold pouches. The glory of riches on the line. Opportunity to watch Karlach drunkenly arm-wrestle Wyll or Astarion throw daggers at glass bottles with precision. Irresponsible banter around the fire was prime for it. Even if the night was hazy at this point, vague stipulations of a retired magistrate couldn’t be disputed. He was right. She didn’t think her hand was that bad, from what she could recollect, but he was right.

If anything, the length he waited was more of an oddity. The bet went unredeemed for a long while. Weeks even. They had been busy though. Shooing the feistier of goblins and gnolls into early graves, resolving power struggle after power struggle. Hunching over hastily cooked meals and soothing aching muscles in lakes. Perhaps flirtation here and there, but the sweet nothings had been there for comic relief. Cheeky remarks to remind them of normalcy.

“Fine, fine. C’mon,” she said, amused by his persistence.

The half-elf tugged at her skirt, sweeping it into the direction of a cushioned patch of wildflowers and clovers tucked beneath a tree. Her basket slipped from her hands, cradled by clovers.

Astarion grinned at Thomasin, following in suit, pinching at the bow helping fasten her skirt to her waist. He studied her shape like many times before. Quietly, but nevertheless. The drapery of her blouse and how it tucked in along the small of her back. Her sleeves pushed up to her forearm, billowing fabric tapered, cuffed, and buttoned.

She flicked her view up from her under her lashes. The stitches of her linens had folded into themselves to reveal her shoulder, her fingertips pressing into her clavicle as if she’d gather more answers from touch alone. She was a peach, carefully cut into slivers for his enjoyment. To drip and glisten down his palms. To sticky the already unspoken laws of the platonic.

“I caught you staring earlier. I-Would that hurt more? My shoulder?” Thomasin glanced down at the grass for a split second to consider her options, meeting him again with a quick answer. “Actually, that’s a lot more hidden than the neck.”

It’d been ages since one of Astarion’s conquests felt like less of a chore.

He was quick to slip into his role. Rehearsed as often as a shopkeeper stocked their wares, he turned on the “pursuer”. Sexual conquests and their success were a promise of relief. As much as he would never admit, he had dug into his filing cabinet of archetypes he’d approach. Whether she was a romantic, a bookish sort, or looking for sexual wanderlust. The complexities mixed with their constant travels made for rocky waters though. Talking alone wasn’t going to work.

This made him toss and turn at night. Feeling like the ground could crack under his cot every reverie and swallow him up. A man not suited for more than being hung up like a rug, heavy with dust, to be beaten and displayed as usual. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Perfect,” he finally spoke up.

Astarion gingerly pulled her wrist in to close distance once again. The chimes of nervous giggling made his ears twitch. As if it ignited something ingrained deep in the recesses of his mind. Was it an internal monstrous instinct? Was it a matter of preying on vulnerability? The promise of a quick and easy night in most circumstances. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, it was a positive emotion he couldn’t distinguish yet. No matter how benign.

He scouted out the landscape of her skin, although it wasn’t long before he noticed how quick her breathing was picking up. Despite her best efforts, his sense of hearing betrayed her act. The cold touch of his hand slid up under her jaw to guide her attention to him. “Your heart is beating out of your chest.” He asked, his words quiet but tentative for her response. “Does this frighten you? Shall we not keep going?”

Thomasin couldn’t answer with honesty. The anticipation of stinging pain brought forth memories of their last exchange. As much as mild affection was as sought after as a hot meal, she couldn’t deny the way his last bite felt. The half-elf bounced between its warm embrace and its cold isolated depths.

“Oh? Maybe a little…I don’t know. Go slow. Remember how Karlach said she’d throw you to the goblins if you accidentally kill me,” she said, downplaying her racing thoughts.

She knew to keep her wits about her. A woman grandfathered into the art of being a commodity. Her hands had been adroit at distraction en masse or individual consort. Easier dealt with when jaws slackened. Those equally alert, still capable of negotiating. Those were the ones to take with caution.

Astarion debated his next course of action. The consequences of a plan diverged gnawed at him, but luck had been on his side. Divine intervention that he might be able to leech off one more day. He forced himself to commit to the move, nestled in the crook of her neck planting his lips upon her skin. A kiss. Tender and hesitant. He could feel her process the change, an inkling of a whimper escaping her.

Another, applying slight pressure this time. A pause to gauge her reaction and then another. The affection felt like a physical weight lifting from his shoulders, clicking something in his brain. Until his sleeve was strained by her grip, sudden and uncertain. He glanced up at her, suppressing the urge to express his fear. That be may have muddied the waters of what ethics were left in him. That he may have read her body language wrong and he was still swimming rigid circles in an overwhelming ocean.

”Thomasin. Use your words,” he said, rising to meet her gaze again.

She let the silence linger, not knowing exactly what would be the best answer. What would be the most appropriate. And so, in times of high stress, Thomasin did what she knew best. Impulsivity was at least one answer.

Thomasin reached out for the nape of his neck. Sometimes giving into the soma, rich in delights and vices, was the only means of relief. The corporeal body hungered for finger foods and bite-sized delicacies. To imprint oneself into another’s skin. To find solace in desire.

Before she realized, they met in a kiss.

The half-elf’s cheeks felt the buzz of his laughter against her lips. One of the few displays of pure joy she had ever witnessed, not born from slaughter or rightful revenge. She could feel him relax for only that brief instant. Rare was a chance to enjoy sins without the looming threat of vampiric lords, and so Astarion had latched on. Twisting and shifting, subtle yet effective at slipping into the lead. His hands veered off course, groping at every curve, tender flesh hidden away under thin linens. Grumbles and mumbles. He exchanged his thanks for her body heat and traced along her thighs in their clumsy shuffle. Finding the hem of her skirt was only half the battle. The urge to toss her into the grass felt like a warm haze throughout his skull. Never let yourself sink too deep though. Always have one foot in the door of composure.

Thomasin tilted her hips forward out of instinct. Fidgeting against greedy hands and the covetous cursed pressed up against her undergarments. He had crept his way to the delicate floral embroidery lining her underwear. Whose stitching was preyed upon by his touch. Pulling the cloth aside to slip digits right against her clit, he felt her grasp around his arms for support.

Their foreheads were mere inches apart, exchanging inaudible but palpable tension. One couldn’t avert their focus from the other. But why would they? He was reveling in his victories, the way he locked her into a vulnerable position, finding himself enraptured by the noises that left her lungs. A surrender in her panting.

“You should have told me it would be this easy to break you down,” Astarion teased.

The satisfaction from any inkling of power was powerful in itself. His mind, clear and direct, whilst hers wavered. Thomasin welcomed alleviation though. She would strike down his ego with the fearsome sword blow of one thousand men another day. A safety net was being created in ribbon. The same tied precisely at the ends of her braids, flowing wherever their rhythm took them. What a strange feeling that welled up in his chest. Over a woman he could compare to thousands of others he slept with before. Surely, if he tried. She was half-elven of no noble blood.

Perhaps it was the promise of a bloodletting. A high he continued to chase after their last exchange weeks prior. Regardless, his eyelids grew heavy. That was, until he felt a tug at his waistband. Between the two, she had begun to untie his trousers, earning some pause.

”Now, now, hey.” Astarion’s words would've sounded casual if there weren’t for the tinge of concern in its abruptness.

His fingers slipped from her thighs, index and middle sneaking their way to her mouth. An act of indecency graced upon her tongue. Although Thomasin had not a single hesitation. Her own jaw had slackened. Her own mind clouded by the undivided attention. Sampling the fruits of his labor, attentive to his next move.

“You get distracted far too easily, darling,” he managed, despite his own voice at the edge of devolving, betraying him with his own lust. “All you need to do is tell me when you’ve had your fill. Until then, I’ll have mine.”

His eyes dialed in like daggers to the plum-stained lips wrapping around his fingers. The thought of succumbing now screamed at every aspect of his being and enveloped his loins. He blinked the interference away, a string of her saliva ever so delicate in the way it clung and snapped upon his exit.

He followed Thomasin's quiet desperation. One that spoke up in a whimper as his knuckles found themselves tucked under her jaw once more. The pressure was light, but firm, wrapping around her neck and bracing her against the tree. Just enough give to allow her shallow breaths.

”Would you like to lift your skirt for me?”

Light glinted off her cheekbones as she smiled, struggling to remember the last time she felt such an intensity coloring her cheeks. Her posture wobbled and waned, but the weight of the realms were no longer her responsibility. Fistfuls of linens were balled up in her palms as asked of her. Simple instructions. She clutched them against her chest, bare and adorned in the same blush.

Her compliance meant he was onto the next act. With a great thud, Astarion planted his boot upon one of the many hearty roots growing from the oak. Thick and sturdy, weaving throughout the soil. Using his now elevated knee, he positioned her for leverage. Her freckled thigh to be placed atop his and help widen her hips.

“How could you have traveled all these years? Met so many people, played so many silly little games, and yet you’re so bad at cards.” Astarion’s snuck back into her waistband once more, interrupting the scoff Thomasin let out by her heavy breath. “All those folks out there? Falling for your feminine wiles, no? Letting you win?”

Without warning, Thomasin felt the undeniable pressure of his fingers inside of her. He had positioned his feet in a firm stable stance and balanced her body with the weight of his own, pumping into her at a steady pace. She was locked in place, but couldn’t fathom a complaint.

Time lingered. Her legs began to tremble. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“Or are you losing bets on purpose?” he said. “It sounds like you should take your own advice. What was it you told me? ‘Watch out for men with sharp tongues and charming dispositions.’ But, alas, you’re not a woman of your word.”

He leaned in, quickening his pace. Such feverish passion that even Thomasin had to continuously acclimate to whatever he decided was her next venture. One of the bundles of her skirt fell and draped the two, her free hand opting to grab onto the back of his head instead. Her rings intertwined with his curls in aimless desperation. A gesture that made him let go of the powerplay upon her neck and join in the embrace.

“A sound that could lure a million sailors to their deaths. I could listen to you whine for centuries,” he purred, keeping the half-elf at bay whilst refusing any mercy. His name stretched its syllables from her lips, thick like honey. Urgent and stifled, yet strung out like another composition. It made Elvish infiltrate his vocabulary. Internal needs even he had never been allowed to unpack. “Hinual sreea, tell me. Your body belongs to me.”

Thomasin cracked a smile through her fatigued disposition, throwing her head back and fighting the urge to shout every Drow profanity she knew. “It’s yours— by sweet Eilistraeens. My body is yours. In the name raggath, please.” Thoughts consumed by the curl his knuckles and each stroke punctuating the last.

Little was left to upkeep in his performance. He had dissolved Thomasin’s intuition and judgment, free to shed his own anxieties. That was, until he realized what he was having trouble steering his own motives. Astarion simply watched her in a sort of awe. The way her body writhed. Scarred, freckled, silver tinted skin glistening from exhaustion. There was beauty in the crass and resilient. Something breathtaking. Like unattainable dusky silk, admired through storefront windows, awaiting to be torn into.

Needle-point teeth dug their way into her shoulder. Scraping under epidermis and into her veins, Astarion indulged, zeal twisting itself around her like ropes of sprawling ivy. Nothing more than waves of confusing ecstasy and questionable faith for the two. No god or goddesses in existence, only the light headed leap of faith toward her orgasm. Eilistraeens would want this, surely.

Before Thomasin could figure out his next move, she was riding every wave that crashed. It made her gasp. An audible panic as the puncture startled her. But the emotions were quick to mellow, pain much more manageable this time around. The intensity of blood purging seemed to be dampened by its coinciding pleasure. As if each corresponding sense knocked into one another, overlapping and tripping over themselves.

From the corner of his eye, he watched streams of blood spill down her shoulder, pooling where their bodies met and settling on her chest. “Decadent little thing,” he whispered in Elvish, as if the comment were more of an internal monologue leaking out. If fate would allow it, if the stars aligned, he would’ve kept going for eons. Dinner and a show. Her body lent an intoxication that made colors brighter. Sounds enticing, words processed as if eternally wading through molasses. Her yelping in pain and its subsequent laughter of thanks. The way her thighs tried to cling upon one another as his fingers buried deeper inside.

The conflicting sensations pummeled her nerves, shocking through her limbs in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Every movement became involuntary and overstimulated.

“Astarion, please. Enough, enough, enough!” She couldn’t help but choke out each word.

Astarion swallowed the last of his meal, licking his plate clean in such a primitive manner. Being fed after fasting for ages unlocked a rudimentary part of his brain. The elf swallowed hard, lips stained with the taste of copper, a thin red veil coating his mouth. Per her request, he gave her mercy from his selfish play. The bombardment simmered into a kiss to exchange their spoils within a sloppy rhythm. The direction of his mind seemed to have pivoted. Now his body couldn’t get close enough to hers, as much as he tried.

The inside of her eyelids shone a red velvet curtain. A shade not unlike the almost blackened hue of blood trailing down her chest. Catching shimmers of its highlights and plush, as if lit by bulbs of light in her mind’s eye. Enveloping everything until she was enraptured by pure endorphins. Cushioning the blow of her feelings until there was nothing more but pleasant horizons and hands to hold. Coziness in the desire of being wanted and the ephemeral homestead created for a bit. Until Astarion tore back the curtains.

Her eyes shot open. Reality rapid in its arrival and sunshine forcing her pupils to re-adjust. Thomasin fell victim to gravity’s disposal. Her body was propped up languid against tree bark. Its surface skid along her flesh until she could lower just enough to ease herself atop a bulbous protruding root.

The conclusion wasn't her untimely demise. Astarion wasn’t dragging her off to the guillotine, but that meant there was a different ending to this. He hadn’t thought that part through. The elf had thrown himself backward shortly after her pleas, taking enough steps away to collect his thoughts, chest heaving with the pulse of vitality coursing through him. Enough to power him into an entire night of mania if he wasn’t careful. With his back to her for these few brief seconds, he could think. His hand ran through his hair, dislodging tangles in the midst of his now disheveled facade.

“Are you okay?” Thomasin eventually said.

Her voice made his ears perk up. The question grounded him, the material realm known for being all too punctual. He palmed his mouth to wipe away any lingering blood and tucked his shirt back into his trousers posthaste. What little grooming he could conjure up before turning around. He grinned back at her, toothy and elated. Polar opposite to the disorientation on his expression not a second before.

“You think something is wrong after that performance?” He promptly gave two claps. “Would be offensive to not applaud.”

Despite his avoidance and fidgety demeanor, Thomasin decided to not pry. Her own knees were buckled. Emotion scrambled. What words she had uttered would be her own to contend with later, she proposed and shoved aside.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” she said, humoring him as she buttoned her blouse back up.

Astarion scoffed. “Gods, no. As if your gambling woes are going to become my problem. Encouraging your bad decisions is far more fun.”

Thomasin laughed, weakened by all their efforts, and proceeded to unhinge her jaw to speak. By the time she made a noise, she noticed he was already starting to walk back up the trail.

“Wait, you don’t want–”

“Nothing you’re going to dig up here is of my tastes, love! Still, grand efforts!” he cheered, volume rising as he went further and further along. “Dig up an old bottle of vintage and maybe I’ll bite my tongue! Good luck!”

And like that, she let him leave uninterrupted, rolling her head back and letting out a deep sigh.

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thefirstknife · 1 year ago

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Do we know if a Guardian's previous life does affect their personality post-res, or do u think it differs from person to person?

Crow is a very good example. If I'm remembering right, he woke up with a residual feeling of his past life but is otherwise a very different person. Uldren was, for multiple reasons, fully capable of murder with no remorse afterwards. Crow, by contrast, especially after getting Uldren's memories, seems much more reluctant.

Then I seem to remember another example that's very different. A lore page from the view of a Ghost who's Guardian hated his immortality, who went around killing other Ghosts. I don't remember whether he thought it was a mercy to the dead, or just a hatred of the idea. I remember the Ghost saying that he should have thought about it longer, that he could have sense how tired of conflict this man was, indicating that a Guardian's previous life very much affects who they are afterwards

Definitely case by case basis, but yeah, overall certain aspects of Guardians' past lives can sort of "bleed through" into their new life. Most won't ever know because they can't remember it, but sometimes those that knew them before can tell that there's still something there.

Crow is absolutely the best example, not only for what you mentioned, but other little details. For example, Crow ended up being really fond of Eliksni and had a thing for telling stories, exploration and experimentation. Uldren was the same in that way. It's one of the reasons why it was so hard for those that knew Uldren to come to terms with Crow; so similar and yet fundamentally different. Mara and Jolyon took it the hardest since they knew him best. They could see a person that looks the same and has certain behaviours and interests that completely match the person they knew, but that person doesn't know them anymore and isn't going in the same direction in life anymore. It's an incredibly difficult thing to deal with.

The lore tab you're thinking of is this one. Because of how tired he was and hated being flung into this "second life," the Guardian (Cyrell) believed that nobody should suffer that fate, therefore he should just end Ghosts so that no one else is rezed to experience what he does:

He confessed he could not bear another battle nor fight in the name of something no one could possibly understand. Though he could not remember his past, he knew deep down that he had already fought his last war. He couldn't kill me. I was his friend. He doesn't kill friends. He wouldn't kill himself, either; that was cowardly, weak. And if the Ghosts' sole purpose was to raise the dead to kill in the name of unexplainable forces, he could no longer let that happen. He would end the cycle. He would spare his brothers- and sisters-in-arms. He would let the dead rest.

He also seems to be looking for an answer from the Awoken about something, but the question he has is unknown. Really interesting and quite upsetting view into how some Guardians view being Guardians and how that works with their relationship of what they feel about their previous lives.

#destiny 2 #crow #guardian #ghost #ask

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beigepillow · 9 months ago

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Do you think Doumeki shouldn't be so insistent and cold towards Yashiro? Or is he, even if not quite, but still doing the right thing?

That is a question the saezuru fandom seems to be conflicted and split on. I know most of us are looking at Doumeki’s actions and behavior under a scope of how it makes Yashiro feel but I want to understand how Doumeki feels about it. He is pushing all his feelings down to act in a way that he thinks will keep Yashiro around for at least a little bit. It must be exhausting. It is often written off how Doumeki is feeling because well he is the one who is insistent on them being around each other but like I said in a previous post where I was asked why Doumeki insists on Yashiro, they’re both insistent on the other. I would say Doumeki is not as insistent as we make him out to be and has even tried to push Yashiro away which Yashiro took poorly. It is tough to say if Doumeki is acting correctly to ultimately end up with Yashiro because honestly I don’t feel like that is his goal. Him not wanting Yashiro to run away does not mean his end goal is for them to be together. Doumeki’s actions seem to be someone who is trying their best and I’m pretty sure we will start seeing Doumeki do some reckless shit as alluded to in ch 53 when he was going to run into a building, filled with people who want to hurt him, with no information and no weapons. Doumeki’s coldness and distance are defense mechanisms and honestly I wouldn’t say Yashiro is a wilting flower. Yashiro can stand up to Doumeki and has already done so. Yashiro’s misery is connected to the idea that Doumeki has moved on. If Doumeki were to go back to how he was in the first few chapters but was no longer in love with or wanted to be with Yashiro, Yashiro would still feel just as he is feeling now. In fact, Yashiro getting confirmation that he truly is unloveable and doesn’t deserve to be with the man he loves and will send him into a downward spiral he is not equipped to handle since he no longer has his coping mechanism. The truth is they will not be together until one of them is open and vulnerable. Their defense mechanisms hurt the other and they won’t be able to resolve anything while constantly hiding behind it as we have seen in this volume. We got everything we thought would resolve their problems (the biggest being the impotency reveal) and none of it worked.

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fanfic-scribbles · 6 months ago

Text

Dinner Date Chapter 32

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 32: Domestic Dorks

Chapter Summary: A couple of dorks have a relaxing day. …Or try to, at least.

Chapter Word Count: 2148

A/N: I held onto this as a WIP for quite a while, but finally put together enough to make it feel like an actual chapter. Admittedly it’s a very laid-back chapter, even more ‘just fluff’ than usual, but there’s some stuff coming down the line that means either I post this now or I don’t post it at all, and I like it too much. See you next month <3

I woke to pain, nausea, aches, and, worse, smugness.

“How does it feel to win that bet?” Steve asked. Cheerfully, like the bastard he was.

“Uuurrrrrrgh go fuck yourself.” I rolled up in the covers. The dark helped. “Go away and leave me to die in peace.”

“No breakfast then?”

My stomach lurched. “If you go for breakfast you better eat it there. I swear to God if you bring anything into this house that smells like food I will fucking murder you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” he said and made a little hole in my blanket burrito to kiss me.

“I love you.” I curled back up. “As long as you don’t bring food back. I got conditions.”

“Nah.” I could hear his stupid grin. “You’d love me even if I did.”

“I’d probably be very sad about murdering you,” I admitted.

“See?” He leaned over me, hugging lightly, and for some reason it felt…nice. Not claustrophobic. “Soft.”

“Bleck.” But I sighed. “Go do your run, have breakfast. I’m just gonna…stabilize.”

“Do you need anything?”

“I’m gonna try and go back to sleep to ride this out. Hopefully.”

“Okay.” He gave me a little pat, then got off the bed. “Feel better, sweetheart.”

I tried to wave before I remembered I was still wrapped up. He probably got the idea by my general squirming. “Have a nice run,” I mumbled, and didn’t wait to hear his reply before I fell back asleep.

I awoke again only maybe a half-hour later feeling so much better. Not perfect, but well enough that I could uncurl from my cocoon and entertain the idea of swallowing some pills without the threat of reversal. And coffee.

Coffee got me out of bed and plodding into the kitchen– where I found Steve.

“You're still here?” I asked and, as I yawned, Steve pointed at the living room window. I turned to see it was raining. “Oh. Nice.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear it,” Steve said and handed me a mug that was warm on my hands and out of which wafted the very welcome scent of coffee.

“Processing the world around me is too much work when I wake up,” I said, took a swig, and kissed him. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He kissed me again. “You taste like coffee.”

“Yum.”

“How is that possible after just one sip?”

“Morning breath is a coward that flees at the first sign of conflict.” I took another, longer drink. “And coffee comes out swinging.”

He shook his head. “That is…a strange combination of words that also somehow makes complete sense.”

I leaned against him and stared at the rain for a little while. I then looked at my kitchen, decently stocked on snacks but not so much main meals, and sighed. “So, breakfast: are we going to find out if the Wicked Witch of the West was right and venture out,” I said, considering our options, “–or are we going to tip well?”

“We’ll tip very well,” Steve said firmly and slid his free arm around me as he sipped his coffee.

“This is going to be the best lazy day,” I said and scrolled through a very localized map on my phone, trying to pick a place. “We can lay on the couch, and eat, and watch movies, and eat…”

“Sounds perfe–” Steve’s phone did a series of rapid buzzes that snapped his attention to focus. We both stood stiff while he read whatever it was, but then he relaxed and rolled his eyes, and I let out the breath I’d accidentally held. He pulled me closer and kissed my head. “Sorry about the false alar–”

His phone buzzed again. He read it and looked annoyed. “Seriously Nat?” he muttered, and I sipped my coffee as he aggressively texted back.

Whatever she replied with made him sigh dramatically. “Apparently I owe Natasha a match and she’s decided to collect,” he said and put his phone down. “Rain check on the movies?”

“Literally.” I couldn’t help but laugh and I kissed him. “Will it be an all-day thing?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, if not, text me; maybe we can get lunch or something.”

He smiled and tilted my chin up. “I’ll text you,” he promised and gave me a sweet, slow kiss that left me hesitant to pull away. “Make sure you eat breakfast.”

“Okay,” I said and leaned back against the counter. “Breakfast…then shower…then blanket nest.”

“One of us is going to be in a pile of blankets and the other is going to be in a sparring match with the Black Widow.” Steve’s sigh was oh so pitifully forlorn. “One of us is going to have a much better day than the other.”

“Mm, depends on if she wraps her thighs around your head; then it’s a toss-up.”

“You know that’s a move that can snap someone’s neck, right?”

I could understand that but I couldn’t imagine it. I sighed wistfully. “But what a way to go.”

Steve shook his head and pulled me back into his arms, tickling my neck with kisses. “There’s only one pair of thighs I want to be wrapped in…”

“Jerk!” I pushed him away playfully. “Don’t say that shit when you're leaving.”

He laughed, because he was a jerk, but he also winked and said, “What if it’s a promise?”

“Let’s see how well you can keep it when Natasha gets done with you.” I crossed my arms. “For the record, I was going to give you a workout today.”

“Oh were you now?”

“Yup; I was just going to lie back and let you do everything.”

He laughed. “I doubt that.”

I raised both eyebrows. “Are you insinuating that I put effort into anything?”

“I’m saying that even when I tell you I’m going to take care of you, you’re so Goddamn nosy you have to butt in anyway.”

I scoffed, even though he was…a little right. Just a little. He smirked, and I made the ‘shoo’ motion. “Go get wrecked by Black Widow already.”

“Thanks for your support, sweetheart,” he said, but he had a crooked little grin, and after a few more kisses (for fortitude, and luck,) he was out the door, into the rain, and on the way to get his ass kicked

I was sad to see him go, because it really was a great day to cuddle up on the couch, but I managed to get through my little to-do list. I had breakfast, I took a warm shower, and then I made a comfort pile of blankets and pillows on the couch.

However I didn’t actually stay in it for long. I got restless, and didn’t really like the idea of getting cold and wet, and there was a stain on my coffee table that really was overdue to be cleaned up, and I could pick up that trash on the counter on my way to put back the spray bottle, and before I knew it, I was moving the coffee maker as I prepared to actually clean the kitchen counters properly since…probably longer than I wanted to admit to.

I stopped and looked back at my abandoned nest on the couch, and looked back at the tiny kitchen that was already half-clear…and decided to keep riding this wave.

A couple hours later I was in my crappy cleaning clothes, with a scarf over my head to protect my hair from the stupid amount of dust that always seemed to somehow collect, when my phone buzzed.

Steve: Natasha had some new moves to show me Steve: I definitely got my ass kicked :( Me: Aw poor thing Me: At least you lived Me: Wanna come over so I can kiss you better? Steve: Absolutely :)

He was too easy sometimes. But then, so was I.

Me: FYI I’m cleaning so I look like shit Steve: Okay Steve: I doubt you look that bad Me: Just you wait Steve: You're just trying to get out of those kisses Steve: Nice try, but they’re banked

I held my face.

Me: You are the BIGGEST fucking dork istg Steve: I can imagine the smile you’re wearing right now just based on the amount of swearing and caps lock Me: I hate you. You're uninvited. Stay away forever Steve: Shouldn’t have given me that key then

I groaned out loud but I threw myself into the last bit of cleaning I had to do. Despite his threat to barge in, I was tossing a rag in the hamper and just about to change the sheets when there was a knock at the door. I checked and it was, indeed, Steve. I looked a mess still, having not changed, but I decided to embrace it. I opened the door without even trying to smooth myself over, and while Steve inspected me, I leaned against the frame, arched my hip out to a painful degree, and pushed my lips out into the most ridiculous duck face I could manage. “Hi handsome.”

A bright smile bloomed across his face. “Hey gorgeous.”

I lost the pose. Mostly because I was lazy, partly because it was hard to be so sarcastic in the face of all that human sunshine. He trundled in and I shut the door behind him. I turned to find flowers in my face.

“Oh.” I took them. “Pretty. Thank you.”

“It seemed like it might be a nice touch to top everything off,” he said and looked around. “On this very momentous occasion.”

“Har har.” I smacked him with the bouquet and then walked away with it.

“Is that side-table new or did you just unearth it?”

“You know,” I said as I rinsed out my very-rarely used vase. As I filled it up, I looked back at his smugly smirking face. “Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean kisses are guaranteed. If you annoy me too much, I’ll withhold.”

That smile went right the hell away. “You wouldn’t,” he said, eyebrows creasing and lips turning down.

Admittedly I probably wouldn’t, but making fun of my home was surprisingly unsexy so I was able to bluff my way into watching him look away and pretend to be very impressed. “It looks nice,” he said, and smiled at me. “And so do you, for the record.”

“It’s okay.” I put the flowers in the vase, dumped out a little of the water too close to the top, and put the whole thing on the counter. “I’m pretty sure you can deal with me looking gross by now.” I then turned and gave him a full look-over. “How bad did Natasha get you?”

“Nothing anyone will see, but I’ll be feeling it for another few hours probably,” he said and rolled his shoulder. “I don’t know how she does it. Or why. She might be conspiring with Bruce to see how long the aches last.”

“I don’t think your friends are trying to experiment on you.” I went and wrapped my arms around him. “But if they are, let me at ‘em. I’ll at least be a vague insult to Natasha’s self-esteem when it takes her a second to take me down.”

“That’s sweet, but please don’t challenge the Black Widow for my honor.” He kissed my head. “It was a joke.”

I poked his pec. “Bad joke.”

“Yeah.” But he was still smiling. “I was thinking of amending the plan from this morning.”

I waited, but he didn’t immediately follow that up with an explanation. “Amend it how?”

I waited for the tell-tale grin, but he kept a straight face. And so my stomach dropped when he scooped me up. “Dammit Steve!”

“Am I a bad person if I love that you’re still surprised by that?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said firmly.

He changed tracks then, giving me pitiful blues. “You should be nice to me,” he said, with a pout that twitched far too much at the corners, as he walked us to the bedroom. “Nat really did a number on me.”

Yeah, because he really looked it, carrying me around like he did. Still, I could play along. Sort of. “Poor baby,” I cooed. “You want me to kiss it better?”

He dumped me on the bed. Despite that, I laughed, and he smiled as if pleased. “Would you, if I asked nicely?” he said as he moved to crawl over me.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but watch his shoulders flex as he moved. I couldn’t see the signs of ache, but he did go slower, and even if he wouldn’t keep it in mind, I could. “Insatiable,” I said and lay back as he hovered over me.

His smile gentled. “Only for you.”

“Mm hm.” I held back a laugh, and trailed my fingers up from his chin over his cheek. “Prove it.”

He grinned.

More importantly, he did.

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#steve rogers x reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #captain america reader insert #avengers reader insert #dinner date

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