#her reaction here is just spectacular | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ivymarquis · 4 months

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Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave.

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him.

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger.

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either.

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back.

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification.

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy.

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it.

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face.

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children.

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine.

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access.

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore.

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further.

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it.

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly.

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his.

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore.

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children.

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt.

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to.

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name.

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air.

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate.

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her.

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities.

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home.

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss.

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John.

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her.

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely.

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd.

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake.

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife.

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John.

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress.

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her.

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong.

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night.

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has.

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden.

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan.

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed.

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed.

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming.

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her.

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits.

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.”

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally- and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance.

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down.

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion.

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest.

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control.

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted.

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children.

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her.

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely.

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules.

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions.

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it.

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down.

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?”

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#captain john price #John Price x reader #john price x you #captain price smut #dub con #dark!fic #<- that is just my typical 'catch all' blocklist tag for anyone who doesn't wanna read anything dark/dubious/etc.#I am being conservative with using the tag pinky promise #my writing

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xxrougefangxx · 6 months

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Jason Todd x Reader fic recs

This is originally made for @marinas-trench , but anybody can use this. Will update as I find more

Added little notes in pink to specify some stuff, includes BOTH platonic and romantic works.

Anybody who does use these recs please try to reblog works- that's the Tumblr algorithm likes don't do anything- to help the authors out <3 (no pressure tho)

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Authors because I can't pick a favorite work:

DC Masterlist by @sanguineterrain - The works speak for themselves.

@jasmines-library - Includes lots of platonic batfamily x reader and the hurt/comfort is just *chefs kiss*

@morverenmaybewrites Ao3 link- Her works are just godsend. She portrays Jason in such a beautiful way and acknowledges his trauma as well.

@minnieearsposts Ao3 Link - Jason works are 10/10, but she also has many other fics that connect with each other. Definitely recommend

@xxgoblin-dumplingxx - All of the au's are just magnificent! There's no master list but you can check the works out using tags.

Batfam masterlist by @book-place - All works are platonic

@writersfailure - Honestly a gold mine, check out their dc master list and other fics as well!

@wh1sp3rr - The jackpot at the end of the rainbow. That's all I'm going to say

@dccomicsimagines - Amazing pieces of work that I can't believe I didn't find before.

Series :

love is not designed for the cynical by @thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels - The thoughts and emotions are portrayed SO BEAUTIFULLY!!! And while Jason is just spectacular, I also recommend the other series as well.

What we want by @sophiethewitch1 - It's with all the batboys

Crimson Red by @ravenna-reid - Has multiple parts all located on the master list.

Guard Dog by @mostly-imagines

Your secrets are ours, kid by@jaythes1mp - Platonic and yandere

again &. again masterlist by @acid-ixx - Platonic and yandere

Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie by @urmoonlightbebe - I can't believe I almost forgot to add this here

Batfam x neglected reader by @dickgraysonass - Platonic

Gilded Cage by @heavysighing-dreamyeyes

Headcannons/Drabbles:

Girl!DadJason by @in-som-niyah

Reaction to you letting go of their hand by @gay-dorito-dust - Its paired up with both Dick and Damian

Existentional Crisis by @millyhelp

College student!Jason by @orchidsangel

BabyDaddy! Jason fic idea by @kuromitos

Unnamed by @aldryrththerainbowheart

Saturdays by @zer0wzs

Unnamed by @misdeliria

Artist!Reader by @charliedakotariley - This is so wholesome I love it

Fics:

JasonTodd x Fem!Reader by @spidernuggets - reader gets stuck in a time loop to save Jason

sickly sweet romance of u & jay by @wh1sp3rr

Unnamed by @millyhelp

tired and touchstarved!Jason by @indulgentdaydream

A Spoonful of Honey by @stararch4ngelqueen

Golden by @orionremastered

Reader who likes Superman more than Batman by @spidernuggets

Reader who prefers Superman more than batman (different fic than above) by @gay-dorito-dust

Rescuer by @kimberly-spirits13

graceless by @udiudijaye - platonic batfam x batsis but love the fic and had to recommend

Take care by @batsycline69

Forensic Psychologist Reader by @ravenna-reid

What are you doing here? by @a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all

What a night by @batboysandgirls

call me your fool by @jasonsmirrorball

18+ Works MDNI

Til Death Do We Part Brings Us Together by @luvf4ngz - I love the au idea!

Jason distracting you from studying by @millyhelp

Slumber Party by @dollwritesarchive - Includes Dick

Thoughts on Jason being rough by @midnightorchids

jason 'don't run from this dick' todd by @killakalx

BabyDaddy!Jason by @hanasnx

Say Sorry by @dancewithdeath11

Jason fucking reader in the Batmobile by @martiniluvr

Series 18+

guns and roses masterlist by @jayswhorex

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #fic rec #fan fiction recommendations #Jason Todd x fem!reader #Jason todd x y/n #Jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #Jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #jason todd smut #Jason todd x reader smut #red hood smut #red hood x reader smut

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makeste · 4 months

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BnHA Chapter 425: New Normal

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all “and with that we conclude our final battle for better or worse!! We will now commence our slow return to the new normal, beginning with our protagonist and deuteragonist who are miraculously more or less intact, albeit exhausted and mildly traumatized. Also the words ‘more or less’ are kind of doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”

Today on BnHA: The Big 3 and Aoyama are OUT. Shinsou is IN. The Tododrama is PENDING, and the mysterious figure in the shadows is UNIDENTIFIED. Also class 1-A finally becomes class 2-A and it only took them 425 chapters and TEN LONG YEARS. Can you imagine if this series had actually run throughout their high school experience like people once expected. “THE YEAR IS 2044 AND MY HERO ACADEMIA IS FINALLY WINDING TO A CLOSE.” There’s an alternate universe somewhere where this actually happened and we were all so very, very tired.

This is once again a shorter than usual reaction summary post, as opposed to my typical page-by-page liveblog. Not gonna have time to do those for a while yet most likely, but like hell am I gonna miss out on the last days of the series, so here we are.

Once again basing this off of @pikahlua’s spoiler translation summary here!

watching the eighteen inch tall Rat Principal standing at a podium overseeing this graduation ceremony is surreal in the most wonderful way. it’s like receiving your diploma from a sentient Funko Pop

I love how they established that Mic sitting there screaming at the top of his lungs is also a beloved U.A. graduation tradition, and that the senpais just roll with it while everyone else is in varying stages of trying to decide if it’s too late to transfer to another school

ngl sometimes I forget that Ochako and Toga were actually the second canonical f/f ship in this series. shoutout to Hadou and her adorable girlfriend whose name I absolutely cannot recall

absolutely wild that Horikoshi gives credit to Rat Principal for coordinating the entire disaster recovery nationwide. are you serious. the “world-famous” Principal Nezu?? you’re telling me this little capybara is effectively the secret president of Japan now or something. when does he even sleep

“the principal made great contributions to quirk morality education” is also a VERY interesting tidbit that I really want to know more about. “hey guys what if we did a better job at teaching people not to be dicks with their quirks” AND JUST LIKE THAT JAPAN WAS SAVED huzzah

“we lost many things, but we gained nothing” is both HILARIOUS and soundly depressing, but I can see what he’s trying to get at. still an odd choice for a graduation speech though. “our job is all about harm reduction, and we couldn’t even do that this time around, but in the future we hope to balance things out and maybe even get some net positive impact going!” lmao. again it’s all true, and in all honesty it’s spectacular that they managed as well as they did, all things considered. and I guess it would have been disingenuous to just ignore the reality of everything this particular school body has been through and pretend like everything is great right now. but I still can’t help feeling like there was probably a more inspiring way to get this message across lol

regardless of what he says, Aizawa 100% either bribed or threatened Rat Principal behind the scenes in order to stay with his class. and will do so again next year. he can and will keep getting away with it. he is never leaving these kids

and the sheer relief from all of them upon hearing it is all the justification he needs. these kids have four thousand nine hundred and seventeen accumulated traumas among them. they don’t need a four thousand nine hundred and eighteenth. this man is their father ffs. MINA WAS CRYING AND EVERYTHING

Kacchan watched that YouTube video about a dozen times until he managed to tie his tie all on his own with the one hand. and he did an amazing job. he’s such a model citizen now

also it looks to me like he has his right arm hidden in a sling underneath his shirt, which is interesting. if I’m not mistaken (and I very well could be, since it’s been a hot minute since I did any BnHA timeline math), the final battle took place sometime in early May, so this chapter is taking place roughly one month later. the hospital chapter took place about a week after the battle, so it’s been about 3-4 weeks since then. I really want to know what kind of shape Kacchan’s arm is in, but I guess Horikoshi will get to it when he gets to it

also, “we all gotta be together today” was a real wakeup call to me in that it gave me just an absolutely ridiculous amount of feels. just a totally unreasonable amount. and it’s like. listen, self. Kacchan has completed his character growth arc. he’s a team player and a leader who loves all his friends and they all love him in return. we’ve known this for years now. it’s an established fact. you can’t keep bursting into tears or whatever every time he shows it. this is no way to live your life. I need an intervention

anyways later this evening class 2-A is gonna have a celebratory movie night in the common room, and Kacchan is gonna fall asleep two minutes in peacefully surrounded by all his classmates, and they’re all gonna nudge each other and smile fondly and cover him with a blanket and stay up until 2am and Aizawa will have no mercy on them the following morning. it’s gonna be so wholesome you guys

(ETA: I decided to go back and have some more feels about this one tiny Kacchan panel, because apparently the four paragraphs I already wrote about it weren't enough. so the thing is, Sero's wonderment at Katsuki being out of the hospital initially read to me as half bemused awe, and half "oh boy, time to get back into our usual rhythm of antagonizing Kacchan!" but my second time around, I can't help remembering that all of Kacchan's classmates got to watch this kid getting tortured and strangled and stabbed through the heart in 4K. like, even if they were busy with their own fights at the time, there's no way they didn't see the footage later on afterwards.

and that had to have been traumatic for them. their friend literally died and was just lying there so still for so long afterwards. and him getting better and going back to his usual asskicking self later on doesn't just erase those memories, you know? especially with him having lasting, permanent damage afterward. not just his arm, even! like who even knows if his heart is going to be okay long term. when people get organ transplants they have to go on immunosuppressants afterwards because otherwise their body will try to attack the replacement organ. so I wonder how exactly it works when it's still your heart, but it's being held together by various bits and pieces of a spindly little floss man. idk, but I bet you it's still pretty rough.

anyway so long story short, I'm now reading this as one-third bemused awe, one-third joking antagonism, and one-third genuine "no seriously, is it okay for you to be here, please don't do anything to put your health at risk because we seriously cannot handle you dying on us again." and Kacchan's not even disagreeing with him lol, which has to be the most concerning thing of all. "they said it's okay if I rest." even he knows he's pushing it, but it was too important of an occasion to miss. anyway please take it easy kiddo.)

Aoyama leaving makes me sad but it makes total sense for his character after what he’s been through. he needs time to sort things out and continue down his own personal honor-regaining journey. respect

also glad to hear that it was his own choice and that both Rat Principal and Nao would have supported him if he stayed. I still to this day do not understand Naomasa’s actual level of authority lol. like, he’s supposedly a detective, and yet he seems to be personally in charge of every single important police operation, on like a national level. and he has the authority to make decisions like letting Aoyama go free. he is the law, literally

Aoyama trying to feed Deku some farewell cheese also took me out. like he just walked in there and was all “sorry everyone, I’m leaving, but I’ll still aim for the path of a hero and will one day return, don’t you worry!” and at some point in the midst of this tearful speech he made a beeline directly to Izuku and tried to give him some cheese that he apparently just had in his pocket or something. and Izuku was all “YEAH!” all solemnly but HE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THAT POCKET CHEESE. like he loves you and accepts you for who you are Yuuga but COME ON

at this point in the chapter it also became clear to me that Aizawa has his hair up in some sort of loosely assembled messy bun and that’s why it looks so especially flowing and gorgeous today. this is great cinema

and then AT LONG LAST, the admission of Shinsou into class 2-A. they tried everything they could to keep him out, BUT NOT EVEN THE END OF THE WORLD COULD STOP HIM. his rightful place

Ojiro’s scandalized response to hearing Fuwa refer to Aizawa as “Era-sen”, and then Fuwa subsequently revealing all of Aizawa’s secrets and Aizawa getting flustered and kicking her out, was one of the most delightful sequences I’ve read. “nooooo don’t tell them that, what the hell am I gonna threaten them with now”

Izuku has not even attempted to crack a smile since the final battle, aside from when he was frantically trying to reassure Kacchan in the hospital. I’m worried about him but also loving this a little bit, ngl. I am content to wait for you to eventually have a proper breakdown, mister Greatest Hero

also I singled him out on the whole not-smiling thing, but really this is true for just about all of them. my heart aches :(

were there really so many people freaking out over Izuku’s hair that Horikoshi felt compelled to throw in that “HEY DEKU-KUN, YOU SHAVED YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT DUE TO AN INJURY, RIGHT? BUT IT’LL GROW BACK, RIGHT!?” line in there lol. the hilarious thing is that this chapter was already in the books before 424 was released, so it means that Horikoshi anticipated the backlash ahead of time. the man knows his audience

and now for this mysterious little barefoot man randomly emerging from some rubble somewhere. who are you. fandom already thinks you’re everyone from Tenko to Hisashi lol. my personal theory is that he’s just a random citizen who’s hurt and traumatized and needs help. and unlike what happened with baby Tenko once upon a time, this young man actually will be helped by a hero in his moment of need, and it’ll be all hopeful and stuff because SOCIETY IS CHANGING FOR THE BETTER NOW HOORAY

or maybe he really is Tenko, idk. what do I know lol. don’t listen to me

lastly, Shouto out here immediately leaving U.A. after class and ruining my dreams of a class 2-A movie night. FINE THEN. GO AND BE WITH YOUR FAMILY my precious little life preserver. and I’m actually really, really excited to see what their endgame is actually, so yes, Horikoshi, bring it on please and thank you

#bnha 425 #class 1-a #wait no #class 2-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this whole time we were led to believe this was the story of how izuku's generation became the greatest heroes #when really it was the story of rat principal's ascent to power #he waited until there was a vacuum and then he SWEPT RIGHT IN like emperor palpatine #it's his world now and we're just living in it

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magnolia-among-the-stars · 23 days

Text

the last bit of us (chapter two)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2.7k

Playlist Song: the great war by taylor swift

prologue / one / two / three

I try with all I have to not feel any sort of pain over the look of hurt on the woman - Kate’s - face. That look of betrayal, like someone had killed her dog. Like a lover had kept a deep dark secret. I try to shake it off and hold on to the anger that my sad excuse of a husband had decided to show his face at my office. “So, I’ll ask again,” I turn back to the man in question.

His smile has fallen and he looks at Kate almost apologetically before he drags his gaze slowly back to me. I ignore the sweet swirl of emeralds and sapphires in his eyes, I let the embers in my chest simmer. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tyler opens his mouth but all that comes out is an awkward gurgle of uhs. He clears his throat and glances down. I follow his gaze to see the thick clay mud speckling his good boots. The boots that I bought him on our first anniversary to wear to the rodeo. “I, uh…”

I look up into his face with a hard gaze. I watch him close his eyes, collect himself. “I don’t have all day Tyler,” I say. My hands start to shake a little, the overwhelming buzz from the embers starting to billow into a subtle flame. The heat of anxiety starts to warm me from the inside out. I cross my arms tight over my mesh vest to stop the tremble.

“The truck’s in rough shape,” he says, eyes opening to stare down at me.

The loud cackle isn’t my intended reaction. It rips through my throat before I know to keep it in. I look over at Kate, gagging the slight discomfort in her features turning a little disturbed as she watches the two of us. I raise a brow at her and laugh again, turning back to the man. “Oh, the truck is in rough shape.” I nod once, then twice. I turn around to my team, watching with apprehension in the bay. “The truck’s in rough shape,” I call out, waving as if to say ‘false alarm guys’.

I can see Tyler wince again in my peripheral vision and when I turn back to him, the light nature of my tone is wiped from my face. “Go fuck yourself.”

I only make it to the gate when I hear the music peeling down the dirt road. It’s loud, guitar riffs coming from the speaker on what I can only imagine is their RV. I watch as the other wranglers park and come staggering out of their doors. “Sorry we’re late, I had to stop t’ get some gas and,” Boone’s loud voice travels across the space as he comes up to Tyler’s side. He must miss the hard lines of Tyler’s face because he catches my eye and comes running.

“There she is,” he calls out, wrapping his arms around my waist and spinning me around in a tight embrace before I can say anything. “I missed you, Ms. Fix It.” Boone’s voice is soft as his scruffy chin digs into my collarbone.

The southern drawl of his nickname for me is a soothing cup of water, nearly extinguishing the burning in my chest. Boone was like a golden retriever. Boone had done his due diligence to send me postcards through the time since I’d last seen everyone. They’d always been blank, just pictures of different southern county spectaculars across the states but catching a livestream of the wranglers’ channel discretely playing on Carter’s desktop when he’d gotten up to go to the bathroom one day, I’d realized it had been the sweet man checking in. I missed his enthusiasm deeply, frustrated that Tyler not only took my heart with him when he disappeared one night but also that he took his whole crew of friendly faces with him.

“Hey there Boone,” I breathe into his neck, my arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. “Couldn’t have sent a warning postcard?”

The tall man pulls back, “You got my postcards? Oh gosh, that makes me so glad,” he says, placing a hand over his chest. My words register in his mind and his smile stretches wide with guilt. “I’m real sorry ‘bout that. It took all my convincin’ to get the guy to even drive here. Did he mention the truck?”

“He sure did,” I nod, acutely aware of everyone watching Boone and I. Boone seems in his own world, blissfully oblivious to the two crews watching us. I glance back at the truck where Tyler, hands on his hips, speaks in hushed tones to Kate, another man I don’t recognize and Lily. She catches my eye and waves.

“Can ya help? Ya know there’s no one else who can fix her up the right way,” Boone says, fixing his dirty cap on his head.

“Boone, ya’ll can’t just show up here after all this time and just ask me to fix up the truck,” I say. There’s pressure starting to build behind my eyes and I have to shake my head to rid the feeling. I step backwards out of his grasp.

“I know it’s a real shit thing to do. We wouldn’t have come if we weren’t desperate,” Boone says. He takes a peak over at Tyler, looking back at me with puppy dog eyes. “He would not have come if we weren’t desperate.”

The comment tugs at my heart strings and I can’t help but look out at the fields around us. The tall grass sways lazy in the breeze, the sun starting to rise higher in the sky. My stomach growls a little. I sigh, starting to shake my head again.

“Please El,” he asks again, my real name not something I’m used to hearing from Boone.

“Goddamnit Boone,” I say. I wipe a hand over my forehead and lick my lower lip. “What’s wrong with the damn truck?”

Boone’s face brightens immediately, a wide grin back on his face. He hoots in glee, rushing the few feet across the path to hug me tightly. “Thank you, thank you,” he kisses my cheek a few times, his scratchy mustache rubbing against my skin. I try to push him off with a small laugh, noticing Tyler turning to look at the commotion.

“Boone, Boone,” I say, laughing a little more at his excitement. “Show me what’s wrong before I change my mind, you bastard.”

He backs away, arms raised in surrender as he leads me back over to the truck. “Alright so, Ms. Fix It has offered to take a look at the sucker to get Betty back into tip top condition,” Boone announces to the group. Back in front of them, the lighthearted feeling of the moment with Boone fades though I catch Lily winking at me as I round the truck to look it over.

I can see the mangled iron of the drill blades under flakes of dried mud and grass. “What did you do to my base drills?” My tone is sharp as I turn to look at Tyler.

“That was actually me,” a small voice quips from my right. I turn, identifying it as Kate. Hand raised, sunglasses tucked on top of her shiny caramel hair and guilty expression. My brows pinch together. “I took the truck through an EF5, got dragged through the ground. We’ve been going into more storms and Tyler hit a rock,” she continues.

I only look at her, nodding slowly. “They weren’t built to survive EF5s but I guess that’s one way to test them…is that it?”

“The rocket rig button isn’t workin’,” Boone adds. “We really need somethin’ with some more power.”

“Boone,” Tyler says, shaking his head at the man. He turns to me. “I can fix that, if you can just help with the drills.”

I scoff, walking toward the driver’s side to pull the door open and examine the console but Tyler beats me to the door, sidestepping in my path to prevent me from tugging the door open. “I said, I can fix it.”

“You came all the way here for a mechanic, didn’t you? Let me inspect the work,” I say, tilting my head and narrowing my gaze at him.

“She’s been running mostly fine, just needs the drills,” he says again, squaring his chest. He looks calm for the first time since stepping out of the truck.

I poke a stern finger into the soft material of his flannel as I say “Do you want my help or not?”

He doesn’t flinch, only staring down at my hand hovering near his chest again. He must notice the lack of wedding band and the dainty engagement ring adorning my ring finger because when he looks back up at me, there’s a far away look in his eye.

“Move so I can see what other damage you’ve caused,” I say.

It’s a low blow. I know it. He knows it. But too much time has passed for me to be kind in my compromising. The hard, stubborn look in Tyler’s eyes fades and softens at my retort. He looks away with a shake of his head, stepping aside while tugging the door open at the same time. My arm brushes against his shoulder as I slide past him. I lift myself into the driver’s seat and glance down at the panel of buttons I’d cleverly designed years ago when he started going out more seriously into the field.

Crumbs are scattered all in between all the buttons, sticky residue from duct tape collecting dust. “God, would it kill you to take care of this and clean it every now and then?” I ask, cautiously brushing some of it away.

Tyler ignores me, watching as I look over everything. I glance forward to see if my team is still watching and inhale sharply. The visor is flipped down to block out the sunshine. Gone is the old, tattered photo of Tyler and I on our first date. In its place sits a fresh, glossy photo of who I can only assume to be Kate staring at a storm. It catches me by surprise and the burning embers in my chest return. I make a mental note to dig out those papers from my junk drawer in the kitchen.

I look over at Tyler and we stare at each other for a moment. He’s watching me apprehensively, searching my face for a reaction, maybe an outburst. “Are there flares or rockets in the fittings?” I mumble, turning back to the buttons without waiting for his response.

I barely hear him call to everyone to back up and instead try to shake off my unease. I hit the bright red button to shoot off the rockets and wait for anything to happen. I push it a few times, clearing out some of the crumbs that I can feel grinding up on the sides but still get nothing. There’s a piece of tap beneath the hitch button, Kate’s Barrels scribbled in Sharpie. I purse my lips and grab the joystick, pushing the button to deploy the drills. They shutter a little, digging into the ground and rattling to a halt with one digging further down than the other. I push the button to retract them and sigh, starting to climb out of the truck.

“Well?” Tyler’s voice is thick as he steps closer.

“You’re fucked,” I say, not bothering to look at him and instead motioning for Charlie to open the gate.

“Can you fix it?” the curly haired man next to Kate asks.

I look in his direction, then Boone is smiling like an idiot. “Course I can. Boone, can you get the truck inside for me?”

Boone moves to jump into the truck at my request but Tyler grabs him, tugging him out of the seat to climb in instead. He starts the engine and Boone races to catch up to me instead. He’s joined by the others, walking behind me to the warehouse.

“TempestEdge,” the curly haired one reads our sign and we get to the bay door.

“Carter, can you grab my tablet please,” I ask and he nods, running back to my desk.

“Wait, you guys are those government contractors building and updating infrastructures to withstand storms,” he says, sounding in awe. “You guys are like, state of the art.”

“We try,” Charlie crosses her arms, tight smile on her lips as she and Birdie watch Tyler drive into the warehouse. Charlie nods in my direction. “El’s the mastermind of the operation, I just crunch numbers.”

“The team is the mastermind of the operation,” I say, rolling my eyes. I put my hand out to shake his and Kate’s reluctantly. “I don’t normally come off this harsh. I go by my maiden name, Eleanor Harding.”

“Javi Rivera,” he says slowly, trailing off.

“Kate Carter,” she introduces herself, shaking my hand. “Sorry for the awkward introduction.”

I don’t know how to respond so I just nod, turning to walk further into the warehouse. Carter meets me halfway with the tablet, while the others head back to their desks. “Thank you,” I say, starting to swipe through our inventory for possible scraps and parts I can use to fix the truck. Carter stops me though, placing my phone on top of the screen.

“Before you do that,” he says, his voice quiet with the surrounding guests. “I think you should call your mom.” “Carter, my mom can wait for a call back. She probably wants to hear about how the test went. You know how she gets on days like today,” I say, pocketing my phone and going back to the tablet.

“Wait,” Javi exclaims. I turn around in surprise, noticing he’s looking at some of the photos on the siding of the warehouse. “That’s where I know that name from. Your parents created Dorothy, they’re legends.” He turns back to me, eyes wide. My phone starts to vibrate again in my pocket.

I dig my phone back out from my pocket to see the 14th missed call from my mom. “They’re something alright,” I say. A text pops up then. I read it quickly, passing the tablet back into Carter’s chest.

“I was trying to tell you,” Carter says, holding my bag and keys out to me. “I’ll catch a ride home with Charlie.”

I glance up at him, the pressure behind my eyes building again. Can anything go right today? “Thank you.” I turn to head out to the truck without another word. Heavy footsteps stomp behind me, chasing me out the door. It’s not even 10 AM yet as I unlock the truck.

“El, Eleanor, where the hell are you going?” Tyler bellows as he catches up to me.

“It’s gunna take a few days to get parts, alright? I’ll call Boone when the truck is ready,” I say, tossing my bag into the passenger seat and starting the engine. It takes a few turns before the engine roars to life. Tyler’s hand catches the door, preventing me from taking off.

“Hey, talk to me,” he murmurs, leaning into the cab. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t pretend to care all of a sudden, Tyler. You’ve got what you came for, I’ll fix your damn truck so that you can go head first into the next monster of a storm with your girlfriend, alright? I need to go,” I say, my eyes glossy when I look away from his hand to his face.

He steps closer, pushing with force through my tight grasp on the door. He’s silent as he reaches up to grab the seatbelt, stretching over my hips and torso. I squeeze my eyes shut, distraught as my hands only find comfort on the steering wheel. The click of the buckle is so loud in my ear and I have to remind myself to take slow breaths until Tyler is no longer invading my space.

“Leave the reckless driving to me,” is all he says before closing the door and stepping back. I do my best not to look in the rearview mirror and I peel off down the road to St. Mary’s Medical.

Thank you for reading! Want to be added to the tagged list or share feedback? Click here :)

taglist:

@buckybarnes-1917 @kim-taehyung-12301995 @accordingtoawallflower-blog @axolotllover225 @tgmreader @smoothdogsgirl @paramedicnerd004

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens imagines #twisters x reader #twisters fanfic #twisters movie #tyler owens x oc #the last bit of us fic #tyler owens series

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weirdmorefics · 1 year

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So Very Basic- Spencer Reid X Reader

A/N- This may have just been an excuse for me to infodump about Pride and Prejudice but I swear the fic is still good! Reader is also very Autistic coded but I am Autistic so that happens a lot when I write hope you don't mind.

Pronouns- She/her

Tooth-Rooting Fluff

Word Count- 822

Summary- Spencer judging your book tastes on the jet back home.

Spencer and I have made it a habit of sitting next to each other every flight home. We usually talk about the recent books we have finished or are currently reading. Sometimes we just sit in silence and read together. These are my favorite moments in my life I never feel calmer in the jet with Spencer by my side or across from me. This time it felt different though Spencer's eyes have not left me once I swear he hadn't flipped a page of his book.

"Hey Spence, What's your book about?" I say trying to hint at the fact that I can obviously see he has not flipped a single page.

He seemed startled by my sudden question but proceeded to tell me the entire synopsis of his book.

I slam my book shut and shout, "You have read that book already!"

He seemed perplexed by my reaction "There is no rule against rereading books I think authors would prefer you reread their works."

I groan, "There is when you spend the whole flight staring at me distracting me from my book."

Spencer flushes and I am one hundred percent sure I am right now.

"Hotch the children are fighting again!" Rossi shouts like a mother making me shake my head at him.

"Hotch Spence is poking meee," Emily teases in her best Y/N impersonation. JJ of course joins in playing the role of Spencer, "I am not Y/n." She draws out my name.

Spencer and I look as red as two tomatoes and my safe space has turned into an inescapable nightmare.

He leans in and whispers in my ear, "You know this is your fault for picking the most basic Jane Austen novel."

I gasp dramatically which of course just causes more stares from the team.

Derek sighed knowing this Y/n gasp all too well, "Pretty boy what are you doing offending Y/n? Do you want to listen to another one of her defensive rants for thirty minutes?"

"I quite enjoy them," Spencer smiles.

Rossi rolls his eyes, "You would."

I stand up, "Pride and Prejudice is beautiful from its book, it's movie, and it's BBC Special!"

JJ sighs," Here she goes."

"The drama in the book is spectacular as it delves into each sister's feelings about marriage and how at the time it was their only option. Don't even get me started on the twenty-seven with no prospects speech! Oh my goodness Darcy is the perfect match for Elizabeth with them both being so headstrong makes for the best enemies to lovers! Speaking of Darcy in the film when he does that hand-clench thing it was not even in the book! It wasn't even scripted! Which made me feel he was the perfect actor for Darcy he understood the role perfectly!" I ramble out putting my hand on my chest the rest of the team is annoyed at another one of my outbursts but Spencer is looking at me like I am the only person on the plane and I flush when I meet his eyes.

Hotch shouts at me, "L/N would you sit down we are about to go into a patch of turbulence." He of course says this too late and I embarrassingly fall on top of Spencer.

I immediately try to scramble off Spencer but he holds me there. I look away from him trying to hide my flushed face and he asks if I am alright.

"Yup, just mortified but everybody needs a good daily dose of that am I right." I smile trying to play it off but I play with my hair a common tell of mine that everyone in the BAU knows by now.

"You know I have never seen the Pride and Prejudice film," Spencer says slyly.

My eyes light up "You must see it! It's on Netflix I have seen it over a hundred times! I can probably quote all the words by now."

"I actually don't have Netflix I don't really watch television," He rubs the back of his neck.

"That's fine I could totally bring my laptop to you to watch it! Or we could watch it at my apartment!" I ramble out coming off more excited than I meant to.

"That sounds great," Spencer smiles, "Do you really know all the words you could recite some now?" He teases.

I turn the deepest red I think I have ever been in my life and of course, Derek has to jump in.

"Oh pretty boy has moves," he whistles.

Spence rolls his eyes "Shut up Morgan."

"Could we all shut up? Some of us like to rest so we can actually focus on work when we get back." Hotch says in his typical annoyed-with-us voice.

"I guess reciting Pride and Prejudice to you will have to wait," I whisper into Spencer's ear it was finally my time to make him blush.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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thef1diary · 11 days

Text

Royally Fucked | Three

— Stirred Secrets

series masterlist

wc: 3.5k

─────────── ♛ ───────────

Juliette stood in front of the full-length mirror in the hotel suite, admiring the reflection staring back at her. The emerald green gown she had chosen was nothing short of spectacular, clinging to her form with an elegant grace that made her look like every bit of royal she was. The delicate embroidery of silver threads wound their way across the fabric, catching the light and shimmering like starlight against the deep green. The gown’s off-the-shoulder design accentuated her slender neck and collarbones, while the flowing skirt gave her an ethereal, almost otherworldly presence.

Adding the final touch to her ensemble, Juliette carefully placed her crown atop her head. The tiara was a masterpiece of intricate design, adorned with diamonds and jewels that complemented her gown. Passed down through generations of royalty, the crown held a wealth of history, each jewel a testament to the lineage of princesses and queens who had worn it before her. The gems sparkled brilliantly in the light, pulling her entire outfit together and solidifying her regal image. As she gazed at her reflection, the tiara’s weight was a reassuring reminder of her heritage and the responsibilities she bore. It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry; it was a symbol of her family’s legacy, a beacon of her royal identity.

The door to her suite’s bedroom was wide open, and she could hear Daniel’s footsteps approaching from the other room. As she made final adjustments to her appearance, she caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

Daniel stood at the threshold, momentarily stunned. The soft light from the lamp bathed him in a warm glow, accentuating his sharply tailored suit–a classic black ensemble that complemented his prominent features. His hair, styled into defined curls, fell neatly onto his forehead, and his tie was perfectly knotted. But, it was the genuine awe in his eyes that truly marked the moment.

Juliette noticed his reaction and maintained her poised demeanour, though a hint of a smile played on her lips. She remained still, her gaze fixed on her own reflection while she waited for him to collect his thoughts.

“Wow,” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. His Australian accent, typically casual and easygoing, took on a deeper, almost hushed tone as he struggled to string together a sentence.

Juliette, still facing the mirror, caught the shift in his expression and the profound impact her appearance had on him.

“Speechless, I see?” she teased gently.

Daniel’s gaze remained fixed on her, his eyes wide as if trying to memorize the sight in front of him. “I didn’t expect…” he faltered, clearing his throat as if trying to steady himself. “I mean, you look… stunning, Your Highness. Beyond words, really.”

She chuckled softly, pleased with his reaction. “Thank you, Daniel. I was beginning to think I might have overdone it.”

Daniel shook his head, regaining his composure. “Not at all. You look every bit the princess you are tonight.”

Then, a playful grin tugged at his lips. “If I’d known you were going with green, I would’ve packed a matching suit. We could’ve been quite the pair.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on her lips. “A matching suit? And here I thought you had to wear a specific uniform for your duties.”

Daniel chuckled, stepping further into the room. “I won’t say I don’t, but anything the princess wants, she gets. Am I right?”

Juliette tilted her head, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought of the various things she could get Daniel to do in the name of her royal status. For a split second, her mind wandered to a dangerous territory, imagining scenarios where his professional demeanour melted away, leaving room for something that was far fetched, too unprofessional.

The thought sent a small shiver down her spine, and she quickly reined in her imagination, focusing back on the moment. “You might regret saying that,” she teased with a small smile, trying to keep her tone light and playful.

Daniel’s eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly unaware of the turn her thoughts had taken. He shook his head, a confident smile on his lips. “Trust me, Your Highness, I won’t.” He offered her his arm, the gesture both respectful and undeniably charming. “Shall we?”

Juliette took his arm, her fingers lightly brushing against his sleeve. “We shall.”

As they made their way through the hotel, the distance between them seemed both vast and incredibly intimate. With every step, Juliette felt her thoughts linger on the possibilities of the boundaries of their professional relationship shifting. She glanced up at him, catching the way the soft lighting highlighted the strong lines of his jaw and the determined set of his features.

Juliette forced herself to focus on the present, on the charity event awaiting them. She had responsibilities tonight, expectations to meet. Her thoughts had no room for lingering on Daniel’s touch or the subtle scent of his cologne that seemed to envelope her. She took a deep breath, steadying her mind, reminding herself of her royal duties. The event was important, a chance to support a cause close to her heart, and she needed to be fully present. The image of Daniel’s admiring gaze and the warmth of his arm under her hand threatened to distract her, but she pushed those thoughts aside, determined to be the princess everyone expected her to be.

The car ride to the venue was filled with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. The hum of the engine and the gentle sway of the vehicle did little to calm Juliette’s racing thoughts.

Upon arrival, they were greeted by the flashing lights of cameras and the murmurs of the crowd, the paparazzi eager to catch a glimpse of the princess. Juliette stepped out of the car with the elegance expected of a princess, her gown shimmering under the myriad of flashing lights. The air was electric with the murmurs of the crowd and the insistent calls of the paparazzi, each desperate to capture the perfect shot. As she moved forward, the cameras clicked in rapid succession, creating a staccato rhythm that surrounds her.

“Princess Juliette! Over here!”

“Your Highness, one more smile!”

Juliette maintained her poised smile, her eyes scanning the sea of faces as her hand lifted to wave. The red carpet unfurled before her like a path of destiny, each step meticulously calculated yet filled with an undercurrent of nerves.

Daniel, ever vigilant, was at her side. His presence is a comforting constant, a beacon of steadiness amidst the chaos. His eyes darted across the crowd, assessing threats and ensuring her safety with every step. As they progressed, she noticed the subtle increase in security around them, guards forming a protective barrier that moved with them like a well-oiled machine.

Inside the venue, the atmosphere was both refined and vibrant. As Juliette and Daniel entered, the chatter and clinking of glasses gradually faded, and a respectful hush fell over the room. Guests rose from their seats, their admiration palpable, as they turned their attention towards Juliette.

Juliette moved gracefully through the crowd, her emerald gown shimmering under the soft lighting. As she approached a group of dignitaries, she offered a warm, welcoming smile. “Good evening,” she greeted, her voice carrying a blend of warmth and regality. “It’s a pleasure to see you all here.”

One of the dignitaries, a distinguished gentleman with a silver beard, stepped forward with a smile. “Princess Juliette, your presence adds such elegance to this event. We’re honored to have you.”

Juliette inclined her head slightly, her smile broadening. “Thank you, Sir William. Your kind words are much appreciated.”

Nearby, a prominent philanthropist introduced herself, “Princess Juliette, I’m Helen Montgomery. Your recent speech on the charity’s new initiative was truly inspiring. I’m excited to discuss the future of this project.”

Juliette extended her hand gracefully. “Thank you, Mrs. Montgomery. I’m eager to hear more about your ideas.”

As Juliette engaged in conversation, Daniel stood next to her, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. He exchanged nods with other security personnel stationed discreetly around the venue, ensuring everything was in order. His presence was a reassuring anchor, though he remained unobtrusive, allowing Juliette to shine in the spotlight.

During a brief lull in the conversation, Juliette caught Daniel’s eye and gave him a small, appreciative nod. He responded with a subtle, reassuring smile, before turning his attention back to the crowd.

Soon, she was in the midst of an engaging conversation with an infamous art gallery owner when she heard a familiar, yet somewhat informal voice cut through the polite murmur of the crowd.

“Juliette!”

The voice was warm and friendly, lacking the formality that Juliette was accustomed to in such settings. She excused herself and turned, spotting Prince Charles of Monaco approaching with a dimpled smile.

As he reached her, they exchanged customary cheek kisses, followed by a brief but warm hug. Charles’ embrace was familiar, a reminder of the simpler times.

“It’s been far too long,” Charles said, a hint of his Monégasque accent peeking through as he spoke English. He pulled back slightly, but kept his hands on her shoulders, his smile unwavering.

Juliette laughed softly. “It certainly has, I’m surprised to see you here. I thought one of your brothers would come instead.”

“Non, it was a last minute switch with Arthur, you know how he is with these events. Plus, I had to make an excuse to see you, after all, it’s almost been a year since we last met.”

The realization dawned on Juliette, eyes widening slightly. “Ah, yes, the Monaco Grand Prix. Wow, really? It’s almost been a year?”

Charles nodded, then his gaze shifted to Daniel, who stood respectfully at Juliette's side. “And you are?”

“This is Daniel, my new bodyguard,” Juliette interjected smoothly. “He’s been with me for a short while now.”

Charles's eyebrows raised slightly. “I see. What happened to Oliver?”

Juliette’s smile faltered for a moment before she regained her composure. “Oliver is on paternity leave. He’ll be back in due time.”

A subtle look of relief crossed Charles’s face, quickly replaced by a polite smile. “Well, it looks like you’re in capable hands.’

Just then, another figure approached. Charles's bodyguard, Max, who had evidently been searching for him, finally caught up. “There you are, Charles. You wandered off as soon as you saw Princess Juliette,” Max remarked with a playful tone.

Then, he shifted his attention towards her with a mock stern expression. “Your Highness, you have no idea how much trouble Charles causes. He never stays where he’s supposed to.”

Juliette laughed softly. “Oh, I can imagine. Charles has always been a bit of a handful.”

Charles rolled his eyes, nudging Max. “You love every minute of it, admit it.”

Max smiled, shaking his head. “Maybe I do, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

Charles turned his attention to Daniel who was watching the interaction with a smile on his face. “Well, I hope Juliette isn’t too much to handle, is she?” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Juliette placed a hand on her hip, feigning offense. “Are you on my side or Daniel’s?”

Charles laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Yours, of course, Juliette. But I have to warn Daniel since I’ve known you for years.”

Juliette shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “You’re impossible, Charles.”

He was still looking at Daniel expectantly, waiting for him to answer his question. Daniel shrugged, “I’m hoping she makes my job difficult, I love a good challenge.”

Max, unable to resist, chimed in, “you want a challenge? Try protecting Charles. He walks into danger without even realizing it.”

Everyone except Charles laughed, who wore a slightly defensive frown. “It was one time, Max,” he protested, gesturing with his hands, which only made Max laugh harder.

Once the laughter subsided, Max took a breath and turned to Juliette and Daniel, a grin still on his face. “Let me tell you about this infamous dinner. Charles was having a lovely meal with a known hitman, completely oblivious to who he was. I had to make up an excuse to pull him away and show him the wanted posters. Can you imagine? Dinner with a bloody criminal. How’s that for a challenge?”

Juliette’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “That sounds terrifying,” she said, glancing at Charles, who was now sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

Charles chuckled awkwardly. “In my defense, he was very charming and knew his wines.”

Daniel forced a smile, a fleeting tightening of his jaw and a subtle hardening of his gaze that was gone in an instant, before anyone realized.

“Well, I suppose that’s why you’re here, Max,” Daniel said, his tone light but with an undercurrent of seriousness. “To keep him out of trouble.”

Max nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. “Exactly. It’s a full-time job, believe me.”

Juliette glanced at Daniel, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Given what you’ve heard, do you really want to take on a challenge like that from me?”

Daniel met her gaze with a soft smile. “I’d rather avoid any dinners with hitmen, but I’m ready for whatever you might throw at me, Your Highness,” he replied, his Australian accent adding a warm, easygoing tone to his words.

Charles shook his head in mock exasperation. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

The group responded in unison with a chorus of “no,” their amusement evident. Charles let out a dramatic sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he grinned at the shared jest.

“Well, I guess I’m doomed to live with that reputation,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head in resignation. “But, if you’re all done teasing me, I would like to invite you to the Monaco Grand Prix again this year, Juliette.”

Her face lit up with a delighted smile. “I’d be honoured, Charles. It seems like it’s becoming an annual tradition at this point.”

Charles grinned, his eyes sparkling. “It’s a tradition I’d like to keep going. I look forward to catching up with you there.”

Before the conversation could drift further, Daniel stepped in smoothly, his tone polite yet firm. “Your Highness, if I may interrupt, you have a speech to give soon.”

Juliette glanced at Daniel, a slight frown of realization crossing her face. “Ah, that’s right. I almost lost track of time.”

Charles gave her an understanding nod. “I won’t keep you then. It was wonderful catching up, Juliette.”

“Indeed, it was,” Juliette replied warmly. She turned back to Charles and Max, giving them a final, appreciative smile. “Thank you both for the lively conversation. I’ll see you both soon.”

As Juliette and Daniel made their way through the crowd, a subtle, unsettling presence lingered in the background. A man in a dark suit, whose gaze had been fixed on Juliette intermittently throughout the evening, watched them intently. His eyes, shadowed by the brim of his hat, held a predatory glint that contrasted sharply with the evening’s elegance. He quickly averted his gaze as Daniel and Juliette passed, melting back into the crowd, but his unsettling presence remained a silent shadow in the periphery.

Juliette took the stage, her emerald gown glistening under the spotlight as she made her way to the microphone. The room fell into a respectful silence, all eyes fixed on her as she began her speech.

“Good evening, everyone,” she started, her voice carrying a genuine warmth. “I am deeply honoured to be here tonight, supporting a cause that is incredibly close to my heart.” She paused, allowing her gaze to sweep across the audience, her eyes reflecting her passion. “Tonight, we come together not just to raise funds but to shine a light on mental health—a topic that deserves our attention and compassion.”

Her voice grew more earnest as she continued, “Mental health is an aspect of well-being that often remains in the shadows, despite its profound impact on countless lives. It affects people from all walks of life, and yet, there remains a stigma that prevents many from seeking the help they need.”

Juliette took a deep breath, her gaze steady. “This charity is more than just an organization; it’s a beacon of hope and support for those who may feel lost or alone. It represents a commitment to breaking down barriers and providing access to the care and understanding that every individual deserves.”

Her words resonated deeply, and her sincerity was evident in every phrase. “I have seen firsthand the difference that compassion and support can make. And tonight, I stand with all of you, united in our mission to foster a world where mental health is prioritized and understood.”

As she concluded, the applause that followed was enthusiastic and genuine. Juliette descended the stage with a confident stride, her heart still racing from the emotional weight of her speech. She rejoined Daniel, who greeted her with a smile that spoke of both pride and affection.

“Great job up there,” Daniel said, his eyes twinkling. “You’ve really got a talent for keeping people captivated.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Is that your way of saying you were impressed, or just that I was convincing enough to keep you awake?”

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head with a teasing glint in his eye. “Actually, you manage to impress me every day. But I must admit, I’m not sure if I’m the one who should be doing the impressing.”

Juliette’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Believe me, you’ve definitely impressed me.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his gaze growing more intense. His look made her clear her throat, momentarily shifting the playful tone. “I mean, you say you want challenges and I’ve only heard good things about you from the king. I would say those facts are pretty impressive.”

A smirk played on his lips. “And here I thought it was my charm that lured you in.”

Juliette tilted her head with a playful smile. “What charm? I’m still waiting to see it.”

Daniel placed a hand over his heart in mock offense, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ouch! I’ll have to work on that then.”

As Juliette and Daniel enjoyed their conversation, their light-hearted banter was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a disturbing figure. The man, tall and gaunt with a disheveled appearance, made his way through the crowd with a menacing air. He approached Juliette with an unsettling intensity that drew the attention of those nearby.

“Your Royal Highness,” he said, his voice cold and dripping with sarcasm, “I didn’t realize your charity work was more about polishing your family’s image than actually helping others.”

Juliette’s smile faltered, and her eyes narrowed, feeling the weight of his hostility. “I assure you,” she said, her tone firm and controlled, “my commitment to mental health is genuine. It’s a cause that’s very personal to me.”

The man, who introduced himself as Vincent, leaned in too close, his presence invading Juliette’s personal space. “Oh, I’m sure it is. But, people never really change, do they? Their mental states, their true selves—it always remains the same. Tell me, Juliette, has it been a personal struggle for you too? Is that why this charity means so much to you?”

Daniel, who had been watching the interaction with growing tension, stepped forward. His demeanor shifted from casual to imposing. His voice was low and steely as he addressed Vincent. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” he said, his gaze hardening. His posture, rigid and commanding, sent a clear message that he would not tolerate any further disturbance.

Vincent’s smirk faltered as he looked up at Daniel, who was now a formidable presence between him and Juliette. The crowd around them seemed to sense the shift in atmosphere, their whispers growing as they observed the confrontation.

At Daniel’s signal, several security guards quickly moved in. They approached Vincent with professional efficiency, guiding him away from Juliette. “Come with us,” one of them said firmly, placing a hand on Vincent’s arm.

Vincent’s eyes burned with a mix of anger and disdain as he was escorted out. He cast one last cold glance at Juliette, his sneer returning. “You think you can hide behind your bodyguard,” he taunted. “But people like you never really change. Remember that.”

With that, Vincent was led away from the event, his presence diminishing as he was escorted out of the venue. The security guards’ swift and decisive action ensured that the situation was resolved without further incident.

Juliette took a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and unease as she looked back at Daniel. “Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now.

Daniel nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Just doing my job,” he replied. “Let’s keep enjoying the evening.”

As the event continued, security around Juliette was noticeably heightened, with Daniel steadfastly by her side. Despite her attempts to mingle with the guests, the unsettling encounter with Vincent cast a lingering shadow over the evening. The encounter had cast a stark reminder of the complexities tied to Juliette’s charity work and the unresolved tensions from her past.

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#royally fkd fic #thef1diary fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #f1 x female oc #f1 imagines #f1 series #f1 au #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x oc #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #alternate universe #fanfic #f1 fluff

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vibratingskull · 5 months

Note

You reopen your request! You must be drowning with requests.

Can I ask for Thrawn xF!reader.

Reader Is born mute, and because of their she had been tormented by her father for a very long time, and because of this she doesn't trust men.

Thrawn falls in love with her and gains her trust, helping her heal. Maybe eventually smut?or just some fluff?

I do have a good number of them indeed ! I will do my best to honor them all!

Thrawn x F!reader

Tags : Non-speaking reader, abusive and violent past, little hurt/a lot of comfort, tooth rotting fluff

You recoil in fear...

You can hear the footsteps approaching and the sound of the belt. You can still feel its bites on your skin the last time he used it! You cover your ears, knee pressed against your chest, trying to squeeze in your hiding spot.

If only you could scream and alert the neighbors...

“I know you are hiding around here (Y/n). If you go out now I promise not to be too harsh on you...” Your father calls walking in the room you are in.

Don’t open the closet. Don’t open the closet. Don’t open the clos-

“There you are you useless little...!”

You wake up in a split second, breathless and sweating.

Another nightmare...

You sigh, they have been recurrent lately. It’s the stress. You are in a new campaign with new enemies. New battlefields and risk of dying...

But you knew what you signed up for by enlisting in the Navy, trying to escape your violent father. But he kept following you in your dreams.

You rise from your bed. It is not time for your shift but you won’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night. Might as well rise early.

Grand Admiral Thrawn asked your help for a task anyway...

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

You focus on your datapad.

This art piece should go in this section, while this one goes there...

Your mind is focused on your task, categorizing art pieces for Grand Admiral Thrawn for his next campaign. Usually, he does it himself but he picked up on your knowledge of the region’s art and asked you for help.

You don’t mind, it’s easy for you.

His art collection has extended lately, a lot of presents and auctions won. But mostly a lot of holographic ones that you need to categorize by species, civilizations, time periods, and planets.

“A cup of caff, Senior Lieutenant?” A melodious voice rises behind your back making you jump.

Thrawn appears slightly amused by your reaction. When did he enter the storage room?

“You should learn to focus without sacrificing your awareness of your surroundings, (F/n).” He preaches, handing you a fuming cup.

Oh... That is nice of him to bring you a hot drink. You take the cup, bowing down your head in gratitude. You lift the cup to your lips, black with the lightest touch of sweetener as you love it.

“While you are here, Senior Lieutenant, I need your expertise on some signs I learned recently.” He asks, his amused expression letting place to his professional demeanor.

One thing you are grateful for is that Grand Admiral Thrawn is actually taking the time to learn sign language. You do not always have the occasion or the time to type your words in your datapad to express yourself and he started learning to understand your signing.

Until now he was the only one to do it.

“What does this sign signify?” He asks, signing.

You take your datapad and type something on it, and a mechanical voice rises from the speakers.

[Iridescent]

He signs another one.

You frown, wrinkling your nose.

[You are a pagoda?]

He modifies his sign. You smile, understanding what he means.

[Assertion]

He nods, satisfied with the addition to his vocabulary.

Every day he takes an hour off his packed schedule to describe some art pieces to you to practice his signing and you correct him, showing him the good signs or formulation. He made spectacular progress in very little time, sometimes signing entire conversations with you while speaking the words out loud. You spent a lot of time discussing art and enjoying virtual expositions during some of his really rare times off.

Art is one of the only comforts you had for decades and discovering that your Grand Admiral shared your admiration really helped you relax around him.

Because Marker’s know how distrusting of men you are...

You sign ‘Thank you.’

“Why?” He tilts his head.

‘For learning the language, little people bother with it.’

“I need to be able to communicate with all of my officers at any given time. And a new language, whatever it is, is always useful.” He speaks and signs.

You nod with a thankful smile.

You quite like this man.

He is one of the very, very few you are comfortable with.

But since Commander Vanto disappeared out of nowhere, everyone has been on edge. You too, to be frank, but you were more worried about your reckless colleagues than the Grand Admiral. A lot were prone to judge him guilty for that disappearance, that he executed Vanto in some way...

To you, it didn’t make any sense.

At the depth of your being you know Vanto found his path and Thrawn didn’t endanger the life of his commander!

But that’s just a you thing, no one would take you seriously here.

You look up at Grand Admiral Thrawn, looking at his datapad, sorting his own list of art. He looks nothing like your tormentor, so much so that you have difficulties imagining them being part of the same category of person.

Your father was an Army officer and wanted a son.

But he got a non-speaking daughter.

And you pay the price since then...

You thought that going into the Navy he would look at you with pride for the first time in your life.

No.

To him, you were only good to marry off.

So you packed and left. He didn’t try to stop you.

You have been wary of any male approaching you since then. From the brutes to the ones aroused by your speech impairment you navigate life avoiding men and problems. Of course, once on an Imperial ship, you could never truly avoid them. Thanks to the Maker men's and women’s quarters are separated. Even today your two other roommates are women and you are thankful for that.

“A problem, Senior Lieutenant (F/n)?” Thrawn’s voice resonates in the room.

You blink, realizing that he is looking at you and that you are still fixing him intently. He must have felt your gaze on him. You shake your head and sign ‘Nothing’ and ‘Sorry.’

His gaze is clear and inquisitive, gauging you up and down.

“All is well.” He answers enigmatically.

He is aloof and professional as always but you don’t feel him... displeased? Like he truly is unbothered. You lower your gaze to your screen, he is patient with you but no need to push his buttons uselessly!

“I did not expect to see you this early.” He continues mundanely, focused on the hologram projected on his screen “Your shift is not supposed to start before four hours, why sacrificing your sleep?”

You breathe deeply and type on your datapad.

[Nightmares]

His gaze travels from his datapad to you, looking deep into your soul with his burning gaze. His face is neutral but a flicker of emotions seems to flash in his gaze before disappearing just as quickly.

“I understand.” He nods with a grave expression. “We are all grappling with our demons, you are not alone with fears.”

Is he... trying to comfort you? Why would he do that?

[Do you have nightmares too, Grand Admiral Thrawn?] You cannot help but ask.

He seems to think about it for a little moment. For a second you are afraid he will take offense to you prying into his personal life,

“In some ways. I can have unpleasant dreams like everyone else. This is the lot of warriors and those who set high goals for themself.” He finally responds with a focused tone.

Oh... So a man like Thrawn can also have nightmares? You would have never guessed that, he always appears so in control and... peaceful in some ways. Nothing ever comes troubling the inner balance of this man.

[How do you deal with nightmares when they become too much?] You ask full of hope for advice on how to let them consume you entirely.

“They never become too much. I never let irrational dreams hinder me in any way, those are simple remnants of your subconscious rising to the surface. No need to dwell on them unnecessarily, you only need a sharp mind to pursue your goals and mission.” He answers resolutely.

Oh...

Okay...

Not exactly the answer you hoped for. For some reason, you hoped he would reveal he does get affected by nightmares and would sympathize with you. But apparently, nothing can reach that man.

You sulk, feeling hopeless against the anxiety in your veins and the bad dreams plaguing your mind.

Thrawn notices.

“Nightmares are only figments of thoughts, they cannot harm you Senior Lieutenant. Do not give them the power to dictate your actions. You will find the strength to surpass them.” He tries, laying his hand on your shoulder.

This simple touch sends shivers down your spine, forcing the memory of your father’s hand on your skin, the bites of his knuckles on your fragile body. By pure reflex you slap his hand away, looking at him furiously.

Until the realization of your error flashes in your mind. What did you just do?!

Thrawn’s eyes flicker with surprise at your harsh reaction to his attempt to comfort you. But his aloof expression is back in a mere millisecond.

“Apologies, Senior Lieutenant (F/n). I did not want to make you uncomfortable. I trespassed my rights.”

You immediately shake your head in a panic, signing ‘Sorry’ multiple times. Fuck! What if he takes it badly? What if he gets angry? What if he decides to punish you? What if-

“There is no harm, (F/n). Everything is all right.” He informs you as you kept signing your apologies.

You raise your gaze to meet his, seeing he appears sincere, that he truly is not mad at you. You tentatively nod at him, trembling as fear slowly settles down away.

He looks at you intently, with his piercing red gaze that ties your stomach in knots. Your mouth stretches in a single thin line, awaiting your judgment.

“I will let you work in peace. Thank you for your help.” He courteously bows his head to you and leaves you alone to get a grip of yourself and calm down your anxiety.

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

“Fancy finding someone here.” A deep melodious voice rose in the silence of the gallery.

Your breath got stuck in your throat. You who came hiding in the art gallery of the hotel to avoid guests, here’s one now! A man... You tried to calm down your heart.

It was one of your first official military parties as a Junior Lieutenant, and there was a lot of top hats here. A lot of ego and loud voices, unconsidering and detached from the common experience. You preferred to take refuge in the adjacent art gallery for peace and quiet.

You turned your head to observe the new visitor and gauge his intention. You discover a blue alien in an admiral regalia, a glass of champagne in his hand. You tilted your head in surprise, an alien officer of the Empire?

You never heard of such a thing...

Except for one person.

The blue alien approaches you, his gaze traveling to the immense canvas you were observing. His sharp cheekbones drew haughty features and the light accentuated the edges of his symmetrical face. His eyes are of a deep, burning red emitting a glow in the dim light.

You dug your nails in your arm and lowered your gaze as he placed himself next to you to better observe the canvas. He remains silent, looking into the details of the painting with a carefully fascinated expression.

“It is quite rare to encounter art enjoyers in those soirees, do you not think?” He addressed you again, “I did not expect someone else preferring the peace of the art gallery to the discussions and dances of the ballroom.”

You risk a glance at him. It must be him.

Admiral Thrawn.

“I am sorry if I disrupted your peace. I will leave you undisturbed to appreciate the paintings if you prefer.”He proposes before your resounding silence.

Honestly? Yes, you would prefer. You’re never really at peace alone with a man, but he is clearly an admiral and you are a simple Junior Lieutenant. If he ever catches your name and speaks of the fact that you refused to humor him, it could go bad for you.

[It is alright. You can stay, Admiral.] You type on your datapad.

His gaze lowers to your datapad with an interested gaze.

“Fascinating. Can it mimic inflections and emotions?” He asked.

You typed a random phrase and chose the laugh setting. The robotic voice exploded laughing, repeating your words, making the Admiral tilt his head, curious.

“Interesting. This is quite ingenious, is it used a lot in the impaired-speech community?”

You shake your head.

“Will you allow me a quick glance?” He asks softly.

You froze for a split second. This software is your buoy to communicate. Almost nobody knows sign language, especially in those settings. You held down your datapad before forcing yourself to lend it to him.

He is an Admiral and you...

He gently took it and started scrolling down the software, tampering with it. You gulp as he tested and observed your little software.

“It seems well built. How much time did it take you to code it” He turned back his head to you.

How did he know you coded it yourself? You frowned incredulously by reflex.

“You seem a talented coder, ma’am. I could use someone of your talents at my side.” He gives you back your datapad.

You feel your skin heating up. You’re not used to compliments.

[It is nothing too complicated really.]

“To you maybe, but for some other people coding is as nebulous as the never-ending universe. Did you code something else?”

You slowly nodded. You did know your way around coding and liked tampering with your electronic toys when you started to get really interested in it.

[I slightly improved the machinery of my father’s squad. Like canon sights, but nothing groundbreaking.]

“Really? What do you think of the current programming of tie fighters?”

What would he want to know your opinion on that? You’re a nobody.

[I would have done things differently.]

“I agree.” He nodded solemnly, “I am more of an amateur engineer than a coder but I have projects for a new kind of TIE fighter to propel the Navy’s fleet towards new heights. I am searching the galaxy for new talents to help me. If you allow me to test and judge your level would you be interested in participating in a military revolution?”

Was this man for real? You just entered your post a Senior Lieutenant and he jumps on you to propose you a new post?

[I just received my new affectation. I cannot just go against the Navy’s wishes and ask to change like that.]

“Of course. But if an admiral personally asks for your affectation to change, the Navy would probably oblige.”

You almost took a step back.

You know the reputation of this man. A genius in battle but a complete clown in politics, you heard he recently allied himself with the likes of Governor Price and rumors circulate that he invited a witch in his fleet?

He seemed quite the character and you had enough of those types of people in your life.

On the other hand, coding is your passion. Maybe a post dedicated to coding wan’t that bad?

|How would it go?]

“Simple. Your task would be to rewrite the pre-existing TIE code to sharpen it. You will have your own space on the ISD to test and modify the ships to your heart’s content. I will only ask you to follow my directives.

Your own space? Like... Away from other people? You being alone and free to give yourself fully to coding all day long? You being away from other’s peskiness and sharp-tongues?

That does sound enticing.

[I will think about it.]

“I thank you for considering my offer.” He extended his hand again, “I am Admiral Thrawn.”

You shook his hand after a hesitation, resisting the shudder coursing your body as your hands touched.

[Junior Lieutenant (Y/n) (F/n).] You typed.

He nodded a slight expression of satisfaction starting to paint on his face.

“I am pleased to have crossed your path tonight, Junior Lieutenant. I hope this is the beginning of a fruitful relationship.”

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

“Will you come to my suite tonight, Junior Lieutenant (F/n)?” Thrawn asks.

He observes as you almost choke hearing that proposition. He knows this is quite forward of him. He doesn’t leave you guessing for long.

“I recently acquired new pieces for my private collection, and I recall you especially enjoying this period in art history. We could discuss those pieces peacefully together.”

Usually, your daily art talk happens in his office or around a cup of caff at the mess hall when he, rarely, descends to that room.

“I received a particular mirror that I think will especially flatter your taste, I am curious to know your opinion on it.” He pursues.

You nod with a small smile, visibly relieved and now interested before typing on your datapad.

[Of course Grand Admiral, I always enjoy talking art with you.]

“I am glad to hear it. I will not take too much of your time, do not worry.” He nods with a slightly satisfied expression.

As he awaits for you he tidies up his salon, displaying his latest acquisitions on pedestals. Those pieces are not for war but his personal enjoyment, and yours too he hopes. His heart clenches slightly at the thought of you joining him tonight.

He always had immense respect for your coding abilities. You spoke of it like it was nothing but he discovered you had a real talent for it, a natural jewel that he helped carve and sharpen since the first day he found it in you. He absolutely needed you on his team and congratulated himself when you announced to him you would join him in this adventure. And since that day your presence in the team only has been beneficial.

He never had to complain about you.

You worked diligently, for long hours and found the solution to most problems he threw at you. You even helped Vanto build a better Excel sheet software in your free time after you witnessed him losing his mind on the older version. Thrawn and Eli took the liberty to train their supply officers and data analysts with it and witnessed progress in productivity and speed by 20%.

And those 20% can be crucial during battles...

You received a reward of course! All people improving his ISD deserve a high reward for their deeds.

You are an invaluable member of Thrawn’s team, even of his close circle, even if he didn’t realize it right away and you never realized it ever.

But it is true.

He sees you as a true friend. You bring him so much in work and share his passion for art, something he is grateful for.

People never understood him on this level, and in some aspects, you don’t either. Your talents lie somewhere else than military strategizing, but your common passion allows him to stim off and share his special interest with someone actually interested.

Vanto could never, despite all his will, understand. As Thrawn never understood numbers like he did.

This is why he is also deeply happy to have you around. To share and receive in art. It allowed him to communicate better about his ideas and strategies.

When he thinks back that he almost decided not to come to that party... He only came because he learned the hotel had a small art gallery and he discovered a young lady in a fine dress, eyes glued to the painting in front of her.

He almost didn’t dare enter to disturb your moment. He understood the pleasure of being alone in a gallery to observe art on your terms. But the urge to share proved itself stronger and he entered the room.

He just wanted to speak about art with another aficionado and he left with a little genius coder in his team.

He saw how uncomfortable you were around him and didn't want to impose himself too much. Once you exchanged names and numbers he left you in peace. He didn’t get to enjoy the gallery himself but he came out better off after this exchange.

He welcomed you to his ISD three months later for the tests and you walked out victorious. You changed affectation and joined the Chimaera two weeks top after that.

He quickly picked up on your shy, or rather cautious nature around others, especially males and him. It was not his place to question you, all he could do was to remain polite, courteous, and professional to make things more comfortable for the both of you.

You saw each other at least one time a day for him to learn to sign and talk about art. You have quite an extensive knowledge about art and he was truly impressed. You taught him a lot about certain regions he didn’t have the time to visit and he learned a lot at your side, as you learned a lot at his side.

A truly beneficial relationship.

You slowly relaxed around him, getting less jumpy and stressed in his presence, to the point that sometimes you seemed to forget his presence when you focused on something. You never forgot any other male presence, always having an eye on them.

But not him.

Not anymore.

And that strangely delighted him. He doesn’t know why. He is just pleased by that fact, he takes some pride in it. He always prided himself in the fact to be safe for women to be around, when he thinks about all the things men do to women daily, he feels like being a decent person really shouldn’t be that hard and not such a high demand. He always appreciated the trust his female friends and colleagues had in him, and he just wanted you to feel the same.

For you to not see him as any kind of predator.

A tight smile comes stretch his mouth as he thinks back about the number of times he had to carry you to your cabin. How many times did he came to visit your office to witness your advancement to discover you sleeping on your desk after an obvious night crush? He took your precious datapad and carried you to your bed.

You never knew about that.

And he doesn’t really intend to tell you, as long as you rest that beautiful brain of yours to come back fresh the next day he can carry you to bed without a fuss.

He signals the droid to leave the champagne bottle in the ice bucket and on the coffee table. He remembers Ar’alani complaining about the lack of drinks when he brought her to the art gallery. You will not have to complain about that when admiring his personal museum.

He is strangely excited by that prospect, his heart beats strangely fast at the idea of letting you see his personal collection. He never shared it with anyone else, he feels like metaphorically stripping naked before you.

Overall he just hopes you will have a nice time.

With him.

He checks his display one last time. He gave the mirror he thinks you’ll love a special place, well visible and under a beautiful light.

[Grand Admiral Thrawn?] a mechanical voice he learned to love rises in his back.

He turns, his hand clasped behind his back, a small smile to welcome you.

“Ah! Senior Lieutenant, right on time as always. Please approach, I have several pieces for you to see.”

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

You were a little bit nervous about the idea of joining Thrawn in his suite, but he promised it was about art so you came.

But until now he hasn’t been anything else but courteous and professional with you, never an inappropriate move or word, always respectful of our personal space and headspace.

You realized recently that you actually quite like him. He is quite a gentleman all things considered.

Nothing like your father...

Right now he stands next to you, at a respectable distance, to explain a statuette to you.

“It is a goddess of love and fertility of the Lokma region. A fine work isn’t it?”

You nod enthusiastically. It is indeed a very beautiful statuette, well-carved and polished.

You’re quite happy the Grand Admiral appreciates art as you do. You used to bury yourself in art books to escape your violent reality back home. Nobody liked art at home especially not your father. You had to hide all those books from his view or he would burn them before you.

But Grand Admiral Thrawn is a man of elegance and taste, enjoying art as a real connoisseur. His knowledge of the subject would put any encyclopedia to shame!

You reacted badly last time but you had time to rationalize that he simply tried to comfort you. You clearly overreacted. He had no bad intentions towards you, quite the contrary.

You look up to him, explaining the origin of the sculpture to you with a light smile floating on your lips.

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

His heart is beating so fast. You are looking straight at him, smiling so genuinely. He could almost lose track of what he is saying if dared look into your eyes.

So he remains focused on the art piece, to not start stammering in front of you.

He doesn’t know how it happened but you both end up on the couch, drinking champagne and chit-chatting about everything and nothing. Right now you are trying to keep a straight face as he retells his political mishaps. It is no news to anybody that he is a clown in this department, but he never took the time to explain the finer details to someone and you have difficulties not exploding laughing.

Obviously, no sound escapes your lips but the simple expression, how you try to contain your stretching smile to grow too much, how your dimples appear on your skin, how you bite your lower lips to control yourself, how utterly relaxed you appear...

He details this spectacle, absolutely fascinated. He saw plenty of people laugh before but none appeared as... Radiant as you are right now. You are just so solar and magnetic with this elated expression.

For some reason, his throat goes dry when his gaze lends on your lips. They are plump and carefully drawn with a pencil of color in nude tones, adorning your mouth deliciously. He fights the urge to lick his own lips at that sight.

And your eyes...

Utterly gorgeous.

They can say everything your vocal cords cannot. They are just expressive, there is no second-guessing your mood or character, he just has to look into your sparkly eyes and unravel your entire being before him.

It is not that you are easy to guess, it is that your body is so completely honest with him, he doesn’t need to walk on eggshells like with the Emperor or any political figures, with you he can act and feel like himself.

Something that hasn’t happened since...

Forever.

In fact.

He always had to mask a part of himself to go his own way peacefully but he feels like he can open up to you.

That you wouldn’t judge.

That you would understand him, like Thrass did.

But he never looked at Thrass like that. He always was his brother but you are no Chiss. Is he looking at you as a sister...?

No... that doesn’t sound right to him.

Like a friend perhaps, like Ar’alani?

Neither...

He tilts his head as he watches you retelling him one of your stories with signs, a large smile on your beautiful face.

Because you do have a beautiful face, he realizes. Very symmetrical and... harmonious. It is a weird thought crossing his mind, he met plenty of objectively beautiful people in his life and he was able to tell that they were handsome but he never knew it in his gut. Just a passive acknowledgment of their well-made features.

But you are the first one striking him as truly gorgeous. His eyes seem to open up for the very first time and he is discovering true beauty.

What curious train of thoughts he has right now, observing you hiding your elated expression behind your hand.

He loves that expression, it suits you so much better than this worried, tense one you always were around your colleagues or that you had with him at first.

He had the occasion to witness different facets of your personality while learning sign language, but it feels like meeting the true you for the first time. You have so many things to say you don’t lose time typing it on your datapad, you just sign everything at lightspeed with enthusiasm.

Such a wonderful expression...

He wants to get lost in your eyes.

He wants you to smile more, to smile everyday.

His breath gets stuck in his throat as he realizes he wants to be the reason for your smile. Every day and forever.

Is he...?

He has to know!

He details your blissful expression while decoding your signing. He doesn’t get everything but he knows the important one. You are telling him that you love working on this project, that you feel useful and part of a real team thanks to him, and that he doesn’t reject you for being non-speaking but that he makes true efforts to involve and welcomes you.

“That is nothing, Senior Lieutenant.” A small grin grows on his lips, “You are too valuable for me to lose. I must make sure you are well cared for or you will leave me for greener lands.”

You bite your lips, lowering your gaze before the compliment. How adorable.

“Since you entered the project we made fantastic advancements. You wrote an almost perfect code and still keep working to improve it days and nights. We would not have gone so far without your input.”

Your face heat signals worsen, proof of your embarrassment. You sign ‘It is nothing’ without daring to look at him.

He leaves his slouching position to lean forward, closer to you, legs almost brushing.

“It is not ‘nothing’ as you pretend (Y/n). This is incredible work and you should be properly recognized and rewarded for that.” He ditch the ranks for a more warm approach.

You seem a little confused by the sudden use of your name so casually.

“Does it displease you?” He asks.

‘What?’ you sign, dubious.

“Me, using your name. I quite like it, you wear it perfectly.”

You smile, embarrassed.

“I am not joking. It has a wonderful sound to it, it suits you wonderfully.”

You push a strand of hair behind your ear to try to put up a front, but your heat signals are all over the place. You are very obviously melting.

On his hand, he realizes he enjoys complimenting you. It feels right to do it. For absolutely nothing too. For you just being here, for your hair style that enhances your natural charm, this absolutely adorable behavior, the list is infinite!

For you to keep that endearing look too.

He gently raises his hand towards you, slowly for you to see it and stop him if needs be. You look at him with round eyes and freeze entirely. He incredibly gently brushes your cheek with his knuckle.

A very soft, very light touch. He’s just testing the water, where you will put your boundaries.

You seem to release your breath when you realize he didn’t intend to hit you.

Why would you ever think that? He wonders.

What happened to you to always live in a fight or flight mode? He is dying to know, but that would be improper to pry. If you want him to know, you will reveal it in due time.

You blink several times as he resumes his gentle caress, like you don’t know how to react to tenderness. He couldn’t know either, to be honest. He just felt like giving you physical affection was the right call.

You are so pretty after all tonight, he needs to physically convey the tenderness he harbors towards you. Or he feels like he is going to implose or spontaneously combust.

"You are beautiful, (Y/n).” He simply lets you know his truth in a whisper.

You turn your head to avoid his gaze like it is too much. Your face heat signals are the worst they ever have been he notices.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks softly, “Would you prefer if I stopped?”

You go to type something on your datapad but stop mid-movement before putting it on the coffee table and spin away from him. He listens carefully. No sobs can be heard, to his relief.

“I am sorry if I was too forward, (Y/n).” He presents his excuses, “But I find myself in a weird head space tonight.”

You slightly turn your head towards him. Not enough for him to see your face, just enough to signify that you are listening.

He gently caresses your arm, avoiding pressing himself against you to leave you your space.

“(Y/n), I will not try anything you will not allow me to. I just want you to look at me.”

You shake your head, pressing your knees against your chest, boots on the expensive sofa.

“(Y/n), please do not deprive me of your sight.” He breathes, getting slightly desperate as you disposess him of your beautiful gaze “I am confused and need to know. Only you can help me. Look at me, my friend.”

This is the first time he calls you friend out loud and it doesn't feel stong enough for his feelings.

Is he really...?

“I need your help. Just this time, will you allow it?” He asks. “Let me look at you.”

His hand gently grasps your chin to invite you to turn to him, he does it softly, if you truly don't want it he will let you escape no question asked.

But you do turn towards him, eyes wet and glistening but without tears rolling down your cheeks. He releases your chin to gently cup your cheek, caressing it with his thumb.

“You are beauty incarnated.” He murmurs like he cannot believe you are in front of him, “I need only one thing and I will let you in peace. Will you allow me?”

He lets your hands free for you to sign but you just gulp and tentatively nod. You are clearly unsure but are ready to let him try whatever he has in mind?

But he doesn’t want to force you, your consent is the most important thing to him at this instant.

“I am about to kiss you. Will you allow it?” He looks straight into your soul through your eyes.

Your breath gets visibly stuck in your throat and your eyes get rounder. He keeps caressing your cheek gently, ready to face your rejection.

But you remain mute, not signing, nor shaking your head to escape him. You just look at him like you cannot believe you heard him right.

“I need your consent to continue.” He insists.

Your throat contracts as you dig your nails into the fabric of your pants.

Finally, you sign something.

‘Why?’

He cannot help a light chuckle escaping him. Is it that hard to imagine?

“I want to make sure if I am in love or not.” He very clearly explains, no sugarcoating it.

You appear even more lost.

‘Why?’

“Why would I be in love with you?” He tilts his head like your question didn’t make any sense, “You have plenty of qualities and virtues, why would you not be loved by others? Why would I not love you?”

Your face in no more but a deeply red spot in his infrared vision.

“What about you, (Y/n)? What are your sentiments? Do you feel something or am I alone in the storm?”

You try to sign something but your hands tremble so much your signs are unrecognizable.

He gently kisses your forehead before looking back into your gorgeous eyes.

“I only ask for one kiss to settle everything once and for all. Do I have your permission?”

You gulp before weakly nodding. You appear so tense, are you that estranged to tenderness? That pains him immensely, whatever comes out of that kiss he wants you comfortable and feeling safe at his side.

He slowly leans forward, leaving you time to dodge if you change your mind. You close your eyes shut like you can’t face him right this instant but let him do. He gently closes the gap and softly kisses your lips.

This is soft and light.

But he feels a firework lighting in his chest, his heart beating at lightspeed, pumping his blood like a machine. He feels his very soul rejoice and sing blissed verses. This chast kiss sends fire to his very being.

Not a lustful fire but a warm, comforting fire, like everything was clicking into place at last. Like he just found his other-half that he searched for so long.

And he is so euphoric that it is you.

He releases your lips, feeling your short breath on his lips. He opens his bright red eyes to discover you, eyes still closed but with a serene expression. You reopen your eyes slowly like you’re going down from a high.

You gasp, stupefied.

He awaits your judgment with anticipation and a touch of fear, but nothing pierces through his carefully crafted mask.

You raise your hand and sign.

‘Again please?’

He cannot help but smile, he will kiss again and again until you are sure of yourself! He captures your lips back in a more demanding kiss, holding the back of your head to press it against his craving lips. He sighs of pure satisfaction in the kiss, if it is what happiness feels like he would have it every day, please!

He suddenly feels your own hand gently cupping his cheek, caressing his ear delicately. He smiles through the kiss and starts purring loudly.

When you part again you are both panting. He takes one of your hands and kisses your knuckles reverently.

“I thank you for this enlightening experience, (Y/n). I now have my response.”

You look at him curiously, blood flowing furiously in your cheeks.

“I am certain now, this is love.” He confesses, “My heart is beating for you, (Y/n).”

You gulp again, but your hand keeps cupping his cheek, tenderly touching him.

“I must know your response, (Y/n). What is your truth?”

You retract your hand to start signing something but stop mid-movement of the first sign. He instantly picks up your discomfort.

“I do not intend to force you into anything. If you wish for nothing to change between us, I will not impose myself on you. The choice is yours only.”

You shyly nod and resume your signing.

‘I am embarrassed.’

“Do not be. You may speak freely, (Y/n). Whatever your response is, I am ready to receive and honor it.” He asserts, encouraging you to open up.

‘I never felt like this’

“Me neither, this is all new.”

‘What if I am wrong?’

“You can always come back on your decision. If you wish to leave me later I will set you free, if you wish to come back into my arms I will welcome you.”

He is on the verge of implosion. Doubt and excitation are consuming him, what is flying through your mind right now? Will you accept or reject him? He is dying to know!

You take a deep breath and sign.

‘I love you’

His heart skips several beats before sprinting up at a worrying speed.

You love him back! What a relief.

“Sign it again please.” He demands

You fidget your fingers, embarrassed.

“Please, Ch’acah. I want to see you tell me again.”

You sign it again with trembling hands.

He seizes them and kisses them like holy relics.

“Thank you, (Y/n). You do not know how important it is for me. What do you want now?”

‘What do you mean?’ You gingerly sign.

“May we become a couple? Do you wish to try and explore this relationship? The choice is yours, what you want I will give.”

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

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

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