Jul 30
Totally forgot I doodled these bath house wrestling doodles for @thrawnsbeloved a couple of years ago!
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Totally forgot I doodled these bath house wrestling doodles for @thrawnsbeloved a couple of years ago!
Come back to me
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Tags : Reader is disabled, self-doubts, wallowing, reunion
You return on the Chimaera after giving Thrawn the silent treatment and lock yourself in your former cabin. But Thrawn won't let you wallow without intervening
Thrawn x F!reader
You put Benedict on the table. You’ll need to give her some water.
You spin on yourself, observing your old cabin on the Chimaera. After what happened with Thrawn the other day, you couldn’t look him in the eyes. Too embarrassed and flustered. You spend the rest of the time avoiding him, much to his dismay, but he respected your choice.
You take your luggage and roll it to your bed. You still feel the dark look Konstantine gave you when you crossed paths with him on the Relentless. He was not happy at all.
But Thrawn’s orders are absolute, and he demanded your help to chase the Wyvern.
You open your luggage and start putting your clothes away in the closet.
You feel so weak.
You fled like a coward, leaving Thrawn alone in his office. He seemed satisfied, but your mind was in shambles, conflicting emotions raging inside you. You got back the Relentless and proceeded to ignore his next calls.
You could not face him.
Until you couldn’t postpone it anymore and had to take the call after a whole week of radio silence. You tapped ‘accept’ with a trembling hand, ready for the berating.
“I am pleased to hear your voice, Cha’cah.” He simply said.
He did not berate you, chastise you, reproach you about anything, not even for ignoring him for an entire week; he just seemed… relieved to finally hear you.
You thanked the Maker for the patience Thrawn had with you and your childish whims.
“Your next appointment is soon. Do not forget to go back on the Chimaera.
“I know, don’t worry.” You immediately reassured him.
“Prepare your luggage for the next several weeks of hunting.”
“I will be here.” You assured.
He remained silent for a short moment before taking back the floor.
“Are you alright, Cha’cah?”
“Yes!” You responded too quickly to be honest.
“Alright. I wish to discuss some subjects with you. I hope to see you soon in our quarters.”
Your heart fluttered at the mention of ‘our quarters’, you felt it clench with so much love it threatened to choke you.
“I prepare my luggage and I am here.”
“Good. I am relieved to finally hear you again, Cha’cah.”
You bit your lips guiltily.
“Bye!” And you cut precipitously.
Once you were on the Chimaera again, you actually ran to your former cabin before he could be there to meet you, entering and locking yourself in. You leaned against the wall, trying to calm your beating heart.
And now you are here.
You take your spray bottle and spray Benedict until her leaves are shiny with water, when you hear a knock on the door. You open to Thrawn, straight and hands clasped behind his back. He does not appear amused at all.
“This is not your cabin anymore.” He simply announces.
“Really?” You play dumb, already feeling a cold sweat but forcing a large smile on your lips, “Where should I go then?” You fake laugh.
He raises an eyebrow, not amused in the slightest, while you have all the pain in the world looking into his eyes.
“Let me enter.”
You step to the side, obedient.
He observes how you already tidy up the room, all your stuff neat and tidy in their former place, even Benedict on the bedside table. He approaches it, gently brushing a leaf with his knuckles before turning to you with an incredibly serious gaze.
“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks bluntly.
Ooch, never beating around the bush.
“I am not avoiding you.” You forcibly laugh.
He simply looks at you, completely unconvinced. He raises a single eyebrow, unimpressed, pressing you to spill the truth right here and there.
“I… It is complicated.” You gulp.
He comes to you, taking your chin between his fingers to force you to meet your gaze.
“Is it because of what I did?”
You gulp.
“It's not… What you’ve done. It’s what I feel.” You try to explain.
He sounds your gaze intently with his rubies; he appears so calm and collected, so confident in himself, making you feel ridiculous and minuscule.
“We need to talk. Join me in our suite.” He said.
You wince, and he tilts his head.
“Is there a problem, Cha’cah?” He insists.
“I… cannot face you right now.” You admitted, “I am a mess.”
He tenses up slightly.
“Do you wish for me to give you some space?”
You immediately feel that you struck a nerve, that he feels rejected. You immediately understand your error. He opened himself to you, and you fled.
So before he can do anything or say something you could both regret, you just launch yourself at him, hugging him tight. At that distance, he doesn’t have the time to do anything and receives you with a gasp.
“I am sorry, Thrawn! It is my fault, I have to walk through my own issues!”
You feel his hands sneaking around your back, embracing you. You release your breath, relieved.
“Why do you avoid me right now?” He asks softly.
“I have a lot in my mind, a lot of emotions in my heart, and I don’t know my true place anymore! Can you give me just a little bit of time? I just need to sort one or two things!” You brush your cheek against his chest, squeezing him in your arms.
“Is everything alright?” He demands, “Can I do something?”
You raise your gaze to meet his with imploring eyes.
“Just give me two or three more days to think.”
He looks at you with a line of tension on his forehead. He remains silent, gauging you before asking.
“Did I shock you the other day?”
You raise on tiptoes to kiss him, but he evades, awaiting your response. You bite your lips, feeling guilty.
“I need to… deconstruct certain things.” You admit, “But I still love you, I still want you. Will you forgive me?”
He slowly leans forward to kiss your forehead.
“This is what we are going to do: I will give you some space for two or three days for you to think through your issues, and then you will join me for dinner at our quarters and we will talk seriously.”
You purse your lips, nodding to him. He kisses your forehead again, tenderly, squeezing you one last time.
“I will see you on the bridge.” He says before parting from you and leaving you alone.
You let yourself fall on the bed with a sigh, heart pounding in your chest.
You need to talk to someone, and you know exactly who!
-----------------------------------------------------
“Aaaaaah… I am not displeased to not have Konstantine on our back.” Karyn mumbles, “Always nagging through the loudspeakers…”
Slouching in her chair, she threw her head back to make her spine pop. You take another sip of your juice, making the glass clink on the metal when putting your hand down.
“Me too! It is agreeable to escape him sometimes.”
The mess hall is pretty calm at this hour, but you know in less than 15 minutes it will be cramped again by starving officers.
“I bet you do. Working under him must be a pain.” She sighs.
“Oh yes, it is.”
“I wish we had alcohol…” She groans, “So you wanted to speak?”
You press your lips in a thin line, searching your words to start the conversation.
“I am in a weird headspace right no., I have a lot of questions about my couple.”
She takes a gulp of her drink, looking straight at you.
“Question about Thrawn?”
You nod.
“What’s the matter? He is too alien for you?” She tilts her head.
“In some way? Yes. He conducts himself bizarrely.”
“What did he do?”
“He encroaches on my domains and duties. The other day, he did all the dishes behind my back and took care of the laundry.”
“Did he do it wrong?” She asks.
“No! But that’s my job as his girlfriend to do it, no?” You insist.
“I can’t really speak for straight couples.” She says pensively, “But from those I know, it was always the domain of the woman indeed. How was it with your other partners?”
“I took care of everything! And they let me do it without asking questions or meddling in it.”
She purses her lips.
“Maybe… They operate differently in the Ascendancy? They don’t have any droids; people must take care of all that.”
“The men?” You ask, raising an eyebrow unconvinced.
“Who knows?”
“It’s ridiculous.”
She winces in response.
“Is it? I split the tasks with my partner.”
“That’s not how I have been educated.”
“Well, I was educated to find a guy and marry him, and here I am.” She retorts, “With a woman and in the Navy.”
“He also tried to cook.” You add.
“How did it go?”
“He can’t cook to save his life. That’s proof he shouldn't mingle in my chores.”
“Don’t you find it nice that he tries?” She insists.
You lower your gaze to your glass, mind spinning. Do you find it nice?
“Yes, but… I don’t know, he is a Grand Admiral, he shouldn't have to do that! If my mother heard that I wasn’t taking care of my man, I cannot imagine her reaction.”
“Yes, I remember your mother. But she’s on your homeworld while you're either on Coruscant or in space, why should her opinion matter?”
“She’s the one who taught me everything! She educated me and gave me her values.”
“And don’t you think her values might be… outdated?”
You wince.
“Quite the contrary, since the Empire took place, they have never been so trendy.”
“But you didn’t keep them all. You remember the look she gave me when she understood my preferences? Yet you stuck with me.”
“Because it was utter nonsense!”
“So you agree her values may be flawed, why not all of them?”
“My point is: if the values and way of life of the former Republic were so great, why was the Empire born? If they were truly superior, they would have held on.”
“Why do you think Eli Vanto and I stuck with you if we didn’t find your values good? You keep attracting misfits to yourself because you make them feel good. Maybe it is time for you to accept change again?”
“But… What’s my point if I cannot help him in his daily life? He has other things to worry about, campaigns to plan, officers to form, and people to manage. This is beneath him!” You clench your jaw.
She simply looks at you in silence, gauging you.
“You think I am bitter?” You ask, suddenly worrying.
“No… May I be brutally honest?” She asks suddenly, incredibly serious.
You straighten your posture, ready to have anything thrown at you.
“Okay?”
“Are you scared?”
“What… What do you mean?”
“All that talk about your duties and chores and domains as a girlfriend, it’s like you tie your value to your capacity to submit and serve him, and I find it incredibly unnerving.”
You remain mute, contemplating her words.
“Hearing you, this is like you think you are unworthy of love if you do not obey and follow him. And I know you, you take care of everyone, you go above and beyond to please people, but like… this is pathological? Like when you were with that governor, it was scary to see the length you would go for his approval.”
“I… I don’t know, I always took care of everyone around me, my family, my younger cousins, my friends, my boyfriends… That’s all I ever knew.”
“Did you ever stop once and ask yourself if it was your role to take on all those chores?”
“That’s what they all expected of me… My family wanted help, my partners too.” You say dumbfounded, like you were making any sense.
She looks at you with sorry spelled in her eyes.
“I have my own set of problems, but you seem to have a completely other can of worms to deal with.”
“Is… Is that bad, you think?” You inquire.
“(Y/n), you have a lot of deconstructing to do.” She hits you with.
You take your glass and finish it like it was burning gin, but it’s only juice.
“I agree with you, I wish we had alcohol too…”
“Did you speak to him about all that?” She inquires.
“No, we are supposed to do it tomorrow.”
“Good. Maybe it will open your eyes.”
You ponder that all conversation, making it spin in your head, making it conflict with your entire education.
“That’s why I asked you.” You admit, “Your lifestyle is completely different from mine.”
She extends her hand to take yours and squeezes it gently with a soft expression.
“(Y/n), I only want your happiness, and I see how happy he makes you. You looked terrible in that hospital, completely destroyed, but now you follow a therapy, you have resumed training, you catch up with people that…” She wrinkles her nose in disgust “Governor… Made you cut ties with.”
“But I have so many questions today…” You plead, taking your head between your hands.
“Honey, of course you have questions, you come from completely different backgrounds. You need to try and find how to work together. Maybe you were simply on autopilot with all your former partners, maybe you were in survival mode all this time. Maybe it is finally time to think about yourself for once.”
You take a deep breath to the depth of your lungs, a headache showing up.
“Speak with him, (Y/n). He is a reasonable man; he will understand.”
“Maybe…” You rub your face with your hands, slouching in your seat, “Why are couples so complicated? I envy you, Karyn; you seem so in control of your life.”
“Do not think that. I have plenty of problems.”
You open your hands to look at her. She frowns, making her drink twirl in her glass.
“Everything good with Pyrondy?” You start worrying
“Oh yes, things could be worse, but we communicate and we try for each other. She took me by surprise the other day. She started to talk about marriage.”
You raise your eyebrows in surprise.
“Oh! And how do you feel about it?”
“I don’t know. I feel like she wants to get married for the wrong reasons.”
“Why?”
“She wants to get married before the unions of same sex get outlawed by the Senate.” She darkens.
Your heart pinches, you heard the Senate was discussing the possibility of taking down that law.
“It’s not retroactive?”
“Apparently, it will not, but soon marriage will be impossible.”
“I am so sorry, Karyn.” You say compassionate.
Suddenly, you feel very dumb and childish to complain about your stupid problems when they both have to face that!
“I know. A lot of people are. That will not prevent it from happening.”
You stand up to come sit near her and take her in your arms, hugging her tight. This news is just another one from a long series of repressive laws the Empire installed recently, and it is not going in the right direction.
“Karyn… I truly am sorry, I wish I could interfere and save this right for you.”
You squeeze her tight and feel her hand caressing your arm in response. She’s not one to cry, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want a hug.
“Do it.” You finally let out.
“What, marry her?”
“You love her, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She answers resolutely.
“Marry her.”
“I don’t know…”
“Think about it then. Seriously.”
“I know… At least Thrawn leaves us alone.”
“What do you mean?” You part from her to look at her.
“We were alone in the break room, kissing each other, when he entered completely unannounced. We panicked, but he walked past us without a single glance, serving himself a cup of caff and got out without a single word.”
“You must be relieved.”
You don’t say more, but you are relieved too; if he had said anything or done anything, your couple would have encountered a serious problem.
“We were terrified for a solid second. I’ve heard enough stories about superiors dragging us to the mud after spotting us.”
“Fuck them!”
“That’s also why I cannot stomach Konstantine.”
You refrain from snarling. This guy is truly not the most intelligent of the bunch. He ordered you and some other officers to keep a close eye for “indecent behaviors” on the Relentless, as he called it, and sanction any infringers. You just warn “the culprits” you found to be more discreet on the ship and turn a complete blind eye when you are alone with them and lie to the face of Konstantine, ‘No indecent behaviors under my watch, no sir.’
Because fuck that dick!
No one should be sanctioned just for loving someone else, something that doesn’t get through his thick skull.
“I can’t bear him either.” You assure.
Does Thrawn know he asked you to do that?
Karyn sighs in your arms before letting you go.
“It is time.” She says moodily, “We should go back.”
You offer her a comforting smile, pushing a strand of hair out of her face.
“You alright?” you ask softly
“I must.”
You stand up and head back to your post, a hand on her shoulder offering her warmth and support.
That’s the very least you could do.
@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @thrawnspetgoose @twilekchiss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching@obbicrystaleo@empresskrennic@davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @princesslunamoon19 @Janjtje @helrose8 @sparepartsthrowaway @haruthe1andonly @ghostedgrim
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The first step to mend always hurts
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Tags : Reader is disabled, fluff, self-doubts, therapy, support, ED mention, Cunni, Thrawn is a voracious puss eater
You go back to work, trying to remain amicable to Konstantine, and soon enough your first therapy rendez vous come up with Thrawn to support you
Thrawn x F!reader
“What?!” Admiral Konstantine sneers.
You try really hard not to sigh or raise your voice at the face of your superior. Seated behind his desk, a datapad neglectfully lying on the cold metal next to his glass of alcohol, half empty by now, he observes you like you’re spouting nonsense to his face.
“I said, I will need the Relentless and the Chimaera to meet, Sir.”
“And what might be the reasons for that outrageous demand?”
“Medical reasons.”
“We have a med bay on board of the Relentless, you are going nowhere.” He decides.
“I already spoke to Grand Admiral Thrawn, and he agreed.” You politely let him know.
You see his nostrils flaring and his eyebrow frowning in disgust and indignation.
“Oh! So you took the liberty to ask directly to the big hat before informing your own Admiral and superior, I see.” He is pissed off.
You remain silent, letting him agitate himself in his chair, pestering about his godly authority being bypassed by a mere Commander. You internally sigh, after years of service under his lead, Admiral Konstantine didn’t find favour in your eyes, remaining a little man in a uniform too big for him, but not his ego.
“You tend to take your ease a little too much since you started to buddy-up with the Grand Admiral Thrawn, maybe a reminder of your true position would do all of us good for your future work.”
You merely raise an eyebrow in response.
Oh, if only he knew the true nature of your relationship with Thrawn, he would choke.
He keeps going.
“I saw plenty of your species in my time, little officers agglomerating around bigger fishes in the hope their power would shine on them too. But it will not work with me, Commander. You will go back to your post while I think of an appropriate sentence for your transgression. It is time discipline gets back on the ISD and among the troops. Your behavior is simply unacceptable.”
“I take it your response is a ‘no’.” You just note.
“What you suggest is grotesque and simply impossible. Do you think we will force two entire ISDs to meet for you to go see a doctor?”
“I never suggested we force them to comply with my agenda; on the contrary, my appointment has been determined by the ISD’s road route. We decided on a date when the two will join organically on the campaign.”
“That could not happen for months”
“The Relentless is part of Grand Admiral Thrawn’s fleet, they will inevitably join their forces, more often than you’re ready to accept.”
He grumbles lowly, seething at the mouth. He hates it when the Relentless join back the Chimaera to resume a campaign because Thrawn is the ultimate authority, and you came to understand Konstantine loves his little power when he is away from the Chiss.
“My answer is still no.” He finally decides.
“Then I will let you explain to the Grand Admiral why his orders won’t be obeyed.”
“You are still under my authority.”
“The Grand Admiral’s powers surpass you. In the end, we are all his officers.”
At that point you see the thought of throwing his mug at your face crosses his mind.
He restrains himself.
“I will personally give him my opinion about this whole situation, reminding him very… politely that the Navy has priorities to follow.” He says, a thin layer of venom transpiring through his voice.
A beeping sound resonates in the office.
“Look who’s calling me!” He says assuredly, but you hear a point of stress, “I can guide him back to reason here and now! You are not needed anymore, go back to your post.”
He shushes you out of the room with disdained hand movement. You bow your head slightly and exit the office, readjusting your hat on your head.
If he wants to argue with Thrawn after all, that is his problem.
You look at your chrono. Thrawn’s leave ended literally 30 minutes ago, and his first order of business is keeping Konstantine in a straight line.
Poor Thrawn.
Managing people like Konstantine and Pryce must be so exhausting…
You go back to the bridge with assured steps as the Relentless is speeding back to Lothal via Hyperspace.
------------------------------------------
You hold the datacard in your hand, playing with it nervously as you cower on your seat.
“Everything is going to be fine.” Thrawn assures you. “They are professionals.”
“I am terribly nervous.” You admit.
Less than a day after the Relentless and the Chimaera joined back the fleet, Thrawn called you to notice your therapy appointment was today. Whatever argument between Thrawn and Konstantine took place, Konstantine lost.
You’re grateful to Thrawn for planning your appointment because, at the first signs of difficulties, you would have gone back on your word, given how stressed it makes you feel.
But Thrawn took care of everything, and as he promised he is with you for the first session.
Despite his cramped agenda.
“I’m sorry to force you to come with me…” You feel the first shudders coming.
“It was your condition for you to go to therapy.” He dismisses it like it is nothing.
“Oh my god, I’m so stressed…” You feel sickness lying at the bottom of your stomach, ready to rise at any inconvenience.
“There is no need to be stressed. Did you eat today?”
You wince. With your stomach in knots, eating is the last thing on your mind.
“No. I couldn’t…”
“I guessed it.” And he takes out something from his large pocket, “Eat.”
He hands you a bright colored, exotic fruit that you take without conviction. You start peeling it with your nails, not at all hungry.
“I saw the results of your latest medical examination, and you lost weight again. Do you eat properly on the Relentless?” He continues, suspicious.
“I eat.” You promise.
“Properly?” He insists.
“... I eat.” You repeat, lowering your head before him.
You hear him take a deep breath. You purse your lips in silence, ready for the berating.
“I also saw your latest athletic scores.” He keeps his voice steady, “You are still not back up to the Imperial standards, but you have made undeniable progress. I am proud of you.”
You turn to him with eyes round and mouth agape.
He doesn’t berate you? No patronizing speech?
“You are?” You ask incredulously.
“Of course. You worked really hard to get back on level with everyone else. I can only encourage you to pursue your efforts and support you.” He responds softly. “Eat.”
You wince at the fruit you were just rotating in your hand to precisely not eat it.
“Do it for me.”
You sigh and bite into the flesh of the fruit. It is fresh and juicy, and tastes delicious. You moan with delectation as you feel a drop of juice running down your chin.
“I want you to follow a proper diet, EDs are as dangerous as any other disorders.” Thrawn summoned you, “I will ask the med droids to give you a diet plan, and I expect you to follow it. Can I count on you?”
You gulp.
“I don’t even have an ED, you're dramatizing.”
“You are on the verge of getting one. This is also why therapy is an excellent means to heal both the body and the spirit.” He preaches gently.
You finish the fruit, licking your hand full of juice droplets.
“Why didn’t you go to therapy then?” You ask.
“I never felt the need.”
“Did you, now? I thought you saw your fair share of atrocities.” You do not dare pronounce the word brother, but he understood it by himself.
“I suffered immensely at his disparition.” He admits, “But I knew therapy could never heal the wounds he left on my heart, that it was simply… Inadequate for my temperament. So I carried on as I always did.” And he closes himself back as an oyster.
So he suffered in silence.
How many wounds did he suffer without ever sharing his pain? How many years of anguish did he amass under his flesh?
“I am sorry, Thrawn…” You try, “I just wish… I just want you to know you can tell me anything.” You seize his hand delicately and squeeze it.
He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it with so much tenderness you feel your heart melt.
“One day, Cha’cah.” He promises, “One day I will tell you everything. But today is not a good day for it. We are here for you.”
You look at his profile, his regal features, his calm and assured expression, but his eyes are strangely dark and feverish.
He is also sweating.
“Are you alright?” You ask, taking your hand off his grip to take his temperature at his forehead.
“I already took two showers since this morning.” He lets out with a slightly annoyed sigh.
“But why? Are you ill? Are you in any pain?”
He turns his head to you with his dark eyes full of meaning.
Oh… Oh
“You are having a crisis right now?” You ask, flushing terribly at the memories of his first rut together.
“It started early this morning, but being with you in a small, closed space is quite… challenging.”
“Oh no. Thrawn, I am so sorry, if you need to leave because you’re too uncomfortable, I understand perfectly. I can do it, no need for you to suffer like that, I-”
“Nonsense.” He cuts you short, pulling slightly on his collar, “I promised you.”
“Yes, you did… Before a new crisis arose!” You insist.
“Do not trouble yourself for me. It is not as dire as it was at our apartment.” He argues.
You heart flutters.
‘Our apartment’.
“Do… Do my panties… help at least?” You ask, flushing even more in embarrassment.
“Indeed, they do. It is quite a relief to be able to inhale your pheromones when I take care of myself, it eases a lot of the tension.” He reveals without any shame.
You’re going TO DIE of embarrassment. A sudden picture of Thrawn masturbating in his large bed with your panties pressed to his nose, deeply inhaling your scent, flashes in your mind, and you squirm in your seat.
“Good, good…” You let out with a small voice, gulping.
He turns his head slightly to you as you look at the wall in front of you, taking great care not to cross his gaze.
“You know…” He starts with a low, deep voice, “They are really efficient, but they wear off so quickly. I will soon need another batch for my needs.” He whispers in your ear softly, his breath blowing on the outer shell of your ear. “How do you suggest we remedy it?”
You shudder immediately at the magnitude of that voice.
“Thrawn!” You whisper indignantly like someone could hear you, “We are in a waiting room of a doctor!”
“There is nobody else, only us, cheo Cha’cah.” He tilts his head, amused.
“This is so improper, Grand Admiral!” You squeal.
He only chuckles, straightening back on his seat.
“I am playing with you, Cha’cah.”
“Please don’t.” You stutter, your cheeks on fire.
You remain silent for a minute, where you could only hear your heart pounding in your chest. You breathe deep, trying to calm down.
“Where are we going next?” You ask, trying to ease the thick atmosphere, “What are the orders?”
“The Relentless will remain over Lothal while the Chimaera will hunt down the Wyvern.” He explains, “I already ordered Konstantine to let you embark the Chimaera.”
Ah yes, the Wyvern, the ISD the Rebellion managed to steal from the Empire…
“Why?” You inquire.
“Someone giving the orders clearly seemed to know you, maybe even personally. I want you to help us identify patterns and profiles.”
This makes sense. You remember that rebel voice, calling your name when you only gave your family name. Whoever they are, they gained access to some private intel on officers.
“Are you sure they didn’t simply learn my name with the files available on the Wyvern?”
“That is also a possibility, but I want to try every lead possible. Stealing an ISD is an unprecedented feat, and it requires grand measures.”
You nod silently.
It appears you will remain on the Chimaera for some time.
With Thrawn.
Together.
You feel your heart pounding again.
After ten months away from each other, you spent a week together, and now you’ll move in with him for an undisclosed period of time.
You’re so glad, even if it is only for work, you will be with him.
“Miss (F/n)?” The doctor passes the sliding door.
You both enter the office, which is cold and austere, with only metal everywhere except for the bed and the armchair of the therapist.
You sit down in front of the desk, giving her the datacard that she immediately clicks into her datapad to start reading it.
You gulp as you see her eyes traveling up and down her screen in silence, taking note of your medical exams, your health record, and the notes of the therapist who saw you three times at the hospital. You dig your nails into your seat. Thrawn is cool and calm next to you, awaiting her judgment patiently.
“What do you hope for coming to see me, miss (F/n)?” She finally asks, her reading finished.
“To heal.” You dumbly respond.
“Healing is a broad word holding different meanings from person to person. What does it mean to you?”
You lose all your words.
What does healing mean to you? Do you wish to be reborn? To simply mute the pain and be numb to it? Another thing?
You purse your lips silently, thinking, when Thrawn's hand comes holding yours, tensed around the seat. You look up to his sincere eyes to see his undying support and love.
“I think for now… I just wish to stop suffering.” You decide.
She tilts her head, looking at you.
“I ask that question because for some enlisted, they realize the response to their problems was to quit the Navy ultimately.” Her gaze travels to her Grand Admiral, his hand still on yours, “I suppose you do not wish that, Grand Admiral?”
“What I wish for is not what matters; what matters is her healing journey.” He responds coldly.
She raises her hand peacefully to ease the tension.
“I was simply making sure. Did you already do therapy before, miss?”
“No.”
“Do you know how we proceed?”
“Yes.”
“Do you wish the Grand Admiral to remain during our appointments?”
“He can?” You blink.
“He is the Grand Admiral.”
“I… No. I would rather not.” You turn to him with “sorry” spelled in your eyes, but he thinly smiles at you, comforting you.
“Could you remain silent about my presence here?” Thrawn asks
“I am tied by professional confidentiality.” She nods, “I will not speak of you, Grand Admiral.”
He nods back lightly when his comlink rings. He takes a look at it before shutting it down.
“I am called on the bridge.” He turns to you to await your reaction.
You smile gently at him, squeezing his hand, remaining discreet in front of a stranger. He squeezes your hand back gently, looking straight into your eyes with a tight smile, and exits the office. You look at him with questions in your eyes.
Wasn’t his hand trembling when he took yours? He seemed worse than in the waiting room.
You hope the crisis isn’t too hard…
“Alright, I will explain one or two things and then I will dive deeper into some matters for today.” she announces.
When you go out one hour later, your brain is fried, full of info. Your comlink rings.
It’s Thrawn.
“Come to my office.”
-------------------------------------------
“Thrawn?” You call, passing the head in his office.
He is sitting in his chair, strangely tense and straight, his shoulders appear so… Stiff.
“How was it?” He asks.
You stop dead in your tracks. What kind of voice is that? You hear compassion, but there is something underlying, something hidden in plain sight, veiled and dangerous.
Something predatory.
“Great? I think… She mostly spoke for today. Explaining things.” The door closes behind you.
“Good.” You hear him take a painful breath, like his lungs are compressed. “I hope you will be at ease for your next appointment.”
He keeps worrying about you, but you’re worrying about him.
You gulp.
“Are you alright?”
“I am at war with myself.” He mysteriously lets out.
So you were right. His state degraded, his rut slowly gnawing at his common sense.
“Do you want me to help?” You immediately ask, ready to jump into action, ready to serve your man.
You hear a faint chuckle coming from him.
“I do not want to force you into anything, Cha’cah.”
“You called for me.” You retort.
“A moment of weakness.”
“Then you’re in an even worse state than we realized.” You start unbuttoning your green jacket nonchalantly, before extending your hand to him with a gentle smile.
He remains still, unmoving, silent, but his burning eyes darted at you.
Only you.
“I do not think this is a good idea.” He slowly says, with an unmistakable tension in his voice.
“We already talked about it. You called for me and I am here. Take my hand, love.” You try the pet name to sweeten him.
And it apparently works, after a visible shudder in his shoulders, he slowly gets up, skirts his desk elegantly, and walks up slowly to you to grip your hand. He intertwines your fingers and squeezes your hands.
He is undeniably hotter than usual, warming up your own body by sheer proximity. He trembles too, very lightly, but it is here.
“What are you afraid of?” You ask him, whispering.
You’re forced to raise your head to look up to him because of how tall he is. His forehead is crossed by a line of tension and you see him gulp, a thin veil of sweat at his temples.
“I do not want to hurt you.” He confesses, his red eyes diving into yours. “If I ever did it, I could never pardon myself.”
“You’re not going to hurt me, Thrawn. I am a big girl.”
“You do not know what you are talking about.” He whispers back.
“Try me.”
“I should not.”
“Then why call me?”
He freezes imperceptibly. Clearly he hadn’t made peace with his condition and is still working on the idea of asking for your help.
That man, you swear… Always trying to bear the load alone!
You’ll need to sweeten him into action.
You raise on your tiptoes to capture his lips. He doesn’t react, which is a testimony to his headspace. He was never afraid of casual physical affection before, but today, he seems closed off, even to you.
You part your hands to circle them around his neck, you peck his lips repeatedly.
Muah! Muah! Muah!
His hands came to your hips, barely holding them like a feather touch.
“Will you not kiss me at the very least?” You pout.
He finally responds, opening his lips to yours, and you enter his mouth to hug and dance with his tongue. You sigh, satisfied against his lips, brushing your breast against his large chest.
His skin is burning under your touch, you scent sweat mixed with his natural musk.
His hands get more daring as the kiss deepens, one of them comes at the back of your head to prevent you from parting from his lips, and the other sneakily slides under your black tank top. You moan seductively, waving your body against his tall one, kissing him languorously, squeezing him in your arms, his large, warm hand fists in your hair, and caressing your back, delicately at first, then with more and more evident signs of urgency.
He pushes you against a wall and traps you against his chest. You hear his purr starting in his chest and throat.
You do not complain. Far from that.
You love that sound.
You love being trapped against his hot, warm body. Being at his complete mercy.
It is exciting.
The kiss gets more demanding and urgent, and you let him take the reins.
He bites your lower lip before parting from you, leaving you both panting.
“What do you need, Thrawn? Tell me.” You encourage him to put his desire into words.
“I need… You.” He finally admits.
It looks like it cost him to admit such a thing; he doesn't relinquish control and power easily. Conceding such a thing must be a huge blow to his Chiss pride. Being vulnerable is an admission of weakness for him, and he cannot be weak.
Not him! Not with all he has to accomplish.
“You have me. Whole. Body and soul.” You kiss his nose and hear his purr getting higher. “What do you want to do?”
What is his relation to desire? How does he feel it in his flesh? Is it a rare occurrence or a constant in his life? How can you help him navigate it? Your mind is racing while you wait for his response, which takes its sweet time to come.
But you wait patiently, you do not want to pressure him.
“I would like to taste you.” His hands come to your cheek to pull into an infinitely tender kiss before he dives back his rubies in your eyes, “Would you allow it? Would you let me eat you out?” Enthusiasm seems to win him over as a starved curiosity appears to devour him.
You’ve never done that…
That calms down your ardor spectacularly.
No guys you’ve been with were ever interested to go down on you while you regularly sucked them off. Or they promised they would take care of you another time, saying sweet nothing to your ears, letting you do all the work as some kind of kings.
It was kinda expected, that’s how things work: You take care of them until they get hard, you do the deed, cuts to the next day. That’s your role as a girlfriend. That’s how it works.
“I, huh…”
You’re not so sure to be down for that. You purse your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. He looks at you, or rather devours you with his rubies, hanging on to your lips, you feel hope and great anticipation bubbling under his hot skin.
“I… Wouldn’t you prefer I suck you off?” You propose, after a wince, trying to correct the direction of this conversation.
“No.” He responds without missing a beat, “I want to eat you. I need it.” He hammers each and every word home, detaches them each for you to clearly understand. “Please, Cha’cah?”
“Are you sure? Is it not kinda… beneath you?”
He frowns like he doesn’t understand a word you are saying.
“This is a pressing desire, Cha’cah. I really want it.”
His fine mask of calm and sternness is firmly in place, but his eyes… Fixing you, mad with desire, excitement, and expectations.
You kinda cornered yourself with this one, you realize. His thumbs gently brush your cheeks, his tall body pressing you tight against the wall, and you can feel his breath on your lips.
“I…” You start, noticing his eyes lighting up as you speak, full of hope.
You don’t have the heart to turn him down, not when he has such expressive eyes…
You bite your lips, feeling you’re going to regret this.
“Alright… ?”
He remains mute before sighing in relief, like it was eating him inside. He captures your lips again, languorously kissing you like your first kiss, before leaning forward to seize your legs and carry you bridal style towards his desk. You cannot help a yelp of surprise. He carries you like you weigh nothing; you feel so light in his arms, like a little girl.
He lays you down on his desk and immediately sits down on his chair, between your hanging legs, and opens his white jacket wide. By reflex, you close your thighs as you tense your back.
“Make yourself comfortable, Cha’cah.” He says, already breathless with anticipation, “Let me take care of everything and enjoy.” You hear the distinct sound of purring starting to get louder and louder.
“This is not too late for a blow job!” You try to deter him with enthusiasm to tempt him.
But he simply pushes you down gently with his hand, not hearing a word you’re saying. He seems deaf to anything, his sharp mind fogged by the rut and fixated only on what you promised him. He has the expression he wears when he is winning a battle, a thin, lopsided, smug grin on his lips, eyes sharp and focused on the prize.
You gulp, terrified.
You lay down his desk, fiddling with your fingers.
You feel his expert hands making quick work of your pants, sliding them down your legs. He leans forwards to kiss your venus mont delicately, leaving butterfly kisses on the sensitive thin skin making you clench your pussy in reaction. It feels like he is worshiping something holy.
It is weird to be the subject of worship, you purse your lips nervously, usually it’s you on your knees and not the other way around.
He only fingered you last time because you helped him first.
But today?
Why would he want to go down on you without you reciprocating? Nobody does that!
Not your previous partners. No one.
“Hum, here?” You try to stop that immoral situation, getting back into a sitting position. “Maybe a Grand Admiral’s office isn’t a proper place to do it, maybe we-”
“Stop questioning everything. I will eat you in my office, on my desk, and wherever I wish.” He cuts you with feverish eyes and a voice heavy with meaning that makes you shut up.
He pushes you back down and hooks your panties to slide them along your legs. Your legs are still firmly closed, and you feel his large hands slide between the flesh of your thighs to open them to him. You can’t help an embarrassed moan as he opens them easily with his superior strength, exposing you to his gaze. You immediately hide your sex under your hands by instinct. You feel him grope your hips and pull you towards him and the edge of the desk.
“Ah!” you yelp.
“Relax, cheo Cha’cah. Let me take care of everything.” He seizes your dangling legs and throws them on his shoulders.
His hands snake their way all up your legs, caressing your flesh sensually until he reaches your hands that he delicately cups and pulls away, holding your wrists firmly in his fist. You moan pitifully and try to close your legs back, only managing to cage his head between your knees.
That’s when the cold realization that you cannot hide from him hits you, your breath gets stuck in your throat, and you feel panic slowly rising.
You then feel warm fingers grazing your pussy lips incredibly softly but you cannot help a shudder at the touch.
“Shhhhhhhhhhh…” Thrawn whispers, “Have faith in me, Cha’cah. I will take such good care of you. You are going to enjoy yourself in excess and satisfy me on the same occasion.” You hear in his voice he is completely entranced by what he is seeing.
You gulp, feeling the fire of his gaze burning your sensitive flesh as he observes you like he is observing a canvas of a grand master. You feel your legs start trembling under such thorough inspection. Not even your gynecologist looks at you so rigorously! You refrain a lament as he trails your slit with the ghost of a touch, before flicking your clit with his thumb, delighting himself in the irrepressible tremor of your body, his purring intensifying.
“I… It’s just… Nobody ever… looked at me that close. That is so embarrassing…” You confess, your cheek burning with shame.
“Nobody took the time to honor such a wonder of nature?” He kisses your thigh, peppering sweet pecks on your flesh, “This is such a shame, this is an integral part of the entertainment. I will make sure this mistake is thoroughly corrected by the time I am done with you.” He promises with such a deep and melodious voice that you shudder again. “I will show you what true devotion feels like, I will have you see hyperspace in your daze, I will have you trembling and leaking between my hands.” He sounds more and more unhinged and impatient as he speaks.
You imagine him licking his lips before the complete course meal you represent for him. You brace yourself for what is coming, looking at the ceiling, contemplating your life and how you ended up half-naked on the desk of your Grand Admiral.
“Let me revel in what you have to offer, my love.” His voice drops another octave, a growling sound resonating in his chest.
He grips your thighs between his large hands properly to keep them well apart, and you fight the desire to hide yourself again, despite what your conscience screams at you.
To hide that dirty part of you.
He blows on your exposed pussy earning a yelp from you, you hear him chuckle before feeling the flat of his tongue against your cunny. You shake terribly with a helpless yap as he starts licking you with enthusiasm, alternating between licks and kisses on your pussy. He trails your slit up and down with the tip of his tongue, titillating your entrance expertly, before rising up to flick your clit.
By reflex and instinct, again you jerk your hips away, trying to get away, but you feel his large hands gripping your legs and pulling you harshly back towards him and his eager mouth.
“You will not escape me, my love.” He growls, like a pissed off predator.
He doesn’t waste any time and dive back in your pussy, and your moans escape you uncontrollably so you press your two hands on your treacherous mouth, silencing yourself. He immediately bites into your thighs.
“No. You do not get to remain silent under my care.” He growls, “Remove your hands or I will have you screaming.”
You gulp. Trembling, you remove your hands to grip the edges of the desk, digging your nails into the metal. He kisses you where he bitten you, like a sorry gesture, and dives back in your pussy. He thoroughly laps at you, purring like he is enjoying himself.
But how could he enjoy himself? You are not touching him in any way, how doing…that could bring him enjoyment?
Men don’t derive pleasure from touching their women.
But you hear his purr deepens as he accelerates his ministrations on your pussy. Weird…
That’s not how it is usually done.
But here he is, eating you out with enthusiasm and ebullience, sparing no effort to have you moan and mewl under his touch. He himself isn’t shy of his groans, eating you out voraciously, forcing undignified pleas from you, moaning in unisson.
“Oh Maker, Thrawn!” You let out between two strangled mewls.
“Yes, Cha’cah. Sing for me, my love. Sing me your pleasure, I want to hear everything!” He slurps greedily, “I feel you getting wetter and wetter, this is exactly what I want, you are doing wonderful.” He praises you.
He sounds so… Satisfied. With his deep voice, purr, and growl, he looks like he is savoring the present moment. And you.
You dig your nails in the metal so much they hurt, your hand terribly tensed around the desk. You feel your own slick rolling down your ass and the cold desk, and surely Thrawn’s laps. You hope you are not ruining his pristine uniform…
Gone is your refined and elegant man, between your legs is an avid animal devouring you like its last meal, you hear him make the most indecent sounds and they go straight to your pussy.
“You taste divine, Cha’cah,” He exclaims between two long and slow licks, “What you are offering me is a real delight. I wish I had come to you sooner, tasting you is such an enthralling experience.”
You moan between your closed lips, the back of your hand against your mouth. The pleasure is spreading through every nerve ending by waves, your legs are now shaking irrepressibly and your pussy is gaping around the void, infuriatingly empty.
“You little moans go straight to my cock, Cha’cah. I am getting so hard just by hearing you, just by tasting you.” He growls hungrily, laving at you with such diligence, “You are relieving me of so much discomfort, this is exactly what I needed today.”
But how? How pleasuring you could relieve him in any way? A man gets relief under a woman's touch, not the other way around.
He spreads your folds wide apart with two fingers and takes a big lap at your hidden flesh before focusing on your nervous bud. He takes it in his mouth, sucking on it like a lollipop, making it roll between his lips, flitting his tongue, flicking it swiftly and spreading little shockwaves through your pearl. Your slick is now leaking in abundance, soiling your vulva and Thrawn lips and jaw, but he doesn’t mind in the least, quite contrary. He is owning it like everything he does and actually sees it as proof of your pleasure and the price of all his efforts.
“Relax, my love. You are so tense under my hands, you should enjoy yourself. This is supposed to be pleasurable for you, too.”
It is pleasurable for you. Immensely. But that goes against absolutely everything that has been taught to you, and you cannot help but feel dirty for enjoying yourself.
“I’m trying!” You push the unwilling words out of your throat, “It’s just… I’ve never done that! We don’t… do that here!”
“That is a shame, my love. I will help you reach higher pleasures, just for you. Just let me work and relax.”
And he doubles down in his efforts, licking, sucking, lapping, laving, gliding at your little clit getting all puffy and excitable. He purrs deeply as he flickers your bud at high speed, having you a shaking mess, dripping and drooling, helpless under the skillful touch of your man.
He enters you with his tongue, waving it against your G spot, grazing and brushing it with his tip, tonguefucking you expertly.
This is so immoral.
This is so dirty.
This is so…
But why?
Why is he so good at this? Why does it bring you so much pleasure?
Why?
“Oh maker…” You whine, “Ple-please slow down… I-I will…”
“No, my love. Give me a formidable and powerful orgasm.” He encourages you, accelerating his work on your sensitive mound of flesh.
He stopped being nice and gentle long ago, he is eating you out like a ravenous beast, devouring you like all reason abandoned him.
What noises coming from him are hardly worthy of a Grand Admiral, but they’re so… Exciting! Teasing that animal part of your brain, making you cream like crazy against his swollen lips, licking you clean avidly. He forces you to chant for his ears, pushing all the most undignified sounds out of your mouth without any regard for your dignity.
Your formerly gaping pussy is now clenching hard on the void, dripping in abundance, all your nerves on fire, you convulse on the desk under each teasing touch. Your blood flows suddenly south, making your pussy lips and inner muscles puffy and gorging themself with blood, making them soft and fluffy.
The shockwaves of pleasure getting more and more intense, more and more close, like a hurrying tsunami rolling furiously towards the shore, ready to drown you. You brace yourself for it, but you couldn’t have predicted how hard it hit.
The tsunami crashes upon you, destroying everything in its wake, overwhelming you under a sea of marvelous sensations, tensing your whole body furiously. The scream of his name escapes you inadvertently, your eyes rolling inside your head. Behind your closed eyelids you see hyperspace lanes glowing brightly among shining stars, like grand fireworks flashing in the clear night sky.
Thrawn suddenly stands up and pumps his painfully hard cock over you, and cums all over your vulva and venus mount with a groan finishing in a deep, satisfied sigh.
Your whole body suddenly relaxes, all your muscles at once, with a “oof” so much that the back of your head hits the desk. Your chest rises up and down rapidly to catch your breath as you feel a trickle of sweat on your forehead.
“Grandiose, Cha’cah.” He says, panting with his deep and dulcet voice, “This. This is giving me what I want.” He praises you, disheveled, his two hands on each side of your waist, looming over you with his gleaming red eyes devouring you.
You gulp.
You remain still, eyes closed, registering what the heck just happened here. You try to close your legs back, but only imprison Thrawn’s hips between them. You feel his marge hands caressing your thighs and he leans forward to kiss where your womb would be very respectfully. He peppers kisses very delicately, brushing his nose against the thin skin while purring deeply.
You gasp for air, still not finding your words, your mind frozen and in a mess after such an orgasm.
“You came very hard for me, Cha’cah, thank you.” He admires, pushing back your panties over your wet pussy to soak it and take it for himself later, he raises his head back to you with a thin complimentary smile on his swollen lips, “This was a fantastic experience.”
You realize your mouth is half open and close it, wiping the drool that escaped your mouth all over your jaw. Did he make you lose all your composure just like that?
You feel so... dirty.
How could you enjoy yourself like that?
And how could you cum harder than any other men ever did? At that immoral act?
Thrawn buttons up his pants and takes out a towel to clean your lower stomach of his seed.
“Cha’cah? You are eerily silent, is everything alright?” He calls for you.
You flare your nostrils, chastising yourself.
You rise in a seating position, almost hitting Thrawn’s jaw with your head, but he takes a step back.
You raise your head to him with a bright joyfull smile.
“Everything is great, Grand Admiral! I just promised Konstantine to came back immediately after my rendez-vous.” You explain with glee.
“Oh.” He simply responds. “Of course, you may go.”
He seems almost displeased, like he wished for you to remain and cuddle with you.
But you need to go.
You need to flee.
You dress back up, kiss him swiftly on the cheek, and escape from his office with your false smile plastered for everyone to see.
And you run away.
@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @thrawnspetgoose @twilekchiss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching@obbicrystaleo@empresskrennic@davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @princesslunamoon19 @Janjtje @helrose8 @sparepartsthrowaway
Chekmate and Chaos
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Tags : Reader is disabled, fluff, self-doubts, ptsd, cuddling, hurt-comfort, street fight, domestic, groceries, rescue, Thrawn is a caregiver at heart...
This is your last day together before the end of your leave. You have a present for Thrawn you hope he will like, but also some mundane tasks to take care off, like a married couple...
Thrawn x F!reader
You feel a tender caress on your hair, making you sigh, your cheek pressed against something really warm and pulsating rhythmically, sending vibrations through your skin.
You yawn and blink.
You are in your living room, sprawling on the couch in the arms of Thrawn. You remember the evening you spent in front of a movie, hugging each other, chuckling at the cheezy acting. You also remember you were too occupied kissing each other to care about the rest of the movie, him laying his entire body on yours, keeping you trapped under him.
You thought it would have dissolved in a completely different situation, but he kept it to kissing, pressing you tight against himself, breathing in your scent, holding your cheek. You ended up both sleeping on the couch in each other arms.
Your face is resting on Thrawn’s chest as he hugs you while caressing your hair. You tentatively look up to him.
He stayed with you to embrace you and cradle you.
He lowers his gaze to meet yours and smiles tenderly at you, his hand leaving your hair to graze your cheek with his back.
“Good morning, Ch’acah.” He whispers like a sound too loud would make you implode.
You smile faintly at him, hugging him tighter.
“Hi, you.”
You brush your cheek against his hand as a purr starts in response. The whole room smells like him, wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. You kiss his knuckles as his hand passes next to your lips.
“Are you hungry?” He asks gently.
“No.” You yawn.
He tilts his head, this wasn’t the answer he expected.
“Yes Terribly..” You try to save yourself.
“Good try.” He retorts, “Come eat with me, please.”
He kisses your forehead and stands up, holding your hand to guide you to your table. He lets you sit down while he rummages through your cupboards. You see him agitating himself, preparing the breakfast for the both of you.
He seems to hesitate several times on how to proceed but intimates you sit back down each time you stand up to come help him
‘’It is a simple recipe. I should be able to handle it.’’ He says resolutely.
You sit back again and let him cook, silently brooding.
Why is he cooking ?
How long are you still going to fail him ?
He finally turns back with avocado toast, with avocado properly mixed and toast not burnt.
He lays a plate in front of you, two full toasts, lavishly garnished with ripe avocado.
You are, clearly and irrepressably, not hungry enough for two full toasts.
He sits beside you and wish you a good meal, you nod, your lips pressed in a thin line.
You take one toast to nibble one corner and immediately regret it. He put lemon juice in the avocado and the acidic taste immediately upset you.
You wince and put the toast back on the plate.
Thrawn who is munching on his own piece silently observes you. He wipes the crumbs off his perfect blue lips with his thumb before taking your plate to dispose of it.
“Thrawn...” You try before his mutism, “It’s not your fault, it’s me. Do not get angry, I just cant this morning.”
“I am not angry in the slightest, Ch’acah.” He simply responds, back turned to you, doing... something.
Imagine your surprise when he turns back and hands you a plate of white bread with chocolate spread, something he notoriously looks at with dissatisfaction. You open your eyes wide.
“You hate when I eat that.” You say, incredulous.
He sits down and takes his toast to bite into it.
“If the only way I have to make sure you eat is serving you your favorite unhealthy food, it will do for now.” He simply responds.
Him who’s always been a sticker to a healthy diet and manners of living...
You take one slice and bite into it. Even the deliciously chocolaty treat isn’t enough to awaken your appetite. But you eat nonetheless not to alarm him.
“We need to do groceries.” He announces. “We emptied the fridge yesterday.”
“I’ll take care of it.” You say.
“I’ll come with you.”
You glance at him.
“Why?”
“The pantry is always full when I arrive, I never had to go grocery shopping in the area.” He explains.
Of course the pantry is always full for his return: it’s your task! Make sure your man doesn’t starve to death. And a Grand Admiral as way more important things to do than groceries!
‘But... I could get a glimpse of his tastes.’ the thought crosses your mind.
“All right, I know a little market. We should find everything here.”
“Good.”
You observe Thrawn opening a pillbox to swallow protein and vitamin capsules. Your heart sinks. Since your... ‘incident’ you stopped buying meat altogether and Thrawn modifies his diet when he is at the apartment with you.
You’re depriving him of vital nutrients for his athletic lifestyle...
You gulp down your bite with difficulty, feeling guilty.
He notices you fixing him and tilts his head as he swallow the capsules down.
“A problem?” He asks
“No... Not at all...” You lower your gaze on your slice of bread.
You finish your plate completely to prove your point even if the knots in your stomach complain heavily and shoot him a smile.
He slowly nods approvingly taking a fruit to bite into. You cross your arms on the table, observing his pearly white teeth biting into the juicy flesh, how his blue lips wrap around the plump of the fruit, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows another bite. Thrawn lazily scrolls on his datapad, discovering today’s news, and keeping himself informed. You feel your lips stretch into a smile as you admire your boyfriend in the daylight through the window, the sunrays gently caressing his deep blue skin, the shades varying whether in light or in shadow, enhancing his cheekbones and forehead ridges.
You see his brows frown slightly every time he reads political news, trying really hard to understand all the ins and outs of what he is reading, but you know he fails. At the fifth time, you take pity on him and invite him to give you the pad to give him a little rundown of the politics.
You’re scrolling through the different news articles when an article catches your attention, stopping you in your tracks. You read the title carefully before it the article in its entirety to be absolutely certain.
But there is no doubts possible.
“The senate intends to harden the conditions for marriage between humans and aliens.” You announce with an empty voice.
So many new laws of this order have been put in place lately, preventing the adoption of human children by alien couples, separating humans and aliens in school, etc...
You read and reread the title of the article, incredulous, your blood turning cold.
What if... You can never marry Thrawn?
What if this option just disappears?
“Really?” He responds casually.
You look up to him in surprise.
He is focused on his avocado toast, seemingly unaffected by the news. Your mind flashes you the memory of him silently observing the storefront of a wedding shop with sparkling eyes.
But today he... simply doesn’t care.
You gulp and swallow down your doubts and questions, you’ve only been dating for almost over a year but lived together for less than four months total.
Marriage may be premature for your couple yet!
But still...
You would have liked if he appeared displeased by the news...
“Either way it talks about economics and stock exchange prices.” You finish, disheartened but with an assured voice.
You keep your face neutral, hiding your worries deep inside you, away from his eyes as you scroll back to the top of the news site. Every article praises the decisions of the Senate and Emperor, saying how moral and great those choices are and how they will rectify the former decadent mores of the former Republic. You sip your caff in silence, focused on your reading before laying the pad, a weird strained feeling weighing you down.
Thrawn pats his gorgeous lips with a napkin before turning to you and taking your hand lying on the table to squeeze it.
“This is our final day together, cheo Ch’acah. Is there anything you want to do?”
You purse your lips for a split second.
“What I want to- Wait!” You jump on your feet and head to your bedroom, leaving Thrawn guessing in the kitchen.
You kneel down on the floor to look under your bed, you extend your hand and search for something under the wooden frame until the tips of your fingers touch something. You grasp it and pull it off under the bed, it is dusty by now so you blow air on it and brush dust away as you return to the kitchen.
Thrawn silently observes you coming back and handing him the wrapped package. He considers the rectangular package with polite curiosity before taking it in his hands and looking at you as you sit back, a silent question in his eyes.
“I have no idea when your birthday is and I realized we didn’t have one yet in the apartment.” You explain with a small smile.
His fingers brush the edges of the package, trying to guess what is under the gift wrap, his mind searching for clues in your demeanor.
“This is very delicate of you. Thank you.” He simply says, thankful.
After turning the package in every angle and weighing it up he finally decides to open it. You bite your lips, not losing a crumb of the spectacle as he takes out a new black velvety box. He turns it to discover his full name engraved in it with silvery accents. He squints, putting the box down to unlock the latches and open the lid.
He blinks as he discovers a brand new Shah-tezh game with its ivory shiny demesne and pieces.
“Tadaaaaaaam!” You chuckle, “I thought you would like to play it again!”
He delicately takes one of the pieces to admire it closely, how well carved and shiny they are, all the minute details drawn in the ivory, all the attention given to the finishing touches of each piece.
You devour him with your eyes, head resting on both of your hands, awaiting his reaction to your little surprise with great impatience. It’s been months since you hid this present, never finding the right time to give it to him! It cost you a little fortune to find this artisanal game and you really hope he likes it.
He finally replaces the piece in the box with an amused expression.
“This brings back memories.” Thrawn notes.
“Good memories?” You playfully insist.
“Of course. Very good memories.” He slowly nods in approval, “Thank you for your gift, it is a delicious idea.”
“Do you want to play now?”
He tilts his head.
“Already?”
“Why not? We have nothing to do outside of the groceries. For our last day together we could play all day long!” You propose.
“Alright. I let you choose your color.” He indicates,.
As you do the dishes Thrawn puts the game in place and serves you both another cup of caff.
You sit down and start playing together like you used to in the Academy a decade ago...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“I will never beat you.” You half-complain, half-joke.
“This type of game fuels directly in my strong suits it will be quite hard for you; But you considerably improved your strategies during those ten years, you made really good progress.” Thrawn praises.
You walk in the street, playing with the straps of the bags, making them swirl at your hand. The sun pains to shine on this floor, managing to brighten the alley only through holes in the permabeton and broken windows and you cannot resist the childish impulse to shoot in some trash laying around with your feet.
Thrawn follows you closely, observing this new environment in silent... displease.
You had to go down several floors of Coruscant to join the market you had in mind and while your own neighborhood isn’t what you would call rich or especially secure, you are at ease. You are confident in your capacity to protect yourself with your training but you feel Thrawn’s arm circling your shoulders when you pass a dark street where obvious spice traffics are taking place. Each inhabitant of this floor considers Thrawn regal allure with curiosity and... hunger. You chose an old cheap coat to not clash in the environment and wear a mute grey and dark colors but Thrawn natural elegance is hard to hide and he clearly appears as an outsider here. Everyone is grey here, features drawn and tired traits, and even aliens’ colors are muted in this environment, making Thrawn’s healthy and vibrant blue skin discords even more. You feel his hand squeezing your shoulder as you walk past a group of young adults sniffing... something white and powdery on a flat surface.
“Do you come here often?” He investigates.
“It’s the only market in the area where I can find products from my homeworld. So yeah, pretty much.” You explain.
He just nods, not about to start an argument about the rights and wrongs of rummaging in such a neighborhood, he trusts you to be able to protect your own person.
That doesn’t stop him from pulling you closer to him at each black look you receive from the local punks, someone even spits in your direction...
”The atmoshere is much lighter inside the market, you’ll see.” you reassure him.
The arches of the covered market are finally visible and you inadvertently accelerate. You want to show certain products of your homeworld to Thrawn and you hurry. But Thrawn holds you down and forces you to slow down, pressing your two bodies together.
You’re about to ask him what’s up when you notice the group of men at the feet of the arches, laying against the walls with their cans of beer, their blades and bats at their belts shining in the artificial crude light of the floor. They are guarding the entry of the market like Cerberus guarding hell’s gate, checking out passersby, whistling at women who hurry away, and shoving people at random.
As you approach the entry you readjust the straps of your bags on your shoulders and Thrawn keeps you real close, not letting you escape his protective grasp.
“Bag and pockets!” One of them barks at you when you reach the arches.
You sniff but open your bag for him to check. That’s not your first rodeo with them.
“In good company today, sweet thing?” He laughs crudely.
“Maybe, what’s it to you?” You retort.
He sniffs with disdain, caressing his blade as a warning. You hold his gaze.
“And your knight?” He finally turns to Thrawn who didn’t release you for a second.
Thrawn takes out his identity card and shows it between two fingers.
“This is the only thing I have in my pockets.” He announces.
They look into each other eyes, gauging each other in silence.
The cerberus snarls and spits on the ground.
“Let them pass.” He says to his colleagues blocking the entry to you, “And no funny business, we patrol inside.”
You flip him as you pass, Thrawn’s hand protectively around your shoulders. You enter the market, squinting at the sudden brightness, and discover a place full of life and products, buzzing with activity.
“Who are they?” Thrawn asks as you walk away from the entry.
“The local gang. They are a little on edge lately, they conflict with other groups.”
You start walking among the aisles. True to your words, the market is way safer than the neighborhood where it is located with bright and clean aisles and fresh and diverse products, it may be just on the cheaper side. Families are here with children running around and you feel Thrawn’s grasp on your shoulder slowly loosening as he judges the place safe.
Something catches your gaze and you immediately pull Thrawn to it,
“Look at that! Sweets from my homeworld!”
You take one immediately in your mouth, savoring the rush of sugar. Thrawn takes one, making it roll between his fingers, weighting it, raising it to his nose.
“Those ones are citrus, but they come with a lot of different tastes.” You explain, sucking on the candy in your mouth.
Thrawn considers the treat before putting it in his mouth.
“They are called ‘bétises’, they were my favorite candies growing up.”
“Of course they were your favorite with such a name.” He responds deadpan.
You chuckle as he shakes his face with a tight exhausted smile. You take out your grocery list and head toward the vegetables. You choose some green onions, some Kebroot and hesitate between some Corellian eggplants and some Anoth eggplant. One is sweeter and more fondant while the other is more acidic.
Thrawn helps you choose the freshest ones, manipulating the vegetables and sniffing them.
You fill your bags with goodies until Thrawn takes it from you to carry them.
You walk among the aisles, stopping here and there for free sampling of the products. You succumb to temptation and buy a big pot of honey from your home planet, drooling at the simple idea of diving a spoon into it to taste it.
You reach the tubers section and you feel Thrawn slowing down. You stop to observe what he saw.
“I remember those ones.” He says, “The Ascendancy bought a lot of tubers from merchants of the Chaos to feed its population.” He takes one in his large hand, weighing it carefully.
The tuber, an orange vegetable ribbed of purple lines has a delicate fragrance. Thrawn takes one slice that is here for free sampling and nods. You take one in your mouth and almost break down crying.
Your mouth immediately catches fire and you pant with your tongue out. You avidly take the small glass of blue milk the market gardener hands to you amused and you gulp it down with relief, welcoming the greasy liquid in your mouth to wash down any capsaisin.
Thrawn eyeballs you with a tight grin.
“Spicy, is it not?”
You let out a huge gasp as your lips part from the milk glass.
“Yes! Yes it is!”
His gaze lowers down to the vegetable with fondness.
“It reminds me of my childhood. I did not expect to find some of those products here.”
You tilt your head, squinting.
“Because you saw several produce from the Ascendancy?”
“Three or four.” He places the vegetable down and takes a step signaling you can move on.
You observe him dumbfounded.
“And it didn’t cross your mind to tell me so we could buy them?”
He consider you like it downed on him.
“I... Would not know how to cook them if we bought them.” He explains.
You roll your eyes with a sigh.
“Give me ten!” You order the market gardener.
You seize the full bag they hand you, take Thrawn’s hand in yours, and force him to retrace the entire way, asking him if these were the products or not.
You’ll do this market 5 times if you must, but you’ll find all the Ascendancy products and cook him a good meal like back home! Or as close as you can get.
He obediently follows behind you, letting you pull him in silence as you question him at each and every new product.
FINALLY! You find the four in question and buy them under his careful burning gaze.
“You did not have to.” He finally says as you rearrange your bags to make a place for the fresh bean paste of his homeworld, squatting in the middle of one aisle.
You sniff at his reaction.
“And why not?” You raise your gaze to him, “Don’t you like when I take care of you?”
His lips stretch in a thin line for a split second as he seems to realize what this entire circus is about.
“Thank you...” He eventually lets out past his lips.
You slow down your movement in the bag, looking up at him. Is it so foreign to him? To be taken care of?
You stand back on your feet and on your tiptoes to reach his cheek that you kiss tenderly.
“I’ll cook you a good meal with all of that! You will guide me to achieve a Chiss-flavored recipe.”
You hear the faintest of purr as he seems to lean into the kiss.
“I propose you choose the spices and chilis and I’ll head over there to retrieve some legumes, and we will finish with some dairy, okay?”
He stops in his tracks.
“You want me to choose ingredients while knowing my record tracks in the kitchen?” He asks squinting.
“Well... You did not poison yourself until now, so I guess i can trust you to choose some. And you use way more chilis than me, choose the ones you prefer and I’ll cook with them!”
“How do you know I use more chilis than you?” He tilts his head.
You give him an all-knowing lopsided grin.
“First : that demonstration with the tuber 20 minutes ago, Second : I always catch you adding more cayenne pepper to your plate, and third: do you remember that lentil dish you cooked when I came to the apartment to help you with furniture? You did not bat an eye while I was sweating like a pig and crying my eyes out.”
“You finished that dish.” He frowns.
You grimace a bit.
“I did not want to offend you...”
He lower his shoulders, slightly defeated.
“Why did you not say anything? I would have cooked something else lighter.”
You raise your tip toes to kiss his cheek again.
“It is in the past love. Now you will be able to add as much chili as you want to your plate.”
He considers you but relinquishes and turns toward the chilis and spices stands with sparkling eyes despite his closed and stern expression.
You smile at him and head toward the legumes section debating in your head if you should buy canned or fresh ones. You’ll take lentils for Thrawn if you only you could remember the variety he cooked that evening...Oh! You also need to pick some cheese, you noted how he devoured the cheese cubes during your movie night.
You should ask your mother if there is any lentil recipe with chilis from your homeworld you could cook.
You wince. She will just berate you and demand why you do not already know that at your age... You are fully focused on your peas when you feel a body press itself against your back, looming over you.
“Hi, hot stuff. You are a cute one you know?”
You cringe internally before turning towards the voice. As you expected around here, this isn’t just a frotteur but one of the gang members.
“You could make some good money with a face like yours.” He keeps going.
“Not interested.” You respond sharply, flicking his hand off your shoulder.
There are a lot of touts in the area selling dreams to desperate people to lock them in their clubs and brothels. You saw a lot of young men and women following those kinds of pimps with hope in their eyes that it will allow them to make some quick bucks and escape the lower floors.
Those fuckers even hunt among teens, barely 15 yet.
You reach for a bag of fresh Corellian peas when you see two other shadows drawing themself over you. You let out a snarl, the pimp got companies.
“Oh come on, a fresh fit body like you could make so much cash! If you follow us, we will show you how!”
You don’t have your rifle with you, obviously, but you received Imperial training. Getting rid of three hoods shouldn’t be that difficult.
As long as they remain only three...
Your eyes lower to their blades and bats hanging at their hips. If you could snatch one up...
“Thank you for this very generous offer, dear sirs. Alas, I must pursue my travel, for I am awaited you see?” You respond with an apathetic smile.
They let out a chuckle.
“Even better. Clients adore it when the girls have some personality. Keep your humor and you’ll be one of the most popular of the entire establishment.” One of them says, leaning forward, trapping you between him and the stall.
Disgusting.
But that is what you wanted.
“Oh really?” You smile and let the click of the blade resonate as you press it at his throat. “I will still ask you to back down gentle sir.”
He palps his hip only to realize you took his vibroblade. His nostril flares as anger lights up in his pupils.
“You... sneaky little bitch!” He takes a step back, letting the rest of the group realize he got divested of his weapon.
“Is that how you talk to a possible business partner?” You taunt.
You catch the shadow of a movement on your left and have just the time to parry with the blade. The fourth pimps take a step back as his first assault failed.
“You are not allowed to carry weapons inside, girly.” He indicates, his own baled raised in a practiced and obviously experienced manner.
“I merely borrowed it from your colleague who got too close.”
“I... sorry boss.” He pathetically aplogizes.
The blade holder gaze’s slides toward his younger colleague with a sigh.
“Drop that blade.” He orders.
“Drop yours first.” You retort raising the knife.
“It doesn’t work that way, cutie.” He takes a step forward cautiously.
You are about to say something back when a hand grips your shoulder forcefully. Without even thinking, you grab the arm and throw your leg backward, making the assailant’s body roll over your shoulder and fall to the ground with a grunt of pain.
Like in training!
You just have the time to raise your gaze the gangster from whom you stole the blade throws himself at you. You spin to gather momentum and kick him in the plexus, completely forgetting you now have mechanical legs, and send him fleeing in the stand, broking it to pieces in the process.
Uh oh… You think you felt his plexus break under your hit…
You hear gasps and hurried steps as the passersby hurry away from the scene before that debacle.
You’re back down to three assailants, but now they are fully pissed off ! They carefully place themself around you, staring at you stonily. One of them throws themself at you in a classic two-waves attack. You spin the blade in your hand and hit the side of their skull with the end of the vibroblade. They stagger to the side, clearly confused and in pain.
You turn to see the two last ones when you receive a prodigious punch in the face, throwing you to the ground. You groan painfully, and cough hard, feeling something warm and liquid rolling on your skin where the pimp hit you.
You touch it in disbelief, to discover your blood, dripping to the floor.
This warm, liquidy sensation on your skin…
You gag, flashbacks teleporting you back in the dark cave, strapped down that dirty mattress, and the bite of the saw in your tender flesh…
You are in shock, unable to detach your gaze from the red liquid nor stop your shivering. You lose all awareness of your surroundings and completely forget about the assault, stuck in the cave.
You do nit even hear the pimp talking to you.
You shudder when a sudden gunshot rings in the market and a body falls near you. You turn your gaze towards the sound to discover Thrawn, gun aimed in your direction with a cold expression, his eyebrows frowned in displeasure.
‘’Stop.’’ He sternly orders, ‘’This is enough.’’
“Wha-Who the FUCK let you enter with a gun?!” The leader demands.
Thrawn immediately aims at him, his glare full of warnings and threat.
“Your own colleagues. I am here to collect this young lady right here.” He announces, advancing in the aisles like in conquered territories, “As for you, hands high up in the air where I can see them.”
You do not see what the leader decided to do, whatever it was Thrawn judged it worthy to be shot at. You shiver with the gunshot and the sound of the body hitting the floor.
Did... Did he just...
He turns to the last one that decides to lie down, his hands on his head. Thrawn closes the gap and collects all the weapons, cuffing the last pimp before rising to the sea of curious and worried customers. He raises his Grand Admiral insignia for all to see.
“I am a Grand Admiral of the Empire, citizens. Everything is under control and if someone could be urbane enough to notify the police about this gang so they can collect them, it would be greatly appreciated.”
One of the vendor behind the stall nods and heads to a stationary phone immediately.
Thrawn turns to you and put a knee to the ground to comfort you.
“Everything is okay, Ch’acah. Can you stand?”
You nod weakly, still a bit shocked as he helps you stand up.
“Are they...?”
“Unconscious. My gun is adjusted on stun mod when I am on leave.”
“Oh... okay.” You respond not knowing if that is comforting or not.
“You are bleeding, my beloved.” He murmurs, caressing a strand of hair behind your ear tenderly, “Come with me, they must have a pharmacy somewhere.” He lowers to grab all the bags that he passes on one shoulders and supports you with his arms.
While the police is being called he hands his debit card to the seller who’s stall you destroyed.
“For the damages.” He simply says before their shocked expression.
They take the cards like they saw a ghost and slides it down the machine before getting it back.
Thrawn keeps his gun ostensibly visible and helps you walk through the aisle.
“We will dress your wounds and head home.” He orders.
You are in no state to retort anything and obediently follows.
----------------------------------------------------------------
You poke the large compress now adorning your temple and wince as a wave of pain spreads.
Thrawn is in the bathroom scrubbing your top.
“The blood comes off, do not worry.” He announces with a gentle tone like losing this shirt was your first worry right now.
But it is not...
No
You cannot forget the blood...
You still feel it trickle down your cheek and thighs, the bite of the saw...
You shiver, curling over yourself, your heart right behind your lips.
By all account you are still trapped deep down that cave, cuffed to that bed.
Unable to escape.
Satlove still has you between his hands, slowly suffocating you.
You jolt when a hand touches your shoulder all of a sudden.
“Ch’acah? You did not speake a word. Is everything all right?”
But you are bound to see blood again, you are an Imperial officer. Blood is part of work.
You cannot allow yourself to freeze in shock while lives depend on you! You have cadet under your protection, you cannot allow your weakness to put them all in danger!
This is not what Thrawn would do! He would do whatever is necessary to protect his crew!
You deeply inhale, bracing yourself.
“Thrawn,” You start ready to negotiate, “I accept to go to therapy, but only at one condition.”
@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @thrawnspetgoose @twilekchiss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @empresskrennic @davesrightshoe @Holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @princesslunamoon19 @Janjtje @helrose8
Your name spells l.o.v.e.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38
Tags : Reader is disabled, fluff, self-doubts, ptsd, cuddling, hurt-comfort, ice-skating, heavy make out session
Your day started rather well but derails quickly. But Thrawn is never too far away to help
FemaleReader x Thrawn
You let the water roll on your body, eyes closed, appreciating the warmth wrapping around your body. Fortunately, your legs are waterproof, it would be such a pain either way. The vapors rise in the glass cabin, blurring your vision. You sigh in delight, letting your stress melt under the water. You’re mentally reviewing what you will cook for this morning.
What would Thrawn like? You really should take note of his favorite dishes to cook them regularly, “Cooking is a good way to keep your man happy” your mom told you before when you helped her in the kitchen.
You don’t know enough recipes, you should buy a new cookbook and practice. You shouldn't start worrying about acquiring new skills when you have a baby in your arms.". Also, you should be able to cook at the level of the dish served to him on the Chimaera! What would it say about you if you cannot even do that?
You purse your lips, you also have the dishes and the laundry to take care of…
Once your shower is done you wrap yourself in Thrawn’s robe, inhaling his scent deep inside your lungs. What a pleasure. You brush your face in the fluffy fabric with another sigh. You open the basket to find it empty.
Where are all the clothes?
You enter the kitchen where you discover Thrawn savoring a cup of caff while reading his datapad. He raises his head at your approach.
“Cha’cah.” He greets you with a thin smile.
You stop, getting submerged by the obscene memories of yesterday morning again and your heart starts sprinting immediately. You feel your cheeks flush, remembering how you served him and how he touched you sent you into a flustered panic.
He tilts his head, amused.
“Are you not going to greet me properly, my love?”
He extends his hand to you, and you take it after an hesitation, pulling you into a hug and he captures your lips immediately. He came back to his usual self, showering you with affection, kissing your face, hugging you… But this time he doesn’t shy away from kissing your lips properly, licking them with his tongue and embracing them.
It makes you melt and you feel like a teen experiencing her first relationship, all shy and giddy. You're glad his affection returned as before, he hugs and nudges you as he used to. These two days giving you the cold shoulder was killing you, and you are so relieved to be in his arms once again.
He invites you to open your mouth and dances with your tongue delicately and you moan against his lips,earning a faint purr. He squeezes you against his large form, making you feel small, but protected.
He then parts from you to let you breathe, looking unbothered but satisfied of his effect on you.
“Did you sleep well, Cheo vir?”
No.
No you didn’t.
Satlove’s head and voice is omnipresent in each of your dreams, haunting you. Sometimes you feel him behind your back when you’re awake, ready to jump on you and finish the job for good this time. You woke up at night, nerves on fire, goosebump all over your skin, refraining a scream to not wake up Thrawn and the neighbors. You hug the cover, nails digged into the fabric, out of breath with a headache. Your nights are either sleepless or full of nightmares since that fateful day.
But he doesn’t need to know that.
“Agitated but well.” You respond, circling his neck with your arms.
You press your foreheads together and he cradles you gently. You look at his close face, with his eyes closed, his purr resonating at your ears.
He is so handsome and regal…And so nice to you… So tender…
Sometimes you look at him and want to burst into tears in joy, to have this man be your partner is a blessing of the Maker, even if you don’t believe in it.
“Do you know where all the dirty clothes are? The basket was empty.” You ask, squirming closer in his arms.
“I took care of it.”
What?
You lean your head over his shoulder and see the dishes are also done.
“Oh… Thank you.” You say, a bit lost.
It's the first time one of your partners has participated in the chores.
That’s not... normal?
“Fill yourself a cup and join me on the sofa.” Thrawn says gently, kissing your cheek.
You take your favorite cup, a silly green ceramic mug with a produting tooka’s snoot and ears with the handle mimicking the tail and pour yourself a generous amount of caff before coming to sit on the couch. Thrawn circles your shoulders and presses your body against his.
“Speak to me, Cha’cah.” He just says.
“About what?” You ask, chuckling, “What do you want to know?”
“About your nightmares.”
Your sip takes the wrong way and you cough. Thrawn observes you, serious as always but you can see compassion in his shining rubies.
“What?!” You ask with a white voice.
“I know your dreams are plagued.” He squeezes your shoulders, “I spent all of our nights together cradling you while you cry in your sleep. I know you suffer terribly, as it is natural in your situation, and I want you to share your pain with me.”
He…
Oh great, you who thought you could push it under the rug.
“It’s nothing, really.” You try to cut the conversation short.
“I daresay it is not. Your trauma is important, and the sequelae are dire. You lost weight and your sleep, and I cannot simply stand by and watch you destroy yourself without you at least sharing the load.”
You bite your lips, trapped.
You didn’t tell him about your weight loss and took care not to dress before him, so when…?
You suddenly want to slap yourself. When you took off your shirt when he had his rut crisis… What an idiot! You were so distressed by Thrawn state you forgot he could see in the barely lighted bedroom.
Maker, what a dumbass you are!
And now he has you stuck between his arms!
Your mind spins at 100 miles per hour, trying to find an escape.
“Speak to me, my love.” He insists.
“I…”
You gulp, suddenly feeling an immense pressure on your body. Your eyes avert his and you feel yourself starting to tremble, so much you have to put down your cup.
“I…” You try to start, but your voice immediately crashes down.
You fidget your fingers, digging your nails in the fabric of the robe. You open your mouth only for a strangled yelp to come out. You feel your stomach turning acidic and your breath escapes you.
You hear Satlove's laugh resonating in your brain…
“I…” You choke.
You feel your ribcage retracting on itself, strangling your heart ready to explode.
“It is alright, Cha’cah.” Thrawn takes your hand to kiss your knuckles, “Do not force yourself.”
You look at him without understanding.
“But you…”
“It is evidently a wound too fresh for you. I should not have pressured you into talking. I am sorry, Cha’cah.”
He kisses your forehead again in a soothing manner.
“I simply wished for you to know you could confide in me anything, even your pain. It was distasteful of me and I did not expect it to send you into a panic.”
“It is… still hard for me.” You concede with a little voice.
Your heart is still speeding inside of your chest and you wipe your sweaty palm on the robe, but you’re relieved you will not have to talk today.
You avoid that subject like the plague.
“As long as you work with your psychiatrist, I am relieved.” He continues, caressing the back of your neck.
“I don’t have one.”
He parts with you suddenly, with a mixture of shock, surprise and indignation on his haughty face. It disappears in a split second returning to a deadly serious expression.
“You do not see a psychiatrist right now?”
“No?” You stutter, “I saw one for three sessions back at the hospital but that’s it. I don’t have time for that.”
“Are you aware we have specialists aboard the ISDs?” He asks incredibly gravely.
“We do?” You’re flabbergasted.
You didn’t know that!
He immediately takes his comlink, standing up from the sofa.
“I am booking you an appointment.” He declares.
“No Thrawn, it’s good. I assure you, it’s fine” You temper, trying to calm his ardour.
He gives you a side glance, clearly unconvinced.
“Permit me to doubt it. Your reaction was truly revealing.”
You greet your teeth. You don’t want to speak about it!
Ever!
It is too painful.
“Thrawn, please…”
“Therapy is an efficient way to heal, Cha’cah. They are specialized in war traumas, they can help you.” He gently insists.
“THRAWN, NO!”
He turns to you, silent and eyes sharp and inquisitive. You realize you were the one who shouted.
“I…”
He tilts his head, awaiting your explanation of your sudden outburst. You hug yourself, still trembling, mouth open, trying to push words out of your mouth.
You suddenly turn away and run to the bedroom.
Thrawn calmly follows to find you curled over the toilet seat in your bathroom, vomiting your entrails. You feel his large and warm hand on your back, caressing it gently and soothingly. You try to ask him to get out, but another wave of sickness silences you, shaking your whole body.
“Please…” You beg.
“Breath, Cha’cah.” He advises softly.
With one knee on the ground, he places himself at your side, delicately taking your hair out of your face as you keep puking.
You gag over the toilet seat, but the sickness subsides slowly. You finally fall on your ankles, panting, flushing the toilet.
Thrawn applies a wet washcloth on your forehead, his arm circling your shoulders.
“Relax, Ch’acah. Breath through your nose.”
“I am sorry…”
“What for?” He tilts his head.
“For shouting at you, and… that charming sight and smell…”
“I have witnessed worse. I can stomach a sickness.” He comforts you.
You gulp, laying your head on his shoulder, your strength slowly coming back through your limbs.
“May I ask why you refuse to see a therapist?” He murmurs.
You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and sigh.
“I do not want to confront those memories…”
“Why?”
“Because… They are so painful. I want to bury them, forget them…”
“You will never forget those memories.” He responds, “But you can advance past them, grow and heal.” He pushes a strand of hair out of your face, “But you will need to confront them.”
You shake your head, yelping.
“You can try to push them down and forget them, but those memories will only devour you alive, poison your personality and reshape you in their image. They will make you suffer everyday, deeper and deeper until irrevocably and drastically changing you as a person, for the worse.”
“I… I can’t…” Your voice breaks.
“I know it is hard, Cha’cah.” He presses you tighter, sitting with you in your little bathroom on the cold floor, “Facing yourself and your traumas is uncomfortable and terrifying. But you have to face your deepest fears to mend.”
His hand comes caressing your hair as you shake.
“Please, promise me you will think about it.” He asks seriously.
Is it… Worry that you hear underlying his assured voice?
“Aren't there any other ways?” You plead.
“There is not, I am afraid. This is our fate as warriors.”
You bury your face in the crook of his neck and let silent tears roll on your cheeks. He hugs you tight in response, caressing your hair and back. He remained still for as long as you needed him, for as long as you cried.
You finally calm down and unfasten your arms around his neck to wipe out the last tear off.
“Do you feel better?”
“Yes, I think…”
“Good. Brush your teeth, I will cook you something.” He says.
You part with him with a shocked and worried expression.
“You will… cook?”
“Is there a problem?”
This is your domain, your duty. You permitted him to try and play with it for a bit, but it is time order comes back in this household.
“Thrawn, we both know your strengths aren’t in the kitchen.”
“You are in no state to manipulate knives, let me help.”
“Thrawn, with all due respect: No.”
He purses his lips for a split second.
“How can I help?”
You giggle in his arms, touched by his pouty face and will to help.
“Thank you, love.” You nudge against his large, tall and warm body, like a tooka in its basket.
“You still need to eat, will you help and advise me in this case?”
“Alright…” You accept with a tired sigh, “Either way you will poison me.”
“I humbly admit, cooking is not part of my skills.”
“Of course, it is my job to take care of that.” You assure.
He frowns for a split second but doesn’t respond.
He helps you stand up on your wobbly legs and exit the bathroom while you brush your teeth.
When you go back to the living room, Thrawn is sharpening the blades adroitly, his tall stature turned back from you. You approach silently and circle his hips with your arms.
“I am sorry I shouted…” you insist.
“There is no problem, cheo Cha’cah, I should not have cornered you.”
Your cheek pressed against his back, you let his warmth spread in your own skin. You sigh again, feeling more at peace with his presence.
“... Did you go to therapy?” you finally ask.
“No.”
“Oh…” you let out.
“But I had someone precious to me to listen to my doubts and uncertainties.” He continues in a softer tone.
“Your brother?”
He doesn’t respond.
He doesn’t have to.
“I am sorry, Thrawn…” You press him tighter.
One of his hands comes caressing your arm in front of him.
“There is no problem.” He repeats, ever so slightly tenser, “What recipe do you want?”
---------------------------------------
“I never did that!” You scream, unbalanced, threatening to fall face first.
“Stop agitating yourself. Focus on grounding your feet.” Thrawn slides closer to take your hands and help you.
“Do not let me go!” You order, panicked.
“It is simple. Trust your balance.”
“In case you didn’t notice already, I have no balance on these!”
You never ice skated, ever. You tremble on your thin blade on the ice, ready to fall at any moment. Thrawn is confident and graceful, assured on his feet he skates with ease and facility.
Contrary to you.
You are absolutely pitiful.
Thrawn pulls you with him, slowly, as you dig your nails in the sleeves of his coat, desperate to not escape his grasp.
“How do you do that!?”
“I have skated since I was very young.” He explains, slightly amused by your stressful predicament, “It is second nature.”
“Well not for me, so do.not.let.me.go!” You insist.
“It is like me learning to cook,” He smiles thinly. “You need a mentor willing to let you go.”
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…”
But he lets go of one of your arms, letting you agitate it in every direction to keep your balance.
“Aaaaah…. No, no, no… Why did you let go?” You squeal.
“For you to gain assurance.”
As you pathetically try to not fall on your butt and actually skate on the ice, you see all the families all around you, old and young, skating with more or less experience. Some kids were so much more comfortable than you, some even spinning and jumping in the air to land with practiced ease on the ice.
You cower against Thrawn, holding on to him. He receives you in his arms with a soft chuckle.
“How do you intend to progress if you do not let go?” He inquires.
“Do I really need to be able to let go for my first try? We could always come back!” You say panicked.
“Indeed we could. But gliding with confidence on the ice is such a delightful sensation, I want you to experience it.” He pushes you forward, letting you go completely.
“No! How dare you! THRAWN!” You scream horrified as you glide on the ice all by yourself.
You can hear the experienced children laugh at you behind their hands, but you do not care. Your only worry is TO NOT FALL.
By sheer desperation you push on your feet, skating farther and farther all by yourself. You keep going with the low wall as a finish line in your eyes.
You crash against it, cutting your breath.
Finally!Some support!
You spin on yourself, holding the rail, ready to scream at Thrawn, absolutely scandalized.
He arrives at your side smoothly, clearly amused behind his stern and respectful expression.
“How was it?” He inquires, relaxed.
He clearly appears more at home on the ice than anywhere else you saw him. It’s true his homeworld is frozen, it must remind him of the past.
“Terrible! It was terrible! How do you do that?!”
“I learned when I was two.” He explains like it is obvious.
“How?!”
“Temperatures used to drop so low that the only way for pedestrians to travel anywhere was ice skating. As soon as I could stand on my feet my parents put ice skates on them, I learned with…”
The gleam of amusement dies down, and his expression hardens subtly, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“With?” You ask, encouraging him.
“It is not important. I mastered this skill early with my family. And now I can teach you.” The tone is just a tad colder and distant.
You look at his face, gauging him as he awaits your response.
“You were clearly speaking about someone precisely.” You try, “Who was it?”
“It is nothing important.”
“Is it? You have the same face you had when you told me about your brother, back in that cavern.”
He tenses up ever so slightly.
Oh…
“Thrawn, I did not meant-”
“I know you did not.” He cuts you short, “Maybe you wish to learn by yourself. I will give you some space for you to evolve on your own terms.”
“Thrawn!” You try to hold him back.
But he skates away from you with ease and elegance. You look at him going away, helpless.
Blast! You just needed to keep your mouth shut, and now look at you…
You sigh.
‘Congratulations, you idiot!’
You look at him, slaloming between people swiftly. Away from you…
You grumble and, very hesitantly, resume your skating, holding on to the rail for dear life. You laboriously manage to go forward, with the occasional loss of balance from time to time. You greet your teeth and keep going forward, really slowly, but that is still a win for you.
You’re never going to reach him back at that speed. He will easily complete several laps while you pathetically look down on your feet to not fall.
When you raise back your head to assert his position on the ice, you see him kneeling on the ice next to a kid.
The child seems to be crying.
Did they fall? Are they hurt? You accelerate the best you can to reach them.
You see Thrawn helping the little ones back on their feet, they’re visibly shaken and terrified.
You take a deep breath and push on the wall to propulse you in their direction.
You reach them with more or less gracefulness, but join them nonetheless.
“What-WOAH!” You yelp, slamming into Thrawn that catches you before you run over the poor kid, “What happened?”
“She fell in front of me.” He simply explains, holding the little alien girl by her hand.
The little girl is crying, cheek soiled with tears, holding on to his larger hand.
“Oh no, poor little one.” You admit, “Are you wounded?”
“No… I-I don’t think so…” She sobs. “But it hurted when I fell.”
“Where?” Thrawn asks
“On my knee.” She sniffs.
He kneels in front of her and gently manipulates her articulation.
“Does it hurt when I bend it?”
“A little…”
“You have not been scratched, I do not see any blood on your pants. It is a simple bruise, you will be fine.” He raises his gaze to hers with a soft voice.
“I don’t know how to skate.” She explains.
“You’re not the only one. I am a beginner too.” you say.
She looks at you with round eyes.
“But you’re an adult.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. It is my first time skating and I am bad at it too.”
“Judging from both of your performances, my fiance is worse than you.” Thrawn reveals.
“Hey!” You protest, slapping his shoulder.
“You’re engaged?” She asks with stars in her eyes, the pain of the fall already forgotten.
Thrawn looks up to you, meeting your gaze. You do not know how to respond.
It’s the second time Thrawn called you his fiance, and you both imagined your life together, but…
“No, we are not.” Thrawn cuts your doubt, “But we are together.”
“Like a couple?” She insists.
“Indeed.”
She gasps, eyes full of stars but suddenly, her expression darkens.
“Mom and dad aren’t a couple anymore. They got a… a…” She searches
“A divorce?” You propose.
She nods, sadly.
“I am sorry.” You sympathize.
“Where is the parent looking over you?” Thrawn asks.
“Not here. Dad left me here cause he has a meeting.” She grumbles.
Thrawn looks back at you and you shrug.
“Do you wish for me to teach you how to ice-skate?” Thrawn proposes gently, swapping the subject matter to something less painful for the kid.
“You would?”
“Yes.” He stands back on his blades, “(Y/n), take her other hand.”
“Are you sure? I am still unsure of my own balance.” you argue.
“Everything is going to be fine. You only need practice.”
You clumsily walk to her side and take her little hand.
And off you go.
You advance hand in hand, at a low speed among the rest of the skaters. It is easier for you to skate while holding someone else, even if you still have some mishaps.
“See? Even adults can have difficulties, what matters is working to better oneself.” Thrawn stoically points your errors to the little girl.
She burst out laughing.
“Hey! Hey! Hey! No mocking!” You bite back, “At least I didn’t fall on my butt, miss.”
She grins, amused, getting more and more confident on her skates.
You keep making laps slowly, cradled by the sliding sensation over the ice.
Thrawn was right! It is pleasant!
Soon enough, she lets you go, gaining speed, skating away. Thrawn closes the gap between you, a hand coming against your lower back to ground you.
“There she goes.” He says mysteriously.
You risk a glance to his face. He is observing her sliding away with a stern expression, but his gaze is incredibly soft.
You smile.
“Thanks to you.”
He shakes his head.
“She simply discovered it for herself.”
Is he always blind to the impact he has on others lives, you wonder? Does he not see the good he releases on the world by simply being… himself?
You seize his hand and squeeze it.
“No, it is thanks to you, Thrawn.”
You keep skating hand in hand again, this time he doesn’t let you go. He holds you firmly, but also gently.
“Byyyyyyyyyyyye!” You hear a shout.
You both turn your head to the little girl, smiling and holding her father’s hand, waving at you.
You smile and wave back at the two.
You flow on the ice with Thrawn’s aid, less terrified now.
“You are progressing.” Thrawn praises you sternly.
But the soft pride in his voice is unmistakable.
“That is not a reason to let go!” You immediately add.
And he doesn’t. Instead he holds you close to him, skating side by side until you are trembling, frozen.
“Let’s go home.” Thrawn invites.
You go back to your little apartment, hand in hand. His hand is large and warm compared to yours, just like the rest of his gigantic body.
Not to your distaste.
You bury your nose in your scarf and silently observe people's reactions to Thrawn. Men look envious of his stature and charisma, raising their heads to see him towering over them. And women giggle like young girls on his path, turning back to see him walk away.
At your arm.
Hidden behind your scarf you smile blissfully, measuring your chance to be with him. As a power move over all of them you stop him and raise on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He looks at you a bit puzzled by your sudden affection but does not reject you.
This beautiful gentleman is yours only!
He gently seizes your chin to incline your head and capture your lips in the middle of the street. You hear a gasp in the crowd as your lips meet immodestly at the view of everyone.
You puff in the kiss, taken by surprise by his response.
He leaves you breathless and panting while looking perfectly undisturbed, making you flush profusely. His thumb caresses your lower lips tenderly as he straightens his back.
“Did you lose your words?” He asks with his typical dry humor.
You feel your cheeks heating up so much at his carmine gaze devouring you like that.
“I did not expect you to kiss me in the middle of the street in front of everyone…” You explain, flustered.
“Why not?” He tilts his head, “You appeared to be craving some affection.”
“I just thought you would be more secretive in front of others.” You confuse yourself in your reasoning, melting under his burning gaze.
He lightly chuckles.
“Why would I? I am not ashamed to be at your arm and even less to show you are mine. I thought you would appreciate me kissing you?”
You hide your face in your scarf to hide from such inquisitive eyes, your legs feeling like absolute jello. The glowing heat signals of your face are all the confirmation he needs.
“Come, Ch’acah.” He invites, squeezing your hand and guiding you to your apartment.
--------------------------
You sigh of relief inside your cocoon, home sweet home. You stretch to make your spine ‘pop’ with great satisfaction.
“I love being home!” You sigh.
“It is quite pleasant indeed.” Thrawn approves while taking off his long trench coat.
“My feet are all sturdy frozen!” You chuckle, “I should have wear thicker socks.” You point at your ridiculous pink flowery socks with a big smile.
You kept the habit of putting on socks and shoes to not see your mechanical legs.
To hide them from your sight and forget, at least for a moment...
“Is it uncomfortable?” Thrawn ask.
“The articulations are frozen, it’s just hard to keep my balance and walk properly.”
“Sit down on the sofa.” He orders gently, heading to the kitchen part of the room.
You let yourself fall on your sofa with a laughing ‘oof’, sprawling on the comfy furniture like a starfish. You observe your red ceiling, hypnotized by the burgundy color.
“The white ceiling was truly ugly.” You declare, “We did well to paint it all.”
“You painted it all by yourself.” Thrawn retorts from the kitchen as you hear him rummaging through stuff.
“You did the whole bedroom.”
Thrawn reappears in his signature black tank top, a clothe and a basin of hot water and kneels before you. You look at him, tilting your head as he seizes your feet to take off your socks and gently lays them in the fuming water, letting the frost disolve. He gently 'massages’ the metal of your feet, bending your toes gently to test the damage of the frost.
“No need to take care of it, I can do it myself.” You chuckle uncomfortable, not used to be served like that.
“Shhhhh. Let me help.” He shuts you down.
You fix his kneeling form, working on your articulations like he did it all his life.
“Do you need a massage in return?” You ask.
“I do not freeze as easily as humans.”Thrawn shakes his head as he looks up to you. “My organism is tailor made for cold climates.”
You nod. You try to settle down the uneasy feeling in your guts, trying to just enjoy the moment but you can feel your mother's disdain darting on you.
Why is Thrawn serving you right now and not you?
You sigh. In some way it was easier to be with Nather, with his army of droids you only had to be a pretty candy in his arms and play the trophy girlfriend, you have a harder time guessing what Thrawn wants in his life.
As that thought cross your mind you feel a wave of sickness rising in your throat, threatening to submerge you. You press your hand on your mouth to prevent the bile from passing your lips.
How can you even think that?!
“Is everything alright?” Thrawn asks, always careful of your health signals and mood swings.
You nod with a pitiful smile, putting your hand away, trembling slightly with a cold sweat.
Careful not to repeat this morning error, Thrawn doesn’t insist but you can feel his gaze on you at all time, monitoring your weakness at every moment of the day.
He keeps rolling your articulations in hot water to test your legs flexibility. You let your gaze travel your cozy little living room, you locate Benedict with her red leaf, going strong and growing with shiny new baby leaves and little white flowers, the numerous art pieces projected holograms all around the room for Thrawn, the old TV screen, and the little coffee table with the poufs.
“We should buy real paintings.” You say to yourself.
“Where would we put them?” Thrawn asks, focused on the massage.
“I don’t know. We can buy little rectangular ones, they slip anywhere! It would be better than holograms.”
He silently nods.
“Would it please you? To have some real art in the apartment?”
“Why not your own pictures?” He demands raising back his gaze to meet yours, “You snap some really good pictures with your imagers.”
“This old thing? No, not really. They’re just silly images I took in the heat of the action...” You giggle a little embarassed to be complimented on your hobby.
“They are some really good ones, we could frame them.” He insists.
You wince, pursing your lips and squirming on the couch.
“We’ll see about that.”
He takes your feet out the water to rub some grease on them and dry the metal with the clothe before putting back your socks on.
“Here. It should feel better.”
You bend your ankle and toes, testing their flexibility and indeed they now flex properly. Thrawn clears the basin water as you stretch again, fighting a yawn. Getting cared for like that made you sleepy.
An idea crosses your mind.
“What do you think of a holo night?” You ask across the entire apartment.
“As you wish.” He responds, “We should eat first.”
You tut.
“Taratata, you silly man! When it is holodrama night you snack in front of the TV!” You correct him with glee.
His nostril flares.
“Snack?” He inquires
“I’ll make you healthy snacks.” You temper.
“I’ll help you.” He goes to open the drawer with cutlery but you seize his shoulder and push him out the kitchen.
“No, no, no! You did the service on my legs, I cook!” You order him. “Shoo, mister!”
Once you’re alone in the kitchen space, you take out the cutting board and your kitchen knife.
You open the fridge and takes out vegtables like tomatoes, Balka greens, green onions, carots and Kebroot. You slice them down or cut them in dice, placing them in little bowls to make an entire platter.
Thrawn leans against the wall, looking at you cooking with his arms crossed on his chest. You turn your head to him and smile, simply happy by that simple life and domesticity.
He gently smiles back.
“If you only wanted to cut vegetables you could have let me help.” He argues.
His cutting game is immaculate but he is a real terror in the kitchen, so you’ll keep him away as much as possible.
You open the cupboards an take the mustard and olive oil. You mix in some thyme and add June-lime juice and a dash of pepper and salt with garlic powder, you pour drops of vinegar and add the grean onion and red pearls of Borfa and mix it well and thorougly.
You wipe your hands on your apron and breath deep, preparing yourself for what is to come.
Under Thrawn curious gaze you walk up to another cupboard and push all the tins and jars to take a box in the back. You brought it to the counter, feeling your hands starting to tremble.
You brace yourself and open the lid to reveal a piece of meat you hide from him.
“Where does that come from?” Thrawn immediately asks, “We stopped buying meat.”
You turn to him with a smile you hope is reassuring.
“A little surprise for you.” You say casually, hiding your tremors “It’s a family recipe I wanted you to try!”
You take out the meat to put it on the bowl full of marinade and the simple contact with the flesh sends shivers down your spine.
Let’s not even talk about the odor.
You gulp and smear the sauce over the whole chunk, feeling sickness boiling in your stomach.
You remember your torturer’s fingers gripping your soft flesh, manhandling your body...
“Ch’acah?” Thrawn calls.
But you start humming a nice tune, as much to shut him out and push down every sick feelings arising. Once the meat is well coated you take it off the bowl and on the cupboard.
You wipe your knife clean and get a hold of the meat with your hand, placing your blade over it ready to cut.
That’s when you see how your hands are trembling, you see the knife shaking terribly in your grip. You take a deep breath to calm down, to no avail.
A blue hand comes caressing your arm to gently seize your hand holding the knife as you feel Thrawn’s body pressed against your back.
“Enough Ch’acah.” He says, his gentle voice inviting no rebellion, “You are hurting yourself.” His fingers slide into yours to delicately take the knife out of your hand.
And you feel your body falling, like the thread holding you in one piece just snapped.
Thrawn catches and embraces your shaking body, pressing you tight against him, kissing the top of your head.
“It is alright. No need to force yourself (Y/n).”
“But I want you to try it...” You whisper out of breath, “That is my jo...”
You gasp repeatedly, trying to breathe the best you could.
“Do not inflict that on yourself, my love. There is no need. You are too sensitive yet.”
“It’s a fa-family recipe...” You pathetically repeat like it would explain everything, “I want you to tas-”
“Shhhhhhhh.” He craddles you, the knife laying on the counter where it cannot wound anyone.
“I am pathetic...” You let out, disgusted by your own weakness.
“No, you are not. You are suffering.” His thumb comes caressing your cheekbone as you slowly calm down. “You are home, safe. With me.”
You sniff unelegantly, burying your head in the crook of his neck to ground yourself in reality with his warm presence and scent. He squeezes you tight, pulling you away from the meat.
You hug him back, squeezing him tight. You feel the spasms of your body against his solid and still one.
“I will throw it.” He decides.
“No!” You burst into panic before calming down “No... It cost me a little fortune. I really want you to try that recipe, it comes from my homeworld...”
He looks at you suspicious.
“You cannot finish that dish.”
“Let’s wait a bit, I’ll get used to it...” You try.
“You are not touching that meat again.” He asserts, “If you really want me to taste it I will finish it.”
Argh! Everything goes downhill here!
You go to protest but his glare lets you know that your only options are him finishing that dish or him throwing away the meat alltogether.
You sigh, defeated.
“Alright...”
You pour some essential oil on a tissue and press it against your nose to cover the meat scent, sitting at the kitchen table as Thrawn cuts the meat in long cuts, dripping some honey and putting it in a pan to braise.
You inhale the essential oil, the trembling subsiding, overseeing Thrawn’s cooking. Everything goes rather well for once, he manages to cook both sides of each pieces pretty well all thing considered.
Until he lets one side burn.
“I am sorry.” He present you his excuses.
“It’s me.” You sigh, “I should had kept an eye on you, it was going pretty well and I let my guard down...”
“It is still edible.” He tells, “Nothing cutting cannot save.”
He cuts the burned size to expose the inner flesh and dive them back in the marinade and finish by cutting the meat in little dices.
You brought the plateau of vegetables with some cheese to the coffee table while he takes he meat, hidden under a clothe for your comfort.
“What do you want to watch?”
“I have no opinion.” He shrugs, “Anything you desire.”
You shoot him a mischevious smirk.
“Even a sappy, melodramatic romantic comedy?”
“If you wish to watch one.”
“Because I have an entire collection of those! If you don’t stop me I’ll force you to watch them all with me!” You threaten sadistically.
He remains unbothered.
“I am open to anything. Cinema is an art I am not well accostumed to.”
“Your call!” You snicker maniacally.
You roam around your collection of romantic dramas until you find your Graal.
The ultimate romantic comedy among romantic comedies!
The red roses of bridge Nine!
You throw yourself on the couch and Thrawn’s embrace as you lauch the drama.
Nyark nyark! That’s going to be fun!
This is the sappiest, most sugary dripping, tooth cavity giving drama you have, you cannot wait to see Thrawn exasprerated face at that disaster of a movie!
You snuggle agaisnt him with a deviant smile.
The movie is as tooth roting as you remembered, with cheezy acting and dubious quality sets and costumes. The perfect recipe for a good laugh if you watch it ironically or get on your nerves if you take it at faith value.
Thrawn remains stern, undisturbed by all the nonsense thrown at him.
Crap! Is anything able to reach this Chiss?
Laying arms in arms, his gaze travels from the screen to you.
“You seem disapointed. I thought you enjoyed this drama?”
You pout.
“My plan failed...” You complain.
One small loopsided grin spreads on his lips.
The incident in the kitchen is long gone in your mind as you laugh your ass off at the holo, snuggling in Thrawn’s hug.
He tries one piece of the meat under your watch, anxious to know if it would be to his taste.
“It is savory and sweet.” He sentences.
“Do you like it?”
“Indeed. It as a really pleasant taste and texture.”
You smile satisfied, resting your head on his arm.
The holo continues until you reach a scene you completely forgot about.
It’s when you feel Thrawn tensing up against your body that you realize subjecting a man in a rut to a sex scene, as vanilla it might be, is borderline torture!
“I am sorry Thrawn!” You launch yourself on the remote to cut the drama but Thrawn arms holds you tighter against himself.
“It is well. No need to panic.”
But you feel his powerful muscles rolling under his warm blue skin, contracting at the action on screen. His breath deepening like he was trying to contain himself.
You wince, feeling guilty.
You suddenly feel his lips grazing your neck and shoulder like delicate butterfly wings, peppering sweet kisses on your thin skin. His arms snakes their way around your form to prevent you from moving away.
From escaping him...
He buries his head in the crook of our neck to deeply inhale your musk. You feel him shuddering in agaisnt your back, one of his hand sliding under your shirt to caress your tummy.
He makes you roll suddenly to get on top of you, trapping you under his weight and captures your lips. You gasp, tacken by surprise.
This kiss is so demanding! So pressing!
You have difficulties meeting his eagerness as he licks and bites your lips and tongue, pushing his own down your mouth to hug and dance tenderly. You cannot help but moan in the kiss, circling his neck with your arms and his waist with your mechanical legs. He waves his entire body agaisnt yours, seemingly desesperate for any frictions.
You let one of your hand travel south, caressing its way along his perfect body to take him and relieve him with some caress but one of his own hand immobilize it on the couch, clasping them and entertwining your fingers together.
He kisses you urgently, groaning his desire in unison with the fake moans coming from the TV. You can feel his body temperature skyrocketing, getting sweatier as the rut takes the reins of his reason. Trapped under him you cannot do anything but take it.
Like you wanted anything else more than that!
You mewl and welcome him, more in tune with his craving now, spreading your legs open to welcome him. As you desesperatly try to breath in the kiss you hear his growl rising in the little room, getting steamier and steamier by the seconds...
His other hand caress your back under your shirt, letting his warm skin discovering yours. His hand stops over the back of your bra and gently tugs on it, not to open it but rather to evaluate the true strenght he would need to tear it apart if need be...
He presses down his clothed groin against yours and brushes them together. You mewl again for Thrawn, feeling the fire spreading through your veins and your core demanding attention.
When you thought it will finally happen he suddenly pulls away with a painful groan, leaving you pantless on the couch, disoriented and clothes in a mess...
You raise on your elbows, completely disheveled and flustered with swollen lips, observing him looking straight ahead, his hand clasped around his mouth like he couldn’t believe he just caved in his baseless tendencies.
“Thrawn?” You call for him gently.
He shudders slightly and passes his hand in his luscious black blue hair, sighing.
“I am sorry, Ch’acah.” He finally lets out, “I lost control. It will not happen again.”
He doesn’t look at you.
“No, Thrawn... It’s alright...” Your hand goes to caress his shoulder but he evades you.
He feels really on edge. Your hands fall on your knees, powerless in front of your Chiss’ pain.
“I need a shower.” And he jumps on his feet to disappear in the bedroom.
You’re left alone in the hot room, excited and frustrated. You cut the movie, not interested in it anymore. You dress back correctly and clear the table as you hear the water running.
His shower must be icy cold to calm him down.
You’re focused on the dishes when you feel strong arms circling your waist once again.
“You’re back.” You note, a tad painfully.
You hear him smell your undone hair.
“I should not leave you alone after edging you like that.” He recognizes, “But I needed to clear my mind urgently.”
You purse your lips, finishing the dishes.
“Are you mad?” He asks, almost affraid of your response, almost... But you know him.
“No.” You let him know, “You were clear nothing would happen during your rut cycle.” You turn to him, laying against the counter.
“I see in your body language you are displeased.” He pulls you back towards him. “I am sorry.”
“It’s nothing.”
You’ll take care of it yourself later, you’re used to that.
A glint of pain flashes on his face, very well aware of his mistake. He presses your bodies in a warm embrace he hopes is soothing to you.
“Can I do something for you?”
You purse your lips.
“I just want a hug from my man...”
He hugs you tight and eagerly, letting your face rest on his broad chest, still fresh from the cold shower and despite the shirt.
“Let’s fisnish that movie.”
You look at him in surprise and suspicious.
“Are you sure?”
“I was invested in the drama, we will simply pass the risqué scenes.” He smiles with his signature tight grin, pulling you to the couch again.
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