#and then your Sir unit starts going crazy

[random-iz-stuff]

I absolutely love the bit of your newest post about Zim just casually *walking* back towards Tak in the rain. I can just imagine the scene and it's fucking amazing. I love Zim just being causally terrifying to others (intentional or not) in ways that aren't just him being a bit crazy or destructive.

I also love all your stuff that actually uses Zim's background, and all that comes with that.

I wonder what it would be like for Tak if she managed to genuinely piss him off (another thing that I love your headcanons of)

Tak absolutely refuses to admit it, but she’s the underdog in this situation. She’s an ex-soldier with plenty of engineering experience from her time on Dirt, and has access to a holographic disguise that’s more advanced than any other disguise in the empire, but her opponent is a fully trained ex-invader with an extensive scientific background that knows earth better than any other irken.

Plus, she fell HARD for Zim’s dumb act.

Tak came from Dirt, knowing nothing about Zim other than the fact that he’s a complete idiot and that he ruined her life. Then, upon arriving on Earth and revealing herself to Zim, that information is seemingly proven to be true, with Zim acting like a complete idiot, interrupting her multiple times and even after explaining everything to him, he STILL doesn’t understand, immediately believing that Tak is after his robot bee. She meets Zim face to face and he’s a complete idiot that doesn’t deserve the time of day from her.

But what if I told you that that was exactly what Zim WANTED her to think. Zim puts on a dumb persona specifically so people underestimate him and/or are manipulated easier by him. So upon another Irken showing up on his doorstep, clearly wanting him dead, he plays dumb. He successfully gets Tak to believe that he’s a complete moron that’s not worth killing, since there’s no way this idiot could ever come close to stopping her plan…. ..right?

The base-disabling nanobots were a surprise, but Zim still managed to minimize the damage, since he got Tak to deploy them on the upper floor where none of his important equipment is. His base was still temporarily disabled, but imagine the damage that would have been caused if Tak released them in his proper base, where all of his actual equipment and computers are.

Plus, Zim is a complete enigma, not just to Tak, but to the entire irken race.

I already mentioned how Zim figured out how to waterproof himself using paste, while no sane irken would even consider using that stuff as waterproofing. And it’s a well kept secret of Zim’s, with not even Dib knowing how he does it, or why Zim’s waterproofing is so inconsistent (he frequently forgets to apply the stuff, so he only really consistently has waterproofing on days when it’s expected to rain).

But that’s not all. Zim has one thing that puts him above the average irken. He’s extremely adaptable. He can change his plans on the fly, he will go against what he’s been taught in the military if it benefits him and most importantly of all, he doesn’t care about efficiency.

For all irkens, efficiency is the most important thing. You must be effective and efficient to succeed. But Zim doesn’t care about that. As long as it works, he’ll use it. For example, waterproofing. Most irkens would never use paste because, well, it’s a primitive arts and crafts material that doesn’t last forever on the invader’s skin, losing effectiveness over time. They’d instead spend days searching for or creating their own solution that is effective as possible, perfect waterproofing or bust. Zim on the other hand, doesn’t care. Paste does it’s job just fine, so he uses it. No sense trying to fix something that’s not broken.

Even his Voot Cruiser is an example of this. Zim’s Voot is obviously an old model. It uses a propulsion system instead of whatever thrustless system modern ships use and doesn’t have an onboard computer like modern ships, and yet he refuses to get rid of it. It’s a perfectly good ship that’s served him well in the past, so he’s not getting rid of it for the sake of efficiency.

And speaking of Zim’s Voot, his dogfight with Tak is a perfect demonstration of Zim’s military skill against Tak, because the thing is, even with an outdated ship, in his dogfight with Tak, he pilots it with masterful skill, managing to outmaneuver Tak throughout the entire fight. Keep in mind that Zim managed to remain directly behind Tak for the entire dogfight (which is a very important and central part of dogfighting), with her and her modified modern ship unable to shake him. During the entire dogfight, ZIM is the only one that fires any weapons. Tak can’t even get into a position that would let her shoot back. Even when flying through the lava around them, she is unable to get Zim off her tail. Zim was winning that dogfight even before Gaz and Gir started helping.

Tak has to resort to physically ramming him to do any damage. And even that does minimal damage as Zim simply ejects the cockpit window and replaces it, which in of itself could be an example of Zim being adaptable and going against his traditional military training.

And the final nail in the coffin during the whole dogfight, Zim is completely silent during the entire thing. He isn’t putting up a persona or trying to make himself seem dumber or smarter than he really is. Zim is completely focused on the task at hand, which is a terrifying thing for Tak to be up against. The only time he speaks is after he wins, when he claims that Tak’s piloting is worse than his, indicating that despite Zim being able to pretty much run circles around Tak in his ship, he doesn’t even view himself as that good of a pilot.

But then there’s this scene that single handily adds a whole new layer to Zim’s character:

Tak’s ship is destroyed and is spinning out in front of Zim. Zim proceeds to joke about Tak’s piloting skills, but then has a realization of some kind and then proceeds to ram Tak’s ship. It seems a bit strange, but it actually shows us something very important about Zim.

First of all, his realization. What was he referring to when he said “Wait”? Well, Tak’s ship is spinning out in front of him and although she does have an escape pod, I’ve played enough Kerbal Space Program to know that deploying something while the main ship is uncontrollably spinning like that will result in the pod getting destroyed or at least heavily damaged. And since her ship is damaged and disabled, Tak can’t just stop the spin with a few button presses. She has no control.

And judging by Zim’s face when he says “Wait”, he knows that.

That’s the look of a concerned Zim. Despite just fighting with her, Zim almost seems worried about Tak’s safety as her ship is stuck spinning with no safe way of ejecting. Even his tone of voice indicates this, as the insulting tone he was just using while making fun of Tak’s piloting skills INSTANTLY disappears upon his realization.

And then, when Zim rams Tak, think about what he just did. He knocked Tak into a bubble of lava. Irken ships have been shown to be extremely heatproof, given how the massive was able to fly through a star and how Zim and Tak’s own ships have been fine zipping around the lava in the dogfight a few seconds ago, and lava is a liquid, not a solid object, so Tak’s ship isn’t going to be very damaged by crashing into it. The most crashing into the lava will do is slow her ship down since that’s what happens when you submerge a moving object in a liquid.

So by knocking Tak’s ship into that lava bubble, Zim slowed the spinning of Tak’s ship, making it safe for her to eject. The fact that Tak only ejects after Zim rams her and not while she’s spinning out adds more evidence to this.

Zim had no reason to do this. He could have very easily left Tak spinning and unable to eject from her damaged ship or even just shot Tak while she was defenceless, but he didn’t. So Zim actively chose to spare Tak by giving her a safe chance to eject from her ship.

So despite Tak wanting him dead and Zim being fully aware of this, he chooses to spare her, fully knowing that she won’t do the same. This pretty much goes against the entire mindset of irkens, especially invaders, who, valuing efficiency over everything else, will remove any threat that they get even the slightest chance to remove.

This part of Zim’s character where he spares those that definitely won’t spare him can be seen with one other character, Dib, who Zim is fully capable of killing with minimal effort, but chooses to keep alive, only attempting to kill him in certain elaborate schemes, and even seeming to go easy on him, not using weapons or his PAK in most fights.

There are two different reasons that Zim may do this. The first is that he may purposely spare people that he considers “worthy adversaries”, despite the fact that they definitely will not do the same to him. If this is true, then Dib and Tak both seem to be considered worthy adversaries by Zim, but since Tak is an irken and much more of a threat than Dib, he doesn’t go easy on her like he does with Dib, but still chooses to spare her after the fight is over.

The second reason is that Zim may fight dirty, but he has his limits. Killing Tak in a dogfight? Sure. But letting Tak die in a broken ship she can’t control or shooting her while she’s in no condition to fight? Hell no. Same goes for Dib. Elaborate scheme where you turn him into a sausage or throw him into a dimension containing a room with a moose? Sure. Just straight up shooting him because he’s a human child and you’re an alien soldier with technology more advanced than he will ever know? Hell no.

It’s probably a mix of the two options, but the final point is that Zim has a weird relationship with killing, and will spare people that won’t do the same.

That being said, Tak hasn’t seen Zim get angry enough to go quiet, although she did witness Zim being focused enough to go quiet during the entire dogfight, which is very close to the same thing. She’s never seen Zim properly drop the dumb persona either, as she herself fell for it and still believes that Zim is an idiot now.

However, if she ever did see Zim’s quiet and competent persona that he gains when he’s extremely angry, she’d never want to see it again. Especially since Zim is very likely to forgo his usual rules with sparing in this situation, and he already doesn’t go easy on her like he does with Dib.

[This post is a continuation of these two posts: https://random-iz-stuff.tumblr.com/post/691450114671296512/write-some-ideas-for-a-fake-invader-zim-episode, https://random-iz-stuff.tumblr.com/post/680570994898894848/headcanon]

#invader zim #headcanons #analysis #zim #tak #Tak’s episode is one of the best episodes in the entire show #especially when you look closely and see the smaller details #like Zim choosing to spare Tak for unknown reasons #and Zim’s competence in general #just imagine the dogfight from Tak’s perspective #you’re going up against a person that as far as you know is a complete idiot that can barely do anything properly #and then he manages to maneuver himself behind you (which is how you win most dogfights) #and you just cannot shake him off #you can’t even get close to landing a hit on him as he trails behind you with masterful precision #you need to resort to physically ramming him to do damage #which does next to nothing as he literally removes his cockpit window and replaces it mid-fight #and then your Sir unit starts going crazy #and oh god it has the same eye colour as Zim’s insane defective unit #what has he done?

[neonghostlights]

Series masterlist here

Part four

“We need to talk about what happened earlier in your shift today,” the director of medical staff, Dr. O’Driscoll, said after a long moment of staring at your file with scrutinizing eyes.

Medical school was hard, landing a residency was hard, trying to get people to take you seriously as a young doctor was even harder.

You nodded, not wanting to speak yet as you thought of the shit that went down today.

“I can explain,” you said as the attending you had been working under in the Emergency room, Dr. Hart, let out a scoff.

“Explain please,” Dr. O’Driscoll urged impatiently, upset that he had to come in early to clean up this mess.

“I was assigned to the patient in room twenty three. She was complaining of chest pain and it was discovered in triage that she has elevated blood pressure and heart rate so I went to examine the patient and ordered an EKG some labs rule out a heart attack-“

“Cut to the chase,” Dr. Hart snapped.

Dr. O’Driscoll nodded for you to continue.

You took a deep breath. “So, I went in to the see the patient and do what I just said and when I went to listen to her breath sounds she grabbed me.”

“She grabbed you?” Dr. O’Driscoll asked with a raised brow.

“Yes sir. She grabbed me and started screaming,” you said shakily, remembering how it had felt in the moment before you were finally out of her grasp.

She kept screaming that you didn’t deserve Eddie, but you weren’t going to willingly share that information with the people before you.

“Am I really being called in here to discuss this? Being assaulted by a patient does not warrant demanding a meeting with me, Dr. Hart, and it surely doesn’t warrant you demanding I call our legal department,” Dr. O’Driscoll said firmly, turning red in his cheeks from his anger. He had much better things to do than deal with this.

“Well,” Dr. Hart said slyly as he reached under his lab coat and pulled out an item that you wished only haunted you in nightmares. “Sir, I am afraid she is not sharing the whole truth with you. It seems that she has landed herself into quite a bit of trouble and this hospital has been caught in the crossfire.”

He laid the magazine on the table but instead of there just being one there was two. The new magazine had a picture of you walking from the car to the grocery store.

Who is Eddie Munsons unknown ex? Insider source tells all!

Dr. O’Driscoll flipped through both magazines.

“As you can see. They have a photo of her walking out of this hospital and quite a bit of information about her life. This hospital is about to become a circus. We’re going to have crazy fans like the one earlier all over the place!” Dr. Hart said as he jabbed a finger into the table infront of him.

Dr. O’Driscoll said nothing as he set down the magazines and dialed a phone number on his desk phone.

You felt violated, ruined as you stared at the photo in front of you. How many pictures had they caught of you when you weren’t paying attention? And how much information about you was debuted in the magazine for the world to see.

“So you already know? And how should we proceed?” Dr. O’Driscoll asked into the phone.

He let out a few noises to let them know he understood and then hung the phone up with out saying goodbye.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his brow. “So, reporters have been caught wandering the hospital asking for information on you and unknown people have been calling multiple units around the hospital either asking for you, threatening you, or saying some colorful words before hanging up.”

You felt your body start to shake.

“We have decided that the best course of action is to have you take paid leave until legal determines this has blown over enough for you to come back. We’ll be in touch with you.”

You stood up from the chair after muttering that you understood and walked numbly to the elevator.

The only thought echoing your head was how much you hated Eddie Munson.

-

Eddie shifted in his seat again and again.

He had gotten used to flying by now. He felt like he pretty much lived on the airplane with as much as he flew.

He heard the announcement overhead. They would be landing soon.

He felt a rush of nerves and excitement and his body practically vibrated with everything confusing that was rushing through his mind. He had gone back and forth on this but ultimately he found himself booking the first flight out of LA.

As he buckled the seatbelt and prepared for landing all he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to see you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson

[kathwritesworld]

LOVERS UNITED 💕🔥

summary: you thought you were hiding your crush pretty well. so when jj asks if you like him, how could you say no?

warnings: fem!reader, drinking, cursing, idk nothing really?

wc: 687

part two to lovers unite!

its been three weeks since you agreed to meet the pogues, and it was the best decision you've ever made. although your crush on jj has only grown since that evening in the ocean, you'd say you were hiding it pretty well... right?

you were working behind the counter at your shop when you hear someone walk in, you look up to see who it is, and you're a little surprised, normally your customers aren't wearing button downs and slacks. you see the very well dressed man walk up to you when jj steps in front of the counter, blocking him from you, "what do you want, rafe" jj says, his voice laced with venom. "just trying to support your little business, pogue" the man, who now you know name's rafe, says. you were taken aback from the sudden aggression from the two "umm do you need any help, sir?" you ask, quietly.

rafe smiles at you, before talking "yes, i was wondering if you were free after work" he says, steping around jj. "oh um i'-" you start to answer before getting cut off "no. shes busy, with me." jj says to rafe as you stand there, feeling embarrassed, and confused, by whats going on. suddenly jj walks around the counter to you and wraps an arm around you waist. "sorry, man. shes taken" jj says, with a smug smirk on his face. rafe scowls at jj and then walks away.

"sorry about him" jj says after he leaves. "oh- no its umm, its fine" you say, flustered. "i- i"ll be right back" you say before quickly walking to the bathroom to calm down. i mean, for fucks sake your crush just wrapped his arm around you and called you "his" obviously you were feeling things. when you come back out jj is waiting for you “hey i’m sorry it i made you uncomfortable by calling you mine and all that… rafe’s just- not the kind of guy you wanna date.” jj explains. ‘its fine, i liked it anyway’ you thought, “oh its- its fine. thanks for uh.. helping me get rid of him” you say with a soft smile “yeah, yeah of course” jj says with a smile before getting back to work.

you two finish your day up and go to the chateau, but your mind was still on what happened earlier. you were all sitting around a fire, drinking when someone got the idea to play truth or dare, "jj, truth or dare?" kiara says. "dare, obviously" jj says, taking a sip of beer "i dare you to chug that" kiara says smiling. jj chugs the remains of his beer before talking "boom! y/n, truth or dare?" he says, grabbing another beer. "uhh... truth" you say, scared of what his dare would be. "do you have a crush on me?" jj says, voice not even wavering. your whole world stops. how did he know? you thought you were hiding it so well. "uhh..." you say, trailing off. your brain couldn't process what he just said. "well? do you?" pope says. when you hear this you look around, all of the boys had a knowing smile on their faces. you realize it doesn't matter what you say, they know. fuck. how do they know? "um, yes i- uhm, i do" you say, hands shaking. before anyone can get another word in you talk again "do you like me?" you say, deciding to just fuck it. say whatever you were thinking, even if you regret it. "i do" you hear him say. wait, did he just say he likes me? "wait, what?" you say. snapping your head to him, eyes wide as saucers. "i said i like you, y/n" he says again, confirming you weren't crazy. "i like you, like.. a lot. and seeing rafe hit on you earlier i just- fuck. i cant lose you to someone else." he confesses. "i... i dont want to be someone else's. i want to be yours." you admit. "y/n, do you wanna go on a date tomorrow?" he asks, smiling. "i would love that" you say, blushing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⋰˚☆ author’s notes ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

ahhh they’re so cute!! idk if i should make a part three but maybe!! this was so much fun to write ahahaha

@rafeandonlyrafe

#jj maybank #rafe cameron #obx fic #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #part two

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 05)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): psychopathic behaviors, kidnapping, captive situation, verbal and physical threats, threatening use of knife, curse words

Word Count: 2300-ish

Tag(s): @camilaheroine @crazyunsexycool @whateverrrrrrrrs @wifeyofeveryone @louderfortheback @marvelousgoldroses

Author's Note: HI I'M SORRY FOR THE DELAY, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT A CRAZY-FUCK-LOAD DAY I JUST HAD 😭 in summary: my sister had a breakdown, I almost succumbed to the hellhole of road rage, and someone in my life is possibly trying to get a divorce :) so yeah :) it was fcking crazy :)))) buuUUTT I managed to quickly revise and edit this (heavy emphasis on quickly in case there's any mistake found). as usual, you know the drill: LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT pls pretty pls and thank you 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

For a whole minute, the silence that conquered the entire bullpen would make a pin drop sound like an exploded grenade.

Everyone was scared to even breathe, let alone to say anything, to make any kinds of noise that would solidify the reality they were facing.

Not a single pair of eyes could jerk their gaze away from the screen as they watched the UnSub closing in on you. Pulling out a dagger and pressing it against your jaw before tilting your head just right so that you would look straight into the camera.

Derek flinched.

"Garcia," Hotch's voice was the first rip into the silence. When the tech analyst failed to answer his call, he tried again, "Garcia."

"Yes?" Penelope's eyes were watery. Her voice was wavering as she answered, "I-I'm sorry. Yes, sir?"

"I want you to start tracking down his location."

"I-I tried to do that, sir. Earlier. I couldn't... the signal, they kept being bounced around and I don't--

"Garcia." Hotch's voice was colder this time. "Try again."

Penelope immediately sprung into action, reaching for her laptop where the projector was connected.

"I'm sending units to her place," Hotch informed before making a quick call. As he waited for the line to connect, he turned to the others in the room. "Emily, (Y/L/N) said she was going to a hospital yesterday, try finding out which one she went to. Reid, JJ, start tracking her past movements, I want to know about every person she's had any contact with recently."

"How far back do you want us to go?" JJ asked.

"The day of the press conference," Hotch answered. "This must be why he's been lying low for a while. He's got his eyes on her since that day. If we can find out where she's been, we can find him."

Hotch pocketed his phone back after sending units to your home. The other three agents had all scurried away to fulfill Hotch's requests.

Derek, however, hadn't even moved an inch.

"Derek?" Hotch called out. When Derek didn't make a single gesture of acknowledgment, Hotch began to approach him. "Derek, do you--"

Hotch didn't manage to reach Derek's side before he was interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing.

Penelope's eyes were frantic as they darted to the remaining people in the room. "I-Is that--"

"Garcia, get ready to trace the call," Hotch demanded. He moved swiftly to where the phone was located, glancing at Rossi who gave him a single nod of encouragement.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch put the phone on speaker. "FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Agent Aaron Hotchner?"

"This is he." Hotch waited for the other person to answer, but it never came. "Can I ask to whom am I speaking?"

"You know who I am, Agent."

"Do I?"

"Well, we have a very important mutual person in our lives. I know you. So you must also know who I am."

Hotch's eyes flickered towards Rossi, exchanging a conversation in the silent language which only those two could seem to understand.

"Are you talking about (Y/L/N)?"

"You know I do," the person answered. "You're watching right now, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are," Hotch confirmed. "We need to know if she's safe."

"Of course she's safe. I would never hurt her."

"Yes, I'm sure you wouldn't. But we still need confirmation, alright? It's just how this works," Hotch explained. "Please, can you pass the phone to Agent (Y/L/N)?"

A beat of silence passed. Hotch glanced back at the projector to make sure that the UnSub hadn't done anything untoward. Finally, after what felt like hours, he pressed the phone to your ear.

"Tell them you're okay, Darling," he commanded.

"H-Hotch?"

Derek stood straighter at the sound of your voice.

"(Y/L/N)." Your name almost sounded like a breath of relief out of Hotch's mouth. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Hotch."

Before you nor Hotch could say more, the UnSub tore the phone away and brought it back to himself.

"See? I told you she's fine."

Everyone's eyes were directed back to the screen, seeing your assailant unglue the dagger from your neck and walk straight towards the camera. Even in the darkness, his eyes were provoking. Arrogant. He never broke eye contact as he spoke his next words to the phone in his hand.

"I should thank you, Agent Hotchner."

"Thank me?"

"For giving me the opportunity to know such a beautiful creature in the first place."

The UnSub walked away from the camera, refocusing his attention back towards you. Your determined eyes never so much as faltered, even when he brought the tip of his blade on your skin, dragging it across your collarbones, neck, and back. Forceful enough for you to know not to cause any scene if you didn't want the blade to be plunged into your flesh, but sickeningly gentle as to prevent it from drawing blood.

"I know it was your idea to set up that press conference with Agent (Y/L/N) for me, Agent Hotchner. Wasn't it?"

Hotch gritted his teeth at the UnSub's taunt.

"So, really, I owe it all to you. If only you hadn't made that call--" the UnSub paused, touching your shoulder and leaning down until his lips brushed your temple, "--we would've never had the chance to be together like this."

Then, to everyone's horror, the UnSub's hand trailed away from your shoulder, down and down until it rested upon your belly.

"The theee of us," he sneered.

In that moment, Derek's entire world shifted under his feet.

Every cell in Derek's body went erratic once the true implications of the UnSub's words registered in his brain. His heart plunged into a void before restarting instantly into a sequence of thunders. Inch by inch, his body and soul were consumed by a fog filled with the worst snippet of dread and the darkest terror he had ever encountered in life.

"What is he talking about?" Derek questioned as soon as he had found his voice again. "Hotch?"

But the older man remained stoic in his place by the phone. On the other line, a booming laughter sounded.

"Oh? Did no one know about this?" the UnSub cooed. "Have you not told anyone about the good news yet, Darling?"

The clear panic in your face, along with the whimper that slipped past your lips, was the scissor to Derek's final resolve.

In big strides, he marched over to the phone, voice raw and splintered as he cried, "You sick son of a bitch."

The room stood still at the magnitude of fury laced within Derek's words.

Your voice was muffled when it came through the phone, but Derek heard every fiber of emotions in it all the same.

"Derek..."

"Derek?" Your captor tilted his head. "Ah. Agent Morgan?"

"You're a dead meat, do you hear me?"

"Morgan," Hotch warned sternly.

"So much rage," The UnSub suddenly mused. "I told you, Agent Morgan. There's no reason to worry here. I'm going to take care of them. They're in very good hands."

"Fucking bastard! You get your filthy hands off her," Derek fumed. "Get your fucking hands off my child."

Derek's admission was a butcher knife in the thick silence.

"My child?" the UnSub's voice broke through from the other end of the line. "Darling, what is he talking about?"

Your captor's question managed to lift some of the fog from Derek's head. Before he could begin to form any more words, Hotch pushed him to the side before pressing the mute button to block the noises inside the bullpen from filtering into the telephone line.

"Rossi, can you take over for a second?" Hotch asked before turning towards Derek, "Morgan, my office. Now."

Every one of Derek's movement was robotic as he followed Hotch away from the bullpen. As soon as the door to the office closed behind them, Hotch wasted no breath before stating his order, "I need you off the case, Morgan."

"Absolutely not."

"Morgan--"

"Hotch," Derek cut him off, eyes blazing with a ferosity matching that of a thunderstorm. "I'm not going to stand around and do nothing while she... while he still has her."

"The team and I will never let anything happen to her. To both of them," Hotch promised. "You need to trust us."

"I trusted you, too, last time, Hotch. Look where that got us."

He knew it wasn't fair. Derek realized it as soon as the last syllable had passed his lips. But Derek wasn't himself right at that moment, and Hotch understood it all too well.

Closing his eyes, Derek leaned back against the desk in Hotch's office. Exhaustion was the fruit of fright as it diverged in his bones. It raced along his bloodstream, reaching the deepest points of his entire being until there was no corner left for hope to fill.

"Would you have done it?" Derek asked eventually. "If any of us had told you to stand down when Foyet was holding Haley and Jack--if I told you to trust us--would you?"

"No," Hotch replied truthfully. "But this is different."

"How the fuck is this different?!"

"It's different because your personal feelings almost cost us (Y/N)'s life."

There was nothing Derek could say to counter Hotch's accusation.

Flashing scenes of the earlier phone conversation sped through Derek's mind. For a second there, right after the UnSub unknowingly declared your condition, Derek almost thought that he was on the brink of losing his complete sanity. All Derek remembered was red in his vision as he stalked towards the phone, shouting the first threats he could think of towards the UnSub, all the while failing to deduct how his rash behaviors could affect you later on.

The breath that Derek let out quivered in the air as he tried to stop thinking about what the UnSub might have planned to do to you in the wake of his action.

"She's pregnant, Hotch," Derek cried quietly. "He has them both. She's carrying my child and I... I didn't even know."

Derek didn't even realize he was crying until the burning ache inside his chest started to expand. The room around him was spinning. The only memory echoing in Derek's head was of the very last night the two of you had ever spent together--the night where he screwed up--and how you had kicked him straight to the curb because of his own idiocy.

"I fucked up, Hotch," Derek managed to croak out between his wretched sobs. "The last thing I said to her... God, what if I never get the chance to make it right again? What if the last memory I have of her is of the night I broke her fucking heart?"

Hotch didn't think he had ever seen Derek in such a state before. Gone was the capable and confident man that Hotch had the pleasure of knowing for the last few years. In his place was a broken shell of a man who looked like Derek, talked like Derek, but void of any semblance of life and spirit that Hotch always associated with the man.

The life and spirit that were gone in the absence of you in Derek's arms.

"Morgan, everything's going to be fine," Hotch tried again. "JJ and Reid are scouring everything to figure out her movements over the last couple of weeks. I've assigned Emily to find the hospital (Y/N) went to yesterday. We'll figure out who took her. End this for good."

Derek's gaze never strayed away off the ground. Hotch took a long breath before adding, "Morgan, we will find her--"

"How did you know she went to the hospital?"

The question came as a shock to either of them. Derek's eyes were more curious than incriminating, but the accusation behind them seemed to inflate with every second that passed by in Hotch's silence.

"You didn't seem surprised when the UnSub told us about her condition. Why?"

"Morgan--"

People liked to say that anger was the ultimate fuel for human beings.

And for Derek Morgan, anger was exactly the propulsion he needed to throw himself right off the edge, where the line between flaming vengeance and common sense had blurred together into one another.

It was the propulsion that, somehow, rationalized his instinct to surge forward and slammed Hotch back against the hard surface of the office wall.

The harsh impact knocked the air entirely out of Hotch's lungs, but the choked sound was stifled in Derek's ears by his own roaring wrath. Hotch almost didn't recognize the man beneath all of that hostility. The only thing left of Derek Morgan, in that moment, was his name.

"You knew?"

Each syllable not welded with rage in Derek's question was fused with betrayal instead.

"Morgan--"

"Answer me, goddammit!"

Hotch's resolve remained steadfast as he answered, "Yes."

That one simple word managed to drain every last bit of energy from Derek's body. He fell back a step, then twice, before the choking hold he had of Hotch was finally released.

"How long?"

"I only found out yesterday."

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She told you, but not me." He chuckled dryly. "Why the hell didn't you tell me, Hotch?!"

"I didn't know you were the father," Hotch said. "She never told me it was you."

Before his legs could give out, Derek sank on the chair in front of Hotch's desk. A million different thoughts were going haywire in the neurons of his brain. He wanted to scream. To flip the earth upside down and find the location where you were being held hostage. He just wanted the universe to stop messing with him and started giving him answers.

And then, five seconds later, the door to the office swung open.

Emily stood in the doorway, unassuming of the palpable tension lingering in the air. When she finally uttered her next words, Derek thought he could finally start to breathe again.

"We may have something," Emily announced to the room. "We think we know where (Y/N) is."

Derek flew out of the chair before anyone had the chance to say anything else.

He was coming to get you.

And this time, Derek had no intention of letting you go.

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan one shot #derek morgan series #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan angst #derek morgan smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds series #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds smut #shemar moore #love bugs

[drconstellation]

Once and Future Royalty

Just, stay with me on this one. I know its going to look crazy at the start, but trust me, I know where I'm going.

It all started with the 537AD scene in Wessex in the opening montage of "Hard Times," S1E3. Yeah, the one where Aziraphale is supposed to be a knight of the Round Table and Crowley is role-playing the Black Knight, and they are both so super-squeaky shiny clean - not a speck of dirt or mud on them. wtf! It looks out of place, unrealistic, and was bugging the crap out of me, like a stone in your shoe. It just didn't fit. I mean, why put a myth, a legend, into that sequence? Oh, OK, yeah, the preceding stories from the Bible, like the Garden of Eden and the Flood, aren't "myths" as well, you say? Hmm. In the context of the Good Omens AU, being a biblical based story, they belong there far more than the legend of King Arthur.

King Arthur, who supposedly united Britain under his rule during the late 5th century and early 6th century, was shown to have the divine right to rule by wielding the mighty sword Excalibur. Some stories tell of Arthur pulling Excalibur from a stone. Some tell of him receiving Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake. Either way, it was bestowed upon him by divine grace. Despite his triumph in battle, he left no heirs, as his queen, the fair Guinevere, was barren. She had a long-running love affair with the greatest knight of the court, Sir Lancelot, but despite this being an open secret in court Arthur would not put her aside. The knights of the Round Table in the court of Camelot were near-paragons of Christian virtue, and there are many tales of their search for the Holy Grail, the cup from the Last Supper of Jesus Christ.

In the end, mortally wounded in battle, Arthur was taken away for healing, and never seen again. It was said he would return when Britain was at it most direst hour to save the day once more. A "messianic" return.

The Once and Future King.

Now, I'm no Arthurian novice; I drank up all of T. H. White as a teenager, read the Dark is Rising multiple times, Marion Zimmer Bradley's interpretation and what ever else I could lay my hands on for a good couple of decades. And there is LOTS of King Arthur stuff around. You are not left wanting for anything new to read or consume. And I'll bet there are a fair few of you also out there who know a quite bit about the legend as well. Oh, and I can't tell you how many times I have watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I still walk around quoting it day-to-day, like the good little Gen-Xer I am, having grown up on that stuff. So I really should have listened to my intuition when bits of Monty Python kept popping up in my brain in response to other parts of GO I was thinking about. (Staaay, I said, stay with me here....)

I kept chewing away furiously on the Wessex problem, growling in feral frustration at it, but also kept reading and sorting out some other ideas and metas at the same time. Eventually I found the key in a tiny little post, about a small detail in the 1941 Blitz episode S2E4, of all places. I wanted to slap myself with how much was staring me in the face so obviously once the door opened. And the damn beauty of it is, that I already written about some it, out of context, without knowing the why.

OK. Where to start this journey...hmmm, back to Monty Python, because, guess what - the Wessex scene is actually riffing off one the more famous skits out the the Holy Grail. The scene is a masterpiece of political satire, from start to finish, but the relevant part here is this sequence:

In case you missed the salient points: Arthur claims he is king by divine providence, because he was given Excalibur by the Lady of the Lake. Dennis the peasant protests this waterlogged method of determination, mentioning ponds, watery tarts and a moistened... well, I hope you get the idea about where this is going.

Meanwhile, in 537AD, Wessex, as the mist swirls around them:

"It is a bit damp," complains a shiny silver Aziraphale.

Yes, Excalibur would be a bit damp after it emerged from the Lake. (vidavalor! Get your mind out of the gutter! I'm trying to have a serious discussion here! Please! And I wasn't even going to go anywhere near what the sword in the stone is really meant to be referring to...it's not even relevant to the discussion at hand, I swear! Well, there is going to be sexual relations mentioned but - oh, never mind...)

Right. Where were we. Lets leave those super-clean elite pretendy knights to swim off through the swirling mist back to their dry homes to write and file reports to head office, along with Patsy and the hired Igors, and Dennis can keep playing in his lovely muddy filth after he finishes protesting being repressed by the divinely-deluded Arthur. I've got a bit more to say about what Aziraphale and Crowley might represent here later but you need some more context first, so lets move on. I just needed to show you the first bit so you can see the Arthurian theme stretches across both S1 and S2, and will likely appear in S3 as well. More about that towards the end.

Ah, before I forget...another ref from the Holy Grail we need to cover:

This GIF, unfortunately, doesn't have the full exchange between the peasants, which is this:

P1: "Who's that then?" P2: "I don't know. Must be a king." P1: "How can you tell?" P2: "Because he doesn't have any shit on him."

Ah. Er. OH!

Have you made the connection?

Who have I been emphasizing as being unusually clean in their Arthurian setting? That's right, Aziraphale and Crowley.

What's this implying? That they are royalty. Celestial royalty. Maybe not kings, but how about princes? You know how we've been discussing whether Crowley was a once at least an Archangel, and there is even a hint that he was a fallen prince of Heaven given during the replay of Gabriel's trial? (Not the prince, but a prince - a seraphim) And that Aziraphale may have once been Raphael, and may be again in the future? Once and future royalty. To me it adds weight to the past discussion, and helps to explain the assumed authority expressed in these two scenes here: On the left, Aziraphale takes control inside the book shop as the angels and demons argue who is going to punish Gabriel and Beelzebub (finally found it after several months!) and on the right, Crowley is shouting at the assembling demons in the street that they are "out of order."

Onward, Patsy. (I hope you're still with me.)

1941, the Blitz part 2, minisode.

We've found Excalibur! On to Camelot!

[Edit note: I've added a few GIFs and screen shots into the sequence of parallels above because I was thinking over a few things since I posted and felt this actually sat better. To try and explain, as they don't exactly match as I would like, in the Holy Grail movie, King Arthur and the knights he has gathered rock up at the foot of Camelot and gaze up in awe at it. "Camelot!" Arthur declares to the party. "Camelot!" Galahad echoes in excitement. And a third "Camelot!" comes from Lancelot. What do we get in GO? Aziraphale leaps out of the Bentley (Crowley's black horse) and declares "The theater! Sophocles! Shakespeare!" I swear, if you put the two side by side, they would match. It's not just a reminder of how much time Aziraphale has seen pass by, or that we are seeing a tragedy play out. But damn it, I could so just see Aziraphale attending a Sophocles performance in Athens back in the day...]

Camelot was King Arthur's castle and home of his court. In S2 of GO the Windmill Theater is established as our court of Camelot where our 1941 Blitz-era Arthurian drama is to play out, involving Furfur and the zombies.

Yes, poor old Furfur. Two's company, three's a crowd, as they say. Now we know we're in Camelot, we need to be reminded of the central tragedy of the Arthurian story, that ultimately led to the golden kingdom's fall. Lady Guinevere, Arthur's queen, famously loved Sir Lancelot, and the two were passionate lovers. It was essentially a love-triangle at the top, with Arthur being jilted, but he wouldn't/couldn't discard his queen. Where do we see this playing out in 1941?

Furfur, pleased with himself for catching an angel and a demon in the act of consorting together (with the help of the zombies,) barges into the backstage dressing room, and confronts the lovers with their crime. But who is playing who in the Arthurian love triangle? I would say Furfur is clearly caught in the role of Arthur here. Consider the following exchange:

FURFUR: Hmm, well, well, well… What have we here? AZIRAPHALE: Sorry, have we met? FURFUR: Oh, no, you never had the pleasure, but… we have, haven't we? CROWLEY: Have we? FURFUR: What do you mean "have we?" You know we have. We were in the same legion. Just before the Fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember? CROWLEY: I remember going into battle, I don't remember being there with you. Sorry. FURFUR: I was right next to you. We did loads together. You use to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat. Anyway, whether you do or whether you don't, it doesn't matter. I'm here to inform you, as a representative of the Higher Powers of Hell, that you, Crowley, are in breach of the Infernal Code. Consulting and collaborating with an angel, Fell the Marvelous, aka… [opens book] Azirapalala. Azirapapap. Aziphapalala. AZIRAPHALE: [annoyed] Aziraphale

Furfur claims a past intimate relationship with Crowley, which Crowley spurns offhandedly. Crowley is playing Guinevere here, jilting Furfur/Arthur, which leaves the demon-smiting Aziraphale standing in for the handsome hero Lancelot (with his French connections, no less), and doesn't he make us weak at the knees when he drops his voice an octave in dominating disgust. (Is it suddenly getting hot in here...? Phew!)

Interestingly, looking back in S1 at 537AD Wessex, though, I would say that Crowley was Lancelot as the Black Knight, a role that Lancelot sometimes played in the legends, and Aziraphale would then be the fair maiden Guinevere. It certainly plays into Crowley's long term role of playing the knight who comes to the rescue of Aziraphale's princess in distress. Excalibur was no where in sight, perhaps still beneath the waters of the lake. Nor Arthur. Perhaps it was still too early in the story then...

I had originally suggested in my very first post that Furfur was given a stag as his demon avatar because he was wearing horns for being cuckolded by Crowley. But I wasn't quite thinking about it in context with the Arthurian legend! The stag is also often associated with royalty, plus while wandering around the medieval bestiary website that someone linked to, it interestingly notes that the enemy of the snake is the stag and the stork (Shax's avatar.) Ah ha!

So how can we extrapolate this knowledge into a possible appearance of the Arthurian theme in S3?

Will we see the love triangle of Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot come back into play and cause more chaos? I'm wondering if it might have something to do with the Fall.

Or will our lovers bring down a divinely-appointed ruler via their committed behind-the-back defiance of expected propriety?

Will Excalibur appear from beneath the waters, perhaps in another form, to declare a new king?

Could it even be a combination Jesus/Arthur, King of the World, returned? And they turn out to be a very naughty boy, disappearing into the night clubs of Times Square, New York, and that's how they lose him? (Social media viral sensation, anyone?)

I wouldn't be half-surprised if Greasy Johnson's name turns out to be Arthur, actually.

And no, I haven't forgotten that Adam's dad was named Arthur as well.

Bring on S3!

**Bonus**

If you've made it this far and you're thinking:

Let me leave you with this last connection.

In the back stage change room, remember Furfur delivers these lines:

FURFUR: What do you mean "have we?" You know we have. We were in the same legion. Just before the Fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember?

On the first level, he is referring the Great War in the Good Omens AU.

On the second level, Furfur is paraphrasing Milton's Paradise Lost.

On a third level, I can (and will in a future meta) connect this back to the training initiative paintball fight at Tadfield Manor in S1.

And even deeper on a fourth level, if you do know the Holy Grail movie well, you'll remember there is an odd little subplot in it, that infers that the whole King Arthur and his knights thing is merely a full-on violent cosplay that is murderously rampaging across the countryside in the present day with the police in hot pursuit. It's a strange juxtaposition between reality and dream, and you aren't quite sure what it is real or not. The ending is bizarrely and abruptly surreal as the two story lines collide in the heat of battle, as the police turn up and arrest the combatants. A bit like this:

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #aziraphale #crowley #king arthur #king of the who? #the return of king arthur #excalibur #the lady of the lake #watery tarts #monty python #monty python and the holy grail #run away #camelot #arthurian legend #ladies of camelot #guinevere #lancelot #the once and future king #once and future royalty #good omens 1941 #furfur #shax #dubious battle on the plains of heaven #tadfield manor

[al-astakbar]

☆ Fair Winds and Following Seas -- Thrawn x reader ☆

> title ☆ Fair Winds and Following Seas

> summary ☆ In a loosely-controlled experiment, Grand Admiral Thrawn decides to dose you with a powerful aphrodisiac and makes you go about your day as usual. This is a direct follow up to Good and Faithful Service, I suggest reading that first.

> pairing ☆  Thrawn x reader ☆ word count [6.9k] ☆ warnings ☆ aphrodisiacs; mildly dubious consent; masturbation; cunnilingus; Thrawn eats ass (very brief); PIV sex; power dynamics & imbalance; fraternization; angsty at the end

> posted on ao3 ☆

You can’t have expected anything to change with you and Thrawn. Not really. It had been one night. You had offered your help before he had ordered you to give it. Even when he’d had you on your back, even with his cock in your mouth, neither of you had put aside your ranks. You were still ‘Lieutenant’, and he was still the Grand Admiral. He was still Sir. 

Except now you keep slipping. Months on, you find yourself unable to focus on much of anything. Distracted in meetings, forgetting things, neglecting the most basic military decorum. 

The Grand Admiral is perhaps more lenient than most senior officers, but he is only forgiving to a point. 

So when he comms you an hour earlier than normal one morning, you’re nervous. It could be a reprimand. It could be some worse, harsher punishment. He could be planning to dismiss you, have you reassigned. Between dismissal and punishment, you feel crazy for hoping it’s the latter. The thought of having to leave him, the thought that he has no use for you anymore… you mentally shake yourself. Totally inappropriate way for a junior officer to feel about her commander. You’re his aide, nothing more, nothing less. 

You quickly change out of your pt clothes into the uniform of the day, and hurry up to his office, which is a couple decks above your stateroom. You press the chime to let him know you’re outside, and then he remotely keys the hatch to open for you.

Inside, his office is almost pitch black. 

“Enter.” His voice calls from somewhere in the dark. You can’t pinpoint it. 

You step inside, and the hatch zips shut behind you. 

“Good morning, sir. Lieutenant--” you stumble over your own name, just barely managing not to yelp in surprise when you suddenly see a pair of glowing red eyes open, just a few feet away from you “-- reporting as ordered.” 

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” he says smoothly. He brings up the lights without offering any comment on why he’d had them off in the first place. Strange. He hadn’t said anything about the incident with the Nevow. Not one thing. At first you’d figured he was determined to act like everything was normal, just pretend it hadn’t happened. But just as you’ve been slipping, he’s had some odd moments as well.

He gestures to the seating area where he usually entertains senior staff or high ranking visitors. There is an elegant silver caf service laid out on the low table.

You gratefully accept the cup of caf he pours and then passes to you. You sit awkwardly, perched on the edge of the chair with rigid posture, while he sits back, regarding you thoughtfully.

“Thank you for coming early. Did I interrupt your morning exercise?” 

“Uh… of course, sir. And I had been just about to start. You know, unit pt down in the aft shuttle maintenance bay.” You gulp down your caf, noticing that it’s making you feel quite warm, especially in the usual chill of his office. “You started a droid-sparring trend, sir. I don’t know if you knew that.” With any other officer, this would be much too familiar. Too friendly.

The Grand Admiral just says, “indeed?” 

“Yes, sir.” You finish your cup, and he pours you a second. “Thank you,” you murmur. 

He sips his own, watching you with a strange glint in his eyes. Not unlike the way he had looked at you all those months ago in that hot, confined room. Your face heats at the memory, and you drink again to cover your blush. 

Not for the first time, you wonder if you should be the one to request a transfer. You can’t control yourself around him. Even now, just sitting here having caf, and you’re getting turned on just from the way he looks at you. Suddenly your collar feels too tight. The temperature of his office, so cold you normally have to clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering-- too warm. Some time ago, you had finally given in to your fantasies, and allowed yourself to imagine him while you masturbate. It had felt so, so wrong, a violation of his trust in you, a violation of your relationship as junior and senior officers. But it hadn’t stopped you. And it isn’t the same as the real thing. You stare down at your cup, thankful that, perceptive as he is, he can’t actually read your mind.

“Lieutenant?”

You look up. “Yes, sir?”

“Are you alright?” 

“Yes, sir.” You nod quickly, blushing even harder. 

You’re sure he can tell that you’re lying, but he doesn’t remark on it. He lets you fidget for a moment, and then changes topic. 

“Today, you will help me conduct an experiment.”

You sit up straighter, reaching for your datapad to take notes, but he stops you.

“That will not be necessary. You will be the subject, and I will… observe you.” 

That was intentional. That suggestive twist he put on the phrase, the way his voice went low and soft, like he knew how it would send a shiver of arousal up your spine. You swallow hard. “Of course, I’ll do whatever is required of me, sir.”

Grand Admiral Thrawn almost smiles. You both know his authority over you begins and ends with military matters, and you’re pretty sure whatever this is falls well outside of those boundaries. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Now, allow me to explain. I have put some of the galvi root in the caf you just drank. I had to guess at the dosage, but am I correct that it has already begun to take effect?”

You nod tightly, head spinning at this revelation, though in hindsight you should have expected something like this from him. 

“I see… it has affected you more quickly, then.”

“Are you-- are you sure?” At his slight frown, you continue quickly. “I think you may not have noticed it right away because you had the distraction of the ceremony. Sir.” 

The Grand Admiral leans back, tapping the arm of his chair. “Yes. Yes, I believe you are right.” He pauses, and gives you an appraising look that makes you squirm.  

“You could have asked me!” You finally say, a little testy. 

“And you would have agreed to it, would you not?”

You nod again, flustered at how easily he can read you. As to why you would agree to it so readily— you’d rather not risk exposing your embarrassing crush on him by arguing the point. 

“Therefore my asking beforehand would be unnecessary.” 

You very nearly glare at him. Not like it would be the first line crossed today in terms of what’s acceptable between a junior and senior officer. Instead, you say, “I hadn’t factored in the time for this in today’s schedule, sir. If you need me to--”

“Not to worry, Lieutenant. You will accompany me for the entire day. I have arranged for your colleagues to cover your other responsibilities. As part of the experiment, we need to test how well you are able to perform your daily routine, or at least an approximation of it.”

You aren’t sure how to argue about this, if you even should, because the idea of it seems ridiculous. After all, he had been totally incapacitated by the drug within two hours and now he expects you to just go about your day. Will you be allowed any privacy? Will you be allowed relief?

He seems to be contemplating the same questions. What he says next makes you bite back a gasp and you nearly drop your cup. “Recall: you sucked my cock and I came in your mouth.” 

This is the first time since that he’s directly acknowledged it, and he says it so calmly but the shock of hearing those words in his cool, modulated voice sends a visceral pulse of desire through your body. You shift, trying to hold yourself still. Can’t keep your hands from shaking. With a rattling clink, you put your cup and saucer on the table.

At that, Thrawn continues, “-- but the effects of the drug were not lessened. It was alleviated, very briefly, but then only grew stronger. It was the same when I masturbated. That is what we will test today. And your ability to withstand it.” 

You have no idea what to say, other than a weak ‘yes, sir.’ 

For a few more minutes, the two of you sit quietly. Thrawn finishes his caf and you think on what he’s just said. Recall, was his order. How can you not? You’ve thought about it every day for months. How he had tasted, how he’d fucked you. How he had sounded when he’d come that last time, a low, almost feral growl as he’d pushed deep inside of you. 

Then he checks his chrono, and it’s time to go. Nearly 0700. He’ll be expected on the bridge for the morning report.

He stands, and at the last second, you remember to do the same. Not a good sign. Protocol dictates you stand at attention whenever the commanding officer enters or leaves the room. The Grand Admiral is usually rather lax about such niceties, but if you let the little things slide, it’s only a matter of time before you make a mistake that he would deem significant. 

//

You follow Grand Admiral Thrawn to the first task of the morning, the familiar route through the passageways up to the bridge feeling much longer than normal. This is fine, you try to reassure yourself. You do this with him every day. And it’s possible the aphrodisiac doesn’t even affect humans the way it had affected him. After all, your hosts all those months ago could have dosed you, too, but didn’t. Maybe they had known it wouldn’t really work. But-- no.

You’re here, now, at his elbow on the command walkway, already failing your duties. You’re supposed to be paying attention, and taking any notes he might need. Instead, you’re sweating. You can feel a trickle of it down your back, and where it’s beading in your hairline.

Commodore Faro grimaces at you, and makes some comment about droid-sparring for pt getting out of control. You apologize to her, a hurried ‘sorry, ma’am’, and then excuse yourself because the Grand Admiral has made that vague gesture with his hand that means he has something for you to do.

But all he wants is for you to come stand by his side. Throughout the morning and the rest of the day, he insists on keeping you close, and the proximity only makes your desire flare hotter. The way he smells, and his tall, broad-shouldered frame, and the way his arm sometimes brushes against yours. His long-fingered hands, which, though he’s wearing his white gloves right now, you can still picture so clearly, blue against your skin. 

You take your seat at his right hand in the morning meeting, only to fidget and shift the whole time. Every so often, he gives you the side eye, so you will yourself to stop, to be still, control yourself. 

He leans over, commenting quietly for only you to hear, that your core temperature is elevated. His voice maddeningly calm as always. Raising one eyebrow at you, almost a challenge. Ask for what you need, Lieutenant.

You need him. You need his cock, you need to feel him again, don’t give a damn if it’s fraternization and every other officer in the room would see your life ruined-- both you and Thrawn-- if they knew you’re even having these thoughts. You need him to bend you over the conference table and fuck you until you can’t walk. 

At last, he stands, dismissing everyone from the meeting. Except you. You check your chrono, and it takes you a moment to read it. You feel delirious, every sense flooded with overwhelming arousal. Every nerve charged.

“Forty-five minutes, Lieutenant.” The Grand Admiral’s cool, soft voice washes over you. You have to close your eyes against it. Against what it does to your fraying self control. Officers of the Galactic Imperial Navy do not think about dropping to their knees and begging their commander to make them cum.

“Until? Sir?” You only get the formality in as a force of habit.

“Since.”

Your eyes snap to his. “Since?”

He tilts his head, studying you. His gaze sweeps down your body, his lips part slightly. There’s that hunger you had seen before, when he had been the one whose desires were laid bare by the drug. “Since you took the dose.”

Your heart drops. “That’s it?!” You blurt out, and he raises an eyebrow at your unprofessionalism. “Sorry, sir. I…” You hesitate, “I’m just going to the ‘fresher real quick before our next meeting.”

“No.” 

You freeze in your tracks. “Sir?”

“I have not excused you, Lieutenant. And I assume your purpose in going is to be able to masturbate in private?”

You stare at him, mortified, and unable to answer. 

He tilts his head slightly. “Interesting.”

“What?”

“I have never seen a human produce so much facial heat before.”

You huff, and close your eyes briefly. “Sir, I… I can’t do this. Could I just be excused for the day until it wears off? I’ll just tell Medical I ate something weird that I bought at the last port call.”  

“Perhaps you misunderstand, Lieutenant. I am permitting you to masturbate. But you will do it here.”

It clicks in your mind. Observe. 

You lick your lips, and meet his eyes once more for confirmation. He lets his gaze sweep down and back up, positively indecent. It makes your pulse spike, knowing that he’s thinking about you like that. 

Too fast, too eager, you pull up your tunic, unbuckle your belt and shove your pants down just enough. 

“More,” Thrawn orders. He points rather lazily to your legs, and how they aren’t spread wide enough for him to see much. You obey, and then fall back into the chair, bare from hips to ankles. Thrawn is close. He stands right in front of you, regarding you with imperious authority.

The effect of the drug is powerful enough to dampen some of your embarrassment, but you are still sitting here, legs spread wide for your commanding officer. Anyone could walk in.

“Do you need more specific directions, Lieutenant?” He asks dryly. 

“No, sir.” You reach your hand down and find you’re already slick and wanting. Wet enough to be fucked, your mind supplies unhelpfully, but you know he won’t give that to you. You start circling your clit, can’t stop yourself from whimpering in relief. Plunge one finger in, but it’s not enough, so you work in a second. It feels good, so good. The drug has its claws in you now, some primal force coaxing you faster, faster -- if you can just take the edge off. None of it is enough. You rub your clit, and push your fingers in as deep as you can, curling them to that perfect spot. Your climax is almost too easy to find, right there within reach-- 

“Look at me.” 

Your eyes fly open. Your breath hitches --“y-yes. Yes, sir,” -- and you’re coming, hard and fast. You can feel your inner walls fluttering around your fingers, and you chase the feeling as long as you can, touching a bright, fleeting pleasure that has you moaning wantonly.

But the drug steals away any true satisfaction. Makes it shallow, and over too soon, and leaves a tight, twisting need in your core, verging on pain.

“Did it help?” He echoes your question from months ago, but you both already know the answer.

It made it worse. You shake your head and quickly make yourself decent. You’re about to wipe your hands on your trousers when he catches your wrist-- the hand that you’d fucked yourself with-- and licks one of your fingers. Then he sucks both of them fully in his mouth with a sinful hmm. As if he’s been waiting for his chance to taste you.

You give a shuddering whimper. Again, you have to close your eyes against the sight of him, against the feeling of his mouth and tongue. Against everything. 

When he’s done, he wipes your face and hands with a handkerchief. He gives you a once-over, and straightens your rank plaque himself. Once you’re deemed presentable, he leads the way to the next meeting. 

He keeps finding little ways to touch you, and you’re sure it’s on purpose. Even his hand on your shoulder makes you have to refocus your self control, exhale as the warmth of his touch makes you ache with need. After the Ops brief, he leans in close and picks a possibly nonexistent piece of lint off your tunic.

By 0930, he hasn’t allowed you to masturbate again, and you’re a wreck. “Sir…” you sway on your feet, distantly pondering the consequences if you were to simply disobey him, and sneak off to a ‘fresher. Or you could jump a random officer, get him to fuck the drug out of you for a few hours. Or… you gaze at Thrawn, not bothering to try to conceal your lust… 

He regards you dispassionately.

“Sir, please…” 

“Would you ever have asked me for it, Lieutenant?” His authority, his very presence seems to fill the now-empty executive conference room. “I’ve been wondering if you would. I did promise you a dose. You never added the time for it to my schedule.”

You swallow hard, not quite trusting yourself to speak coherently. “You already have so much on your plate, sir. I didn’t want to overburden you.” You know it sounds like a lame excuse. 

Evidently, he thinks so too. “I see.” He brushes a strand of hair off your face, tucks it behind your ear. 

You shiver at the contact, at how cool his hand feels next to your burning skin.

It’s gone all too soon. He turns away and you dutifully follow along, wondering if your lie had just cost you a chance at relief.

You endure another couple hours or so-- you only know the time because Thrawn keeps reminding you. But as the minutes tick by you feel more and more delirious, and occasional spasms of pain start to wrack your body. Somehow you manage to stay on your feet, standing at his elbow as he conducts a walkthrough inspection of the ship’s TIE Defender maintenance shop. After that, you accompany him for a brief break in the senior officers’ mess, and have to watch him as he calmly sips his caf while you squirm in the seat next to him. He makes conversation with a few other officers, but you can’t focus on anything they’re saying. Every thought you have is of him. Every impulse, the heat between your thighs, urging you, screaming at you to throw yourself at him, to bend over so he can mount you, or better yet you could ride him. Straddle him, brace your hands on his chest, feel his powerful, long legs flexing as he pumps up into you.

He glances over at you just once, and raises his eyebrow, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking. 

The next meeting, you get through by white-knuckling the conference table and crossing your legs very tightly. Desire burns in you like a fever, narrows your awareness to just your body and the undeniable, agonizing need the drug has stoked in you.  

You stand at attention with everyone else when Thrawn gets up and dismisses the meeting. And once again, you’re alone with him. 

He fixes you with a dangerous look, a curious gleam in his glowing red eyes. He seems almost… entertained.

“Sir, please, I… I need to…” You shouldn’t speak first, typically. Junior officers don’t talk this way to their betters, but nothing about this is typical. 

“Truly remarkable,” Thrawn says softly. “The power of this drug, and your resistance to it. You’ve done very well so far, but I fear it may harm you.” 

He begins pulling his right glove off, finger by finger. Your pulse jumps in your chest. “Take off your boots.” 

You barely pause to question it, though worry rattles in the back of your mind. What if someone comes in? Won’t there be another meeting in here soon? Thrawn isn’t worried. Perhaps doesn’t care. 

He approaches, backing you up to the large conference table. When you come up on the edge of it, he lifts you by your waist and sits you up on it. With swift, deft movements, he undoes your belt and strips you of your trousers. He slots himself between your bare legs and you hear yourself panting. Pushing your hips closer to him, needing to rut and grind. Without asking, you reach a hand down, eager to touch your clit. He stops you, catches your wrist and you actually whine with disappointment.

He ignores this, looking down at you contemplatively, and it registers then, just how close you are, how you’d dreamed of this for months and now you’re close enough to kiss him. “Please,” you try again. “I did it for you.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “But this is an experiment, not an exchange of favors.”

And with a fluid, graceful motion he gets on his knees and buries his face in your soaking pussy. 

His lips immediately find the bud of your clit in a lewd, wet, open-mouthed kiss. A shuddering, throaty cry tears from your lips, and Thrawn only pauses to warn you to mind your screams. Someone could hear. At this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. You both know the consequences were someone to walk in and see the Grand Admiral with his face between your legs. But he doesn’t take risks unless he’s confident in the odds. Or he’s just decided it’s worth it. 

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder. You can feel the cold metal of his epaulet digging into your skin. The change in position opens you to him. You fix the image in your mind, of Thrawn there between your legs. The contrast of his blue skin against yours, the alien ridges of his forehead, his lips and tongue lapping at your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better, his red eyes locked on you.

Without thinking, you put your hand on his head, stroking your fingers through his sleek, dark hair. Too intimate. Again, he catches your wrist, moves it away. 

“Sorry,” you say. He doesn’t answer. He wraps his arm around your thigh, yanking you closer to his mouth, and then pushes one finger into you. More. The drug wants more. He works a second in easily and lets you ride them for a moment before pinning your hips down. 

“Please fuck me.” You don’t care how desperate you sound. You’re already close, oversensitized from the drug and the hours of torturous denial. 

“Not yet.”

“Why not? When?”

His eyes meet yours. “Questioning a superior officer?” He pauses, with a deliberate, slow lick of his tongue right over your clit. You nearly cry.

“Lieutenant?” He prompts you. 

“N-no sir.” Your voice is breathy, broken. You can feel pleasure starting to roll over you in waves, your body responsive to every little touch.

He takes pity on you. Doesn’t tease or hold back or draw it out, at least not any more than he already has. Perhaps his way of saying thank you for what you did for him. Because you know him, as much as anyone can know Thrawn, and you know better than to expect to hear it.

The drug steals any more coherent thought, but Thrawn claims your pleasure. He is relentless, drinking it down, alternately suckling your clit and lapping at your folds with the broad flat of his tongue, his fingers reaching the perfect spot that yours couldn’t, that you haven’t been able to satisfy for months. He curls his fingers, and you’re gone, dissolving like sugar in his mouth. He lets you ride his face, keeps fucking his fingers into you as you moan and twitch, and squeeze your thighs around his ears. Again, the drug makes your release blaze bright and fast, but ultimately leaves you wanting.

At last, you sag backwards, legs wide, a wanton, debauched picture. Your tunic hangs open, and for a quiet moment you lie flat on the conference table where just minutes ago the Chimaera’s senior officers had gathered. Thrawn rises effortlessly, and when he does, you see his complexion is tinged indigo, and there is an obvious bulge in his trousers. 

He’s watching you, taking in the sight of what he’s done, and you spread your legs wider. He licks his lips, eyes blazing. 

“Now?” You ask hopefully. 

His expression hardens, and he orders you to get dressed. He has to wipe off his mouth and chin, which are shiny with your arousal. Then, it’s back to the day’s schedule.

At least six more times, Thrawn decides to let you come, before you start to lose track completely. Rather than depriving you, he overloads you, flooding you with stimulation at every opportunity. He pulls you into a disused office, sits you up on the desk, and eats you out again. It shocks you each time he gets on his knees for you. He’ll smudge his white uniform and then everyone will know, they’ll see you together and know, Grand Admiral Thrawn is fucking his Lieutenant.

Following obediently after him from one part of the ship to another, you can feel how wet you are, your constant arousal dripping down your legs, you can feel your pussy slick as you walk. After the evening Intel brief, he backs you into a dark corner in a passageway, slips his hand down your pants and permits you to come on his fingers. There isn’t even the assurance of a hatch between the two of you and anyone who could come along, and yet you thrust and grind shamelessly against his hand, unable to keep quiet. He almost smiles when he tells you, really, Lieutenant, I expect you to at least attempt to control yourself.  He kisses you, sealing his mouth over yours, swallowing down your keening cries. The one thought you can grasp, through the haze of lust, is that he’s achingly hard, pressing his erection against your hip as if he’s just barely holding back from touching himself.

Each climax tightens the drug’s feverish hold over you, and by the evening you can hardly stand for the desire boiling in your veins. Your uniform is a mess, rumpled and with an odd stain you hope is caf but you can’t remember how it happened. You imagine your face must be worse. Thrawn again straightens your rank plaque, and makes sure your cover isn’t askew.

His nearness makes you tremble. 

He leads you back to the bridge once more for the evening report, and finally-- your heart leaps when you recognize the familiar path-- to his quarters.

The room is cold. Always cold, the way he likes it. You have wondered often what his home planet is like. Freezing, you assume. Somewhere icy and hospitable only to his people. You’ve wondered why he would ever leave it, when he so clearly doesn’t fit in here. The Empire has an ideal, and as brilliant as he is, Thrawn is not it.

He leaves you standing there in the center of his art collection, and dims the lights. 

You wait for him as attentively as you can, though you’re shivering, standing at a tense parade rest. 

After a stretch of silence he speaks. “Could you say ‘no’ right now, Lieutenant?” His voice is silky. His eyes seem to glow brighter in the dark. The sudden question puts you off balance.

“It-- it would depend on what’s being asked. Sir.” 

“Imagine I were not your commanding officer, but a stranger. Or an enemy. And at this very moment, I am promising you relief from the effects of the drug, in exchange for classified information.” He circles behind you, and you turn to look at him but he stops you. “Eyes forward.” 

Your pulse jumps, and you stand straighter at the command. A reminder of your rank, of your position, and Thrawn’s. “I would never do anything to compromise the Empire.” But your voice is too breathy to be convincing, and Thrawn steps closer, pressing himself against your back.

“But I’m offering.” 

You make an inarticulate, desperate sound. 

“Do you think you’d be able to refuse…?” He uses your given name, knowing exactly the effect it will have on you. The drug makes you dangerously suggestible. 

“I would--” You understand his point. But there’s only one way to answer. “Yes, I would uphold my duty.” 

“Your resolve is admirable. But I do not appreciate lies. Especially when they are so obvious.” He crowds you forward, so your hips hit the edge of his desk. The desk you’ve stood next to many times, attending to the Grand Admiral and whatever he asks of you. He puts a palm between your shoulders and forces you down face-first. His tone goes cold. “So I will allow you one more chance to answer. If I were anyone else, would you be able to control yourself?”

The only saving grace allowing you to reply at all is being able to hide your face in the crook of your arm, and not look him in the eye. “If it had been anyone else trapped in that room, I wouldn’t have offered in the first place.”

He stills. “I see.” Quietly, deliberately, he strips you of your service belt and your boots, pulls your trousers down to your calves. You whine in anticipation, shaking with need. It’s an effort not to lean in to every little touch. 

You watch, fascinated, the scene in the dark, shadowy reflection of the transparisteel viewport. Behind you, Thrawn going to his knees. His hands opening your body to his inspection. Then, with no warning, his mouth is on your cunt again. His tongue licking hot and wet up your slit, one broad stroke, higher, no hesitation as his thumbs dig in to your flesh, holding you open and then he swirls his tongue around your asshole. 

"Thrawn!" you squeal in surprise and embarrassment, completely forgetting his rank.

“Hmm.” He says. “You don’t like it?” 

“I… ah…” You’re drooling on his desk. Like and dislike are beyond understanding. There is only need. You raise your hips, seeking contact. He gives it to you. He licks your hole again, flicking his tongue over and over until you’re panting, before he places his fingers there. He massages them gently around the sensitive, puckered skin, teasing you with penetration but never quite going in. You moan when you feel his tongue drag over your clit, reaching for the exquisite, building pressure, enslaved to the whims of the drug. 

A day-- months’ of pent up need swells all at once and begins to overflow. Distantly, you hear yourself wail, feel yourself rocking against his face, no concept of anything except this sweet relief and him, between your legs, bestowing it upon you. At last, he pushes one finger in, and closes his lips around your clit, sucking slowly in time with your pulse, not stopping even as your legs shake. Your mind goes completely, divinely blank as pleasure sweeps over you, drowns everything else, wave after wave after wave…

//

It is a very different position in which you awaken, you don’t know how much later. You’re warm and cozy cocooned blankets, totally naked, in a stateroom you don’t recognize. It’s much bigger than yours. 

Thrawn. You sit up with a jolt. It has to be his room. His bed. Turning, you bury your face in the pillow. It smells like him, though not strongly. 

The galvi root has worn off. You only feel exhaustion, and uncertainty. Here, in Thrawn’s quarters, in his bed, a decision solidifies in your mind. You know what you have to ask him. Across the room, you see your uniform, neatly folded on an armchair. You ignore it. You lie back down, pulling his scent around you, and stay like that for a time, gazing out the viewport at the dark field of stars. 

When you’re nearly asleep again, the hatch opens. Thrawn. You don’t know how to act around him anymore, which military courtesies to show him, but the idea of jumping out of his bed, naked, and coming to attention seems ridiculous.

“Did you get the data you needed?” Insofar as what you did today could be called an experiment, and a flawed one at that.

“I did.” He glances at your folded uniform on the chair, and comes around to stand at the side of the bed, his back to the viewport. 

So many times you had dreamed of getting closer, of Thrawn letting you in. And now you’re going to distance yourself. “Sir, there’s something I need to--”

“I’m recommending you for promotion.” His tone is cold, his posture stiff and formal. Very much the Grand Admiral, and nothing of the man beneath, the glimpses you’d caught of sly humor, of tenderness, of want as strong as yours, kept under rigid control.

You sit up, blood rushing to your ears. He holds up a hand, and you fall silent. 

“To Commander. You’ll serve as First Officer aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer Carnage.”

For a second, you’re too stunned to speak. Jumping ranks was almost unheard of-- Thrawn had done it, of course, multiple times, but your service record in the Imperial Navy is nothing like his. And First Officer aboard a Star Destroyer-- people worked their whole career to earn a position like that and he’s just handing it to you. “I’m not… that’s…” 

“If you are going to protest that you’re not qualified, I’ll remind you that you have spent the better part of three years aboard this ship, serving by my side. You know the requirements and duties of an admiral and a Star Destroyer better than most, so you will be well-equipped to excel in the role of First Officer. As long as we are not in combat, you could probably run the ship in my absence. Or Commodore Faro’s, for that matter. I have complete faith in you.” 

“Are you recommending me because of this? Because I slept with you?” You wince. It sounds so sordid and cliche. It wouldn’t be the first time ranks and promotions and choice assignments had been exchanged for favors. 

He looks mildly surprised, as if it’s a question he hadn’t anticipated. “No. I already put in the recommendation a few weeks ago. It has nothing to do with our…” he pauses, showing rare discomfort “...association.” 

You look down at your lap for a moment, chewing your lip, unsure what to say. A great emotion swells in your chest. You have to swallow it down. You aren’t sure whether it’s better that you didn’t have to ask for a transfer. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“The drug’s gone,” you tell him, as if he doesn’t know that. “I feel better now.” 

He fixes you with a piercing stare. He is dark in silhouette in the unlit room, with only the starscape behind him.

You don’t want to leave. You don’t want to have some of your last experiences with the Grand Admiral tainted by something beyond your control. Feeling brazen and reckless, you let the covers fall, leaving your breasts exposed in the cold air. You look up at him, and lean back against his pillows, as leisurely as you please. His eyes flash and the air in the room seems to have gone very still. Have you angered him? Of all the lines crossed today, and the time before, was this the one too far? Is this a mistake? 

You throw the covers back, and don’t miss the way his hand open-flexes and then closes into a tight fist. You slide out of bed, to your feet, standing in front of him. Close. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t even move. He is tempted, you think, but hiding it well. He’s thought about this, like you have, but never imagined giving in to it. 

Heart pounding, fully expecting that he’ll catch your wrists again, you reach for his belt. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t stop you. You pop the catch, and let it fall into your hands before tossing it on the bed. His collar clasps next. These take a moment. You get them undone, but it’s always harder on someone else. Finally the sealing strip of his tunic. You peel it back, he slips his arms out, and you fold the white fabric carefully. 

He lets you undress him. One final act of service under the intensity of his gaze. He seems to understand that you like tending to him. That it means something to you. He sits so you can pull off his boots. You unfasten his trousers and pull them down, listening to the sound of the fabric and his breathing in the dark. 

Your body thrums with arousal, so potent it’s making your hands shake, every brush of your skin against Thrawn’s electric-charged with the knowledge that you’re choosing this and so is he. 

Then he’s finally bare, completely, and gathering you in his arms.  

His lips hover over yours, he whispers your name and then he kisses you, sweet and soft and you feel like you’re falling. You moan into his mouth and he pulls you closer, answering your need. The momentum of it carries you down to his bed together and you wonder distantly how often he even uses it. More times than you can count, you’ve come into his office to find him asleep at his desk. Something in your heart aches for him, a feeling so fragile and incomprehensible, you shove it far, far down, almost enough to extinguish it. 

The quiet makes your touches measured and slow. Not wanting to rush anything. Not wanting to betray that you’re suddenly nervous, without the structure and expectations of rank between you. The Grand Admiral. That’s all you’ve ever known Thrawn as, and now he’s kissing your neck, leaving a bruise high enough that your collar won’t cover it. 

You gasp his name, and he huffs a quiet laugh, as if he’s been caught at mischief. He kisses lower, your breastbone, covering your breasts in his hands, his fingers plucking at tightened nipples. 

He watches you closely, riveted, pinning you with the same intense focus you’ve seen when he’s studying a piece of art, or commanding the Chimaera in battle. Except now you’re at the center of it, arching to his touch, so turned on you can hardly breathe, you want him so badly. 

You can feel his cock achingly hard against your stomach, he’s rolling his hips, so you lift to him. He’s shaking as he enters you. He braces himself on his forearms and rocks in slowly, inch by inch. You whimper at the stretch, at how kriffing good his cock feels filling you up.

He chases your mouth, like he can’t kiss you enough, swallowing down each tender little sound you make. You can almost taste when his resolve begins to slip. You’re so slick and hot around him and this is the last time and anything after this doesn’t matter. 

He fucks you deep and steady, grinding his hips and you move with him. He takes in the sight of you beneath him, something to keep for later; the light sheen of sweat, tendons going tight in your neck and you start to moan at every thrust. Both of you holding back, trying and failing to draw it out, all the tightly-held control swept away. Thrawn presses forward, hard, his thick length splitting you open over and over.

Clinging to him with a longing cry, you come, pulsing and tight, riding the pleasure as long as you can, not wanting it to end. And Thrawn is there with you. He’s trembling, his abdomen tense with the climax building in his body, just driving in until he comes with a harsh moan, burying his face against your neck. 

//

Two weeks later, you’re wearing the rank plaque of a Commander of the Imperial Navy, and things are going relatively smoothly aboard the ISD Carnage. Thrawn had not attended your promotion ceremony, nor had you asked him. You’d only been his aide, after all, and it would have looked strange for a Grand Admiral to show up for a subordinate so far beneath his rank. 

You wish he would’ve been there to pin the new rank on your chest. It would have been easier, at least, with him there, instead of being by yourself to weather the suspicious, jealous glares of other officers who were wondering what exactly you’d done to get the promotion. But you’ve assumed the post of First Officer aboard the Carnage all the same, and now you try not to think about him too much.

You check your terminal one morning, and find, among the frankly disgusting number of messages you get every day, one from [GADM THRAWN] with the subject [PROPOSAL (OPTIONAL)].

You can’t click it open fast enough. 

Commander,

I hope you are settling into your new assignment comfortably.  

The Chimaera is scheduled for a port call at Brentaal IV at the same time as the Carnage will be granted shore leave on the neighboring Chandrila. I propose a meeting to continue experimentation with the galvi root extract. Specifically, it would be beneficial to run additional controls without the drug. If you are amenable, contact me on my private frequency--

You still know the one. Know it by heart. You can’t help smiling to yourself.

--and we will discuss logistics. 

V/R

Grand Admiral Thrawn

ISD Chimaera, 7th Fleet

//end.

☆ tag list ☆ join ☆

@crosshairs-wife @vibratingbonesbis @thrawns-teef-weef @debonaire-princess

Also tagging a few others who had expressed interest in a part 2 :)

@annoyinglylegendarygoose @erusanya @courier-jackalope

#thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn fic #thrawn fanfiction #thrawn x you #thrawn x y/n #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo

[deadpresidents]

Waking Up In Dallas: November 22, 1963.

Two American Presidents woke up in Dallas, Texas, on November 22, 1963. Neither of them were the two men who actually served as President on that tragic day -- John F. Kennedy or Lyndon B. Johnson.

The 37th President of the United States, 50-year-old Richard Nixon, had arrived in Dallas on November 20th for a conference of the American Bottlers of Carbonated Beverages on behalf of Pepsi-Cola, a company that his New York law firm was representing.  On November 21st, Nixon sat down with reporters in his room at the Baker Hotel, where he criticized many of the policies of President Kennedy, his 1960 opponent, who would be arriving in Dallas the next day.  That night, Nixon and Pepsi executives including actress Joan Crawford, who had been married to Pepsi's chairman, Alfred Steele, until his death in 1959, were entertained at the Statler Hilton.

In the early morning of November 22nd, a car dropped Nixon off, alone, at Love Field, the Dallas airport that would host President and Mrs. Kennedy, Vice President Johnson and Mrs. Johnson, and Texas Governor John Connally and his wife in just a few hours.  Nixon later remembered the flags and signs displayed along the motorcade route that Kennedy would soon follow.  Nixon approached the American Airlines ticket counter to check-in for his flight to New York City and told the attendant, "It looks like you're going to have a big day today."

Nixon landed several hours later in New York at an airport that would be renamed after John F. Kennedy a month later.  He described what happened next in his 1978 autobiography, RN: The Memoirs of Richard Nixon:

Arriving in New York, I hailed a cab home.  We drove through Queens toward the 59th Street Bridge, and as we stopped at a traffic light, a man rushed over from the curb and started talking to the driver.  I heard him say, "Do you have a radio in your cab?  I just heard that Kennedy was shot."  We had no radio, and as we continued into Manhattan a hundred thoughts rushed through my mind.  The man could have been crazy or a macabre prankster.  He could have been mistaken about what he had heard; or perhaps a gunman might have shot at Kennedy but missed or only wounded him.  I refused to believe that he could have been killed. As the cab drew up in front of my building, the doorman ran out.  Tears were streaming down his cheeks.  "Oh, Mr. Nixon, have you heard, sir?" he asked.  "It's just terrible.  They've killed President Kennedy."

The close 1960 Presidential election changed the relationship between Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy, but they had once been very close.  When they first entered Congress together in 1947, they considered each other personal friends, and when Nixon ran for the Senate from California in 1950, JFK stopped into Nixon's office and dropped off a financial contribution to Nixon's campaign from Kennedy's father.  Nixon would later write that he felt as bad on the night of Kennedy's assassination as he had when he lost two brothers to tuberculosis when he was very young.  That night, he wrote an emotional letter to Jacqueline Kennedy:

Dear Jackie, In this tragic hour Pat and I want you to know that our thoughts and prayers are with you. While the hand of fate made Jack and me political opponents I always cherished the fact that we were personal friends from the time we came to the Congress together in 1947.  That friendship evidenced itself in many ways including the invitation we received to attend your wedding. Nothing I could say now could add to the splendid tributes which have come from throughout the world to him. But I want you to know that the nation will also be forever grateful for your service as First Lady.  You brought to the White House charm, beauty and elegance as the official hostess of America, and the mystique of the young in heart which was uniquely yours made an indelible impression on the American consciousness. If in the days ahead we could be helpful in any way we shall be honored to be at your command. Sincerely, Dick Nixon 

••• On the morning of November 22, 1963, the 41st President of the United States also woke up in Dallas, Texas.  George Herbert Walker Bush was the 39-year-old president of the Zapata Off-Shore Drilling Company and chairman of the Harris County, Texas Republican Party, and had stayed the night of November 21st at the Dallas Sheraton alongside his wife, Barbara.  Bush was planning a bid for the U.S. Senate in 1964 and making the rounds to line up support amongst many Texans who considered him far too moderate.  One of the groups that was strongest in opposition to Bush was the ultra-right wing John Birch Society, which had recently been lodging vehement protests against President Kennedy's upcoming visit to Dallas.

Conspiracy theorists claim that there were far more sinister motives for George Bush being in Dallas on November 22, 1963.  Some claim that Bush was a secret CIA operative involved in planning or even carrying out the assassination of President Kennedy.  Some even argue that a grainy photograph of a man resembling Bush taken shortly after the assassination proves that Bush was actually in Dealey Plaza at the time of Kennedy's shooting.

He wasn't.  He wasn't even in Dallas.  We know where George Herbert Walker Bush was at the time of JFK's assassination -- we have plenty of eyewitnesses who can confirm it.  While Lee Harvey Oswald was shooting President Kennedy, George Bush was about 100 miles away from Dallas, in Tyler, Texas, speaking at a Kiwanis Club luncheon.  Like Nixon, Bush and his wife, Barbara, had also boarded a plane that morning in Dallas -- a private plane that transported them to Tyler for the Kiwanis Club event.  While Bush was speaking, word of the President's assassination reached the luncheon and the local club president, Wendell Cherry, leaned over and gave the news to Bush.  Bush quickly notified the crowd, and said, "In view of the President's death, I consider it inappropriate to continue with a political speech at this time."  He ended his speech and sat down while the luncheon broke up in stunned silence. 

Bush's wife, Barbara, wasn't at the Kiwanis Club luncheon.  While her husband was speaking, Barbara Bush went to a beauty parlor in Tyler to get her hair styled.  As her hair was being done, Barbara began writing a letter to family and heard the news over the radio that JFK had been shot and then that the President had died.  In her 1994 memoir, Barbara included the letter, part of which said:

I am writing this at the Beauty Parlor, and the radio says that the President has been shot.  Oh Texas -- my Texas -- my God -- let's hope it's not true.  I am sick at heart as we all are.  Yes, the story is true and the Governor also.  How hateful some people are. Since, the beauty parlor, the President has died.  We are once again on a plane.  This time a commercial plane.  Poppy (George H.W. Bush's family nickname) picked me up at the beauty parlor -- we went right to the airport, flew to Ft. Worth and dropped Mr. Zeppo off (we were on his plane) and flew back to Dallas.  We had to circle the field while the second Presidential plane took off.  Immediately, Pop got tickets back to Houston, and here we are flying home.  We are sick at heart.  The tales the radio reporters tell of Jackie Kennedy are the bravest.  We are hoping that it is not some far-right nut, but a "commie" nut.  You understand that we know they are both nuts, but just hope that it is not a Texan and not an American at all. I am amazed by the rapid-fire thinking and planning that has already been done.  LBJ has been the President for some time now -- two hours at least and it is only 4:30. My dearest love to you all, Bar

As Barbara Bush noted in her letter, the Bushes did not stay another night at the Dallas Sheraton on November 22nd, as they had originally planned.  They returned to Dallas on the private jet that had transported them to Tyler earlier in the day, and caught a commercial flight home to Houston.  The "second Presidential plane" that took off while Bush's plane circled Love Field was the plane that had transported Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson to Dallas earlier that day, Air Force Two.  Johnson was already heading back to Washington, now on Air Force One, with the casket of John F. Kennedy.

••• The 37th President of the United States and the 41st President of the United States woke up in Dallas, Texas on the morning of November 22, 1963.  The 31st President, 89-year-old Herbert Hoover, was in failing health in the elegant suite he called home at New York's Waldorf-Astoria.  Within the next few weeks, he would be visited by the new President, Lyndon Johnson, and President Kennedy's grieving widow, Jackie, and the President's brother, Attorney General Bobby Kennedy.  The 33rd President, 79-year-old Harry Truman, learned of JFK's death in Missouri, while the 34th President, 73-year-old Dwight D. Eisenhower, heard of the assassination while attending a meeting at the United Nations in New York.  Truman and Eisenhower would squash a long, bitter personal feud that weekend while attending Kennedy's funeral in Washington.  The 38th President, 50-year-old Michigan Congressman Gerald Ford, was driving home with his wife Betty after attending a parent conference with their son Jack's teacher when they heard the news on the radio in their car.  Two days later, President Johnson would call on Ford to serve on the Warren Commission investigating the assassination.  

The 39th President, Jimmy Carter was 39 years old and had just gotten off a tractor near the warehouse of his Plains, Georgia peanut farm when a group of farmers informed him of the news of the shooting.  Carter found a quiet area, kneeled down in prayer, and when he heard that Kennedy had died, cried for the first time since his father had died ten years earlier.  Ronald Reagan, the 40th President, was 52 years old and preparing for a run as Governor of California.  A little more than 17 years later, the now-President Reagan would also be shot by a lone gunman in the middle of the day.  While Reagan would survive the attempt on his life, it was very nearly fatal and reminded his wife, Nancy, of November 22, 1963.  As she was transported to George Washington Hospital following Reagan's shooting, Nancy would later note, "As my mind raced, I flashed to scenes of Parkland Memorial Hospital in Texas, and the day President Kennedy was shot.  I had been driving down San Vicente Boulevard in Los Angeles when a bulletin came over the car radio.  Now, more than seventeen years later, I prayed that history would not be repeated, that Washington would not become another Dallas.  That my husband would live."

The 41st President, Bill Clinton, and the 43rd President, George W. Bush, were both 17 years old and in school -- Bush at the Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts, and Clinton at Hot Springs High School in Hot Springs, Arkansas.  Clinton was in his fourth period calculus class when his teacher was called out of the room and returned to announce that President Kennedy had been killed.  Four months earlier, Clinton had traveled to Washington with the Boys Nation program and, during a ceremony in the Rose Garden of the White House, pushed his way to the front of the line and shook President Kennedy's hand.  The 44th President, Barack Obama, was a 2-year-old living in Hawaii.

••• The 35th President, 46-year-old John F. Kennedy, would die in Dallas on November 22, 1963.  Lyndon B. Johnson, 55, would become the 36th President in Dallas that day.  But they woke up that morning in Fort Worth at the Texas Hotel.  Kennedy had slept the last night of his life in suite 850 on the eighth floor, now the Presidential suite.  LBJ had slept the last night of his Vice Presidency in the much more expensive and elegant Will Rogers Suite on the thirteenth floor.  The Secret Service had vetoed the Will Rogers Suite for the President because it was more difficult to secure.  It was raining in Fort Worth as they woke up, but the skies had cleared by the time they landed in Dallas.  Before breakfast, President Kennedy, Vice President Johnson, and Texas Governor John Connally headed outside and briefly addressed a crowd that had gathered long before the sun had come up in hopes of seeing JFK.  Jacqueline Kennedy didn't accompany them outside and President Kennedy joked to the crowd, "Mrs. Kennedy is organizing herself.  It takes her a little longer but, of course, she looks better than we do when she does it."

Afterward, they headed inside for breakfast in the Texas Hotel's Grand Ballroom with several hundred guests.  The President sent for Mrs. Kennedy to join them, and her late arrival to the breakfast excited the guests in the ballroom.  When the President spoke to the group, he joked again, "Two years ago I introduced myself in Paris as the man who had accompanied Mrs. Kennedy to Paris.  I'm getting somewhat that same sensation as I travel around Texas."  Then he noted, "Nobody wonders what Lyndon and I wear."

When the breakfast ended, the Kennedys headed upstairs and had an hour or so to wait before heading to the airport for the short flight to Dallas.  It was during this time that Jackie Kennedy saw a hateful ad placed in that morning's Dallas Morning News accusing President Kennedy of collusion with Communists and treasnous activity.  Trying to calm Jackie down, the President joked, "Oh, we're heading into nut country today."  But a few minutes later, Jackie overheard Kennedy telling his aide, Ken O'Donnell, "It would not be a very difficult job to shoot the President of the United States.  All you'd have to do is get up in a high building with a high-powered rifle with a telescopic sight, and there's nothing anybody can do."

••• Even though the trip from Fort Worth's Carswell Air Force Base to Dallas's Love Field would only take thirteen minutes by air, the trip to Texas was first-and-foremost a political trip -- a kickoff of sorts to JFK's 1964 re-election campaign -- and a grand entrance was needed.  So, JFK and Jackie boarded the plane usually used as Air Force One, LBJ and Lady Bird Johnson boarded the plane usually used by the Vice President, Air Force Two, and the huge Presidential party took to the skies, covering thirty miles in thirteen minutes, in order to get the big Dallas welcome that they were hoping for.  They landed in Dallas at 11:40 AM, and President Kennedy looked out the window of his plane, saw a big, happy crowd, and told Ken O'Donnell, "This trip is turning out to be terrific.  Here we are in Dallas, and it looks like everything in Texas is going to be fine for us."

At 2:47 PM -- just three hours and seven minutes later -- everyone was back on Air Force One as the plane climbed off of the Love Field runway and into the Dallas sky.  John F. Kennedy, the 35th President, was in a casket wedged into a space in the rear of Air Force One where two rows of seats had been removed so that it would be fit.  Lyndon B. Johnson had officially been sworn in as the 36th President about ten minutes earlier on the plane by federal judge Sarah T. Hughes.  On one side of Johnson while he took the oath was his wife, Lady Bird, and on the other side, the widowed former First Lady, Jackie Kennedy, still wearing a pink dress splattered with her husband's blood and brain matter.

Two American Presidents woke up in Dallas on November 22, 1963 -- Richard Nixon and George H.W. Bush -- but they weren't in town when John F. Kennedy was assassinated, no matter how many ways conspiracy theorists try to twist the story.  The President who died in Dallas that day, John F. Kennedy, and the man who became President in Dallas that day, Lyndon B. Johnson, woke up in Fort Worth on the morning of November 22, 1963.  But they'll be forever linked with Dallas -- and the world that woke up the next morning would never be the same again.    

#History #JFK Assassination #Assassination of John F. Kennedy #JFK #John F. Kennedy #President Kennedy #Kennedy Assassination #Presidents #Presidential History #Dallas #Richard Nixon #President Nixon #Lyndon B. Johnson #LBJ #President Johnson #Jimmy Carter #President Carter #George H.W. Bush #Bush 41 #President Bush #Waking Up In Dallas #11/22/1963 #11.22.1963 #Lady Bird Johnson #Jacqueline Kennedy #Death of John F. Kennedy #Presidential Assassinations #Assassinations #Presidential Deaths #Death of the President

[ohtobeleah]

it’s against orders. But he also doesn’t ask either….

The amount of times I listened to Adele’s Hello while daydreaming Hawk running down the halls is just ridiculous— it’ll be in my next years Spotify wrapped… but like, try it. It’s worth it. ANYWAY, thankyou for being so patient with me this week, I’ve been fighting some major writers block. As always—here the To Have & To Hold series Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“The Tomahawk impact alone should completely decimate the enemy runaway.” You looked over the terrain of the enemy airfield map in the war room with admirals Beau and Bates and Pete Mitchell. “You’re looking at total annihilation, I’d bet good money that only a select percentage of pilots would be stupid enough or crazy enough to manoeuvre an aircraft off the runaway after we’re done with it.” The plan was simple—give the chosen pilots enough of a head start so that by the time enemy pilots had scrambled their jets? Your pilots would be touching down safely back on the carrier. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem with enemy aircraft intercepting unless they’re already in the air, that however—I can’t be much assistance with.” 

“You’ve done a great job Lieutenant Commander Seresin.” Admiral Beau praised you for your knowledge and dedication to the detachment. “I’ll be sure to make the appropriate calls if all is successful.” It had been something in the cards for some time now, another promotion. Ever since you and Jake had broken up you’d thrown yourself into your work. Deciding that rising through the ranks was a better alternative then letting yourself slip into a hole you couldn’t drag yourself out if. 

You were in disbelief when you actually made Lieutenant Commander. It felt all too surreal, you’d been acknowledged for your work on the Heasmen project. You had been the overseeing analyst on a covert operation that saw the United States Navy and Marine Corps deploy armed forces over and under enemy waters to provide support and aid for those seeking refuge and asylum. It had been your idea to utilise the resources that submarines held. Deep diving to monitor suspicious vessels. The Australian Navy had provided immense assistance, along with New Zealand. It had been the biggest operation you’d worked on, especially with such a high stakes roll. But this special detachment? This took that cake for high stakes. Ten fold.

“Thankyou Lieutenant Commander, that will be all.” Admiral Beau dismissed you as quickly as he’d requested your assistance in explaining an in depth analysis of your final report. Collecting your papers you pressed your lips together and nodded in agreement that you’d been dismissed. “Oh and Seresin one more thing before you go.” 

“Yes sir?” You stood to attention, knowing your place. 

“I wouldn’t let your husband dictate your next career advancement, Jake Seresin is a fine pilot but you my dear, are an exceptional analyst that the finest commanders at Navcon would fight over to have you on their service.” 

“Will that be all Admiral?” You didn’t really know how to properly process what Admiral Beau had just said. If you were honest with yourself you would have asked for his justification. But you held your tongue, knowing that to start a war with your superiors now would be a disservice to your career. 

“As you were Hawkeye.” Cyclone almost shooed you out of the room, his attention immediately turning back to Admiral Bates and Captain Mitchel the second he was finished addressing you. 

With a heavy sigh you closed the door to the war room behind you. Jake had been waiting for you outside, just down the hall a little. Sending him a soft smile you waved his way as he tilted his head up at the sound of the door clicking shut. 

“You don’t have anything better to do than to wait around for me Lieutenant Seresin?” Since stepping onto the carrier you’d been in work mode. Formal titles, ranks, appropriate greetings and dismissals. You were the definition of prim and proper, a walking talking propaganda poster girl for the US Navy if there had ever been one. 

“What else is there to do on this tin can other than to grovel at my wife’s feet.” Jake however? Well he’d been the same as always. Irritating and infuriating. For the past four days he’d been giving you the space you had asked him for. The time you needed to process the idea that you might be the third person on Jake's priority list. The first being his unborn child, the second of course the mothers child. But as much as it pained you to admit at least this time you had made it into the top five. “Feel like I haven’t seen you at all these past few days.” 

“I’ve been working—“ Jake was hot on your tail as midshipmen and other ranking sailors stepped aside for you as you made your way down the hall. Thanking them softly everytime you noticed. 

“So you haven’t been avoiding me?” Jake asked as his hand slipped around your hip to help guide you into your office. It wasn’t all that big, more the size of a broom closet than a war room—but it was enough. 

“I said I've been working.” You teased as you slapped Jake's hands away from where it had briefly made its home on your hip. “I didn’t say what on—actively avoiding you is harder than it appears, Lieutenant.” 

“So you’re still mad at me then?” Jake mumbled under his breath as he watched you walk around to your desk and plop down with a frustrated huff. “You’re gonna have to talk to me sooner or later.” 

“Jake I’m not mad at you hun.” You explain as you sat back in your chair, swinging around to face your husband. “I just need to compartmentalise and focus on this mission before I focus on the fact you might be a father.” 

“I’m telling you now, if I’m a dad I want a sample of my sperm sent off to a lab somewhere because those little guys are the key to world salvation.” You couldn’t help but to laugh as Jake dropped down to his knees to match your height as you sat on your chair. “I’m not denying I had inadequate relations with her, baby I’m an open book—anything you wanna know I’ll tell you but you gotta believe me when I say I never came, I wore protection and I was inside her for a total of one single minute.” 

“You’d still manage under the circumstances—“ There had been something you’d been thinking about over the last few days that had been keeping you up at night. In all your time with Jake Seresin he’d never managed to get you pregnant. You weren’t currently on birth control and you certainly hadn’t been careful when it came to Jake since being in North island together. Nor had you been actively preventing anything prior to your marriage breakdown. So it begged the question, what was wrong with you? “You’d find a way–” 

“I promise I'll take the DNI test as soon as this is all over with yeah?” Jake cupped your face as he gently planted a supple kiss against your lips. You hummed in response to the warmth his lips brought to yours. “But I already know it's not a match, Mrs Seresin.” 

“I'd prefer to keep an open mind until the facts are presented in front me.” You let your forehead rest against Jakes as the pads of his thumbs gently ran across your cheeks. 

“Great, so that means you can stop actively avoiding me at all costs and actually come grab a coffee in the galley with me?” Jake beamed that cheeky smile he’d had since you’d first met him all those years ago. It felt like a lifetime ago–the bracer-having, socially awkward underdog who’d stalk your locker in the morning in hopes he’d get to share a quick hello with you. It felt like you’d jump realities and landed in an alternative universe. Jake Seresin was no longer the socially awkwards bracer-having kid who stalked your locker. But he was still the love of your life. 

“I know it probably seems like an excuse, but I really can’t– I have to submit my reports to Navcon.” Jake let his head fall as a solemn sigh escaped his chest. Standing to his feet with a dramatic groan, Jake eyed you down. “I'm serious.” 

“You know there's a real possibility I could be going on this mission tomorrow, right?” The silence that fell between you felt as heavy as ever. Thick and all consuming as your heart raced at the very thought. Nodded as you stood to wrap your arms around your husband's waist. He let out a soft oof at the connection your affection brought before he reciprocated the gesture. Kissing the top of your head as his arms came up to wrap around your shoulders. 

“I know, so that's why I want you to come to my cabin tonight.” Jake couldn't help the almost gasp he exclaimed. There were perks that came with your job title and subsequent rank. One of those perks being your own living quarters aboard carriers and frigates. “After dinner, bring your overnight bag.” 

“Look at you, miss prim and proper.” Jake had noticed early on during this deployment how much your attitude had changed. Everything was by the book from the second you stepped onto the carrier. But this? This was very not so by the book of you. “There's a strict no fraternisation policy–” 

“Okay, fine–” You pulled away with a smirk. “Invitation revoked, that will be all Lieutenant you can–” Before you could finish your sentence Jake was pulling you into him by your waist as he crashed his lips against yours. It felt desperate, needy, loving. 

“I'll be there after dinner, yeah?” You nodded in response. “Hope you like a good spoon Hawkeye, those beds aren't standard issue singles.” Jake teased as you pushed him gently towards your door. “Alright, alright, I'm going, I'm going.” With one final kiss to your cheek Jake left you standing in your office alone, sneaking out into the hallways as discreetly as he possibly could. There was a strict no fraternisation policy that did extend to husband and wife. You two were no exception to the rule while onboard. 

“Hey Hangman!” You shouted down the hall after Jake, turning back to look at you with a loving look in his eye he gave to only two women in his life. His mother and you. “You look good!” Jake chuckled as he looked down at himself, he was just in his flight suit. Nothing special except the small golden heart pin he wore over his heart. A symbolic gesture some men liked to wear whenever they couldn't wear their wedding bands. Jake however, had his tattooed, but he just wanted everyone to know that you held his heart. 

“I am good Hawkeye, I'm always good.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake stood next to Bradley in the line for food at the pass. Two options were on the menu, sausages and mash or lentil curry with naan. Barely looked at Jake and Jake looked at Bradley, both silently agreeing to get one serving of each option and go halves. 

“You talk to Chaos yet?” Jake asked as he walked with Rooster to the nearest empty seats available side by side. 

“She made her point, wouldn’t want to drag her down now would I?” Rooster muttered as he slid his tray along the table. Sitting with a thud as Jake frowned. It had been four days since he’d spoken to her. 

“You know she only said that stuff to keep you safe right?” Jake explained as he dug into his curry. “You know, you and Chaos are probably two of the most dysfunctional couples I’ve ever met.” Rooster couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“I’m sorry? Coming from you!? Jesus Hangman guys in glass houses—“ 

“Should throw bigger stones.” Jake cut Rooster off with a quick witted comeback. “Look, I know me and Hawk have had it rough—but I’ve never treated her like she wasn’t my problem.” Rooster listened as Jake reached over for a spoonful of mash. “She’s a pain in the arse man but she’s always been and always will be, my pain in the arse.” 

“I don’t see Hawkeye telling Mav to not consider you as a candidate.” Jake verbally scoffed as he choked on his potato. Laughing because that’s exactly what you had done. “What?”

“Funny you mention it man—she did, she told him to his face before Bob and Chaos went down with that bird strike, said something along the lines of if he chose me for this mission and I didn’t come back she’d blame him.” Rooster couldn’t believe what he was hearing as Jake spoke with a mouthful of food. “She played the mental mind fuck, knows he already blames himself for one persons death, was he really willing to double it—like I said, she’s my pain in the arse.” Rooster watched as Jake shrugged it off. Digging into his dinner like he had somewhere to be. 

“Yeah, but she didn’t say you weren’t ready—“ Rooster hadn’t been able to swallow his own pride for five minutes to just think clearly for a moment. Jake knew that, he’d been there. 

“Well would you have listened if she said the truth?” You’d told Jake to his face time and time again what had been a contributing factor, if not the most pinocol point of your marriage breakdown and he still hadn’t listened. He knew if Chaos had just told the truth about how she didn’t want Rooster going just so she had peace of mind? He would have shrugged it off and reassured her everything would be okay—a promise he was in absolutely no position to make. “No, you wouldn’t have.” 

“Why don’t you focus on your own relationship problems—“ Rooster groaned as he pushed his tray away. “Dude, I’m not even hungry now.” Jake just laughed softly as the pair sat amongst the crew of the Leyte Gulf. 

“Just talk to her, you’ll regret it if you don’t and something goes south.” With a quick pay to the shoulder, Jake was pushing himself out of his seat, standing as he eyed Rooster down. “She loves you, I understand why she wouldn’t want you on his mission—she just buried her dad Bradshaw, she’s probably scared beside herself wondering if she’ll have to bury you too.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Are you sure this is okay?” As Jake had mentioned earlier, the beds aboard the Leyte Gulf were not designed for two fully grown adults. But you found a compromise where you could. “I can always move–” 

“This is perfect hun.” Jake wasn't oblivious to the pet name you’d so effortlessly called him earlier in the afternoon. “I’m as comfortable as I’m gonna get in this tiny ass bed, at least I’m sharing it with you.” Jake was lying on his back, you? You laid with your head on his chest, legs falling between his as you drew absent minded non identifiable shapes into his exposed shoulder. “What about you? Are you good?” 

“I'm as good as ever.” You yawned out a soft hum in response. “Just not feeling all that great about what may come tomorrow.” There was a sudden change in gears that Jake felt the need to discuss while he had you here against him. His arms wrapped around you, the entire world in the palms of his hands. 

“Uh, yeah about that–'' He didn't know how to bring up the topic lightly, so Jake thought just ripping the bandaid off would be more sufficient instead of beating around the bush. “If something does happen, I just want you to know that you're the sole beneficiary of my last will and testament.” You knew you had continued to be Jake's emergency contact through your separation, but you thought for sure he would have taken you out of his will. All naval aviators were required by the institution they worked for to have a living will. Incase of the worst case scenario. “I never changed it.” 

“What about your parents?” You asked as you held back tears, it was already too late though, Jake could feel them falling against his sternum. “I'm sure you could have written them into it.” 

“That's the fun thing about making a will love, I decide who gets all my assets.” Jake held you just a little bit tighter as he spoke. “Never doubted I wanted everything to go to you if I met an untimely demise.” You couldn't hold back the softest of chuckles at how morbid this conversation had become. You had reached a whole new level of pillow talk. “So if something happens, which it won’t, just know–that all that I am, all that I have, I have because of you and I wouldn't want that to go unknown.” 

“I want to so desperately believe nothing will happen but I just have such a bad feeling in the pit of my gut that this just isn't going to go well.” You sobbed as you crawled up Jake's chest a little in search of his lips. Pressing your against his lovingly. “You promise me, nothing reckless, nothing but by the book you hear me Seresin?” 

“I promise–” Jake kissed you back as he flipped you onto your back. His lips never leaving yours as his hands roamed your body, ridding you of your sleep shirt as your fingers snapped back the elastic of his boxer briefs. “I have every intention of coming home to you.” 

“Jake–” You moaned almost angelically as his lips trialled from yours to your neck. The exposed supple skin sensitive to his butterfly like kisses turned something more hungry and lust filled. “Baby–” 

“I love you so much Mrs’ Seresin.” Jake's assault on your neck continued down the valley of your breasts. “You are the love of my life, my entire world.” Sweet nothings were escaping every chance they got whenever Jake's lips left your skin. Knees bent either side of his body as he shimmied further down the bed closer to your core. “I wouldn't mind my last meal being you.” He teased as you pushed at his shoulder with a scoff. Watching as he lurched forward at you to kiss your lips again. Smiling and laughing against one another as your hands cupped his cheeks. 

“I love you so much.” You beamed as he wiped fallen tears from your cheeks. So worried about the unknown of tomorrow. For a moment Jake just drank in the sight of you, committing you to his memory for later when he might have to face a harsh reality. He’d do anything to be a love or a sacrifice. Knowing just how much you cared, how much you truly loved him though? Had Jake Seresin questioning everything he ever knew about flying. He'd been reckless before and he'd lost you before. He wasn't willing to gamble you again. Not a chance. 

“I love you so much more.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

You made a decision earlier that morning that you didn't want to be present for when Mav made his choices for his foxtrot teams and Chaos’s wingman. You didn't want Jake to see you crumble in the event he was chosen. That's what would've inevitably happened. There was no possible way your knees wouldn't have buckled and your heart would have stopped beating if you heard his name called out as he stood amongst his fellow peers. 

You'd woken up in each other's arms, Jake was more than reluctant to let you go when your alarm sounded at the ass crack of dawn. He watched you with hooded eyes as you slowly but surely sunk down on him- taking his length in your mouth before completely disappearing under the covers. 

He promised to return the favour when all of this was over, a promise he swore by just as seriously as he swore by the fact there was no more wiggle room to play hero. It was get in and get out. Play by the book time. 

Jake wasn't going to deny to anyone that when he wasn't chosen that it didn't hurt. Sure, he'd specifically asked not to be chosen–but to know his superiors thought he wasn't the best did sting just a little. There was still a major part of him that considered himself to be the best at what he did, so when he wasn't called upon? That was a hit to the ego he’d have to take on the chin. 

“What's the verdict Lieutenant?” You asked as you heard heavy footsteps approaching on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier. You’d snuck out of the bridge with a cup of camomile tea to calm your nerves. Looking over the railing at the vast ocean you sailed across. Not a wave in sight. It was oddly eerie–like the calm before the storm. 

“Dagger Spare, Lieutenant Commander Seresin.” Jake stood behind you as he held his shoulders tall and puffed his chest. You took a small sip of your tea before you turned against the wind to face him. You felt like you could breathe again for the first time in weeks. The unknown still lingered in the background but at least your husband wasn't chosen specifically. You could manage him being a spare. In most cases a spare was never used, they were just there so that protocol could be met if in the event something unfortunate were to happen. A spare never left the ground, admirals were always hesitant to send more fighter pilots into action after events turned. 

“Is this the first time in your career you haven't been the best at something, Hangman?” You asked sincerely as you held your coffee mug full of tea between your palms. 

“I specifically remember a certain someone threatening my Captain.” Jake chuckled as he held out his hand, balling it into a fist as you connected his knuckles with yours. First bumping the reality that had been Jake Seresin accepting he wasn't the best at everything. “But, yeah i think so–well, if i'm gonna start a steak here I'll admit right now I probably haven't been the best husband on earth.” You both laughed together for a brief moment before you saw Chaos and Bob talking out of the corner of your eye. 

“You should probably go talk to Chaos, she looks a little spooked.” 

“Chaos and spooked don't coexist in the same sentence Hawk.” Jake beamed as he tucked his flight helmet under his arm, resting it against his torso. “But yeah, I'll go talk to her.” Jake knew he had to fix whatever burning bridge was left with Chaos before it was too late. Lead by example for Roosters sake. He wasn't even sure if Bradley had pulled his thumb out enough to talk to the women who held his heart. “I'll see you when this is all over, yeah?” Jake's eyes lingered on you as you nodded in response. Embracing you as you did him. 

“Don't you ever forget that in my book? You’ll always be the best there is, Hangman.'' It meant more than you could ever know, considering you’d left him once before because he couldnt put his ego aside for one second to see his actions were killing you. “Come back to me in one piece.” 

“Go show em why they call you Hawkeye.” Jake whispered before he let you go, kissing your forehead one more time before he turned away. “Love you for infinity baby!” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

It was all a whirlwind as you stood back from the commotion that was the bridge. Admirals and officials, commanding officers and operations specialists were all working in tandem overseeing the mission that held incredibly high steaks. You couldn’t really hear the commotion going on around you because the thoughts of existential dread that filled your head ping ponged like rouge Thoughts of what ifs and 

“Dagger spare, standing by.” Jake's voice came through the comms and suddenly you were thrown into the mix again. The weight of the world fell on your shoulders as you stepped up beside the admirals and listened to all the daggers confirm their positions before launching off the aircraft carrier one by one. Before? Everything had felt like it was playing out before you in slow motion—but now? It felt like someone had just pressed fast forward on an old video tap. 

“How are the nerves Lieutenant Commander?” Admiral Bates asked as he watched you cautiously swallowed the lump in your throat. Nodding briefly you responded under your breath—you were both meant to be silent, paying attention to your surroundings. 

“Uh, once I know those Tomahawks successfully destroy the base I’ll be peachy keen, sir.” 

“I can tell just by the way you're standing Hawkeye that you’re not where you want to be.” You hadn’t had all that many interactions with Admiral Bates up until the point. Any time you’d ever been in a briefing you had spoken directly to Admiral Beau. Solomon would be there, however he reminded you of a wallflower. He’d just read the terrain and soak up all the information he could like a sponge. “You feel like you’re supposed to be somewhere else.” 

“Dagger attack—“ You both heard Chaos confirm over the radio, within a millisecond of her voice echoing through the bridge the tomahawks you’d been the brains behind were launching in specifically orchestrated positions. 

“Hmm—“ You learned your throat as you turned a little more on your heels to face Solomon Bates. “You said it.” 

“Well, say you could snap your fingers and be wherever you wanted to be, I bet you’d still feel this way? Not in the right place.” To a certain degree Admiral Bates had been right. If there was a place you’d rather be right now it would be down on the tarmac with your husband. But even being by his side wouldn’t wash away the pain of worrying if he’d be called upon as a spare. Sure, it wasn’t all that likely—but you’d been chewing your tongue long enough to draw blood at just thought. “My point is you can’t get so hung up on where you’d rather be that you forget how to make the most of where you are.” 

“Thirty seconds to tomahawk impact on enemy airstrip.” One of the operations specialists confirmed as he watched the radar screen. “Tomahawk impact in, three, two—“ You held your breath as you watched the satellite image from the enemy airfield blow up into smithereens as the Tomahawks exploded one after the other. “We have impact! Enemy runway is destroyed!” The entire bridge cheered and turned their attention towards you as he felt an immense amount of pride wash over you. 

“Live a little Lieutenant Commander Seresin, you probably just scored yourself a ticket into the big leagues.” Solomon was the first to congratulate the success of the tomahawk strike by offering you his hand. Taking it firmly, you shook for a few seconds. “I look forward to seeing what else you can bring to the table.” The surprising offer of a promotion quickly became a second thought once the daggers had reached the straight away. All eyes had turned back to the monitors and radios that took you everything anyone ever needed to know. That the mission was so far so good. 

But nothing ever really lasts forever now does it? everything that you’d been celebrating came crashing down around your feet moments after it had been confirmed that a direct hit had been made on the uranium enrichment plant. You felt like your feet had been glued to the floor as you listened to the Chaos ensuing around you. 

Chaos had been hit by a surface to air missile. You hadn’t known your heart could hurt so badly for another person ever in your life as you listened to Rooster panic and repeat the same question over and over again. 

“Dagger One, do you copy!?” You weren't afraid to let your tears stream down your cheeks as you moved closer to the monitor. “Do you copy?” Listening to Bradley beg Chaos for a response of any kind made you want to throw up. How did things go so wrong? 

“Get them back to the carrier, now—“ Admiral Beau ordered as operations officers jumped to his demand. 

“All daggers flow to ECP, you have bandits headed for you.” 

“What about Chaos!” Rooster shouted when he’d heard his direct orders coming from the bridge. 

“Tell him there’s nothing he can do for Chaos! Not in a goddamn F-18!” Admiral Beau had grown impatient with insubordination, that was clear as day. Especially after Chaos had stolen a miti million dollar F-18 and taken it for a fuck you lap around the simulation course. But it was what you heard next that had you whipping around fast enough to give yourself whiplash. Jake's voice loud and clear over the comms. 

“Dagger spare requesting permission to launch and fly aircover.” Your eyes were as wide as ever and full of tears as you turned to Admiral Beau. He was thinking about it, but only a millisecond of time. Shaking his head at you, he knew you were holding in a reluctant breath. 

“Negative spare.” One of the Operational officers confirmed the negative status from behind where you stood glued to the floor. Everything had come crashing down so dramatically and within the blink of an eye. The bridge that had already been chaotic and hectic has become even more so now that you had a pilot down. 

“Launch search and rescue—“ Admiral Bates tried to persuade Cyclone but again it had been to no avail. 

“But sir, Chaos is still out there?” Shocked that Admiral Beau would willingly leave her behind so easily without a second thought truly took you aback. “She could be alive, she has to be sir– this is Chaos we’re talking about.”

“We are not losing anyone else today!” He shouted at you as you flinched back in shock. Not expecting that kind of response. “Lieutenant Kazanksy made her bed, now she can sleep in it alone.”  

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Jake Seresin had never been a team player. He'd never played well with others and he always had to be the best at everything he did. He got that attribute from his father–nothing he ever did was good enough, so pushing the boundaries of what greatness was had truly become a grey area. Jake knew no boundaries for just how high his ego could fly until you had clipped his wings and stolen his heart in one foul swoop.

He’d been sitting in the cockpit of his F-18 just listening to the whitenoise that had been Admiral Beau barking orders left and right and you giving him a little attitude. Jake hadnt taken it well when he’d been given a negative response to his request to fly aircover, so much so he refused to leave his cockpit until there was further information on the whereabouts of Rooster and Chaos from satellite imaging. 

Rooster had gone after chaos without a second thought, Jake knew the moment that he was giving even a sliver of hope that they were alive he’d be taking off in search of them. Fuck direct orders, those were his people. His friends and colleagues. Jake Seresin also knew what he was risking when he’d committed to that decision. He sat in his cockpit rubbing the tattooed wedding band that wrapped around his ring finger praying to whatever god would be willing to hear him if something were to happen to him? That you’d be okay in a life after him. 

“You gonna get out or are you just gonna sit there?” Phoenix asked as she approached Jake F-18, jumping up onto the wing as Bob stood on the tarmac. Both him and Fanboy looked beyond defeated. It wasn't supposed to end like this, only two daggers returning instead of four. It was meant to be all or nothing. “Hangman?” 

“Im going after them–” 

“Jake, they both went down in enemy territory.” Natasha tried to be the voice of reason. “There's no one left to go after.” They hadn’t long touched down after having followed their direct orders. “It would be another suicide mission to go after them now, Bradshaw–he wouldnt have wanted to live in a world without Choas.” Jake could hear Phoenix speaking, he saw her lips moving and her expressions twisting. But he wasn't listening, his mind was already made up. “If you need to find solace in something let it be that, at least they're together now.” 

“Promise me that if I don't make it back you'll make sure Y/n doesn't blame herself.” Natasha wasn't blind to the look in Jake's eyes. “She’s everything I have Nix but I gotta do this to prove to myself I'm on the team, I’m not just on the outskirts looking in–” Phoenix didnt know how to respond as Jake cleared his throat. “Get Coyote to stop her from doing anything stupid if she try’s something.” 

“Whos’ meant to stop you?” 

“No one Phoenix, no one can stop me.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Sir, we’re receiving a signal from Roosters ESAT—but there seems to be a malfunction.” You’d somewhat tuned out until you heard one of the Operations Specialist interject as he watched his monitor light up with a signal showing Roosters symbols. 

“Have you lost him?” You asked as you stepped up behind him, frowning as you locked eyes with Rooster ESAT. 

“No, he’s supersonic—“ 

“He’s airborne.” Admiral Bates raised his brows in shock as he turned to Beau who shared a look of confusion just as much as you did. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. 

“In what?” He asked, almost scoffing at the thought. You were both thinking the same thing–there was only one person who could have taken off from a cratered airfield. Chaos kazansky. 

“Sir, overwatch reports an F-14 Tomcat is airborne and on course for our position.” Something sunk in the pit of your stomach as you noticed Jake's radio signal had cut out. You knew your husband well enough to know he was irrational at the best of times, but was he really about to do what you thought he was? 

“It can't be.” Admiral Bates shook his head as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. “It just can’t be–” 

“Chaos—“ You mumbled under your breath as you snatched one of the handheld radios from the bridge. “Permission to leave the bridge sir?” 

“On what ground?” Admiral Beau asked as he held the bridge of his nose and let his hand fall to his hip. A sigh so dramatic left his mouth as you stood before him about ready to crumble into a mission pieces. Just about ready to lose your composure.

“Living a little–sir.” You replied and got a small chuckle from Admiral Bates in response. You didn't wait for Beau to pick his jaw off the ground before you took off running out of the bridge into the hall at a speed equivalent to what you thought Usan Bolt ran at. You needed to get to Jake before he did anything stupid. 

“Lieutenant Seresin!” You shouted into the radio as you ran as fast as you could, bumping into sailors and crew members as you barrelled uncontrollably down every flight of stairs, every hallway you needed to take. Not caring who or what was in your way. “This is a direct order! Do not engage! I repeat, you are not clear for takeoff!” 

You knew it was a pointless task but you had to be able to tell yourself you tried to stop him. Jake had unplugged his radio signal for one reason and one reason only. There was only one person who could talk him out of this, and that person was you. 

“Jake, no don't do this!” You barrelled out the door onto the deck of the carrier, locking eyes on his F-18 that was just now getting ready for take off. You’d convinced yourself you could make the distance if you really put the pedal to the metal. Pocketing the radio as you raced down the stairs and made a direct line for the runway. Coyote though, well he had another idea, intercepting you just before you could jump the safety barrier. 

“He’s made up his mind Lieutenant Commander, I can't let you go.” Coyote had wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you off the ground kicking and screaming. Phoenix just buried her head in Bob's shoulder. She couldn't look. “Hawk–” 

“Let me fucking go!” You shouted at the top of your lungs. “Javy! He’s my husband!!” You felt like you needed to remind him as you kicked and clawed at whatever exposed skin you could. “Let me go!” You managed to wriggle your way out of Javy’s grapes just enough to overpower him for a split second, shoving him back as you climbed over the guard rail, running out into the direct line of flight Jake was about to take. 

Jake was all but ready to go until he saw you standing in the middle of the runway near the very end. If he was gonna do this he’d have to look you in the eye and do it. Not behind your back. Sighing, he switched his radio on, his voice coming from your pocket. 

“Get off the runway baby–” This was a personal radio call, not a professional one. Jake didn't care who could hear or where it was being broadcasted. 

“Stand the fuck down Lietenant Seresin–” Jake could hear it in your voice, you were heartbroken. “I'm ordering you to stand down.” 

“You're gonna have to write me up for insubordination when I get back to you, love.” Jake held back his own tears because this was never how it was supposed to end. “I love you so much–but this team? They need me.” 

I need you more!” You countered as you sobbed. Holding the radio your hand shook uncontrollably. “Please, you don't have to do this.” 

“I'll love you till my last breath on this earth Baby.” Jake took a deep breath as he closed his eyes for a brief moment. Letting his own tears fall because you were just so stupid for jumping that guard rail. “You make me a better man every day.” it wasn't what Jake had said that sent you spiralling but it was the crackle of your radio that let you know he’d shut it off again. 

“No no no no!!” Without thinking, without hesitation and for some unknowing reason you thought running towards Jake's F-18 would stop him from taking off. It didn't. He came full speed towards you as you ran towards the Super Hornet barrelling towards you until Coyote was tackling you out of the way and Jake was flying over the top of you. “NOOO—-!!” It was the most gut wrenching sound Javy had ever heard as he held you into his chest as remnants of jet fuel fell. Using his body to shield you from the overbearing smell. “NOOOO–”

“I got you Y/n” Coyote held you close as you cried in his arms. “I got you.” 

Jake circled back around the carrier to look down at you one last time. God, he loved you so much. If it weren't for you he wouldn't be doing this selfless act. He’d never known what it was like to truly be on the team before. 

Now he knew for sure what it was like, and what it felt like to be a sacrifice. Thumbing the small golden heart he had pinned to his flight suit.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: @justanothermagicalsara@alexsisrebekah@stinkyjax@starkleila@luckyladycreator2@love2write2626@shanimallina87@dempy@mintellaine@kiarabellerum31@abaker74@shadowsndaisies @haworldwidefunnyguy @peakascum@ssprayberrythings @averyhotchner

#to have & to hold // jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun hangman fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader

[markliving]

Be the poet and i will be your soldier (II)

pairing: quackity x f!reader (lawyer!quackity x lawyer!reader)

warnings: lawyers!au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of quackity real name, this history don't pass in our reality, english is not my firts language.

word count: 932

previous chapter: a chilling start

masterlist

2. As if it were the first time

The year was two thousand and eighteen. Summer in the United States was killing anyone who dared to face it under their greatest ally, the Sun, and without a hint of hydration.

You smiled happily at the paper in your hands. You had gotten a great grade on the last test of the semester, which surprised you a little, since last time it was exactly the opposite, and it had left you a little sad. You were proud of yourself with such a feat currently. You took a deep breath of relief, and the thought that you could finally sleep as many hours as you wanted to be appeared in your mind.

What you didn't expect was that Alexis, or Quackity, as you heard some of his friends call him a while ago — which, in particular, wasn't your case — would pass by your side with a gigantic smile on his lips, walking towards behind, in the opposite direction that you were going and looking, while raising a piece of paper in the air, which contained the grade for the same test as yours, the difference being that the grade was a little higher than yours.

“See you next time!” Alex shouted, while, with his other hand, he lowered the sunglasses he was wearing and gave you a wink, waving goodbye, so you took the action as an affront.

And since then, you promised yourself that you wouldn't let Alexis upset you and let anger get the best of you in those annoying moments.

The atmosphere in the office was more morbid and silent. Some dared to whisper what was driving your boss crazy in the moments when he was alone in his office, since the day you appeared desperate in his office, after reading something that left you scared and nervous. No one knew exactly what had happened except the rumors and opinions of those who worked there.

“All good.” Chris left his room, analyzing all the faces in the rest area. “Everybody is here?” he asked and received a nod as a sign of positive from your secretary.

He wanted to make it clear to everyone there what had happened in the last few days, and then stop the meaningless whispers he had to hear every time he walked through the building about what had happened to you and your absence.

“Things have been going beyond the limits these last few days. The case of those two brothers is not as easy as it seems, therefore, I ask that, from today onwards, you guys be careful who you trust with information, and until the end of this case, I want confidentiality of everything you have heard or read about this case here in this desk.” The man, as he spoke, kept his face serious and his arms crossed, wanting to convey the message that this was no joke.

“Sir, can I ask you why all this?” one of the lawyers asked.

“[Name] received a letter, which contained a threat. And, apparently, it has to do with the case that she and Alexis are working on together, the two millionaire brothers. Therefore, not only for her safety, but also for everyone who works here, I decided to take her away from the office for a few days and asked her to spend time elsewhere” explained Chris, adopting a slightly more relaxed, but not so much.

What they didn't know, and didn't even expect, was that you were in Alex's apartment, because Chris thought it would be a good idea to put you in the house of his biggest enemy — and also work partner — to spend some time once, since that the boy lived in a place a little away from the city center, and that he hoped that no one would find them there.

You, in turn, wanted to explode as soon as you considered and accepted that proposal. You were literally living with your number one enemy.

And, just like the first time, you promised to yourself that on those days that you would have to spend at Alex's house, you wouldn't let him disturb or irritate you, however, fate had other plans for you while you lived in that apartment with his, until then, greatest enemy.

You felt completely out of place when you arrived at Alex's apartment. Your heart told you to give up on that and run away, but your rational side knew that, based on what Chris had told the day before, that was the best place to go during this moment.

You were terrified when you found that letter among others, while looking for one of the bills you urgently needed to pay. And, without even thinking much, you ended up calling the last person in the world that you promised to ignore and hate until his last breath on Earth, Alexis.

The boy, who until then had been sleeping, was startled by the ringing of his cell phone and, as soon as he picked it up, he was surprised by the name he saw on the screen, even thinking that it was some kind of mirage or dream.

“Hello?” Alex answered the call.

“Alex…”

“[Name]…”

Alex could hear the heavy breathing on the other end of the line, but he didn't have the courage to ask anything.

“I think they're trying to threaten me”.

“What?” He sat down on the sofa quickly, worried about what he just heard.

“Eric Miller.”

And then, a cloud laden with always omen settled in the heads of the two young lawyers, and now, also roommates and enemies.

a/n: sorry for the delay in this chapter, my college started again, and I ended up getting a little confused in my schedule

#quackity x reader #quackity #female reader #quackity series #quackity fluff #enemies to lovers #some angst #quackity x you #quackity au

[skylarmoon71]

Timeless Wells- Extra (Flash)

“We’re connected.” 

Your eyes open slowly, and you stare at the ceiling of your bedroom. A flash of your heated make out session follows, and you groan. 

It’s been approximately one month since that incident, and you have successfully managed to avoid Harrison Wells. Truth is after you finally collected yourself from basically assaulting the man, you’d turn tail and run for the hills. 

It was a cowardly move. But your mind would not give you the satisfaction of forgetting. Because in all honesty, it felt good. It felt great to hold him. Touch him, kiss him. 

A complete and utter stranger. 

The more you think about it, the more you think you’ll go crazy. 

“Detective, we just got a call from the Central Bank. There’s been a robbery. “ 

Great, this was actually exactly what you needed to get your mind off the scientist. 

“I’ll be right there.” 

Grabbing your coat from the back of the chair, you head to work. 

~Star Labs Later that Day~

“Do you agree, Dr. Wells?” He blinks at the woman in front of him. 

“Could you leave the report on my desk so I can look over it?” 

She nods eagerly. 

“Of course sir! Please take your time and let me know what you think.” She placed the folder down, excusing herself. Despite his running thoughts, he smiles at the enthusiasm of the young scientist. He recalled when he was starting out. He emitted such energy and spark. He picked up the folder, flipping through. 

“This is incredible.” 

The schematics on the machine were flawless. He feels a bit disappointed. Had he been paying closer attention, he could have given the correct response and praise. 

“I’ll have to do better when I return it.” 

It was hard for him to focus. That much was clear. 

His fingers ran across his lips as he ran through the events of that night. He didn’t imagine it. You kissed him. Not just a peck either. You’d planted the most earth shattering, reality altering kiss on his lips. Then you panicked and sprinted out like he was some kind of serial killer. Harrison deflated, sinking into his chair. He should have followed his gut and kept a distance. 

“I got greedy.” 

Why did everything have to get so messy? Life was supposed to be better now. Simple. But it wasn’t.  

“Dr. Wells!” 

His assistant came running in. 

“Turn on your tv.” 

He raised his head, reaching for the remote as he flicked it on. 

Your face popped up on the screen, the headlines catching his attention. 

“Star Labs Tech Recovered in Central City Bank Robbery.” 

The interview continued as you gave specific details of what had gone down.

“Our evidence has led us to believe that this robber received tech from the previous attack on Star Labs. We are working diligently to ensure that all the stolen items are returned to the laboratory. Dr. Harrison Wells has been very cooperative and played a huge part in apprehending the criminals. We hope to continue working as one unit to prevent future crimes, thank you.” 

You excused yourself and the anchor continued her broadcast. 

“Detective Morgan is quite literally a hero. If reporters had gotten a hold of this story they would have no doubt spin a wheel and implicate us into the robberies. She single handedly protected our reputation. Your lawyers were on standby. I’ve been advised to improve security to avoid future issues. “ 

Harrison’s eyes are still planted on the television as his assistant continues to ramble. The little interview had given him a spark of hope. 

~~~

“We’ve finished the reports, that’s the last of the materials. “ 

The lab techs took each device with thanks as you signed off for the items. You glanced at Harrison coming around the corner, his eyes immediately meeting your own. You nod to him, slipping away as you gesture to his office. He understood, following you down the hallway. When you got there, he moved, opening the door as you both entered. 

You could feel the tension. From the look on his face, you could tell there was so much he wanted to say. But he settled for one statement. 

“Thank you for coming to see me.” 

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Your tech was found at my crime scene. It’s obvious that your previous thief had made some little devices of his own with your materials.”

Harrison felt responsible. 

When you see the guilty look on his face, you finally drop your detective shield, lowering your arms. 

“I’m sorry..about before and then..” You couldn’t finish the sentence. 

‘It’s alright. You were scared.” 

That wasn’t an excuse. 

“I’m surprised that you didn’t press charges after what happened. “ You state. 

“I don’t think that would be very fair.” 

“If the roles were reversed it would have been the first thing I did.” 

“Double standard.” 

Harrison offers with a little grin. 

You sigh. Visiting his office this time around was supposed to give you some kind of solace. A relief that nothing would happen. It was broad daylight. A part of you truly doesn’t want to believe what happened was real. Because it doesn’t make sense. So the logical part of your brain told you that it was time to face this rather than hide. 

“None of this seems real. As much as I try to put it together, nothing adds up. So I need you to explain it all to me. If you are some kind of time traveler why are you here? Where did those powers come from?” 

Harrison takes a seat at the front of his desk, crossing his ankles. 

“If you want the full version, then the truth is I died. Some very brave men sacrificed themselves and I suppose as thanks, the universe allowed them to live on in me. Although technically they are gone, I can still feel what they were sacrificed for.” He rises from the desk. 

“That is where my powers came from. The reason I’m here, well, it’s to be with you.” 

“What..what does that mean? You make it sound like some cosmic plan but I have no idea who you are!” 

“I know, I know.” He keeps at a distance.

“I…Before I died I had someone special. Someone who meant the world to me. That person was you. I came back to this exact timeline to be with you. Because of the shifts in time so much has changed, but you stayed the same. I just…I wanted another chance with the love of my life. So I selfishly came here to be with you. That’s all I wanted..” 

He sounds so broken. It breaks your heart. From the sound of it, he could have gone anywhere. Be with anyone. But it’s clear that this version of you has some significance to you. Nevertheless, it feels almost wrong to try and take the place of someone he obviously cared for. 

“I’m not that woman Harrison.” 

He removes his glasses, running a hand through his hair. He expected this. Saw it coming. But it still hurts. 

“My name is (Y/N) Morgan. It’s nice to meet you, Harrison Wells.” 

He barely reacts at first, but when he looks up slowly, it’s one of astonishment of your outstretched hand. 

“I have no intention of replacing that person you held so dear. Whoever she was, obviously she was an incredible woman. One I have respect for. What I would like is to get to know you better Dr. Wells.” 

Your hand is still extended. The smile that radiates on his face is so vibrant. You can’t even explain how much it warms your heart. He takes your hand. 

“Nice to meet you Ms. Morgan.” 

He gives it a firm shake.

#flash #time travel #harrisonxreader #care #scaredoflove #trust #powers #change #harrison wells #Central City #feelings #morganreader #past/future #friendship #alternate universe #respect #realities #connection #cute fluff

[the-fiction-witch]

Relaxed

MOVIE DEATH OF A SUPERHERO COUPLE DONALD X READER RATING SWEET + SMUT

I readjusted my back pack for the nine millionth time today, my back hurt so much my whole spine just ached and felt so sore constantly, I think it's this new medication. But I pushed thought as I walked down the familiar street. As soon as I got to number seventeen I pushed open the little gate making sure to close it after me as I headed down the well kept path and rang the doorbell hearing it ringing from inside. And soon enough the door opened to the most be sight in the world. 

Y/n opened the door in her little slippers, her black leggings with a small lace trim, her half sleeve black shirt, and grey plaid pinafore dress, her hair up in almost a milkmaid braid 

"Ducky!" She smiled excitedly

"Hey y/n" I smiled admittedly overjoyed to see her she gave me a soft hug so I hugged her too, she was soft and gentle pulling me into a kiss, I happily kissed her back squeezing her a little closer to me as we kissed, I imagine we looked crazy just stood In her doorway kissing for a solid three minutes 

"In or out you two your letting the heat out" her dad yelled from the living room

"Sorry papa" she giggled letting me in shutting the door behind her "come on" she giggled running up the stairs, I followed even if it took me a little while getting all the way to her bedroom on the third floor. But as soon as we where in I collapsed on her bed and threw my bag on the floor 

"Huu! I hate your stairs" I told her as I got my breath back

"Awww I'm sorry" she says laying beside me 

"It's okay babe. It's okay. Just give me… five minutes to… breathe" 

"No worries. Don't you remember what today is?"

"Date night?"

"Well yes but special date night"

"... Sex night?" I suggested 

"If your a good boy, but come on ducky you know what today is"

"...care to remind me"

"Spa night"

"Ooohh, right. Actually that sounds fantastic this new medication is fucking my back up"

"Awww my poor baby, shall we begin with a dip in the beautiful hot springs?"

"Ummmm hummm"

"Okay, five minutes" she giggled getting up and scurrying off to her onsuite after a while she returned to me with a big fresh fluffy towel "your hot spring awaits sir"

"Thank you darling" I smiled giving her a kiss as we headed into her onsuite where a steamy bath sat waiting for me with she hung the towel in the heated rail and waited for me "can't you help me?" I pouted she rolled her eyes but helped me get my clothes off once I was naked I tried to give her a cuddle but she just pushed me towards the tub. I climbed into the water at the perfect temperature already feeling my back start to ache a little less she came over with her little rolling stool gently cupping water in her soft hands and pouring it over me "your too good to me"

"Well I know your medicine still messes you up from time to time, I like giving you a nice relaxing day" she smiled kissing my head "now, even though your hair is growing back it's very fragile so when we wash we wash very gently. Gently and softly" she smiled as she got some soap gently washing my hair for me 

"Ummmm can you just left a little"

"Uhh okay"

"Ahh thank you. My head iched"

"You could have just said that" she giggled "and now we rinse very softly, and very gently" she smiled gently rinsing my hair for me "there we go" she giggled "bath salts?"

"Yes please"

"Mint? Sea breeze? Or himalayan?" She offered going though her little unit

"Ooohh uhhh sea breeze I think" 

"Sea breeze it is" she smiled going a little spoonful of bath salts "bath bomb?"

"Umm hum" I smiled sinking s little more into the cosy water 

"How's about… mermaid tail? To fit your ocean theme?" She suggested offering the little blue and white bath bomb with a little mermaid tail on the top I gave it a snif and it did for the ocean vibe so I nodded she happily threw it in with me letting it fizz and pour out light clue pigments "now you relax I'll get the next things ready" she smiled giving my head a kiss leaving her phone on waves and other ocean sounds.

I just laid against her tub in the warm ocean scented water listening to the sounds of waves crashing over, the only light trying to get thought my closed eyes the gentle flicker of candlelight, I stretched every muscle every bone in my body it was like every inch of me just exhaled and relaxed. After a while the bath began to grow colder so I climbed out and wrapped myself up in the cosy warm fluffy towel and going out to her bedroom

"Awww did you have a nice bath my love?"

"It was heavenly, now what shall we do?"

"Now we have little spa treatments while your clothes are in the machine dryer" she smiled

"You washed my clothes for me?"

"Tis spa day. All aspects of spa day" she smiled getting her nice rocking chair with the little cushions on that I was very familiar with usually where I sit when I visit her as I can rock it to keep myself busy while we chat, and a fluffy robe for me so I slipped it on and sat in the chair gently rocking myself she wheeled over the device that always kinda scared me the little rolling foot bath so I slipped my feet in 

"Ahh bugger!" I complained at the heat of the water

"Ohh sorry it's still on heat" she giggled turning the heating function off so I put my feet back she clicked some buttons and it began in my opinion anyway aggressive running wheels against my feet like a foot car wash with some nice bubbles and it was clear she has put some same bath salts in, she gave my hands a little tub of water too what was nice and warm so I sat my hands in it feeling nice and relaxed again "you want bunny ears or purple star?" She asks offering a headband

"... I want bunny ears" I admit happily taking it to push my hair back a little

"choose" she smiled offering the box her little box full of various gave masks I looked through them contemplating for a while "I have a sea salt and watermelon mask?"

"Yeah go with that keep my ocean theme"

"Watermelon is ocean?"

"You eat watermelon when it's hot. In the summer. By the sea"

"Alright" she shrugs ripping open the package and careful unfolding it laying it over my face "now you relax okay" she smiled so I laid back gently rocking myself as I relaxed "toes are done" she smiled taking the foot spa away "now you get seaweed foot mask"

"Why do you have those?"

"There good for dead skin and moisturizing your feet"

"... Can't you just put lotion on your feet?"

"Yeah but this is more fun look it's mermaid pattern"

"... You bought these Because the package it's holographic didn't you"

"Maybe… and they where on sale for a pound"

"Okay" I shrug allowing her to continue

"Hand mask" she giggled taking the water bowl away 

"Noooo I don't like the hand masks it's so squishy"

"No getting out of it" she giggled "peachy hands"

"How does peach for with my ocean theme?"

"... Uhhhh peaches grow near the ocean? Right?"

"I thought they grew it hot places? Like oranges?"

"... They grow near the ocean in animal crossing"

"No that's because you put your peach orchard near the sea it didn't have a choice in that" 

"Well it's all I have" she says slipping them on me 

"Nooo there like wet gloves! Like wet socks but worse!" I complained "still not as bad as those horrible rollers of yours" 

"Roller time!"

"Noooooooooo please there so cold!"

"That's because I keep them in my mini fridge" she giggled pulling my face with the ice cold jade roller she has 

"Ahhhhh so cold! So cold" I whined she pulled the mask off my face and began running it over my bare skin "it's so cold!!!!! Nooooo!" I whined 

"What uhh… what's going on up here?" Her dad asks as he arrived at her bedroom door confused by the sight beforehand him

"Spa day" she giggled

"She's torchering me!" I complained 

"Alright, have fun" he shrugs going off elsewhere she removed the over masks and started working my hands 

"Oww. Oww. Oww!"

"It wouldn't hurt if you took better care of them" she says mostly now working in my nails 

"I take care of them, I wash them. Sometimes I lotion them"

"Ducky you have got to do better then it won't hurt so much when I get my hands on them"

"Or your just evil to me"

"Im not evil" she pouts

"I know your lovely darling it's just when you get in your- Ahh! Ow" 

"Ohh grow up" she says going for her other box

"No. No nail polish. Doctor says I'm not allowed remember"

"Fine. Just a clear coat" she smiled giving my nails something I don't know what all I know is it's clear "now no touching" she says as she got up to go to her bed laying a towel there and immediately I got excited once my nails where done she basically kicked me off the chair 

"Now what?" I asked excitedly

"Now we do massage"

"Yes!" I smiled "I have wanted a back rub from you for a month" 

"You can just ask"

"I know but I like to wait for spa day. Back or… front?"

"Back" she smiled pushing me towards the bed, I happily took the robe everything else off laying on my stomach on her bed and the towel with a cushion for my head and feet, she laid the towel over me to cover me a little even if it's nothing she hasn't seen before "pick an oil"

"Hummmmm…." I thought looking at the hundreds of little bottles "lavender it's the best"

"Alright" she smiled giving my head a kiss before she started she began but generosity dropping the warm oil across my body letting it pool and run across my skin, she began with my hands and arms slowly but firmly rubbing the oil in, her hands are magical working in all the wonderful ways to get tension and knots from my muscles and joints any pain that still remained melting away with her touch once she met my shoulders she moved and began in my legs I think mostly to tease me, she ran her hands so effortlessly over my legs are times tickling my feet 

"Hey!" I complained making her giggle at me, she moved higher up my legs letting me relax much more until I felt her hand under the towel on my butt "excuse me. Madam. Watch what those hands are doing down there" I told her  

"Yes sir" she giggled as she went to my back and honestly it felt almost like I was getting an orgasm. Like a back orgasm. And I admit I was a little vocal about it

"Uhhh ummmmmm ummmm uuhh! Uhh right there yeah right there. Uuuuhhhhh fuck y/n baby!"

"Anyone would think I was letting you have sex with me" she giggled

"To be fair my back is the worst at the moment and I have desperately needed a back rub" 

"I know you did" she smiled "have you told your doctor there giving you such a bad back?"

"I did. He said it's a common side affect. But he can't give me the pain killers Because they'll mess with my other meds and he can't change my meds because then they'll mess with the other ones I'm on"

"Ohh you poor thing" she says as she worked on my neck "well not to much longer before you won't have to take them anymore"

"I hope"

"I know so" she smiled "flip" she smiled Patting the small of my back so I turned over to lay on my back 

"Hi"

"Hi" she smiled giving me a little kiss as she poured more oil continuing with the relaxing massage, she slipped over my towel this time much to my annoyance and as she rubbed my chest she climbed into my lap 

"Oohh hello" I smirked resting my hands on her hips 

"Hello" she smiled as she continued slowly rubbing and massaging my chest I smirked a little and gently with her massaging began pushing and pulling her hips just a little just to give me a little friction "excuse me" she smirked moving her hips up so I couldn't keep doing it

"Awww come on babe. It's the only bit of me not relaxed. In Fact your nice massage is only making it stiffer" I smirked 

"Well I beat make sure your nice and relaxed" she smirked as she finished up 

"Yeah?" 

"Umm Humm" she smiled giving my lips a little kiss before she continued her movements on me without me having to guide her, so I smirked and stroked her hips hard to tell her I wanted more, she obligated and began grinding much harder 

"Fuck. Right there. Right there" I groaned after she adjusted slightly feeling her right where I wanted her "come on baby. More."

"More?"

"Ummmm hummm. More my sweet sexy girly"

"Okay" she smirked moving the towel away and moving off me I was confused and moldy annoyed but I wasn't for long as she took my hard erection into her mouth and began to suck 

"Uuuuhhhhh uughhh oohh God! Fuck! Uuuuhhhhh your an angel!' I groaned tugging on her hair she was gentle but she liked teasing me often licking all the little places that drive me crazy gradually getting faster and faster sucking harder and being much more merciless, my moans and pleads thought loud didn't make much of a difference to her until - "uughhh uuuuuuughhh! Y/n! y/n baby please im- uuuuuuughhh fuck!" I pushed her head a little more then anything just our of reaction to the pleasure that exploded out of me making my toes curl and my fingers grip her hair tightly she swallowed and licked me clean as I got my breath back my body completely relaxed and satisfied

"Feel better now ducky?" She giggled laying down beside me

"Much better darling" I smiled wrapping an arm around her and giving her nose a kiss "I love you"

"I love you too"

[gyupinkys]

MR. J

WC: 1.5K

People need to stop telling Joshua he's crazy. You just make him do crazy things. Like stealing one of Seungcheol's helicopters to break you out of jail, but what was he supposed to do? Leave you in there to die? He could never let his love be out of his hands for too long.

WARNINGS: guns, death, mile high club?, slight exhobitionism, unprotected sex, degradation, joshua being a little shit while fucking you.

“Seungcheol is actually going to kill you.”

“If you keep your mouth shut he’ll never know.”

“JOSHUA YOU STOLE HIS FUCKING HELICOPTER AND LIKE 20 OF HIS GAURDS.” Vernon exclaims trying to not yell too loud at Joshua over the phone.

“Shhh you’re being loud.” Joshua whispers

“Where are you even going?”

“You know exactly where I’m going.”

Honestly, Joshua just acted in the spur of the moment. He should've been sensible and made a plan but he can’t just let you sit in a prison cell and rot.  He doesn’t know where to go from here and it’s not like he can ask Jeonghan for help since he’s so caught up in that fed turned stripper turned mafia wife. Now he’s on his own trying to figure out how to be a good partner. God, sometimes he misses the days before he met you, when he was still a gentleman, still sane; now he’s genuinely lost it. You bring the crazy out of him.

“Josh, just be careful.”

“I’ll be fine.” Joshua says and hangs up.

He might not be fine, but he’s gotta get you out of there. He has no idea how you even winded up in jail, let alone maximum security. Only if you knew how to keep your mouth shut and not try to fight everyone. You're too feisty for your own good. 

“Mr. Hong we’re here.”

“Great, I need you guys to get me in, I don't care how.”

“Yes sir.”

Joshua gets himself ready for what he knows is going to be a battle. He picks up a multitude of guns and sling them in the holders along his pants along with an assault rifle. He puts on his face mask as the walls of the prison explode and the helicopter lands. His men start piling out clearing the area and Joshua walks in behind them. He ignores the bodies around him dropping; his guilt about killing is long gone; his only focus is getting you the fuck out of here. His guards plow through the prison, clearing a path for him to walk through with no sweat. After opening the multiple cell doors  he finally finds you. Sitting in a straight jacket with your legs chained to your bed and a muzzle.

“Damn baby, I’m sure you gave them hell.” he smiles as he goes to cut you out of this shit. When he cuts the chains he sweeps you into a deep kiss.

“Took you long enough Mr.J” you say with a giggle.

“I hate that nickname baby. I’m not the Joker”

“You might as well be with your crazy ass, let's get out of this shithole.”

You two walk out of the prison without a sweat, and board the helicopter back to the house. 

“Baby, how did you get yourself in there?”

“You know they have a heavy bounty on my head. Some fuckers drugged me and picked me up from my apartment and dropped me off at the prison.”

“Don’t worry my love, I'll find out who.” 

“I want in when you kill him.” you smile as he buckles you into the helicopter as you take off.

“Wait, how did you convince Cheol to let you use this thing?”

“Anyways…”

“Shua!” you gasp and hit his arm.

“We can deal with it later.”

“We? This is all you.”

He gasps back. “I thought we were a team,” he pouts.

“Not when we're going against Cheol, you’re on your own my love.”

“Sir, they called for backup.” one of the guards interrupt.

You both look at the tactical units piling in on the ground dressed in full gear. This looks like something straight out of call of duty. 

“I was hoping this would happen” he smiles as he unbuckles himself and gets up to the side pushing the large red button on the door. Two machine guns rise out the floor just like in the movies.

“Holy shit”

“I know right, when Vernon suggested we add these I just couldn't say no.”

“It’s a bit tacky, but I guess its a great idea”

 The cops below you start firing at the helicopter to which Joshua starts firing back, laughing like a mad man as the bodies begin to drop. 

“Wait, I want a turn” you pout, unbuckling yourself and standing up.

“I don’t know baby,I’m having so much fun.”

You walk up to him and slide under his arms so he’s holding you. You put your arms on the gun and start spraying wildly, missing most of the targets but having the time of your life. You start giggling when you see your bullet land straight into the gas tank of one of the cars instantly making it explode. 

“Oh shit baby. You seem to know what you’re doing.” he laughs. Your helicopter has gotten far enough away that the bullets are barely hitting and the targets become too small to see. You release a sigh, looking up to Joshua for him to release you. 

“Baby, let's go sit down.” you say trying to escape his hold.

“I don't think so.” he says in a low voice.

“Joshua we are not fucking on a helicopter.”

“Hmmm?”  he hums as he slides his hands to the button of your orange jumpsuit.

“I think you look great in orange.” he smiles, pulling your hips into his own so you can feel his hard cock.

“Josh, you're insatiable.”

 “I haven’t had this sweet cunt in ages.”

“It’s been three days” you groan, feeling your will crack and your desire for him break through. 

He begins to unbutton your clothes, sliding his hand to your breast and squeezing. 

“God, baby, I missed you so much.” he groans in your ear, grinding his hips into your ass. It feels like his dick is getting harder by the second.

“I can feel you throbbing Josh.” you moan.

“Let me fuck you baby. Please.”

“Oh, you're begging?”

“I can take it if I want it, we both know that. Be grateful I’m giving you a chance.”

You feel your pussy clench, god you love this man.

“So take it.”

He rips the rest of your clothes and flips you around, pressing your back to the wall of the helicopter, completely ignoring everyone else aboard. He starts to kiss up your throat and he drags his hand to your pussy, rubbing you over your underwear. 

“You know, the first thing I thought of when I got arrested was; “what am I gonna do without this perfect cunt wrapped around me every night.” he groans

“Is my pussy all I’m good for?” you ask breathlessly.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions baby.” he slides two fingers in your soaking wet pussy. “With a cunt like this it should be all your good for. You don't need to do anything when your cunt is this warm and tight. I could fuck you a million times and it’ll always be the same.” 

You moan as he starts dragging his fingers in and out of you.  “That's not nice Shua” 

“I’m not known to be nice am I? Especially to whores.”

“I’m not a whore.”

“Really? You gave it up so easily for me, didn’t even put up a fight.” he unzips his pants just enough to pull out his hard cock. He rubbed it through your folds. “I bet you'd let me do whatever I wanted to you, hmm?” he asks as he slides in.

“Fuckkkk.” you groan.

He grabs your hair and pulls your head back. “Answer me.” he says as he begins to pound into you, purposely thrusting hard enough so you couldn't speak. “Why are you not listening, love?” he says as he speeds up his thrust making your knees weaken. “Are you too dumb to answer? Dick too good?” He gives you an evil smile. “I think I know a way to wake you up.” He puts you on your back and slides you to the edge of the helicopter, hanging your upper body off the edge. This sure does wake you up.

“HOLY SHIT, JOSHUA I SWEAR TO GOD.”

He just laughs and thrust back into you, fucking you harder than he ever has. Blood is rushing to your head and the fear in your body is driving you insane. “Joshua stop” you groan. It's becoming too much.

“Are you scared? Think I’ll let go? Let you fall?” he smirks.

“You’d never. You can’t live without me. I know I’m all you think of, all you dream of, all you want.” you smile giving him a challenging look.

“Oh really?”

He begins to push you closer to the edge to the point only your ass is on the floor, the rest of your upper body hanging in the sky. You didn't know you were such a masochist, the moment he let his grip slip a little you came, the orgasm making you squirt all over him. You squeeze him so hard it forces him out and he pulls you up to his body, holding you through your orgasm.

“Fuck baby, that was so hot.” he groans, jerking himself until he cums in his fist and over your stomach.

“Don’t you ever do that again you motherfucker.” you say pointing your finger in his face. 

He just laughs at you, pulling you into a heated kiss.

“I love you too baby.”

“This is why I’m leaving you on your own against Cheol.”

#seventeen smut #svt smut #joshua smut #joshua hong smut #joshua fanfic

[ozma914]

Finding The Cure for Chicago traffic

Seven years ago, I swore I would never, EVER drive in Chicago again.

Last Saturday, we drove to Chicago. Again.

It was for the same reason as last time, to see The Cure in concert. The Cure's music is ... well ... it's been called post-punk, gothic rock, new wave, and alternative. Robert Smith has fronted the band since the late 70s, so I assume it wasn't all that at the same time. Oddly, while I don't care for those types of music, I actually like The Cure. Not the way Emily does. Not "we have to go to Chicago to see them play". No, sir. But I love my wife, and proved yet again that I'm willing to put my life on the line for her.

The venue was different from last time, giving me the hope it wouldn't be as far into the city.

It wasn't as close. It was closer. We actually drove between the skyscrapers at one point. We experienced our version of "The Suicide Squad".

The place is called The United Center. As I understand it, some sports-ball team plays in it when concert season is over. The Bills, or the Bulls, or the Boobs, something like that.

We got the nosebleed seats, but I didn't realize how literal that was. Our seats were in the very last row of a stadium that seats 23,500 people (sold out), and to get there we had to buy rock climbing equipment and hire a sherpa. It never occured to me that anyone would put in sections so steep that your toes are at the level of the next fan's head, which I'm sure has caused a fight or two. The place had to have been built in the 50s--no way would authorities allow such a fall risk these days. If I'd slipped on the top step, I'd have kept tumbling until I bowled over the drummer.

(I checked: It opened in 1994. They probably had some celebratory hang gliders launch from our position that day.)

And the band? Well, the band was great, but I wish I'd brought my telescope. They looked like little Polly Pockets, if you remember those. Kind of micro-dolls. There were two big TV monitors beside the stage, but we could barely see those either, especially once the questionable smoke started to rise from the audience.

As you can see from the above photo, we actually had a seat right in the center. Cool, right? The crowd is shining their cell phones to bring the band back for an encore. I don't know what encores are in other places, but this was more like the halftime show.

The Cure started a little late, and after that "encore" we walked out to the parking lot, got in the car, and ... sat there. Driving to the venue had been a lot like the asteroid field in "Star Wars V: Crazy Drivers Strike Back". So we decided to let things clear a little, and the more we thought about it, the more we let things clear.

We were, in fact, the last car through the exit gate. On purpose.

 Surely, by well after midnight, both the concert crowd and regular traffic would have regained some measure of sanity, right? RIGHT?

Chicago driver are insane.

Not "bad". In fact, many of them are quite good in a NASCAR kind of a way. Sure, they may arrive with their cars covered in dents and scratches and pedestrians, at a speed that nets them a good 9 mpg gas mileage, but they'll get there fast.

Base, drums, amplifiers ... much calmer.

I had to drive 15 mph over the speed limit just to keep from being rear-ended. Even then, every few minutes something would streak around us like an F-15 doing a flyover. Then it would veer across three lanes, pass someone else, and dive back across the same three lanes without ever touching the brakes.

In heavy traffic. Well, it probably didn't seem heavy to them.

I'd like to speak specifically to everyone in the Chicago area who drives a Dodge Challenger. We saw the rear-end of several, because despite my instincts, I had to keep my eyes open. You people, you're crazy. Nuts. Looney-tunes. The fact that any of you survive is proof of guardian angels.

Typical Chicago Driver Enjoying the Mayhem.

As for us, there were only a few times when I had to stand on the brakes and swerve into another lane. Emily may have screamed, I don't know. I did. The rest of the time my death grip stayed on the steering wheel, my head on a swivel, and my stomach in my mouth.

We got home around 4 a.m., and after we stopped shaking slept most of the day. Then we woke up with a concert hangover. That's a real thing.

Then, the next day, Monday, my muscles remembered they'd spent six hours so tense you could bounce a quarter off them. Not to mention the three hours in the stadium seats, which were actually comfortable for the first hour. (Yeah, my ears popped on the way up, but nobody dropped a car on me.) Ironically, after all that sitting over the weekend, on Monday I couldn't get off the couch.

I'm glad Emily got to see her favorite band, and I'll take her again--if they ever come to Albion.

http://markrhunter.com/ https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Remember whenever you don't buy a book, another driver is born in Chicago. Oh, the humanity!

#humor #driving #chicago #the cure #robert smith #reckless driving #concerts

[atozphantomsquadron]

VII - Dragon

Pax River was a very long flight away from the Reagan’s position in the Atlantic, so I was flown from the ship to a nearby air base in Germany before returning stateside.  When I arrived at Dulles, there was a driver waiting for me, a petty officer holding a posterboard with “A. VIBRIA” scrawled across it in black marker.  He saluted me when I arrived and led me to his car.

The ride over was a bit cold: it was just the early part of the winter.  The petty officer kept trying to make conversation, light things about the weather and the Redskins, that sort of thing.  He did not get my attention until late in the car ride.

“So did they tell you anything about the facility, ma’am?”

I shook my head.  “I only know it’s a lab, nothing more.  As a matter of fact, I’m not even sure why I’m being called in on this.  I’m nobody.”

He smiled for some reason at that.  “I thought I was nobody too, then they called me.  A lot of us have the same story, ma’am.”

That seemed surprising.  “How many are in this unit?”

“Including you, there’s about twelve of us.  You’ll be the ranking officer, ma’am, the rest of us are strictly non-coms.”

“What about Captain Reed?  His name appears on my orders.”

“The captain’s strictly a liaison.  They tell us that once final preparations are complete, the unit will be acting independent of any command structure.  I guess that’s why they brought you in, so that there’d be a commander, ma’am.”

The conversation was cut short by the driver taking a turn and entering the base.  The lab itself was only three blocks from the main gate, but its size was stunning.  It appeared to be a leftover hangar, repurposed for whatever was going on inside.  Before I could get a grasp on everything I was heading toward, the petty officer had opened my door to let me out and was ushering me inside.

After traversing a long, dark hallway, I was led to a spacious office.  The petty officer knocked on the door, then ushered me forward.  Directing my attention to the desk at the far side, I shot to attention and saluted.

“Lieutenant Ariel Vibria, reporting as ordered, sir.”

The chair turned around and there sat Captain Reed.  He was a slender man in his 40’s with a charismatic expression on his face.  He returned the salute smartly.  “Have a seat, lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir.”  I approached the desk and sat down in one of the office’s guest chairs.  Reed opened up a file on his desk … apparently my file.

“So you took our offer.  That’s excellent.  We want more soldiers like you, lieutenant, willing to volunteer for their country.”

I nodded.  “I’ve wanted to serve for a long time, sir.”

He flipped a couple of pages.  “You’re a smart one, too, I see.  Top of your class at VMI.  I’m a graduate myself, class of ’78.”  He flashed me his class ring.  “It looks like you’ll be perfect for commanding our unit once it’s ready.”

I adjusted myself nervously.  “If I may ask, sir, what is this unit exactly and what is its purpose?”

Reed leaned back in his chair.  “Are you familiar with Black Ops?”

“Only vaguely, sir.”

“We’re assembling a special Black Ops team here.  One that has abilities and powers above and beyond normal.”

I was even more nervous now.  Reed continued unabated.

“Our group of volunteers, yourself included, are going to be put through the most intense training and conditioning you have ever known.  This will include monitored nutritional intake, vitamin injections, and specialized training keyed to every soldier’s aptitudes.  For you, this will involve some flight training.”

My eyes shot open.  Flight!!  “But sir, I was rejected for flight school.”

“This is a specialized kind of flight training, lieutenant, with some equipment … let’s say it’s much different than what you might be familiar with.”

My mind boggled.  Spacecraft?  Supersonic craft?  Jetpacks?  Every science fiction possibility started racing through my mind in a crazy sprint.  “Thank you, sir, I feel honored.”

Reed only smirked.  “Thank me later, lieutenant.”  His phone buzzed, interrupting Reed’s train of thought.  He pressed the button on the intercom.  “What is it, airman?”

“Sir, Admiral Yardley on secure line 2 for you.”

Reed sighed.  “Understood, I’ll take it in here, thank you.  Come in for a moment, please.”  He turned apologetically up to me.  “It’s my superior, I’m sure you understand.  Dismissed, lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir.”  I stood up just as the captain’s secretary entered and saluted, which was returned by both myself and Reed.

“Take the lieutenant down to medical and have Dr. Gerard perform a baseline physical on her.”

The airman nodded.  “Yes sir.”  He saluted again and held the door open for me.  Shortly afterward we were headed further down the darkened hallway, toward the next doorway with light spilling from it, the medical wing.  After making sure I was comfortable, the airman left.

“Lieutenant Vibria, a pleasure to meet you at last,” a loud voice boomed from just beyond a curtain.  An older man, older than Reed, stepped out at last from behind it and approached me.  “Dr. Benjamin Gerard.  I’ve been waiting for you.”

He extended his hand.  I shook it, thinking that his handshake left something to be desired.  This would be my first foreboding feeling about this man.  He immediately brought me further into the medical lab, where he proceeded to give me the most invasive physical I have ever endured, during which he asked me some very embarrassing questions.

“How long were you shipboard?”

“A single four-year tour.”

“Any sexual activity during that time?”

“No.”

“Any history of disease, cancer, alcoholism?”

“None.”

“Do you drink?”

“No.”

“Do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Have you ever had sex?”

“No … doctor, is there a point to this?”

At this point, Gerard was rather roughly palpitating my right breast.  “We need to make sure that you’re in top physical shape, because if you’re not this training’s going to be hell on you.  Just relax, we’re almost done here.”

After another five minutes of poking, prodding, feeling, and all in all discomfort, Gerard snapped a bracelet on my right arm, similar to a hospital bracelet.  It was at that time that he looked at the left wrist and saw my scars.

“How long ago did you try it?”

I looked at him questioningly.  “What’s that?”

“Suicide.  How long ago?”

I felt the scars gently.  “Six years.  I’ve been doing well preventing another try.”

Gerard nodded.  “I see.  Well then, you should be good to go.  Your room designation is on your bracelet.  There’s just one last thing I need to do, a preliminary vitamin injection.”

Gerard produced a syringe, which he injected into my left hip.  The solution burned gently as it worked its way into my bloodstream: I could almost sense it crashing over my entire body like an ocean wave.  All of my hair felt like it stood on end as the solution made its way through me.

Absently, while the vein show was going on, I was aware that Gerard had discharged me and sent me off to find my quarters.  I looked down at the bracelet and saw only the designation “G66.”  Looking at the doors of the various barrack-like quarters, I struggled reading some of the addresses.  Finally, at the end of the hallway, I found a door marked G66 and stumbled into it.

The room was much more luxurious than my stateroom aboard the Reagan had been.  This room was actually painted a pleasing, neutral earth tone.  The furniture, while typical military issue, was still comfortable: the bed did not rock as I sat down on it, lying prone and eventually drifting into a deep sleep.

My eyes had been closed for only a half hour when I sensed it.  There was a voice.

=Hello.=

It addressed me, with a voice very similar to my mother’s.  Who could that have been?  In my dreamlike state, I muttered toward it.

“Hello?  Who are you?”

=Who are you?  What do I call you?=

“My name is Ariel.”

=Ariel.  What are you?=

“What am I?  I am a woman, an officer.  Why, what are you?”

=Find me.=

“Find you?  Where could you be?  The facility is closed down …”

=Follow my thoughts.=

It was not until then that I realized the voice was not being perceived in my ears … it was in my mind!  My eyes quickly shot open, I leaped out of the comfortable bed and felt my way over to the barracks door.

=Follow my thoughts and you will find me.=

The voice in my head was louder now.  Insistent.  It wanted to know who I was.  My mind’s ear directed me further down the darkened hallway, now even darker in the enclosing night. 

=You are coming closer.  I can sense you.=

“Where are you?”

=Follow my thoughts.  You are not far.=

The hallway opened up into a wider room, what appeared to be an observation room.  There were wide, shuttered picture windows on every wall, each apparently leading to its own room.  I passed by each of the windows, still seeking out the source of the voice.

=You are very near.  I can smell you now.=

This stopped me short.  “Smell me?  What exactly are you?”

=Turn to your left and come to me.=

I looked to my left side.  Another picture window, as nondescript as the others, just as tightly shuttered.  I looked over at one side and noticed it was designated “37A.”  There was a control panel underneath the window as well: I searched along it with my fingers in the dim light until I found what appeared to be a power switch.  Nervously, I tripped the switch.

The entire control panel lit up.  Readouts began turning on and registering numerous stats by way of line graph and oscilloscope display.  Another light began shining through the shutters of the window, as the cover began retracting.

=You have found me.=

The shutters completely retracted.  The glare from the light on the other side of the window blinded me temporarily, but once my eyes had adjusted I saw my mysterious voice’s source.

On the other side of the glass was a dragon, an honest-to-God dragon like people read about in fairy tales.  The creature looked to be impossibly long, and massively muscled, with a dark green and scaly hide.  It had massive wings, which wrapped around it, but apparently no tail: instead, there were large fins protruding from its front legs.  The creature’s head lifted up on its massive neck, quite possibly as long as a telephone pole is tall.  The eyes, glowing red spheres recessed within the head, focused on me directly.

They looked sad, yet friendly.

=Hello, Ariel.=

I shook slightly.  “Do you have a name?”

=I have none but what I have been given here.  They call me 37A.=

I sighed in sympathy.  “That’s no good.  You deserve a more magnificent name than that.”

=Will you grant me a name?=

I nodded.  “Give me some time to think of one that’s suitable, okay?”

=I will.  We will have the chance to get to know each other.=

This made my nerves return.  “Why do you say that?”

=Return to your quarters, my new friend Ariel.  You will find out soon enough.=

Regrettably, I threw the switch on the control panel again.  The light around 37A went dark as the shutters lowered once more.  I turned away from the panel and started making my way back toward my barracks.

37A’s voice remained in my head, though.  =Do not despair, my friend.  I will be with you now, and protect you.=

#phantom squadron #dinetah dragon

[abyssalcreator21]

Pandemic Thoughts #142

Yesterday, I had two meetings that I have attended on the same day. First, I have attended our virtual meeting with our moderator, Sir Efren and we had discussed several important agendas on the birth of our organization. The new name of our organization is Haraya at Mga Letra. According to our moderator, Haraya is a terminology in Filipino that means "imagination," he wants something that is creative and not just a common name for the organization, in that matters a lot of future students are interested to join the cause of writing. It was a great start indeed for our organization indeed and we are taking the necessary steps little by little. First, one of our initial plans is in our next meetings, we plan to hone the pieces that was critiqued little by little, and we would divulge in tackling in the different genres of writing, from plays to novels. I do hope that someday we would have a collaboration between the literary arts and the theater. We would like to visualize our pieces that it would really materialize in any forms mostly in printed works but also in other medias. I was just so happy because at least I have experienced this kind of opportunity to be part of a pioneering organization that really sticks on the talent that I have, originally. It was just looking back when I was in my SPA days, I was just a introverted person that time, I was different, I can't blend well with my other peers, they tend to be the usual go with the flow style and that is how their life works. But for me, it was different. It was always a solitary journey and it was hard to express what I want to express. That is why I loved writing in the first place. It was my home among all homes of my existence here on this planet. And maybe I have purpose with my writing skills after all. There is more to what just awaits for me.

Second, we had our update on our thesis paper along with our thesis adviser, our tough love teacher, Ma'am Anj. She really values friendship and also she is tough when it comes to our thesis. We are really on a head start right now in our thesis paper but that doesn't mean that we should slack also. I have already set the preparations for the validation of the questionnaires and yeah, I do admit that I have still my attitudes in thinking complicated rather than thinking logical. I am panicking, feeling anxious and uncertain, and I know it is normal to feel this way when it comes to big tasks especially like this undergraduate thesis of ours which is equivalent of 6 units. But, Ma'am Anj always sees the potential of her students especially with me that we are "broke in order to be tougher." That is why I would admit I had my issues when it comes to emotional outbursts at others and sometimes I would cuss our adviser in my head, it was just a thought that I just slip and I never bother to make it a big deal. I always understood the bigger picture that yes, I tend to be crazy in my acts but Ma'am Anj really wants us to learn that "it's fine to be you but then learn to be grittier when it comes to the world of work." The hardest pills to swallow indeed is that you know in yourself, you should go out of your comfort zone, but you don't like the idea of finding the hard way to achieve the results of your labor. And, it is not how the world works indeed. I just remind myself that all of this matters will fall into the right process, I just need to trust my groupmates and especially our thesis adviser. I don't need to felt like I am the "main character" always in my life, I also need to experience being a side character in other people's lives.

#creative writing #harayaatmgaletra #ustp-literary arts

[romanstheory]

Simply Meant To Be Part One

** This will be a short(ish) story told in first person by the main character. I will include pictures/gifs to describe how she looks etc. **

Characters: Roman Reigns, Nala (reader), Violet

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,434

Credit

My name is Nala, the current WWE Smackdown Women's Champion. I've been champion for 365 days as of today. I've been named the face of the Smackdown Womens division. I'm known for my high flying high risk technique and striking looks. I am tough as nails, some might say bitchy but I know what I want and won't tolerate anything less. I've been on my own my entire career, no tag team partner ever. With the release of a new game coming up, Vince has forced me into not only a tag team situation but a new brand with Roman Reigns. That's right the Tribal Chief himself, he and I would be sharing the cover of the newest and most hyped up WWE game thus far.

This meant we would be spending a lot of time together over the next several months. I'm not excited about it, but what was I going to do? Complain? Like I said, I'm a lone ranger I don't really talk to many people within the locker room. My best friend though is Naomi, we've been tight since NXT. "So how are you feeling with this whole storyline with Roman" Naomi asks as she fixes my thick curly hair. "Girl honestly I don't know, I hope Vince doesn't try to pin me as the typical damsel in distress because everyone knows that is not me" I say looking at myself in the mirror.

"I think he knows better, the WWE Universe would rip him a new one" Naomi says with a giggle. "Just be nice to him Nala, he's got a lot going on right now. Jimmy's been telling me everything, it's not my place to say but just be gentile with him. I know that's not really you thing miss rough and tough but just try" She continues. I nod in silence as she finishes fluffing my curls up even more. "Thank you!" I say as I give Naomi a hug, heading to Vince's office to discuss plans with this new storyline and branding.

I walk down the hall, and turn the doorknob to enter Vince's office. Roman was already there, sitting and Vince's desk. "Nala!! You look great!! Have a seat!" Vince says with a smile. Roman and I awkwardly smile at each other as I take a seat. We don't even know each other, yet here we are planning our careers together. "So, here's what I'm thinking. We've got you the Tribal Chief Roman Reigns and Pandora's Box Personified Nala, the faces of Smackdown and quite frankly WWE in general" Vince starts "We start you out at an award show or two and strike some buzz there. We set the two of you up as a stable and make magic in the ring. In a you scratch my back I scratch yours way".

I take a deep breath "Mr Mcmahon with all due respect, this sounds awesome but we don't even know each other. How am I supposed to work with someone that I don't have chemistry with. He's an amazing competitor but we're totally different" I say. "Y'know I'm gonna have to agree sir, we don't know each other. We're keeping this company together but how do we know that we'll operate like a unit together" Roman adds. "Very valid concerns, which is why I've rented a house for the two of you to stay in for a few weeks in the name of bonding" Vince says with a smile.

Roman and I just kind of look at each other and say nothing. Great, I get to live with a stranger for a few weeks because my crazy ass boss thinks this will all work out. "Great! No objections, now you'll be gone for three weeks. After those three weeks you will have a tag team match on Smackdown. We will have another meeting after that and see where we're going to go from there" Vince says without giving either of us any time to actually object "Now, go on the car is waiting".

Roman and I both get up and exit the room. "Well, what do you want for dinner roomie" I say looking up at Roman. His 6'3 frame towered over my 5'1 frame. "Pizza? Might as well treat ourselves" Roman says with a laugh. A little girl comes running full speed around the corner "Daddy! They're coming!" She says screaming and laughing running to Roman. Jimmy and Jey come sprinting around the corner "Sorry uce, she's fast. We tried to keep her in the dressing room" Jey says out of breath.

"He has a kid? Why is she here?" I think to myself. "Is this your girlfriend?" She asks Roman pointing at me. Roman's face gets red with embarrassment "No baby, she's daddy's business partner. We're going to be staying together for a little while" Roman responds. "And me too?!" She says as her eyes light up with hope. "And you too baby doll" He reassures her. The three of us gather our things and head off to the house Vince had rented for us. The car ride is silent and pretty awkward. We arrive at the house, and settle in inside.

"If you don't mind me asking, how is her mom going to feel about me staying here with you two. I know I wouldn't be happy about it" I ask sitting on the arm of the couch. "Well, I wouldn't know. I haven't heard from her in 4 months" Roman says looking at the floor. I immediately feel like the worlds biggest asshole for even asking. This must have been what Naomi was talking about. "I'm so sorry for asking, I just didn't want to overstep any boundaries" I say. "It's no problem, you didn't know" He responds. The room is full of awkward silence once again, I didn't know what to do or say. What do I talk to him about? What does he like to do?

"So what's your name princess?" I ask Roman's daughter. "Violet!" She says proudly. "Wow! What a beautiful name for an even more beautiful girl! So Violet, do you like pizza?" I ask kneeling down to be at eye level with her. She nods her head at me and smiles "Okay, how about we order some! Anything you want baby girl!" I say with a smile. Roman sits and observes our conversation quietly. "Pepperoni and sausage pleaseeee!!!" She says jumping up and down. Roman lets out a soft laugh "That's my girl!" He says

The pizza arrives within 30 minutes and Roman grabs it from the front door. "How about we eat at the table? As long as that's fine with Princess Violet" I say winking at Violet. She skips over to the table and we all take our seats. "So, Vince says we should get to know each other" I say before taking a bite of my pizza "Tell me about yourself". Roman pauses for a minute "Well, I've held my title for the longest in history and I-" Roman says as I cut him off. "No, I don't want to hear about your WWE self I want to hear about YOU. What do you like to do, who are YOU" I interrupt. "Nobody had ever really asked me that. I-I like to play football, I love my family, i enjoy a nice beer, I love spending time with my daughter" Roman says between bites.

"And who are you besides the outspoken pandora's box personified" Roman says with a chuckle. "I love kids, I like to sing and dance, I'm an artist, I enjoy lazy time with my family, I'm a lover" I say with a slight smile looking up from my plate. "And i'm Violet!" Violet says with a laugh. Roman and I laugh with her, kind of taken aback by her boldness. We all agreed to watch Violet's favorite disney movie, Encanto after we ate. Violet and I sang and danced to every song together as Roman watched and laughed.

"You be Tio Felix and I'll be Tia Pepa!" Violet says taking my hand to dance with her. We continue to dance and sing together until Violet is too tired to continue. She settles down and curls into Roman's arm, falling asleep fast. "She's got a lot of energy" I say laughing. "Too much for me to handle sometimes" Roman says with a smirk. Roman carries her into their room, and plops back onto the couch next to me. "I don't know about you, but I've got a good feeling about these next few weeks" Roman says with a smile.

#simply meant to be #roman reigns fic #wwe #wwe fic #tribal chief #head of the table #wwe fluff #roman reigns fluff #Roman reigns