#y’all own beagles
Note
Is there a possibility of a Wally x detective reader, looking for a criminal only to be revealed that the criminal was them all along?
Sure thing!!!
This is my final request from my inbox!! After this I’m going to work on Part Two for Goodbye Mr.Darling and do a request for a pal!! uwu
And after that I’m gonna open by my inbox so y’all could send in some requests!! uwu
Criminal (Wally Darling x Reader)
Trigger warnings: Character Death Mention, Gun, Blood, Curse Words
Wally Darling Masterlist
Police lights and sirens were all over the neighborhood, the neighbors were crying and freaking out. Why you may ask you were called in to investigate a crime, after all you were the lead detective. You were looking at the poor body who came across death. The poor body was headless, and it seemed as if they were missing patches of fur around their body. As you walk around the crime scene which was their house you couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor person. The body was laying on a pool of their own blood.
“Ms./Mr. Y/N the body was someone called Barnaby B. Beagle. And I looked around and the sick person who did this left no trace. And for the head I couldn’t find anywhere.” One of your detectives said. “I don’t know who would do this.”
“How interesting…and don’t worry I’m going to get to the bottom of this, but for now your dismissed just make sure they take the body away the poor suckers from here are freaking out.” You said and with that you walked away.
As you walk out of the house, you saw the other neighbors huddled in a group asking the cops questions. You walk to them “I’m sorry about your friend but my men are trying to there job so I would appreciate if you guys would back off.” You said, yea you felt bad but they were preventing them from doing their job. “Don’t worry guys, I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I prom-.”
You were cut off with a scream. “AHHH!” Two of neighbors yelled out. It was the one with blonde hair and a other one who looked like a star? Sun?
Looking over you saw that a few of your men had the body on a stretcher covered with a white blanket. “Okay guys, I really need you to back up now!” You say. “Like I said I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
As time passed by everyone left. Leaving you alone in this neighborhood. You sigh, such a small neighborhood. Why would anyone do this?
You walked around the place and looked around, this place was colorful that’s for sure. Having a feeling that someone was watching you. You had your notebook and pen. As you walked you were too busy writing notes on your notebook you bumped into someone. Falling to the ground and onto your butt. “Ow!”
“Oh? I’m truly sorry about that! Here let me help you up.”
Looking up you saw a yellow man. Wow what a colorful outfit. It looked like a rainbow threw up on him. He held a hand out for you, taking it. He helped you out. “Sorry about that Mister. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“It’s prefectly fine! So you’re the one investigating for Barnaby?” He asked you.
“Yes I am. I’m Y/N L/N the lead detective.”
“It’s so nice of you to help out the neighborhood with this! I’m Wally Darling!”
“I’m sure your neighbors would like to know who did this, but it’s nice to meet you Mr. Darling. But if you don’t mind me asking a few questions?”
“Not at all Neighbor- I mean Y/N.” He said, he looked at you. He honestly gave you the creeps. You just nodded and look at him, as you grab your pen and notebook. “So Mr. Darling. Did you know Barnaby and if so what was your relationship with him?”
“Oh yes, he was my best friend and it’s a shame that someone killed him.” He said, looking at you. Wow he couldn’t help but smile to himself. You sure would make a great neighbor. “And it’s such a shame that he was headless.”
You quickly looked at him. You didn’t tell him that his friend was headless. He quickly looked at you and smiled. “How did you know he was headless?”
“Oh while everyone was crying I was looking as your men was loading the body and I noticed that he had no head…no need to get suspicious.”
You look at him, quickly writing in your notebook, Wally looked at you. He had a creepy smile across his face. “Uh huh. Well don’t worry about your friend. I’ll get to the bottom of this. But for now have a nice day. Mr. Darling.”
“Oh call me Wally…” He said. “You’ll need to get used to it since you’ll be my new favorite neighbor.” But that last part was him mumbling to himself.
“I’ll see you around Mr. Darling.” And with that you just walked away leaving him alone. As you were walking around you came across a build. It was called Howdy’s place. You decided to go in and look for the owner.
Soon after you came across a Tall man. He had four arms and four legs. “Hello Mister, could I ask you a few questions?” You said.
He looked at you and just nodded. “You must be that detective. I must thank you for doing this, this means a lot to the other neighbors.”
“Glad to hear. I’m Y/N L/N.”
“And I’m Howdy. How can I be in service for you?”
He lead you to a back room, where you two could be alone. “I wanted to ask you, what was your relationship between Barnaby?”
Howdy looked down and sighed. “He was a good friend of mine, he would always help me out around here. Like for example he would help me with the heavy lifting and also help me with stocking items.”
You just nodded, and wrote on your notebook. About 45 minutes have passed by and you kept on asking him questions and he politely answered them. “I just have one final question for you Mr. Howdy Sir. By any chance did you see how the body looked like?”
“I did not.” He said.
“Could you identify his body when he was under the blanket?”
He just shook his head, telling you he saw nothing. He was confused but didn’t ask why. “Okay thank you very much, I appreciate your time.” As he lead you out of the back room and back to the front.
“Of course anytime! And here please take this.” He handed you a few fruits. “I know this hard work and you could use this. It’s on the house.” You smile and take them. Thanking him, and then you walked off. This was going to be a long day for you.
You spent all day walking around the neighborhood, and asking the other neighbors questions about Barnaby. And everyone seemed to have the same answers. Everyone seemed to tell you that he was a good friend. Also everyone seemed kinda nervous, I mean I wouldn’t blame them. A friend of theirs was killed. But was odd was that you asked everyone the same question. “If they could identify his body. Even under the blanket.” And everyone told you no. Wally was the only one who told you that he was headless.
Was he really that stupid that he threw himself under the bus? You needed to have a talk with him. As you walk towards the final house which you assume was his you couldn’t help but jump slightly as you notice the house having eyes. Yup that’s a red flag.
You knock the door “Open up Mr. Darling I need to ask you some more questions.”
The door slowly opened and there he stood . He was smiling at you. “Hello again! Is there something I can do for you.”
“I would like to ask you more questions Sir.”
Wally just smiled and giggled, he stepped to the side. “Please come in.” He said. You narrow your eyes. You walk in and look at him. “I’ll get you something to drink please wait here.”
“Wait no-.” You say, but he was gone. He left, leaving you alone. You sigh and sat down on a color couch, your nose slightly scrunched up as you were getting an odd smell. Looking around the room so see what it was but didn’t find anything until your eyes laid on the couch you were sitting on early.
A blue patch? With spots? That looks awfully familiar… wait Barnaby?! You have to be kidding me? This sick fuck made his best friend into furniture.
“Oh I see that your admiring my little couch, isn’t cute? My Best Friend Barnaby helped me make it.” Hearing giggling behind you. Wally looked at you, his pupils getting bigger.
You quickly turned around and saw Wally standing there holding a glass of water? As you were about to pull up your gun Wally quickly dropped the cup, and ran towards you. His speed was scary fast. He grabbed your wrist quite hard. “Oh no no we wouldn’t do that…unless you want to end up like Barnaby.”
“You sick fuck! Let go of me!” You say, as you struggle against his grip. He just smiled and shook his head.
“Please don’t do anything you’ll regret. I mean look at what happened to Barnaby. I’ll miss him he was my best friend! Oh well…” Wally began saying, as he smiled even more. His grip tighten against your wrist even more making you whimper. “You’ll be my new best friend!”
“Why would you kill your best friend you sick freak.” You say, and shook your head at what he said. You didn’t want a psychopath as a friend. “And I’m not going to be your best friend..you’re crazy!”
Wally just chuckled as he looked at you. He couldn’t but admire you. Not only you’re going to be his new best friend you might as well be his new lover!! He does get lonely. “Why I killed him? Well it’s simple! He was getting out of place, he found out something that I was keeping hiding and I didn’t want the word to spread. So I had to do the only thing I could.” He said, as he let go of you giving you a warning look. “But on the bright side is that I got a cool looking couch!”
You just stood there, should you even reach out for your gun again. As you just stood there thinking all of the sudden Wally was laughing.
“Oh you won’t be needing this!” He said, holding up your gun. Wait!? How did he even get that! “Don’t ask questions, I’ll make you regret it new neighbor.”
“New Neighbor?” You asked, looking at him confused. He just giggled at your reaction.
“Don’t be silly! You’re going to be my new Neighbor! I mean there is a house that no one lives in…anymore.” He said, he held onto the gun still and he started to walk towards you. You started to back up, you backed up until your back hit a wall.
“You’ll make a prefect addition to the neighborhood!” He said, he was standing in front of you. “But first I need to fix you.” And with that you blacked out. Wally brought the gun up and smacked you across the head.
He let out a small sigh. Throwing the gun across the room. He picked you up and smiled.
“Don’t worry new neighbor! I’ll fix you! I’ll fix you so you can fit into my neighborhood!”
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hand-me-downs
Irey West. Wally West. Bart Allen.
morning routines. breakfast. vintage clothing.
1408 words.
(ao3.)
It was a truth universally acknowledged that mornings at the West-Park household were never anything but hectic — whether the chaos stemmed from a slept-through alarm or from someone wanting extra time in the bathroom.
Speaking of which, Irey West found it particularly hard to finish brushing her hair while her brother knocked on the bathroom door. Judging by the heavy sound of each knock, she guessed that he had utilized the trusty lacrosse stick left on the clutter in the hallway.
Which was strange, because no one in the house actually played lacrosse.
“Irey, no fair!” came Jai’s voice from behind the locked door. “You can’t hog the bathroom every morning!”
Irey rolled her eyes as she proceeded to tie her hair into a ponytail.
Soon enough, the rampant knocking stopped and Irey heard her father’s voice from behind the door.
“Hey, buddy! Come on, help us make breakfast.”
Irey chuckled before finishing her routine and leaving the bathroom. After heading down the stairs she came to the kitchen to see her mother, father, and a very annoyed Jai working in the kitchen.
Wally was in the midst of cooking several speedster-sized servings of eggs and bacon at the stove, Linda was packing turkey sandwiches into two separate lunch boxes, and Jai was buttering toast while giving his sister a death glare.
As per usual, Irey walked up to her father at the stove and began helping with the scrambled eggs. Even at the tender age of thirteen, she was getting quite good getting the texture just right.
“Why do you always take so long, Irey?” Jai asked, annoyed. “I don’t get it, you never did that before.”
“You’d get it if Tracey Jenkins started spreading rumors about you,” Irey replied as she stirred the eggs with a rubber spatula.
With a slight frown on her face, Irey wondered which one of her classmate’s past insults had hurt the most. The time she asked if the West-Park family owned a bar of soap? Or the time Tracey joked that Irey had to share a toothbrush with her brother?
Her teacher moving her seat to the back of the class helped, but it couldn’t prevent Irey from seeing Tracey in the hallways. It didn’t help that their lockers were inconveniently close to each other.
“Is she still bothering you?” asked Linda from the other side of the kitchen. “I thought we talked to her parents already.”
“It’s fine, Mom, Tracey’s just being a big stupid bit—” Irey started, then suddenly stopped. She looked to the side and met her father’s gaze.
Wally looked comically intrigued as he anticipated how his daughter would end her sentence.
“I mean, she’s not being nice,” Irey soon corrected, which caused her father to smile, amused.
“Good save.”
After a few moments of synchronized egg scrambling, bacon frying, toast buttering, and turkey sandwich packing, the back door leading into the kitchen opened. As per usual, Bart Allen entered the West-Park household with his backpack slung over his shoulder and his smile exuding the energy of a beagle who just found a bone buried in the backyard.
“Good morning, y’all!”
Ever since Bart started doing drop-offs, Irey wondered if she should start playing sitcom music every time he came by the house. At the same time, she also wondered if the nights she spent watching reruns of That’s So Raven with her father were starting to affect how she viewed the world.
“Morning!” greeted Linda as she slipped a third turkey sandwich into her son’s lunchbox. “Can you help Jai butter toast?”
Bart shrugged, but managed to do what he was told. He slipped off his backpack and quickly rummaged through it, pulling out what looked to be a pillowcase containing a few items. He then tapped Irey on the shoulder and handed her the sack.
“Yo, Baby Red, Jesse told me to give these to you.”
After quickly plating the scrambled eggs, Irey turned off the stove and turned around to accept the pillowcase. Despite seeing Bart hand a similar bag to Jai last week, opening the case to see various articles of clothing had caught her by surprise.
“More hand-me-downs?”
“Yeah, she visited her mother’s last week and found ‘em in storage,” Bart explained as he walked up to Jai. “She thought you’d like them.”
“Now that’s super nice of her,” said Wally, gently nudging his daughter. “What do you say, Irey?”
Now slightly distracted, Irey went to the kitchen island and sat on one of the stools. She rummaged through the clothes, most of which seemed to be old t-shirts and a few plaid button-fronts. Irey could even recall seeing the old striped Mets jersey in the photographs framed in Aunt Jesse’s house.
Some of the clothes seemed to be in Irey’s size while others weren’t — one of which seemed to be a light blue denim jacket hidden at the bottom of the sack. At the rate Irey was growing, it would be about two or three years before she actually could actually wear it.
“Thank you,” Irey said plainly, keeping her eyes on the worn jacket.
As Bart buttered toast, he looked to his little ginger cousin and was immediately able to read between the lines (which for him wasn’t usually that easy).
“You don’t like ‘em,” Bart immediately deduced.
Irey was quick to shake her head. “No, no! They’re nice!”
She tried her best to shake the image currently trapped in her head — one that depicted Tracey Jenkins laughing at how Irey dressed as well as she could brush her hair. Irey didn’t know what to do if said image ever became a reality, as she certainly didn’t want to be punished for throwing Tracey’s pencil case out the window for a third time.
“Is that little mouthy kid giving you shit again?” asked Bart, which earned a slight glare from Linda. “Want me to talk to her for ya?”
For comical effect, he put down the bread and butter and cracked the knuckles on his hand. It would have been intimidating had it come from anyone but the gangly, mop-headed teenager who walked into a glass door last week. At least Jai got a good laugh out of it.
“Yes, Bart, we’d love for you to throw hands with a thirteen-year-old,” Wally chimed in with his signature snark. After finishing the bacon, he walked to the island and placed the food on a platter.
He then put a gentle hand on his daughter’s shoulder and said — “Honey, listen — if Tracey Jenkins keeps bothering you then we’ll just talk with her parents again, okay?”
Irey took in a breath, but nodded along. “Okay.”
Eventually, Linda finished filling her childrens’ lunchboxes and approached the kitchen island.
“Yes, and in the meantime how about we wash these tonight and send you to school tomorrow looking nice?” she offered, affectionately ruffling Irey’s hair.
Irey took in a few breaths as she put the clothes back in the sack. The sense of unease was still present inside of her, collecting in her stomach like a kind of sickness she couldn’t put a name to. But somehow, the feeling of her father’s kind touch and the sight of her mother’s warm gaze told her that everything would be fine.
“Alright,” Irey decided, then put the bag of clothes aside. “Thank you.”
Wally pressed a quick kiss to his daughter’s cheek, something she reacted to with a plain, unbothered expression. She was fairly used to the gesture by now, but deep down it still meant the world to her.
“Great, now let’s eat,” said the patriarch of the West-Park household.
And with that said, Jai and Bart brought the plate of buttered toast to the table and joined the other three. As per usual, the family fell into their usual roles during breakfast — Linda drizzled hot sauce onto her eggs, Jai cut his toast into perfectly proportioned triangles, Irey poured herself some orange juice, and Wally smacked Bart’s hand to prevent the teenager from wolfing down the bacon too soon.
As everyone enjoyed their breakfast, Irey noticed her mother peering into the pillowcase of hand-me-downs left sitting on one of the chairs.
“Hey, Jai, don’t you wanna take a look in here?” asked Linda.
Jai focused only on his triangular toast and shook his head. “I’ll pass, Aunt Jesse dresses like shit.”
And to that, Irey nearly spat out her orange juice and stifled a laugh.
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Two part 1
“As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn’t your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term.”
So, you can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing.”
“Idea,” Nora says. “Let’s make it a drinking game.”
“Ooh, yes,” June agrees “Drink every time Alex gets one right?”
“Drink every time the answer makes you want to puke?” Alex suggests.
“One drink for a correct answer, two drinks for a Prince Henry fact that is legitimately, objectively awful,” Nora says.
Alex picks up his own glass, already pulling up a mental image of Henry’s parents, Catherine’s shrewd blue eyes and Arthur’s movie-star jaw.
“Mother: Princess Catherine, oldest daughter of Queen Mary, first princess to obtain a doctorate—English literature,” he rattles off. “Father: Arthur Fox, beloved English film and stage actor best known for his turn as James Bond in the eighties, deceased 2015. Y’all drink.”
“Okay,” June says, scanning the list, apparently looking for something more challenging. “Let’s see. Dog’s name?”
“David,” Alex says. “He’s a beagle. I remember because, like, who does that? Who names a dog David? He sounds like a tax attorney. Like a dog tax attorney. Drink.”
“Hey, what do you think Zahra put on my fact sheet?”
“Hmm,” Nora says, sucking her teeth. “Favorite summer Olympic sport: rhythmic gymnastics—”
“I’m not ashamed of that.”
“Favorite brand of khakis: Gap.”
“Listen, they look best on my ass. The J. Crew ones wrinkle all weird. And they’re not khakis, they’re chinos. Khakis are for white people.”
“Allergies: dust, Tide laundry detergent, and shutting the fuck up.”
“Age of first filibuster: nine, at SeaWorld San Antonio, trying to force an orca wrangler into early retirement for, quote, ‘inhumane whale practices.’”
“I stood by it then, and I stand by it now.”
#sturmhond reads#history huh? bet we could make some (book)#cornbread knows what i have done (book)#red white and royal blue#man was absolutely bodied by his own mother#alex claremont diaz is just like me frfr
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Things I Think About, Vol. 9
This is part two from yesterday, because I still love y’all. This time, the goal is Kiku’s outlook...on the rest of the Kozuki Clan. But not the easy, surface ones. No no. In vino, veritas. We’re talking the real tea you’d only get out of a Kiku drunk, up past her bedtime, and in a crabby mood wanting to air some grievances. No...I’m not thinking of an upcoming moment in our Seafloor Sidestory at all...
Kin’emon: "It should not cause such commotion that this one accidentally addresses you as father on occasion. It only happened like, three times...this week and you basically are anyways. I know it, you know it, this one saw the silly 4-koma Kanjuro made about it each of you thought was hilarious. Just admit it ya deadbeat.”
Denjiro: “It is preposterous to act as if one can own a hairstyle. The ponytail looks way better on me anyways. This one is not a copycat, nor does she care what you say either. The cheaper shirataki at the market does not taste the same. You don’t even eat it, how would you know?”
Kanjuro: “There are plenty of other members of our clan you may ask to borrow makeup from, while we’re on the subject this one does not trust you around anything that goes near my hair. You know this one uses the same expensive lipstick Lady Toki prefers as well as how long it has been since Oden paid us anything for our service.”
Raizo: “I know you said I’m the last one of this group who should be giving you love advice...and the fact you thought that is the best example of your problem there I could ever give.”
Doji: “Your poetry is so good! Why won’t you share your precious gifts with the world? Did this one spend so many of my golden years teaching you to write only for you to squander such an innate talent!? ”
Inuarashi: “That this one could ever be described as having a stick up her ass in your presence is nothing short of blatant misogyny. The sheer double standard! And how can you call yourself a samurai without an epithet? Have you found a better suggestion than this one’s of Regal Beagle?”
Nekomamushi: See, this actually can’t happen if Neko’s with them. He just pulls out his pipe and heads off the impending hissyfit, which shortcuts us to our inevitable conclusion either way. And yes, he has on occasion deliberately been late solely to hear her tee off on Inu.
Kawamatsu: No one has ever had a grievance with Kawamatsu. The concept doesn’t compute. At the end of her tirade, Kiku falls asleep on him mumbling something about one of the good ones. He lets out a huge sigh and carries her off to bed. Then comes back halfway through a joint pilfered from Neko’s stash and tells the rest “Not a word tomorrow, at some point the rest of you are going to listen. We do this at home, of course she joins in, tries to keep up at a third of our weight, and it always ends like this. We go to the bar in Bakura...all you have to do is say we’re having a guy’s night and she skips off to go knit with Toki. This is why we don’t invite her or Tsuru either, right? Kiku was flattered enough when I did that last time she made breakfast when we got back! Breakfast, or pain? Why is this not an easy choice?” Then he goes and sulks in a pond for a while.
Not to say knitting with Toki doesn’t involve a bottle of wine, but she gets juuust the right pace to get Kiku to admit to 10-12 things Oden’s been hiding. Naturally Tsuru discovered this development and has taken to doing the same. Shino-chan? Parties way too hard. Kiku’s too innocent for that part of town.
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Unicorn Ride (m)
“What do men know? Because they have seen no unicorns for a while does not mean we have all vanished.” – Peter S. Beagle
➺ Banner: The amazingly talented @kithtaehyung ❤️
➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader
➺ Trope: Strangers to ??, PWP, Non-Idol!AU
➺ Genre: Smut
➺ Rating: +18
➺ Word Count: 8.8k
➺ Summary: Hunting men down at a club is inviting disappointment with open arms. But tonight, your body has been twisted, turned and bent on every possible surface, and you might be willing to reconsider.
➺ Warnings: alcohol, dom!jimin, bratty!Y/N, a very desperate Y/N, making out, biting, light exhibitionism, elevator oral (female), fingering, Y/N tastes herself, some dirty talk, Y/N could have flashed someone at one point, degradation, spanking, Y/N grinds on a knee, Jimin has his tattoo, blowjob, one pussy slap somewhere, throat fucking, spitting, anal fingering, begging, edging, protected sex, rough sex
➺ Author’s Note: It’s here! The reason for my nightmare, THIS PARK JIMIN! This is purely self-indulgent, it has no plot, I wrote the dialogues half asleep, it’s 8000 words of mess in bold and highlight. Thank you to my betas: @taegularities, who not only betaed this but listened to me complain about my writing for weeks, @kithtaehyung, who is always ready to beta and make banners for me whenever I need, even though her plate is more than full with her own work, and @bangtanhome, who jumped by to help me with many details and hyped me up like nobody’s business - I love y’all! Fic starts under the cut, because we’re filthy from the get-go.
This fic is dedicated to @mimikookie for BTS Writers Club’s fic exchange - Bambi, love, cutie, sweetie pie - I hope you enjoy this!! 💛
As always, please let me know what you thought of the fic, my messages and ask box are always open for comments!
ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
When you stepped into the hotel bar tonight, your aim was to take a mediocre dressed man back home, to use his mediocre working dick to get to a mediocre impact orgasm.
With the sex gods looking out for your deprived soul, you got yourself a classy, impeccably dressed man, with the features of an angel and a tongue of the devil digging deep into your cunt in this elevator, when your rooms could be fifteen steps away; if you ever thought to get out, that is. You couldn’t even wait to get to the safety of your room, the panels of this ornate elevator ask you, mock you, taunt you; but your brain cells refuse to find an answer, shutting off to fully experience the wreckage his mouth is leaving behind.
With your heels in hand, you haul your ass across the hotel lobby, naked feet thwacking against the marble floor. Not one man in the club downtown had the IQ of two peas, studded with the inability to hold a tolerable conversation; the star of this glimmering night being the man who leered “I’d like to push your buttons” while staring down your chest. You need dick, badly, if you may add; but it’s a constant fight between your pussy and your standards. And now here you are, filled with dignity instead of cock.
Your feet lead you to the long row of elevators, and you press the button to summon one to finally haul your ass to bed. But a twinge in you tells you to check the hotel bar; maybe you'll get lucky and find a man to slip your room number to, movie style. Well, let's be real, it's more likely for you to find a fifty-year-old CEO with no qualms on cheating on his wife and fructose fathering your existence, but your blue-balled self will take it. So you turn around, and determinedly march towards the bar, intent on not letting your dignity win the war.
Empty. Well, except for one couple in the corner of the bar seating, who look exceptionally wasted and hitting a base that's far gone from first. Oh well, at least someone is getting it on, you sigh before seating yourself on the barstool. You're here, might as well exploit the bar.
"What's a unicorn margarita?" you ask the bartender. Fuck, even this bartender doesn't look interested. What's the point of a bartender if he's not down to fuck?!
"Tequila, cointreau, lemon and some blueberry syrup," he rattles off from memory, showing no hint of any emotion, making it difficult for you to gauge the side of the spectrum this drink lies in.
You're about to change your order - fuck, if you lead your day further down the dumps - but your response never leaves the confines of your throat as a new member joins your little bar party.
Tinted glasses are what you first see. Who pulls off such glasses anyway? Indoors too? Only this stranger. His suit looks like it was stitched right over his body, not a single extra patch of fabric to mar the stunner outfit with unwanted creases. The only wanted crease you can tell is at his buttoned blazer, cinching to spotlight his svelte waist visible through all the layers.
He struts in, every step he takes echoing a clack across this dreary bar, and every sound straightens your spine further and further in sheer anticipation to see him up close. Shoulders swinging, he walks in like he knows he owns the world, and that you don't know about; he definitely owns a couple of things in you.
His hair, a whole crime. Streaks of pink and purple streaming through his lush platinum tufts, refusing to fall out of place even as he drags his fingers through them and brushes them behind, and you're almost ready to drool and bark at him like a ravenous dog; but he does the sin of meeting your eyes - a questioning glance, slated eyes and raised eyebrows.
God, that's a seat for your face.
"Hello? Ma'am? You want the unicorn margarita?"
"Uhm, yea-yeah, sure." And you move your eyes back to the cotton candy across the bar.
Apart from your neurons not firing off and the general state of mind where you would say yes to close to anything for this man, you're curious to see what this bar could do to make or break the classic drink. One sip in, you can tell it's the latter; the blueberry syrup added for color has a sickening sweetness you can’t digest.
Across the bar, you see him holding the same multicolored drink in hand, his pretty face scrunched up in distaste as he mirrors your feelings. Your eyes meet, and he smiles when he sees your glass.
“A mistake if I ever made one,” he calls out to you, and you grin in reply. Fuck it, even if you can't get laid, you definitely can't make it through this drink alone. Stepping off of your bar stool, you make your way to him.
“Are you looking for some company? Preferably people drowning in similar miseries?”
“Aren’t you dramatic,” he welcomes you with that godsend voice of his, as you take your throne beside this gorgeous specimen. As he sips that cursed drink, his beautiful face crinkles once again in anguish. “You know what? I take that back. Hundred percent valid, your thoughts.” You laugh out loud as you gulp your drink down in one go, not wanting to elongate your time spent with the pitiful excuse of a cocktail.
“Jimin," he begins to offer his introduction, "I buy drinks to match my hair. What’s your excuse?”
"Y/N. I have a pitiful amount of faith in barmen even though they always disappoint me."
"Ooh, are we still talking drinks here?"
Success. You’ve brought sex to the table, and with some luck and the right play, you could be having sex on a table. You cock your head to the side in question, and your flirtatiously raised eyebrow cues him into your understanding.
"Of course," you flutter your eyelashes in a show of innocence, "what else could it possibly be?"
He shakes his head, your eyes dripping with a saccharine glow for someone with a dirty mouth. With another sip of the dastardly drink, he asks, “So what brings you to town?”
“Just here and there,” you shrug, not wanting to talk shop, “vacationing and stuff.” You raise your hand to beckon the bartender, who begrudgingly paces towards your side of the counter. “A bourbon on the rocks, please,” you throw him a glance, “would you like a repeat of that?” you mock.
“Oh no.” Jimin downs the glass, trying to keep his reaction to a minimum lest he offended the bartender, “the same will do for me as well.”
“Ohh, a bourbon guy, a man after my own heart,” you praise his choice of poison, clinking your new and drinkable glass of liquor with his own. He gives you a raised eyebrow in response before swallowing his shot down in one gulp, and fuck. When was the last time you found the bob of an Adam’s Apple hot? When did a sideways glance have your panties in a bunch? You push the thought away, not wanting to reminisce about your recent lack of adventure, and tip your glass down in one go. The crisp, cold liquid glides down your throat, the sting of bourbon cleansing your palate, ridding your tastebuds of the horrendous sugariness.
“So, vacationing, you said.” Arched eyebrows curtain his curious eyes, glancing down to soak up your dress of the night, sequined lace that hugs your thighs far too high up - your fishnet stockings not covering much of what’s exposed - posing a guileless question, “Having fun then?”
You cross your legs, for no good reason other than to ensure the shift in your hemline caused by the movement catches his fancy, and to your glee, it does. You bask in his anchored attention before adjusting your dress again, leaving the skin he could possibly see to his astir imagination.
“I wish. Haven’t had my fill,” you match his gaze when they meet, keeping them steady save for his occasional flit across to admire your curves. You beckon for the bartender to ask for a refill before presenting your own question. “What about you? What brings you here?”
“Let’s just pretend I’m here on a super-secret James Bond-esque mission because the reality is fucking depressing.”
A soft, sonorous giggle, very unlike his suave, sleek disposition bursts out of his delicate lips, catching your own laugh in surprise - he laughs without heed, without worrying about how loud or how soft he is - his refreshing aura rumbles forth a second roll of laughter within you, just to keep up with his endless sniggers.
“Why not,” you wipe a small tear droplet from the corner of your eye, “and I can be the sexy villain, one who seduces you in the first part, just to-” you hold your forefinger and middle finger out, curling the rest inward and point your makeshift gun at him, “-to hold a gun to your head in the immediate next scene.”
He’s still smiling at you, soft features clearly enjoying your silly company, as he slyly wraps his hand around your jutted fingers, tugging your gun closer. “I mean, we have to try and stick to the script,” he says, voice lowering in decibel with each word uttered, the cherubic smile slowly fading into something sinister, “you have to give me some action before we - you know - literally jump the gun.”
“Of course, a Bond movie needs some action.”
“I hope we’re talking about the same action here.”
He gives you a cheeky wink after the statement, one that you return with an earnest blush - blush? Weren’t you ready to gobble dick in public mere moments ago? Weren’t you all but willing to be fucked into the counter till every floor is made aware of your sordid quest? The heat warming up your cheeks goes completely against your motive; you need to drink the decorum out of you.
You try to release your hand from his - surprisingly strong and surprisingly soft - grip, turning to the bartender to ask for a refill, when the grip on your hand pulls you closer to its direction, and you’re a hair’s breadth away from touching noses. “Are you sure you wanna do that?”
“Get another drink?” you attempt to clarify, trying to ignore the thudding of your heart, “Worried I can’t handle myself?”
“I’m worried you can’t handle me.”
Fuck. Why does he have to say the perfect things to make you flood your pussy, and with such nonchalance like it’s a casual Tuesday for him? You’ve had men talk like you were their accountant, their underling, or both - a blase lack of effort or lack of respect evident in their voices. But Jimin is the best of both worlds (copyright queen Miley), there’s a hardened edge to his tone, without simply assuming your complicity - respect hidden within the raggedness. How complex is this man, and how far will you bend for him?
Only time will tell.
Hopefully, time will tell.
“I’m a big girl, I can handle it. Besides, at the pace we’re going, it seems like it’ll be long before any action takes place.”
Your hands drag free of his hold to ask for another hit, but a sound makes you stop. His glass, now rid of the dark brown liquid, meets the bar counter with a loud clink, louder than the earlier ones. Each remaining ice cube rings against each other, and the bells in your head awaken in anticipation of some movement to this slowly progressing scene. Sliding off the barstool in some smooth motion, he buttons his suit up before stretching his hand out to you. You meet his eyes, now veiled with drapes of lust and affection instead of his glasses, and you’re happy to uncurtain those and find what truly hides behind.
“Which floor are you on?” he poses the question, a precursor to the long-awaited ask of the night.
“Depends. Which one are you on?”
"Oh-oh Jimin!"
Your head is thrown back, hitting the wall of the elevator in a sonorant thud, but the pain doesn't even register. It feels like the elevator cords could snap and throw the both of you into the abyss and still, Jimin wouldn't stop licking the syrups you're churning out, and you couldn't have any feeling come in between you and the long wished for pleasure that runs through your body.
“Keep them spread, don’t you try to close them on me.”
With not a care in the world, Jimin had dropped to his knees (after pushing you to the corner, quite literally), and immediately settled between your legs. His suit looks expensive - Armani? Gucci? All you can say he’s eating you out like Dolce ate Gabbana. Your stockings, followed by the strip of cloth protecting your modesty were torn in heat of the moment, the scrapped bunch thrown to one corner of this elevator - the fabric skillfully being replaced by the strip of his tongue. The view of his multicolored hair between your legs, the bright, vivid ribbons adorning his soft blonde locks as they find residence between your legs stirs fractious excitement within your fragile heart.
“Look at that, are your knees about to give out?” Jimin’s soft murmurs reach your ear, but never make it to your brain, focus completely elsewhere. He smiles lightly, continuing his torment, speaking against your nether lips, “I am not against laying you flat right here and taking you whole.”
“I-” You don’t have words to say, and even if you did, your throat would refuse to comply with any movement that is not a moan. What you do though, is lodge your hands in his hair to attempt to control him. Attempt would be a strong word, because he seems to know your body better than your own junky fingers. You raise your left leg to bring it around his neck, eliciting a sly smile that you can feel on your nether lips. Snaking an arm around your hip, he pulls you into him, as if there is any distance to close.
“Seems like you aren’t either,” Jimin chuckles, his sultry voice crackling in the confines of the elevator, “your mess is dripping down baby, it’s so sexy.” He drags the flat of his tongue from your thighs, collecting your arousal, bringing it up to press against your clit, feeling it palpitate as all your blood wheels itself downstairs. “Tell me,” he coos, “how do you like the idea of fucking me right here?”
“Aah! Fu-” is all he hears because he starts sucking your nub, and a very-frazzled you slam your palms on the rows of buttons in the panel, setting the elevator in motion.
“Jimin, wait-” With short, quick pants, you try to look back at the panel, trying to see how you can get the elevator back to your original destination, but Jimin isn’t happy with your attention faltering towards him.
“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you playfully, but his racy fingers trace a line right from your ankle, moving upward, completely differing his honey-voice, “What’s got you worried? Afraid someone will see you? Like this?”
His 'this' was not simple. The 'this' was punctuated by two thick fingers entering your dripping hole, not to mention his cheeky thumb finding your clit to torture it even more. With all the bases covered down here, Jimin’s lips move up, his free hand searching for your nipples as his lips search for answers to unsaid questions in the nook of your neck.
“Will you step away,” his whisper jolts your mind, “if the doors open?” He sucks in your skin, harder, almost telling you there’s no way he’s letting you move away. But the clench of your walls, the slick dribbling down his fingers, they tell a different tale. Your hardening nipple under your dress, your fervid whimpers, and your head moving to give him more access don’t rock your pictorial boat. A weak “no” glides by between your wails and mewls, and Jimin’s pleasure with your answer shows. His thumb resting on your clit starts making a move, and together with his digits inside you, your eyes might as well roll back into your skull because this has to be demonic. Your orgasm is crashing right around the corner, and you-
Ding!
To your absolute horror, the elevator doors open your show to the public i.e., an old couple looking forward to entering, taking a step or two inside before you can hear the gasp of shock, disgust, and embarrassment all rolled up in one, at your - umm - compromised state of affairs.
“Jimin!”
You peek over his shoulder to see the scarred souls; they still haven’t moved away from the astonishing scene, and it is uneasy, your pussy is gushing at the thought of having an audience for your debauchery. You mutter a quiet ‘sorry’ to the traumatized couple before shifting your focus back to the man of the hour, who seems not the least bit perturbed by the happenings. His fingers are still lodged inside, looking still on the outside, but curling inside to stimulate her g-spot, and your eyes could be looking behind if they could roll that far.
“What do you want me to do?” could have been a very innocent question from a very concerned individual. Jimin was no such man. The sneer in his whispered voice was registered by you as he registered the ever-growing waterfall you are releasing onto his hand. Lips curved to the right, he sees your fucked out state, soaking in your teetering-at-the-brink-of-orgasm glow. “Want me to move, let them see how fucked out my tongue got you?”
Your hand shoots out to grab his collar as the elevator dings back shut, and you pull him close, pushing yourself back onto his fingers, - only to have your lips consumed by his own, with a force mimicked by his digits plunging deeper into your cunt. His tongue pushes its way into your cave, awakening your own muscle with its moves, and relocating it to his own mouth where he sucks it away like nectar from a honey hive.
Jimin’s response to your voracity is “Maybe I’ll invite the next people to join, you seem to like that.”
You let out an irritated huff, face heated up in an embarrassing glow whilst trying to find a spot on his neck to latch onto. One night (one that has barely begun) and you’re already rediscovering yourself.
“Stop awakening latent kinks in me, I need to get back to normal men.”
His fingers card through your tresses until they reach your scalp, tugging you off his neck to look right into your eyes. From your peripheral vision, the glow of his lips, coated in a shiny sheen of your arousal and saliva glistens under the lighting, and you dart forth to clean that up for him but he stalls.
Seeing your fucked out state, Jimin chuckles, "Fuck, you’re clenching so hard baby, so good."
So cocky.
You might love him.
Instead of saying something embarrassing, you force him closer, joining lips before snapping back, "Oh, I’m good. I’d be great if you actually made me come."
The creases on his forehead show that he's not one to back down from a challenge. You jolt up, practically balancing yourself on the balls of your feet, as both the elevator starts moving to a new destination, and his fingers start moving deeper, massaging and curling inward, letting the base of his palm apply generous pressure on your clit. Heated breath embraces your skin as he snickers into your ear, “Make you? From the looks of it,” accompanied by another harsh pump, “I can make you do just about anything.”
The gall this man has, to go around stating complete facts. With his hand just about ready to touch the sky, he reaches deep within you, three thick digits performing a graceful dance on the slippery stage of your pussy walls, when he grabs your lower lip between his teeth. Your response is felt, hard, as you clench around the intrusion, and he digs his teeth in, harder. The elevator beeps open on a new floor, but you are unbothered by whether you invite a new audience or not. If they come in, hopefully, they enjoy it as much as you do. Probably not.
“Tall words,” is what tries to leave your mouth, but your entire body squirming under his attention swallows any chutzpah your words could have conveyed. His sturdy fingers touch all the right points, from his thumb soothing your engorged nub, to his digits ensconced in your warmth curling into the patch that is making your head hit the walls for the nineteenth time today. His lazy lips suck, bite and pinch any skin they find, tracing your jawline with his spittle, and you’ve never been this turned on, so keyed up, this stimulated from all ends, that you can’t control the cascading orgasm gushing through you.
Your body feels like rubber, still reeling from the effects - your climax feels endless, like an onslaught that refuses to end. From what, just fingering? Only when Jimin kisses your cheek, in adoration almost, and plucks his digits out of you, do you truly return from your high to plant your feet on planet Earth.
Your hand is still digging into his tie, which is crumpled beyond recognition - and you pull him into you. Your lips fit again, like they always knew how to, not a string of awkwardness, shifting of positions, or adjustments of angles - it just fits right. Jimin breaks contact, much to your pique, until he brings his sullied fingers to fill in in his lips’ stead; your eyes shut at the taste you were unprepared for, moaning loudly to convey your approval of his ideas.
“I love a woman who can enjoy herself,” Jimin mutters in marvel, smearing the leftover juices on his fingers onto your lips. “Love that you don’t quiet down.” When you dart your tongue out to taste the rest, his fingers block your way, only to whisper “Allow me,” before diving in to taste your arousal intermingled with your saliva. It is intoxicating, every move of his awakening a new cell of lechery you didn’t know you had in you.
You do exactly as he desired, you’re loud and messy. Open-mouthed kisses and intense, throaty moans to respond to every right thing he does, which is basically everything; your tongues meld together to taste whatever the other did, and your hands move messily across his whole body, trying to feel him through the multiple layers of cloth he adorns. The only part you can feel is his hardened cock, stiff and unrelenting; your palms come down to his ass and push him to you, grinding his cock against your wet core. If you caught him by surprise, he doesn’t show it, still fully lost in making out with you. You are caught unaware though, his taut butt cheeks are not what you had expected. Plump, cushy, a handful to grab - what a marvel of science he is.
"I believe I have a favor to return," you offer when both your lips retire for a breather.
"It was wholly my pleasure, but seeing as you're eager, I won't say no," Jimin says, before diving into your lips again.
If it wasn't enough to scar that poor old couple who witnessed your sordid conditions back then, you effectively scar Jimin's entire floor.
With great difficulty you both detach yourselves, only to get back to each other like the strongest magnets known to man. It was a tug of war; who was tugging who, where, what, none of it made sense. Jimin tugged you towards his room while you simply tried to pull him closer to yourself. Your lips would have been away a total of two seconds, in the minute-long walk it would have taken to get to his room.
Frustrated halfway, Jimin pushes you against a wall, one hand still wet from your orgasm coming up to grab your chin as he speaks practically into your mouth.
"What a feisty bitch," he breathes out as you dig in harder, both with your palms in his hair and your crotch on his leg, "Let me get you to the fucking room."
"I don't know, you've awoken something in me," you snap back as you attack his blemished neck, "I don't mind the corridor as long as you put on a good show."
"Oh, you can count on me for that, but-" he grabs your wandering hands, crosses them behind your waist to hold you in place, only to have you wrap your leg around him and pull him closer.
Undeterred, he twirls you around, and you are shoved into the wall chest-first and he presses into your ass. Through his taut pants, you can feel his cock again, and the pressure of your cheeks makes him moan, and you hiss on feeling his unstinting thickness, the anticipation of feeling it stretch your walls making you salivate.
A rough smack echoes in the empty aisles, and a second later you feel it sting on your ass. Bringing his hand back to your chin, he turns your face to the left, planting your cheek against the wall, only to get greater access to your shoulder, so he can-
"Fuck! Dude!"
It's your voice, trying to be cross with him for biting deep into your shoulder, but even he can see through your barely-there ruse, tonguing over his very prominent teeth marks that have you rutting against the wall. Just any friction at this point will get you off, and now you're not beneath grinding the whole wall just for a hint of release. Remember that woman with dignity? A figment of your imagination. She was never there.
"As I was saying," Jimin starts again, voice perfectly steady for how hard his cock is, "I'd like to fuck you into my bed if that's okay with you."
Filthy courteous. A gentlemanly freak. An oxymoron of the highest order, and you don't know who to write a check to for this blessing.
"Fine.”
“Yeah, I better take matters in my own hands,” and he does what you had anticipated, but not quite - you were expecting a bridal lift, his hands perched under your back and your knees, but he does you one better. You are now flung over, waist digging into his shoulders as his arm rests just below your dress hem. That reminds you - your dress isn’t even long enough to possibly manage this position without flashing every occupant who traverses this hall. “Talented hands, aren’t they?”
Dignity be damned.
“Oh my God, put me down!” you yell in protest, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks at this ungainly position.
Mostly, because his wandering palms still haven’t had their fill. One such sneaker slipped under the fabric to give your cheek a tight squeeze, and you squeak at the unanticipated intrusion. “What part of this is any better?” You huff as he hikes your skirt up, exposing the fleshy mounds, “Someone sees you, and you’re gonna have handcuffs slapped in an instant.”
“Maybe I can borrow them for a specific someone who-” he pauses to smack your right cheek, roughly, the quiet hours of the passage being tainted by your vulgar pursuits, “-can’t keep her hands to herself,” he finishes with another smack on the same cheek, and the sting is brutal, but only goads you further.
“Jimin, you’re revealing to be nastier than I ever thought.” Your tongue snakes out to lick your lips, which had gotten dry from either all your hydration moving downtown or the lack of kissing in the past, well, forty seconds.
From your limited vision, you can see the ninety-degree turn Jimin makes, before the shuffling and distinct sound of a door clicking open, before the scene around you changes.
“What gave it away?” Jimin snickers, flinging you over the bed, “Was it the tonguing in the elevator,” he unbuttons his coat and proceeds to take it off, “or was it the fingering out in the open?” He slowly moves to meticulously hang his coat in the closet, a very unnecessary move considering your current disposition.
“Or maybe, it’s all the things I’ve yet to do to you,” he quietly ends.
You raise yourself, balancing on your elbows as you watch him regard you, eyes tantalizing every hair on your neck as his tongue juts out to trace his upper lip, slowly. Your own eyes follow his tongue with a dizzying fixation, that beguiling muscle that shows no strain in its movement after the carnage it released onto you. It’s so alive, you can almost feel it against your cunt as they draw you into flashbacks of it snacking on your cum, muttering bawdy words of affection that would make inventors of the language shy away in shame.
The silence is too much, too arousing yet nowhere near culmination. You break it, sighing, “You’ve got to be hurting too,” as you bring your gaze to his hardness, staunch and stiff against his pants.
“I don’t know,” Jimin takes his first step towards you, “I’m a man of taste, and the night is young,” he finishes, standing at the edge of the bed, his cocky demeanor commanding you to give in, letting time tick by, because he just knows. He knows you can and will pounce.
“Well, you might be a man of taste,” you get on your knees on the bed, and catch his tie to tug him back for the umpteenth time tonight, but this time making the right decision to take a step further and remove it, ready to fling it away from sight - but he grabs it, wrapping it around your marred neck, knotting it a little too tight - you choke only slightly, but your raspy words come out undeterred, “but I’m not a woman of patience.”
“Oh, I could tell when you were ready to climb me like a tree in the corridor,” he shakes the tie knot, having you sway along, until he pushes you back on the bed.
Crawling over and hovering above your body, his knees straddle yours, until he moves his right knee between your legs to slowly push your dress up, slithering upward until the joint makes contact with your center, still dripping from your earlier climax. You shamelessly gyrate, not bothered that his dress pants now need some hushed laundry, as he undoes his cuffs while not letting his gaze move from you even for the briefest second.
The buttons on his shirt had been irking you all night, irking you enough to halt your grinding to slide yourself up and start undressing him in earnest. Jimin halts to simply stare at you, your fingertips laced in need as every button glides out and gives up on its assignment. Once you pull out his shirt and undo the last one, you look up and meet his gaze, letting your fingers graze the lone strip of exposed skin as your hand moves from his hip to his chest, and you swear you feel his skin quake under your touch.
The atmosphere between you two is electric, your line of sight could crackle under the sheer intensity - but before the air bursts into flames, you slide both your hands along his chest and under the fabric, shucking it off of his exquisite frame, and boy. His limber body, the lines of defining muscles canvassing his torso is terrorizing your pussy, and your digits flutter back to run their tips over your new finding - in thin, spindly letters a ‘NEVERMIND’ bedecked his pale skin. He watches you with a keen eye, and you can hear nothing but the stilled sound of each other’s breaths.
“Does this come with a story?” You jest, but rush to add, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me - if it’s personal or -”
Jimin’s grin interrupts your sentence, as he wraps around you with his arms in an effort to pull you closer - a stark contrast to the man a few minutes ago fully content in using his tie on you like a personalized leash.
“You’re cute,” he coos, “and no, no story. Just a reminder to not mind the worthless aspects of life.”
“Feels like there’s a lot of subtext to that.”
“Maybe. For now,” he grabs your wrist, hand dangerously close to his nipple, “it’s not a rule you need to mind.”
“Oh,” you smile, fully catching his drift but walking into that trap anyway, “what would you like me to mind?”
Your hand is pulled downward, until it settles on the generous mound that peeks under his pants - and when you clamp down on the tip over the cloth, he breathes a soft “This, please.”
“Who would have known,” you chuckle, the poise in your tone not reaching your hands as they work on ridding him of his pants, “you know how to ask for things, instead of pushing me around like a ragdoll,” and instead you push him down, landing him onto the plethora of pillows that decorate this plush bed. When you finally pull his pants down, you’re caught tongue-tied, and you might as well be fully tied, because you stop in your track when you witness what you’ve uncovered.
“Fuck.”
There’s not a part of his body that doesn’t flow into the other one like butter, but his thighs - his thighs - the angel creating Jimin sure broke a few laws, and is well on their way to hell, because those thighs did not get made in anything remotely holy. There are rocks on planet earth that are probably softer than his thighs, now flexed under your scrutiny - probably only to be beaten by his rock-hard dick.
“I might be wrong, but someone complained that the pace was too slow,” he grunts, a dangerous smirk on his perfect lips.
Wading through intense complaints from that one oversexed side of your brain, you detach your eyes from his thighs to drag it up to his face, which is now placed on his weaved fingers, regarding you with a cocky smile, the effect he has on you clear as day. You shake your head with a smile - he’s got you stupid before his dick can.
“It’s only fair,” you call out but hasten yourself, finally ridding him of his pants and boxers - and when his dick bounces out, you feel a jolt hit your cunt like lightning, and pull a short breath when it slaps against his abs - a failed attempt to complete your moot sentence and yet no voice leaves your throat. All you know is that you’re ready to face Armageddon just to catch that dick between your legs.
“Cock got your tongue?” you hear the cheeky man respond to your drooling.
You don’t answer, choosing to bend down sultrily, landing a sweet, innocent kiss onto the leaking head, pulling away to see the bare minimum strings of precum stretch, trying to pull your lips back onto his dick before snapping.
“Oh, fuck, you…” Jimin speaks to nothing, voice far too strained for it to be a real threat.
“Fuck me? Soon, baby.”
He laughs in anguish as your tongue continues to torment his volcanic dick - kitten licks barely covering the head - every brief contact you make, you can feel his thighs clench, hardening in anticipation of anything more than what you’re offering. Finally, you flatten your tongue and roll it around, and for the first time tonight, a hiss followed by a moan emanates from the man who had been tormenting you so far.
Just when you’re getting bold, a hand digs into your hair, clawing at your scalp, and the pain involuntarily throws your mouth open - an opportunity Jimin grabs with his dick, pushing into you till you’re sufficiently stuffed.
“Ah, that’s perfect. Is this what you wanted?” He shakes the fist of hair as his cock shifts around in your mouth, “To test me till I snap? To make me treat you like the ragdoll that you are?”
Even with your mouth full, you try to smirk at him - this is not a tactic you should employ with him, but when have you ever learned your lesson? Your willingness to play his game has Jimin in bliss, and you feel it when his dick twitches under the attention of your tongue. He stays there for a while, enjoying the warmth of your mouth.
“Look at that, the peace in the air when you’re not off being a mouthy slut,” he thrusts in harder, never letting the hold on your hair dwindle, “Happy? Is the whore in you satisfied? I bet not.” A harder thrust, your throat finally voicing its limits in a feeble groan, but Jimin pays heed to none, “Bet you don’t know what life is like without a cock in hand and another in your mouth.”
You mewl at his words, the obscenities only sending harder pulses to your cunt. Jimin lets go of your hair for a fleeting moment, allowing you to move if you need to - you do, but the prospect of making him come overrides any need for relief, and you stay put where he left you, dick reaching an ungodly point in your throat.
“Yeah,” he grins, a snarky smile as he continues plunging into your mouth in short, rough motions, “fucking thought so. Gonna use your throat so well, I don’t want you talking for days. A toy like you doesn’t need to run their mouth as you do - suck you fucking whore, what are you waiting for?”
You whimper, for the only reason that his girth doesn’t give you much space to suck on. Still, you hollow your cheeks out as far as you can, bobbing your head in whatever space your throat provides without alerting your gag reflex, and you hear Jimin sigh in return. The ringing pain in your jaw is making its presence known more and more with every passing second, but you refuse to give in with every breath that’s left in you.
He starts fucking your mouth in earnest, every thrust accompanied by a delectable groan on his part, and he controls the pace while you’re just left to take his assault. Rolling your eyes up, you let yourself enjoy the scene unfolding in front of you, his clenched jaw, blissed-out face, neck scattered in your earlier attacks - your vagina feels incredibly empty, and after some pumps, you tap his thigh (are they made of metal?!) to ask, plead, beg to cut to the chase.
He empties your mouth, face slightly contorted in worry, but you assuage him quickly, “You know,” your voice is barely yours anymore, sounding hoarse and scratchy, and it catches you by surprise as you bring your hand to wrap your neck with a surprised ‘o’ on your lips. Jimin laughs out loud - stop shifting personas so fast! - as you continue, “As I was saying, my pussy is wetter than my mouth,” you cock your head to the side, “if you’d like to try?”
“Oh,” his eyes turn dark, more demon than human, as an idea forms in his head and he comes on to his knees, “I can fix that.”
His hand in your hair dislodges itself, bringing itself down to the tie you don, wrapping it around his fist and tugging you closer - the tightening grip forces you to open your mouth, breathing heavily. At this diminished distance, you can see the telltale signs of his advancing orgasm, beads of sweat lining his multicolored hairline, lips bitten from his teeth digging to halt the high from taking over (although, you have to take half the blame there) - but before you can look into it further, he makes his move.
Two fat globs of spit, released with vigor, land plumb on your eager tongue, and you can taste him again, taste his sweetness with a hint of your own, and you want to savor the taste - but you wait for his order.
“Now that’s perfect, isn’t it?” He gives you a snarky grin before pushing you down, impaling your mouth with his dick again, this time his own saliva coating his length and he pushes in again. Everything he did, everything he does, only brings your attention to your empty pussy, and his honeyed voice rumbling at the feeling of your mouth only makes the emptiness worse. In the inconvenient position, you shuffle your hands forth to cup his balls - they feel tight and ready to release into you, and you give them light, punishing squeezes to make them do exactly that.
But the taste of his cum never comes, because in one swooping motion, he frees himself of your mouth’s hold and - surprisingly - moves off the bed.
“Hey, wha-oh!”
For a flash second, you thought he wasn’t content with edging you alone, extending his edging kink onto himself, he roughly tugs you to the end of the bed, bringing you to stand.
“I’m going to nail you into this fucking bed,” he grits out, before turning you around and crudely shoving your face into the bedding, “and your job is to shut up and take it. Got it?”
Holy fuck. Have you ever been this turned on, enough to paralyze your tongue from forming any word?
“I said,” his fingers find their familiar spot in your hair as he pulls you up, biting words unleashing into your ear, “Got it? Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Yesyesyesye-” You unleash an outpour of the one word that’s running through your mind, all the way up until you are unceremoniously stuffed into the bed again, and you wait, with bated breaths - the familiar rustle of a condom wrapper in the background - but instead of his thick length, you find his fingers again, and you groan for some respite.
Jimin laughs at your neediness. “Just checking if you were wet enough,” he says, “but I don’t know why there was any doubt.”
“You better hurry up before I suck it all back in,” you attempt a feeble threat.
The head of his cock finally pokes at your entrance, and you are already wailing, fingers bunching up the bedding as he pushes in further. “Haven’t you-shi-” Jimin stutters, “-haven’t you had enough sucking?”
You don’t even try a glib response - it would never come, because he bottoms out, and your walls are stretching to accommodate his dick, pressing all the right points to send your head into a whole new dimension, where pleasure is the only emotion you feel. His cock twitches inside, and you pull yourself out of your palace of desire to whisper at him to move.
He makes no move, and you’re not sure what he’s waiting for - you go to repeat yourself louder, just to be su-
Smack!
The unexpected lash on your left cheek jerks you, shifting his dick in you and making you clench further. You can hear the move affect him as he hisses and pushes you flush against the bed.
“Wow,” you’re panting, out of breath before you even start, “even at this point, you find a way to drag this out.”
“Trust me, if you had my view right now,” Smack! Another slap hits you, and you clench harder, this time bringing a full-blown groan from Jimin as he holds onto your hip to steady himself, “even you’d take your own, sweet time.”
Every slap henceforth only hurls you further towards your orgasm, words no longer working for you so you resort to communicating only through wails and whines, hoping he would decipher your pleas.
When he finally moves again, you all but scream Hallelujah to the angels puppeteering him from the heavens, and you take note of your current situation - you’re perilously close to your orgasm. This has been record-timing, from penetration to orgasming, and you rush to pay attention to the nub thrumming since this whole ordeal began. Sliding your hand under the frame of your body, and you-
“Ah, tsk, that’s not happening.”
Somehow Jimin - who was lost in the dreamland of your pussy, you know, you checked - caught your move, and now has your arm twisted behind as you wail and unfruitfully search for the orgasm that is almost yours. The one thing that shuts you up is his double-handed spank, each side facing the equal brunt of your actions, as Jimin hisses and slows his pace.
“Shut the fuck up,” his hands come down and dig into your supple cheeks, squeezing them and pulling them apart. “Your body is mine to use. So pipe the fuck down,” he growls, before setting his eyes on your newly exposed hole.
“You can tell me when to-fuck-when to stop,” he breathlessly utters, “but other than that, just lay back and take it like a good little plaything.” You cry a loud yes to his patronizing words - at this point, he could very well ask you for a billion-dollar check and you’d happily bid farewell to all your possessions.
He lands a spitwad on your ringed hole, the cool wetness making it pulsate while your clit palpitates in anticipation and your hold on his dick tightening. His thumb traces a circle before shallowly digging inside.
“Jimin, oh God, more, more-” you don’t know what you’re chanting for, the buzz getting you drunk on his actions and making it harder and harder to keep your orgasm at bay.
A dark, sinister snigger lined with need leaves Jimin’s short-winded voice. “So you’re an anal whore too,” he lightly moves his thumb in the confines, your responding moan triggering more chuckles, “no one is surprised.”
“F-fu-oh God I-” you can’t even gather the wits to give him a fitting reply, especially because his dick is thrusting into you in new directions.
“You’ll let a stranger just about fuck you anywhere,” he adds to the growing pile of awards he’s presenting to you, grinning ear to ear at your lack of diction, “tell me, Y/N, tell me you’re a needy, insatiable whore. Scream it, let the neighbors hear you.” A particularly deep thrust hits you hard, at the right spot, and you push yourself back on his dick, angling yourself right, “fuckin’ do it, Y/N, or else I’ll finish and leave you.”
You shriek at the thought of it, the coil in your belly taut and threatening to snap, your brain rushes to stitch the right words and before you know it, you’re spewing them at him. “Oh-oh yes, yes, yes, I’m a desperate whore, I need to be filled every day, and every night, can’t leave my - oh fucking hell, right there - my pussy empty, shit, and why should I? When dick like yours exists?!”
His thumb twists inside, breaching in enough to be able to curl a joint, and you take that as an acceptance. Your whole body thrums to the beat of his thrust, tips of your toes curling inward, attempting to halt your libido from seeping out of you, and you’re certain the establishment is never letting you set foot inside ever again after the fest you carried tonight.
“Gah, your pussy is just-so tight, I want to you fuck you open over, and over, and over again,” Jimin’s hips pump into you with ceaseless vigor, chasing his own high while tending to both your holes. “I’m going to leave you dripping for days.”
“Oh-oh-Jimin! I’m goi-ugh-fuck, no one will fuck me this goo-ah!”
Even with your spastic and incomplete verbiage, the content reaches him, and a passing cloud of clemency (and his swiftly approaching peak) brings him to slip two fingers of his unoccupied hand down. But jerk that he is, they do nothing except tap your clit, lightly, softly, with no destination in sight.
You continue to egg him on, “Gonna feel your dick in me for day-ohhh fucking hell-days to come, gonna feel you in me! Please, please let me come, I can’t-I-”
“Just a little more baby,” Jimin coos, a hitch in his throat hinting you that he too is at the end of his run, “Tell me more,” he hisses as his digits land a hard thwack right on your clit.
“Oh right there, right there-Jimin please please I need to come so bad, I’m gonna think of this night forever,” you’re crying at this point, the pressure of holding back swarming tears in your eyes, tongue letting just about anything out. “Any day I have bad sex I’m gonna think of you, any day I have good sex I’ll think of you, cuz no way in hell am I getting dicked down this good-shit I’m gonna-” you pause for a breather, “Jimin, please let me come!!”
He finally lays a soft kiss on your back, whispering “Go on, cream my cock like you’ve been longing to do” before the two digits press firmly onto your clit and draw figures over it - what figures, you can’t tell, because your orgasm washes over you with the force of all the mighty waterfalls all over the world, combined. Both the walls of your pussy and you are spasming, the pinnacle of your orgasm coursing through your body, trying to find an outlet to the boundless energy it carries. It finally leaves through your mouth, a loud, elongated moan marking the end of the fuck of a lifetime.
Jimin grunts at the way your pussy clamps over his cock, and in two more pumps he’s emptying himself into the rubber, utter hushed cusses until he comes down from his climax. His fatigued build falls onto your back, a soft hand wrapping around your waist as you both catch your escaping breaths.
“I thought I was gonna die over there,” you finally snort, as much as your breath allows you to, “do you keep all your women waiting like that?”
He just laughs, pulling his softening member out and discarding the condom, “I’m not sure what you mean. All I remember is you telling me I dicked you down goo-ow!” He laughs as you slap his chest in jest.
Jimin pulls you to the pillows and kisses you, deep and sensual, lips telling you he hasn’t had his fill, but body limp and heated and begging for a break. As you attempt to adjust your dress, he halts you by pinning your hands to his chest, and you simply give in to his wordless demand.
With your head laid on his shoulder, air filled with a relaxing silence, you let your pointer finger drag along his chest, tracing the prominent tattoo, catching his flinch as you linger over his nipple.
“You know, I too have a tattoo, a pity you couldn’t catch it.”
“Oh?” Jimin cocks his head back to meet your gaze, the tiredness evaporating in an instant to give way to renewed vigor. Your outfit is a sight to behold, crumpled dress bunched above your hips, the straps of your dress messy and astray, falling off your shoulders, and his lone tie still surviving the ordeal across your neck. Through the thin fabric, he can see what he actually didn’t catch - your soft breasts devoid of his branding, and if he looks carefully, he can spot your juicy nipples pebbled under the jeweled cloth. Pulling the tie to have you fall back into him, he hums softly, palm coming forth to grab the shunned mounds of flesh.
“Where might that be?” he softly asks, inching closer and closer to your cleavage.
You shrug playfully, his ministrations already taking over your mind. Slipping one strap off your shoulder, you murmur, “Why don’t you find out?”
Within a blink, you’re trapped, caged underneath his whole body. He bends low, his unicorn strands tickling your cheek as he licks a soft stripe against the shell of your ear, before whispering, “Oh, you bet I will.”
Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!
#networkbangtan#thebtswritersclub#jimin smut#park jimin smut#jimin fanfiction#jimin fanfic#dom!jimin#dom jimin#jimin x reader#park jimin fanfiction#park jimin fanfic#pjm smut#park jimin x reader#pjm fanfic#bts fanfic#bts smut#dom!jm#bangtansorciere#bangtanuniversity#bangtaninn#btsgoldnet#btswritingcafe#bts fanfiction
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Hi, y’all. Today, I just wanted to write a bit about my views on the concept of a Law of Return. These are just my own, personal beliefs, and you might disagree. I could be wrong, too. It’s such a nebulous topic, but these are my current thoughts on the matter after twenty years bouncing around different occult philosophies and paths.
I don’t believe in a Law of Return, at least not in the form that many witches do.
I do believe that any action will affect the person taking it, full stop. That effect may be positive or negative. Or neutral.
The universe, though, doesn’t moralize, and doesn’t punish people for doing evil. I know some billionaires who would’ve come down with spontaneous Ebola if that were the case. But that hasn’t happened. Still, many people (including my mom, oddly enough) strongly believe in a Law of Return wherein good and bad things bounce back on you exactly.
Some conflate this idea of a Law of Return with karma. Many don’t realize that karma (In Buddhism, Hinduism, and others) is much more complex than that.
I’m not a part of those belief systems, so I can’t speak on behalf of them.
I try to listen to those who are in those cultures. When they say karma is different from the common Western conception of it, I believe them.
Threefold Law
Still, many witches do believe in some kind of Law of Return. The idea shows up most often in the so-called “Wiccan Threefold Law.”
This means that any negative action will cause something three times worse to happen to you. At least, that’s , according to many very belligerent people on Facebook. I’m not sure why others haven’t noticed that this would lead to serial escalation and violates the laws of physics.
I mean, let’s say I steal forty dollars. That would mean someone else would need to steal $120 from me. If my action requires that, it would kind of negate the other person’s free will, wouldn’t it? But, anyways...
Then, it follows that whoever stole from me would, in turn, suffer a theft of $360.
On and on, and we’d have quite the crime wave on our hands, presumably for Mulder and Scully to investigate.
Traditional Wicca, as far as I know, did not include this concept of the Threefold Law. At least, not in the sense that most people understand it now.
The concept comes from Gerald Gardner’s nanowrimo proje- er, Gerald Gardner’s novel, High Magic’s Aid. In this book, the (fictional ) witches were bound to return all actions threefold.
In other words, if someone slaps a witch, the witch must slap them back three times.
Very different from what most people think about the Law of Three, isn’t it? It’s prescriptive rather than descriptive. This article shares more details, and provides sources.
Now and Later
Some people say that the Law of Return only affects you in your next lifetime. This is very roundabout and kind of defeats the purpose.
If the Universe wants to make us progress by punishing us, why wait?
It’d be like your dog messing the rug, and then hitting him with a newspaper two days later. That wouldn’t help the dog - it would just confuse them.
I believe in reincarnation. I also believe past lives can affect our current lives. To me, these effects are subtle and don’t fit this disciplinary mold that people speak of.
For example, someone could have been a beagle in a past life. They might have learned important lessons from that. They might work towards animal welfare in this life.
If someone messes a rug (or even murders someone) in a past life, I don’t believe they’ll face punishment in this one, though.
Law of Attraction
Some believe in a Law of Attraction, which is very similar. But this is de-Christianized prosperity gospel. These folks believe that the universe responds not only to actions, but thoughts. Thus, any wicked or “negative” thought you have will draw misfortune.
As you might expect, this can make you paranoid. It’s especially worrisome if you’re neurodivergent, like me. It also doesn’t make a lot of sense, especially among witches who often claim “intent is everything.”
To these folks, thinking “I hope I don’t get mugged!” will result in a higher chance of a mugging. Why? Because I put the idea out to the universe by thinking about the possibility.
It doesn’t work like that, in my experience. Suppressing negative thoughts will mess up your life. It’s much healthier to process those emotions and understand where they’re coming from. We call this shadow work, and, while difficult, it’s helpful.
Shun the nonbeliever?
Some take it a step further. They claim that not only are you punished for doing evil things, but also for not believing in the Law of Return.
Considering most of these people claim to be pagans, it’s quite odd. It reeks of pseudo-Christian baggage. This is that sort of thing imported from childhood experiences in Protestantism.
In many evangelical Protestant denominations, faith alone determins your standing before God. It’s not about not what you actually do here on earth. This is why serial killers can (supposedly) repent on their deathbed and go to heaven.
People spout a similar idea when they say that someone who doesn‘t believe in a Law of Return gets punishment for it. This implies, also, that people can’t be “good” without believing in this Law of Return.
As I’ve said, I don’t believe in it. Does that mean I go around hexing everyone who annoys me? No, far from it. I don’t have any enemies, and have only cast curses very rarely. I also (like most of us) strive to not hurt other people. Just as an atheist can be “good without God,” we can be moral people without the threat of retribution.
Conclusions
These are my beliefs. You’re free to disagree. If someone’s good to me, I won’t treat them any differently regardless of their spiritual philosophy. If someone uses that spiritual philosophy to moralistically terrify others, though... I don’t want to be around them. Not all believers in the Law of Return are like that, though, and I acknowledge that fact.
Also, please stop this whole “XYZ Republican got COVID19 after acting like jerks! It’s karma!” thing. When you say stuff like that, you’re implying that other people who got COVID19 ALSO deserved it. This would have to include little old ladies and kids who you’d agree didn’t “deserve it.” Try to be consistent.
#witchcraft#magic#witch#witchblr#pagan#wicca#Wiccan#occult#eliza.txt#ethics#morality#law of return#karma#threefold law#threefold
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✨the 100 percent official duck apocalypse ranking by mcquackk✨
most likely to survive the whole way:
- scrooge mcduck (knows how to save, will have most food, thus making him safer, however goldie stands in his way, won’t leave her behind)
- webby vanderquack + bentina beakly (POWER DUO. Bentina got the skills, webby got those spontaneous power moves.)
- huey mcduck (knowledge vs brainless zombies, he will obviously win.)
- goldie o’gilt (every man for there own, massive betrayal arc with scrooge but in final battle they’d make up and kiss as all the zombies fall behind them because they deserved better 💛)
- della duck (the woman survived on the moon for years with just a wad of oxy-chew and desire to see her family, she can for sure best some brainless zombies.)
- Donald Duck (I don’t have a reason but he would. Through sheer duck, pluck and the fact he’s donald freaking duck.)
First to go:
- glomgold (dumb as, would try doing some fancy battle intro and his head would get chomped off. We love him though, I’d probably cry at his death.)
- launchpad (wouldn’t realise they were zombies, offer them food and chomp the zombies go. On his head.)
- any beagle boy (when have the ever been successful? Wouldn’t be surprised if we thought they were dead but they just kept popping back up. )
Last an okay amount:
- Dewey duck (woulda lasted with his siblings help, but part way he just gets excited and decides to take a risk and get a bit closer to the zombies. He gets chomped. We cry. A lot. )
- Lena sabrewing (sacrifice arc with webby, would have lasted nearly to the end, last major death - lebby for life - )
Other categories 🦍:
- louie (he is a zombie.)
- yeah that’s all for bonus categories
See y’all tomorrow
Love you <33
#ducktales#louie duck#scrooge mcduck#ducktales glomgold#della duck#donald duck#ducktober#halloween#ducktales 2017#bentina beakley
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Son of Lachesis | Demigod!Jung Jaehyun
Parent Deity: Lachesis (Goddes of the String of Life; the Second Fate)
Allegiance: Hades
Dark Humor was a thing
He probably picked it up from his dad
His dad was this super successful thriller author
So they had this huge penthouse in New York but Jaehyun was your normal edgy emo teenager
He claimed to hate his life, hate his family, hate his friends
But like, his dad wasn’t bothered by it???
At first Jaehyun thought it was because his dad just didn’t care about him
But then he started to realize that his dad was the same way
He would rather disparage himself in the name of humor than anything else
It was more of a coping technique but oh well
And for some reason, Jaehyun’s senior year of highschool, he moved to Korea
Still doesn’t know why tbh
Something about his dad telling him that it was safer for their family to be closer together
But like his family only comprised of himself and his dad
And his beagle Chu-Chu but that’s it
As far as he knew, he didn’t have any family in Korea
But surprisingly, he fit in well
His last year of high school went by quickly
And soon he was accepted into the medical examiner’s program @ KAIST
What?
He felt more comfortable around cadavers than live humans
It wasn’t weird he just had hella social anxiety
He had a real gift for it too
He could just look at a body and be able to tell how they died
He was oddly able to tell how long ago they died too
He was actually starting to get creeped out by it
So he started talking to the only person he could ever confide in
His dad
It was a long weekend off of uni
And the Friday before he got into a huge argument with his toxicology professor about the substance that one man ingested that led to his death
His professor swore it was Croton tiglium
And he doesn’t know why but something in his gut was screaming that the diagnosis was wrong
So what did he do?
He stole the toxicology report to review it
And he barged into his professor’s office claiming it was actually Daphne mezereum
What scared him the most was that he could swear the man who was lying helplessly on the table was the one who told him what the poison was
So back to his dad’s apartment
Jaehyun was in tears explaining what had been going on to his dad
And sure his dad was the one to lighten up any room he could
But his dad just laughed
And for the first time he actually felt like he was going crazy
He thought that if anyone would be able to help him understand it would be his dad
I mean what was that Ph.D in psychology hanging on the wall for then
But his dad placed a hand on his shoulder and talked to him very calmly.
I think it’s time that you met your mother.
Sniffing, he looked up
I thought she had been dead since I was a baby.
Sorta…
How can someone be ‘sorta’ dead?
She’s more like… undead?
Suddenly a gray smoke started swarming around his feet.
And a young woman, dressed in black with a rose in her hair appeared behind his dad
Jaehyun almost screamed
Dear, Many people are in need to relief so why are you calling me up?
She spoke and her voice was as light of as the mist swirling around her feet
She looked up and made eye contact with Jaehyun
Dear, you know how dangerous it is for them to meet their other parents… why is he here?
She didn’t break eye contact with Jaehyun as she spoke to his father
It’s time he knew. Maybe Taeyong or Yuta could help him? They’ve been through this before.
The anxiety and stress was piling up on Jaehyun until he couldn’t stand it anymore
Knew what? Who is this? Why is our apartment filling with smoke? What have Taeyong and Yuta been through before?
You are a demigod Jaehyun. The woman spoke up, inching closer to his side.
My son, the son of Lacheses.
Lacheses…. The goddess of the string of fate.
I’m the son of a death goddess.
He burst out laughing
He couldn’t tell if it was from shock or denial
Everything made sense
His ominous ability to tell how people died
How long they would live for
So you are telling me Taeyong and Yuta are demigods too?
He looked between his mother and father
Yes, sons of Themis and Bia, respectively of course.
So that summer Jaehyun ended up going to camp with Taeyong
He didn’t feel that comfortable in the Hades cabin, and ended up rooming with Sicheng in the Achelios cabin instead
He also tended to help out with medical care when super dangerous competitions were taking place
If he remembered correctly, Sicheng asked him to because your weird ass ability to tell how long people have to live comes in handy so I can override it.
He said it with all smile on his face too, like people thought Jae was creepy
He is still actively attending uni, still the top student is his toxicology class, despite his prof throwing the hardest cases his way
HE EVEN GOT AN INTERNSHIP AT THE POLICE STATION YAY JAEHYUN
But camp is his life now
He never knew what he would have done if he didn’t have the support system that he did because of it
Yuta is his best friend
Partly because they are apparently first cousins
But also because they just mesh really well together
Whenever Yuta is fighting or practicing
He is there to makes sure to call game before anyone gets fatally injured
It actually got close one time
But other than that
His life is really normal
He eats out a lot
He studies a lot less than he should
He has made lasting friendships
And he has the hugest crush in the world that he refuses to reveal
hey , you
Just tell me! You know I can keep a secret from the hyungs!
Cue Jisung pestering him as they run the track at camp
How do I know that?
Taeyong still hasn’t found out that Chenle and I sneak out every Saturday to go to the arcade and that we were the ones who broke his cat mug.
Good Point.
Sooooo?
Still not telling.
Honestly though, not like it wasn’t obvious enough
Sometimes he wonders if everyone is oblivious to him staring at the back of your head while you run rounds for Sicheng
Or how his eyes follow your figure when he spots you in a crowd
Dude has it bad
And might be a little possessive too
He saw Taeil hug you once and he refused to talk to Taeil for a week
Until Kun saw what was going on and forced them to make up
But you
Girl you might have an even bigger crush
Who knew volunteering was so fun when you got to see Jaehyun every day
Highkey only Renjun knows that you both like each other
What? Renjun knows E V E R Y T H I N G
At least he is like ‘passively’ helping Jaehyun score a date with you
And by ‘passively’ I mean he straight up walked over to you and asked you if you would want to grab dinner with Jaehyun on Thursday, something about studying for toxicology finals
And by ‘passively’ I also mean him straight up telling Jaehyun that you were going to be a the hole in the wall diner on 53rd street a 7 o’clock and if he didn’t show up he was going to kick his ass
So you both showed up
You with study materials
And him with flowers
Johnny told him that flowers were always the way to go
And Jaehyun was beyond embarrassed and confused when you looked up and saw him standing there in a button down shirt that definitely wasn’t his holding a bouquet of flowers
And you were sitting there in sweatpants and your glasses falling down the bridge of your nose
So he did what he does best
Laugh it off
Oh, these are to thank you for helping me study.
Of course, you didn’t have to get me anything though.
In his head he is sitting there cussing Renjun out while also trying to create that empathy link with Yuta so he could tell Yuta to go beat his ass
But he brushed it off and starts studying with you
Only after ordering pecan pie and hot chocolate
Because everyone needs snacks for studying
Right
But you suddenly looked up and stared him straight in the eyes
Why do you even need my help? Aren’t you like top of this class, and IDK you can talk to dead people? Just ask them what happened.
Jaehyun is back to being embarrassed and this time he can’t laugh it off
Well– ummm— you see– Renjun— I—-
Oh for Zeus’ sake can’t you just say that little twerp set us up on a date?
Well… yeah, yeah he did.
YoU — umm— you can leave if you want, I understand if you don’t like me
Why would I leave. And you shouldn’t understand because you are a great guy, of course I like you.
You gave off a cheeky smile before stealing a bite of his pie
Y’all started off really casually
Like a group date here and there, nothing alone
Something in Jaehyun told him it wasn’t going to get serious unless he made the first move
Your father was probably to blame
Zeus was known for being a little aloof when it came to love
But Jaehyun
God Jaehyun had no guts whatsoever
Not until his best friend from New York came to town
Jameson had come to visit over his own spring break, claiming he wanted to see why Korea was so special and “Jeff” as he knew him, never returned to the US
And Jaehyun had taken you with him to the airport, better than dragging along Jeno or Jungwoo, who for some reason was terrified of planes themselves, and Yuta was out of town for a competition and Johnny was still passed out from last night’s party
And when Jameson stepped off the plane, he came barrelling towards Jaehyun, screaming JEFFFFFFERRRRRYYYYY as loud as he could and tackled him into a hug.
After that he began speaking in English a mile a minute
To say you were a deer caught in the headlights was an understatement
Jaehyun obviously wasn’t fazed, he was able to talk back to Jameson at the same speed, not even stuttering
So you felt kinda lost, shrinking away from the boistering boys, opting instead to starting rolling his friend’s luggage to the car
Jaehyun caught wind of your suddenly shy personality and cut off his friend to instead walk over to you
In a much calmer voice, and this time in a language you were actually able to understand, Jaehyun asked if you wanted to be introduced to his friend
You nodded and Jaehyun grabbed your wrist before shutting the trunk of the car.
Pulling you back over, Jaehyun spoke in English again
You could barely make out something along the lines of This is my friend, Y/N, daughter of Zeus.
You gave a small wave and bowed, hoping he wouldn’t speak to you directly, prompting you to speak in your broken tongue.
Just a friend, or something more? Jameson smirked at Jaehyun before looking back over at you
A friend that you can’t have. You couldn’t really understand what Jaehyun said but you could tell that whatever was said, he wasn’t happy about his friend’s comment.
After that you all got into the car where Jaehyun made you sit in the front seat, holding your wrist the entire time, in obvious view of Jameson
Things died down for a while and it went back to the usual
You were still on the track team (more like Pegasus Racing team but whatever)
And Jae came to cheer you on at every game
And Jae was still top of his classes @ KAIST
And you came to cheer him up when the workload got to much for him
But it STILL wasn’t serious
So one night
Specifically, Jameson’s last night in Korea
Everyone decided to head out to Hongdae to go club hopping (pls tell me you people know what club hopping is)
And you were all having fun, dancing, most were also drinking, especially Jameson
Jaehyun somehow ended up being DD after a brutal battle of scissors, paper, rock
So he was sitting there on the side lines, nursing straight tonic water watching everyone else get shit-faced drunk
You weren’t any better to be honest
Jameson started having a habit of trying to get you alone or get you to dance with him
So you thought that if you had to deal with that all night you had to have a couple shots in your system.
PSA TIME PEOPLE!!!!!! PSA!!!!! If someone in your group keeps trying to get you alone or get you to dance with them, both men and women, DO NOT I repeat DO NOT resort to drinking to deal with it. If they don’t get the hint by you avoiding them, tell them straight to their face that you don’t want to be with them. If they still don’t get the hint, seriously consider just leaving wherever you are. Under no circumstances is it okay for them do that. PSA OVER!!!!
Jaehyun had been watching you try to avoid Jameson from the bar all night and after Jameson came up behind you and grabbed your waist he was done
The vision of fully sober, properly pissed off, ready to throw punches Jaehyun was not a pretty sight
Thankfully, at the moment he had enough self-control in his system to not deck his friend straight in the throat
He instead opted to grab your wrist, much more forcefully than last time, and drag you out the back door of the club into the alley way
Then, much more gently, backed you into the wall of the club
He was so close that you could feel his breath on your forehead
Muttering to himself in English, you couldn’t understand what he was saying
Suddenly he looked down and his eyes kept snapping from yours to your lips
I’m probably going to do something I regret right now
Poor you couldn’t even understand him because of him still speaking in English
Next thing you know he was kissing you, pushing you up further against the wall, wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer
After he let go, worry flashed across his face, like he finally realized something
Oh my god, did that bastard hurt you?
He started checking your arms and wrists, even running his hands along your waist to make sure there wasn’t bruising there
For once, Jaehyun actually had the guts
He ended up calling everyone rides, and left early with you so he could take you out on an ‘official first date’
To an ice cream shoppe
Mind you average temps in Korea during, let’s say March is still around 28 degrees Fahrenheit @ night
He realized his mistake after seeing you sit there in the booth, shivering as you picked up your ice cream
So he quickly shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and grabbing your hands in his to warm them up
First date was still a success in his mind
And all the dates there after
Renjun takes full credit for your relationship, but so does Sicheng, they actually fight about this
Jameson actually isn’t in Jaehyun’s life anymore
And Jaehyun is madly in love with you
Proposes after he graduates, in front of all of his friends, @ the stupid little hole-in-the-wall diner that he claims was his first real date with you
While they all scream JEFFFERRRRYYYY in the background.
really tho, Yuta has it on tape, along with Doyoung forced feeding Jaehyun wine, and him sleep talking about your first official date, all of which he plays at your guy’s wedding
Good luck having all of these idiots as brother in laws :::)))))
#nct#nct u#nct 127#demigod!nct#demigod!nct u#demigod!nct 127#jaehyun#jung jaehyun#nct jaehyun#nct jung jaehyun#nct imagine#nct u imagine#nct 127 imagine#jaehyun imagine#jung jaehyun imagine#nct jaehyun imagine#nct jung jaehyun imagine#nct u jaehyun imagine#nct u jung jaehyun imagine#nct 127 jaehyun imagine#nct 127 jung jaehyun imagine#specsforwoo
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Practicing Medicine: Chapter One
(+)1
It was eight o'clock in the morning, and Sheriff McBain had just been shot.
There weren’t no lights, no sirens. No outward signs of urgency anywhere, save for the frantic telephone call I’d received just seconds ago and my own bounding heart rate.
It didn’t take me long to pull on my pants or step into my boots. Even with my shaking body, I moved with a sense of purpose, each action a step in a subconscious routine.
Buckle up my pants, lace my boots, grab my glasses, disconnect my Pip-Boy from the outlet, clip that bad-mama on and get it running…
The black screen turned a vibrant green color as I clicked the power button, lighting up my dark room. These were the words on the screen:
PIP-OS(R) v1.0.3
COPYRIGHT 2075 ROBCO(R)
LOADER V1. 1
EXEC VERSION 41.10
32K RAM SYSTEM
16811 BYTES FREE
HOLLOWTAPE LOADED: “THE-SCIENCE-OF-UNCERTAINTY”
INITIALISING….
SUCCESS!
> STATUS
Battery Level: 100%
Wireless Signal: (?)
Operating Temperature: 90F
> HEALTH
BP: 150/120
SPO2: 100%
Temp: 98.5F
RR: 25
HR: 160
> TIME
Day: 25 September 2279
Time: 08:01
> CLIMATE
Current Temperature: 78F
Atmospheric Pressure: 753 mm
Background Radiation: 0.231 RAD
---
I couldn’t read much, so I wasn’t sure exactly what each of them meant, but I got the gist- I knew exactly what I needed to know. I threw open my door and strode into the hallway, grabbing my father’s white coat off of a hook along the way. I slipped it on over my shoulders as I strode up to the front door, where my faded orange doctor’s-bag lay on its side. Before I threw the strap over my shoulder, I made sure to quickly button my coat and pull my green tie tight around my shirt collar, because my father told me that a doctor should always look his best. I hefted my bag up with one hand and pushed the door open with the other.
The morning sun was bright in my eyes. It was hot outside, about 97 Fahrenheit if my pip-boy was telling me the truth. Not that it mattered- I was used to the heat, and my patient was inside the air-conditioned Bison Steve’s Hotel. I didn’t give it much space in my head.
I started to sprint, skirting the corner of my neighbor’s house and running out into the main square, heavy bag swinging wildly in my aching right hand. As much as I wanted to have time to process all this, to stride up all slow and confident like father had taught me, I didn’t have the time. It could be a matter of seconds deciding whether or not the Sheriff survived.
I was starting to feel kind of dizzy, like you do when you’re fixing to vomit. The Hotel was just up ahead now. The big “Bison Steve’s” sign flickered eerily as I walked up to the double wooden doors, which I pulled on at least three times before I remembered that they were push doors. A rush of cool air washed over my skin as I stepped into the building, and tried to regain my composure. I cleared my throat.
“Alright- Alright y’all, listen up: My name is Isaac Saller, and I am a medic! ” I shouted. There was silence. “‘I’m empty holstered, so please don’t shoot!”
That may have been a bad idea, in retrospect, but it was all that I had planned for an active-shooter type deal. I didn’t deal well with confrontation.
The front hall and the reception desk were abandoned, but the lights were on. I stepped through the next set of propped-open doors and into a dark hallway, where a pretty blonde woman was cowering, holding onto a wall-mounted telephone. Her red face glistened with sweat.
That would be Mrs. McBain.
“Oh my god, Isaac! Come here, quickly- I think my husband is dying!” I power-walked to catch up with her, then tried to keep up a comparable walking pace. Which was kind of hard, given my height; I was still, “between hay and grass ,” my father would have said.
“Could you tell me what happened?” I asked. The words felt so strange to say out loud. I’d practiced what I’d do in a real emergency, but now that it was actually happening, I couldn’t believe that I was actually falling into my routine, just like I did for everything else. Must not have seen any other option.
“Well, the boys- Beagle and my husband, right, they were doing firing drills! But then the shooting stopped and my husband started airing his lungs, just shouting something awful. And when I ran in to see what happened, I saw that Beagle had shot him in the leg!”
And, there was the story. I let out a sigh of relief; here I was worried that I might be dealing with some crazy psychopath! Though, the more I let myself think on it, an idiot like Beagle with a gun started to seem just as dangerous.
“Does he still got the gun?” I asked, approaching one of the four doors to what had to be the firing range. The familiar scent of gunpowder stung my nose as I cracked open the rightmost door, and peered into the massive, open room. I didn’t see nobody, but then again, my vision was so awful that my patient could’ve been right in front of me. Mrs. McBain brushed through the doors.
“No, I made him put it down!” I nodded and entered the room.
As I stepped through the doorway, another smell drifted in after the first- a sharp, metallic smell that hung in the air like some sort of leaking gas. Subtle, and not quite so intimately familiar, but I recognized it right away; the acrid smell of blood rubbed on skin.
“Hey Doc, come on in--the Sheriff is lying over here,” said Deputy Beagle, waving his iron about. I flinched.
“Holster that!” I shouted back, “I’m not going to do anything until-“
“Beagle! You put that thing down right now or I’ll shoot you myself!” Shouted Mrs. McBain. Beagle made a dramatic sigh.
“Fine. But, you know it was an accident, and it ain’t like I’m gonna do it again.” He tossed the gun aside. The cocked, loaded, cold-steel weapon hit the ground hammer-first.
The ensuing, “BANG!” was, no kidding, the second loudest thing I’d ever heard.
“Goddammit!” Beagle shouted, and Mrs. McBain screamed and dropped to a crouch. I just sat, stunned, staring at the gun and trying to think again. It was like my mind was a Television set, and someone had just thrown a brick through the screen; An all-encompassing static crept over my senses.
“Isaac? Isaac, are you alright sweetie ?” asked Mrs. McBain, over the loud ringing in my ears. I nodded.
“I’m okay ,” I lied. I kept nodding. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay…”
“You sure don’t look okay,” said Beagle. He was too close to me, way too close. I took a deep breath and pushed him back a little bit.
“I’m good! Where’s the Sheriff?!” I looked around warily. My eardrums were still bubbling, but I was starting to be able to hear myself think again. I had apparently dropped my medical bag on the floor, but it hadn’t opened up or spilled.
“Jesus kid, can you not turn your head on your neck? Over there, sitting against the support beam!” snapped Beagle, motioning towards the wounded Sheriff with his whole upper body. I felt like yelling back but I didn’t. I just gave him a quick nod and stumbled over to the fallen Sheriff.
The bright red pool beneath Sheriff McBain’s thigh had already begun to clot into ketchup-like clumps. As I got closer, I could hear him muttering to himself, though I couldn’t understand what about. I dropped to a crouch beside him, opened my bag and rooted through it til I found myself a pair of gloves. I had to work to get them on with how sweaty my hands were.
“Hello, Sheriff! Can you understand me?” I asked. He smiled up at me.
“Hey! You’re Isaac, the um, the Gambling-Place owner’s son. Uh, Casino! Yeah…” He trailed off. In my head, I started going over my ABCs, because apparently my mind was too overwhelmed to do anything but stick to its beaten-path routines.
He could speak, so his Airway was patent. I didn’t have time to properly test his Breathing, but it sounded fast and a little shallow. That was par for the course, which left me with the real problem, his Circulation- that’d be the bleeding.
“Alright, Sheriff, I’m going to take your pants off. Tell me if it hurts much,” I said, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. They got snagged up on his shoes, so I started pulling harder. He just laughed as I pulled them off.
“Actually, I don’t feel much of anything in this leg! Just like I got punched, and now it’s burnin’, sorta.”
That was good. It meant that the bone probably hadn’t been fractured, and I wouldn’t need any med-x. I always kept an emergency syringe of the stuff, but I was reluctant to actually use it on anyone.
Once I’d gotten his pants off, I touched his leg. It was cold and wet. I’d assumed shock, based on the bigass blood pool, but I could be dramatic like that; This was solid confirmation. I was going to have to work fast!
As I searched around in my bag for a tourniquet with one hand, I held up the Sheriff’s leg up with my other, so that I could see the wound in the dimly lit firing range. The hole wasn’t big. At least, not the entry- just a red, penny-sized oval near the base of his thigh, surrounded by bruised skin and seeping out blood. Like a bloody little volcano.
The exit wound, on the other hand, was massive . A jagged hole right under his ass with flaps of skin hanging loose around it, spitting out a torrential amount of bright red blood with each beat of his bounding heart. Based on the color of the blood and the way that it was coming out, I knew that the bullet had nicked or severed his femoral artery. I also knew that I probably couldn’t repair that with forceps and bandages alone. The best thing I could do would be to stem the bleeding, and get a stimpack as quick as possible.
Of course, that presented a little bit of a problem: See, stimpacks are awful expensive, so carrying them around wasn’t always an option for a man like myself. As of now, I didn’t actually have any of them-things in my jump-bag. Some places ‘round here had one in a box on the wall, but I didn’t see none in here, and I’d have noticed one in the hall if there’d been one. I cursed under my breath.
“Go and get me a stimpack!” I ordered. I had finally found where I kept my tourniquets without actually looking into the bag, though if I had any sort of presence of mind, I would have been embarrassed at how long it had taken me. I pulled his shoe off, and slipped the tourniquet on over his leg.
“I’ll fetch one from the kitchen!” replied Mrs. McBain, and I nodded to let her know I’d heard. Now that I had a stimpack on the way, all I had to do was keep the Sheriff from kickin it until I could apply the damn thing.
Easier said than done.
“Why are you squeezing me? You taking my blood numbers or something?” The Sheriff asked, as I pulled the premade tourniquet tight and started cranking on it. I tried to smile.
“I’m not taking your blood pressure, sir, I’m putting on a tourniquet. It’ll hurt, but you’ll bleed a lot less.” When I couldn’t tighten it anymore, I took out another tourniquet, and fastened it right above the first one, against the base of his thigh. It was a good thing that the Sheriff was thin, or I’d be having some issues about now.
“What are you doing? He could lose his leg that way!” shouted Beagle. When I kept on tightening the second tourniquet, he hit me in the back of the head- not so much to hurt me as to get a reaction out of me. I didn’t give him one. “Hey, are you blind and deaf? I’m talking to you!”
“Stop it Beagle! Isaac is a good… he’s a good kid,” insisted the Sheriff, his voice growing weak. I finished cranking the tourniquet, and touched the Sheriff’s ashen forehead. He looked like he’d stuck his head in a drinking fountain, with how much he was sweating...
“Could you try and talk with me, Sheriff? I’m gonna try some more stuff, try to keep you from going into decompensated shock.”
The Sheriff looked confused. He squinted up at me with teary eyes.
“Shock? You mean, the reason why it don’t hurt? I’m pretty sure I’m already in shock, but I ain’t- I ain’t shocked, you know. Like, I know what’s happened. I got my mind about me ,” he grumbled, tapping his head conspiratorially. I removed a few packets of gauze from my bag and tore them open.
“No, I mean when your organs stop working cause your blood-pressure drops and they ain’t getting enough blood!” Finally, I finished packing the exit wound tight with gauze. I started putting pressure on it.
“Oh. Huh. Well, you doctors ought to stop having so many words that mean- that mean all different things,” the Sheriff replied, his breath passing his lips so quietly that I was worried he might have fallen unconscious. I stopped moving.
“Sheriff?” I asked. When he didn’t respond, I reached into my coat with my free hand, and pulled out a small metal tinderbox full of a reddish powder. I waved it under his nose.
“Wake up, Sheriff!” I shouted. He started coughing and looking around wildly.
“Ah, Jesus Christ, what the hell is that smell?” I slipped the box back in my coat.
“N-H-Four, sir! It’s supposed to keep you awake!”
Of course, it wasn’t doing a very good job at it! Before I was even done speaking, the sheriff had puked all over himself and slumped forward. I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him vigorously.
“Keep them eyes open Sheriff! Stay with me here!” His eyes fluttered.
“You know, I like your voice! It’s like, you talk like a teacher, but then you got your daddy’s cowboy-thing going on, so it’s sort of funny…” he muttered. His head hung limp on his neck. I let him drop to his side, and focused on applying pressure to the wound again.
“Um, Isaac?” I looked over my shoulder. Deputy Beagle was standing above me again, clasping his hands together. I wasn’t so good at reading emotions, but I’d seen enough pre-vomit patients to know that he was feeling sick. He had spoken so quietly, which was strange considering how loud he’d been before. “Isaac, Is he gonna die? I thought that getting shot in the leg didn’t kill people. Why’s he acting like that?” I sighed.
“I sure hope not. But, there’s a big red-pipe in your leg, and if it gets hit, you bleed a lot. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do if I don’t get a stimpack soon!”
As if on cue, Mrs. McBain came rushing into the room, her dress all bunched up and full of miscellaneous medical supplies. Among the heaps of things I didn’t need, I could see a stimpack poking up.
“Isaac! I brought a bunch of things, I don’t know what’ll help and what won’t, but-”
Suddenly, Mrs. McBain stumbled, and her makeshift pouch came unfurled as she threw out one hand to catch herself.
Aw shit! I dropped everything and ran towards Mrs. McBain, interposing myself between the unsecured, falling medical supplies and the floor. Packaged Band-Aids, bottles of pills and ointments, a pair of scissors- it all went tumbling over me and I didn’t care, until suddenly I saw the fragile old stimpack teetering on the edge. By now, Mrs. McBain was trying to recover, but she was only making matters worse. The supplies were spilling out both sides now, and she was getting dangerously close to just dumping it all on top of me.
The stimpack. That was the focus. I shot out my hand to try to grab it, but I only succeeded in tipping it off it’s balance point, causing it to tumble back into the pouch.
I sat up, and all the supplies that had landed on me spilled back onto the floor.
“Don’t-“ I started, but she had already slipped and let go of the other side of the pouch. I cried out as it all went spilling on the ground.
“The stimpack!” I looked down, and found that through some unchecked reflex, I had caught it on my outstretched thigh. I blinked.
“Huh,” I said, and snatched the needle off my leg. I rushed back over to the Sheriff, who was unconscious and drooling. Beagle was sitting beside him, pressing hard on the entrance with his bloodstained hands and muttering to himself.
“Kurt, you can’t die- I’m, I’m just a deputy, if you die I’ll have to handle this whole town myself, and you know I can’t do that! Please, please don’t you die, please-“ I took a knee beside Beagle and his brother, stimpack in hand. Beagle was crying.
“Am I- am I doing this right?” He asked. I nodded.
“You are doing just stupendously! Just keep doing that!” I replied. I lifted up the sheriff’s leg, tore out all the gauze and probed around with the needle for a minute, until I’d found the deflated husk of his split femoral artery among all of the slick yellow fat and ground-beef looking shit in his leg. I didn’t have much light to work with and it was pretty well buried beneath the gory chaos of the exit, but I knew it when I saw it- despite the tourniquet, the top end was still spritzing out bright red blood with each passing heartbeat. I took my forceps out of my bag, which already had some fishing-line and a hook wrapped around them, and got to suturing the split ends together. The artery kept on pulsing out blood around the edges as I passed my hook and line through it’s thick middle layer.
‘Moment of truth, Isaac,’ I thought, as I squared off my suture. I picked up the stimpack again, prepped the needle with my shaking hands. I took a deep breath.
In the dim light of the firing range, I stuck the pipe.
The freezing cold from the reaction chilled my gloved fingers halfway to the bone. Had it worked? Would it hold? I had no idea. It wasn’t squirting blood no more, so I snipped off the end of the suture and pulled all the fishing line out, then started suturing up his ragged exit-wound, so that the ends of the skin were facing upwards. I didn’t even bother squaring off the end before running a stimpack along the seam. Once his thigh had sewed up along an ugly white line, I pulled all the fishing string out, because otherwise I was just asking for it to get infected. I still had a little stimpack-juice left, so I moved Beagle aside and shot the rest of it into the tiny-little entry wound, to sort out any of the leftover internal damage.
More time passed in silence. I knew it wouldn’t matter, but I loosened and removed the tourniquets to feel like I was doing something. My ears were ringing, blood was soaking into my pants like syrup, but I barely noticed- all that mattered now was if he was going to live, or if he was going to die. I was just going to have to have faith now.
“Is it working?” asked Mrs. McBain. I checked the Sheriff’s pulses, noticed that some warmth had returned to his skin...
Pulse is already stronger , and I can actually get a femoral. I sighed with relief. “It’s working. Pressure’s up.” A few more seconds passed. “I doubt he stopped perfusing to his brain for long, so his head should be fine, if you’re worried about that. He’s gonna need a ton of fluid, though, and he might need some more help with that leg-“ I started, but then Mrs. McBain wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug. Once I was over the initial shock, I hugged her back.
“Thanks,” I murmured. Mrs. McBain laughed.
“You saved my husband, Isaac! You saved his life!”
I nodded and tried to free myself from the asphyxiating hug. Unfortunately, Mrs. McBain was a teensy bit stronger than me. “I don’t even know how to thank you. Do you want caps? We- well, you know we aren’t rich, but we have a tin of caps hidden away under the floorboards!” Still struggling in vain to free myself, I shook my head.
“No- no, Mrs. McBain, I don’t want no caps! I just need you to work with me here for these next couple weeks to get your husband healthy again. I mean, he just caught a bullet, he’s gonna need some help getting back to normal...” I was lying about the caps. I would have loved caps, considering how much I was hurting for supplies. But I also wanted to establish that I didn’t charge for my services, and Mrs. McBain had a way of inadvertently spreading that sort of information.
“Oh, but I can’t just let you go back to work like that- look at you, you’re all filthy!” she said, finally releasing me from the hug. I stumbled back and fell onto my rear. “Why don’t you come over to our house- You can get those clothes washed, and I’ll get you some lunch. And a shower too, what would Penny say if she saw you like this?”
Well, I couldn’t disagree with her on that count. Just hugging Mrs. Mcbain, I’d gotten spots of blood all over her dress. Momma had already had to warn me about tracking blood in the house before...
“Alright,” I said. The ringing in my ears was tolerable now. I was starting to be able to think straight again, even if I was still shaking and sweating like hell. I noticed that Beagle had offered me his hand.
“Um- yes!” I said, pulling off my glove and allowing him to haul me up to my feet. He held on real tight to my hand and looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t parse.
“I owe you one, Isaac. I know that this is my fault, and that I’m not always nice to you, but I- I really do appreciate this. I don’t know what I’d have done without my brother.” I tried out a smile. Beagle smiled back at me, and it almost made me forget how much of a prick he’d been when I was a kid. Almost.
“Water under the bridge, Beagle,” I replied. I thought about winking, but I once made a girl run away from me when I tried to wink at her, so I held off.
“Isaac, sweetie-“ I turned around. Mrs. McBain was standing in the doorway. “The door’s unlocked, why don’t you come back to the house first? We can lay my husband down while you wash up.”
I considered. The sheriff seemed stable enough for that proposal, but no one else seemed to quite understand the extent of what he’d just suffered, or the long road that lay ahead for him. I mean, hell, he’d had his leg blown open, lost a third of his blood, and then had a stimpack injected right into a central artery! There were some things I wanted to take care of before I attended to myself.
“I like that idea, but can I borrow one of you to help me finish sorting out Beagle first?” I asked. Mrs. McBain looked at Beagle.
“Beagle, seeing as how you’re the one who shot him…” she started. Beagle put his hands above his head.
“I’ll handle it, ma’am. What should I do?” I raised my hand.
“We’re gonna try to get him on a mattress, if we can. Start him on some Saline and get him drinking water when he wakes up, the stimpack and his body will sorta work together to replace all that blood he lost. He’s going to be in a lot of pain, so we’ll have to give him morphine when he wakes up. I’ve got powder and IV’s with me,” I said, trying my best to cover all my bases without over-explaining. Mrs. McBain started to walk away.
“Alright! You two do what you have to, I'll be getting the house ready for him.” she said, and disappeared through the doorway. I looked at Beagle.
“He didn’t hurt his back none, right?” I asked. Beagle shook his head. “Good. I’m gonna grab his legs then, you grab his arms- let’s get him on one of them cots over there, then move him from there.”
He nodded. We grabbed a hold of the Sheriff’s limbs.
“Alright. Three, two, one-”
[+]
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𝔸𝕝𝕖𝕩 𝕄𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝕎𝕖𝕖𝕜 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘
𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟕: 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 (𝐚𝐤𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝)
A/N: Things are getting weird as I mash-up two worlds: Roswell meets Star Wars. A bit of canon divergence au going on here. This fic is dedicated to my good friend @saadiestuff (sorry it took me so long)!
Summary: The galaxies collide during what seems to be an ordinary night in Roswell, New Mexico. Alex and Michael receive an unexpected visit from a different type of alien from a galaxy far, far away.
Rated: G
Read on ao3
***
When Galaxies Collide
It was an average Thursday night. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Michael and Alex were getting a bit cozy on their couch in front of the roaring fire, just the way Alex liked it.
They were getting in the mood when they heard it. A loud boom and what seemed like a crash from behind the cabin.
Michael jumped up in protective mode, and put his hands out—Alex thought it was rather cute.
They raced out the front door and slowly made their way behind the wooden house with their flashlight.
There was smoke, that was spiraling around the late-night autumn fog. Being curious, yet cautious, Michael and Alex walked closer crunching the leaves beneath their feet.
Buried slightly below the ground, was a small pod. It was shaped in an oblong way and looked to be covered in a foreign metal, one Alex had never seen before. By the look Michael was giving it, it was unfamiliar to him as well.
Suddenly the hatch on the side popped open with a hiss and slowly rose up.
Michael put his hands up again, clearly ready for just about anything. What was in there, however, was not what Alex was expecting at all.
Sitting inside the pod was what Alex assumed could only be a small green alien with long, long ears. Its eyes were big and its mouth seemed to hint a bit of a smile. Something about it seemed wise to Alex as if it were older than it appeared to be.
“What the hell is it?” Michael asked getting a bit closer.
“I think, and it might just be a hunch here, but an alien,” Alex answered.
Michael laughed, “You think? I mean, it looks how a typical alien should seem.”
“What if it’s your family?”
“Baby,” Michael replied with a smirk and shaking his head so his curls swayed, “do I look similar to that thing?”
“You’re both extremely cute. Similar long ears.”
“Ha, ha.”
Alex winked and walked over to it. Michael grabbed his arm firmly, “We don’t know what it is, Alex. It could be dangerous.”
The alien looked more like a baby, and honestly, it was the cutest thing Alex had ever seen. Well, not counting Buffy of course.
“We can’t leave it out here though,” Alex replied, worrying about wild animals getting to the creature. In addition, winter was quickly approaching as snow began to fall all around them. Soon the temperature would drop.
“Ok, I’ll try something.” Michael focused on it and squinted his eyes. The little alien floated up and slowly started moving towards the inside of the cabin. Alex quickly opened the door and looked as Michael started shaking slightly.
He gently set it on a soft blanket on the couch. And fell in Alex’s arms. Alex wiped the sweat away and kissed Michael’s forehead gently.
Alex helped Michael to the ground to rest and then walked over to their leather couch. He saw the little one tilting its head to look at them both. It looked curious, but not scared.
Then it cooed.
“It has to be a baby,” Alex said with a small smile. “I don’t think it’s going to hurt us.” He noticed it cowering slightly as he walked closer. “If anything, it’s trying to figure us out.”
“I’m trying to figure it out as well,” Michael replied, his eyes fluttering closed. “Why is it here? What does it do?”
“And what if it has some answers about where you come from,” Alex added.
Michael nodded, “That too. So many questions.”
“Should we try to feed it?”
“What does it like to eat?”
“Well,” Alex said slowly, “you’re an alien...what do you like to eat?”
They both laughed, marveling at what a weird situation this night had become.
The little one didn’t move much.
Then Buffy came walking in the room and the alien’s ears perked up as it made a little sigh. Michael and Alex stopped laughing and just observed.
A ball slowly started to move across the floor from one side of the room all the way to Buffy. The beagle leaned down and put it in her mouth, then plopped to the ground with a grunt.
“Oh my God… it has powers, too.”
“Like I said,” Alex replied, “you two might be related after all.”
***
A while later, they attempted feeding it. But it didn’t look satisfied with anything they brought out.
Alex did have to laugh as Michael brought out his favorite cereal in a bowl. Not looking impressed, the alien turned away. Michael shrugged and took a bite. When Alex gave him a look, Michael gave the ‘what...I’m hungry’ look.
Finally, Alex held up a steak on a plate, “What about this, little guy? I can cook it up for you.”
At that, the alien’s ears wiggled and it cooed again. Alex felt the raw steak move out of his hands and watched in amazement as the meat floated towards the baby.
The alien held open its mouth and gnawed on the steak.
“Well then,” Michael laughed, “guess it likes it raw.”
After it ate the entire steak, they watched as the little one slid down off the couch and walked over to Buffy who was eating her bone. It held its small hand up and Alex could make out three small fingers with long nails. Alex took one step forward unsure what it was going to do to his beloved dog. But that little green hand simply patted Buffy’s head.
Buffy looked thrilled as she rolled over. The alien patted Buffy’s stomach and Alex could’ve sworn it smiled. There was a sweet connection between the two, and Alex wondered if it felt a familiar feeling around the dog.
As Buffy was relaxed and closing her eyes, Alex and Michael sat on the couch. Alex noticed Michael looked tense. “What’s on your mind, love?”
Michael sighed, “I just want some answers about this thing is all. I can’t help but wonder how many other life forms are out there.” He looked over at Alex, “I want to know where I come from, ya’ know? Just wanna know where I belong.”
His boyfriend leaned back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. Alex so badly wanted to say the right thing. He knew how desperately Michael wanted to know more about his beginnings and his family...how could he not? But he still was going to attempt to reassure him, the only way he knew how. With love. “Listen, I wish I could give you all the answers you’re looking for, Guerin. However, I want you to know something.”
“What’s that?”
Alex took Michael’s hand and placed it on his own heart, “You belong right here. This is your home, forever and always.”
Michael’s face broke out into a smile, “Have I told you today how much I love you?”
“Hmm, I think you did this morning when you were making sweet, sweet love to me.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Michael grinned even further at the memory. “What a way to start to the day.” But then his expression changed to a more serious one. “I love you, Alex Manes. Thank you for being my constant here on earth.”
They leaned closer together as their lips touched softly. This was heaven; all that Alex would ever truly need.
Just then, he felt a warm sensation of peace and love tingling all over his body. He opened his eyes and looked down. The alien was touching his leg and Michael’s as it looked up at them both.
“Whoa....do you feel that?”
Alex nodded. Whatever this thing was, it was powerful.
“I guess we should take that as a sense of approval?” Michael said leaning forward. He outstretched his hands and the creature jumped into arms. Michael gasped in surprise as if he didn’t really expect it to trust him.
Now that it was up close to them, Alex took the alien in. It’s bright big black eyes were full of wonder, and as you looked into them, you knew that it was much older like he originally had thought.
Alex held out his hand, and it grabbed his finger softly. Its green skin was as smooth as velvet. The alien held out its other hand and grabbed Michael’s finger.
Just then Alex saw a flash of bright white light. He closed his eyes quickly and saw stars swirling around the galaxy. Alex felt like he was flying through space. The colors and the speckles of lights surrounding him were dazzling. And then it was over as quick as lightning.
Letting go of the child’s finger, Alex gasped and looked at Michael, “What was that, Michael?”
Panting, Michael shook his head, “I dunno… but it felt….”
“Cosmic,” they both said in unison.
Maybe the two of them truly were meant to be together; it was clearly written in the stars—the alien had shown them that.
***
Through the cabin, the warm early morning light was starting to shine through the windows. Alex yawned and looked down. The alien was curled up in his arms and a blanket was embracing them both. Buffy was lying right next to his feet in a ball breathing in-and-out slowly. He felt so at peace.
None of them had been able to sleep during the late-night hours, so instead, they had watched E.T., which had been Michael’s idea. He loved movies with aliens. Their little alien had been so entranced, that it had sat close to the TV, touching the screen. It had been simply adorable.
Halfway through the movie, they must’ve fallen asleep. Alex now watched as the alien’s long ear twitched and he felt its steady strong heart. At that moment, he was filled with a different type of love.
He looked over to where Michael had been, but he wasn’t there.
“Mornin’ darlin’.” Michael was leaning in the door frame holding two cups of coffee. His feet were bare and his curly fry curls were tousled in disarray. Alex had never seen him look more beautiful. He walked over quietly and whispered, “I didn’t wanna wake y’all. You looked so peaceful.”
Michael leaned down and kissed Alex’s forehead. Alex tilted his head back and puckered his lips out making a face. Smiling, Michael leaned in once more to kiss him.
Comfy mornings with the ones you loved, that’s how Alex liked starting his day. He looked down at the little one nestled in his arms and realized he could get used to this. He had wanted to start a family with Michael, and what better way than to start now? “We could keep him, you know? He could be a part of our family.”
“Really?” Michael replied with a soft smile. “I mean...we know nothing about it and that’s a big responsibility thinking into the future.”
“I’m ready to take on this challenge, as long as I do it with you.”
Michael’s bottom lip trembled slightly and he nodded, “Me too, babe. Together we can do this.”
“I think it chose us for a reason. We can keep it safe.”
Michael nodded, “I think you’re right about that one.”
But fate had different plans because, at that exact moment, the front door slammed open.
Alex jumped up and held tightly to the alien. Buffy growled and barked at the intruder covered in metal armor and a mask with what looked like a ‘T’ on the face. The person had a long black cape and was clearly armed.
Michael was already in position with an outstretched hand, “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in our house?”
There was no answer. The cold air mixed with the freshly fallen morning snow was starting to blow into the house. The hair on Alex’s neck began to stand on edge—this wasn’t good.
The intruder looked around, boots slamming down on the wood floor when finally they stopped and tilted their head, “The child.”
His voice was morphed, yet powerful.
Alarmed, Michael’s eyes widened, “What? What child?”
Alex’s arms went tighter around the alien. Whoever this person was, it wanted the bundle in his arms. Alex suddenly felt very protective.
The intruder pointed towards the alien, “The child. Give me the child and no one will get hurt.”
“How do we know you won’t hurt it?” Alex replied with a glare.
“I was sworn to protect it.”
“Great job,” Michael scoffed as he rolled his eyes.
“Michael…” Alex warned, shaking his head. Now was definitely not the time for that.
“We were trying to escape from our enemies off of our ship, I was trying to keep him safe but the pod malfunctioned and left without the proper coordinates. I have never been to this planet, but luckily I was able to track him. It was a mistake for him landing here.” Alex frowned—it had not been a mistake. “I need to take him home. That was always the plan. He has a family. His kind. It’s my mission to see it done.”
“Who are you?” Michael asked again. It came out more of a demand. Alex was impressed.
Alex could hear the man take a deep breath in, “I’m the Mandalorian.”
“The Mandalorian? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind that, we need to leave before our enemies infiltrate onto your planet,” the Mandalorian replied, walking up closer to Alex. Michael immediately moved in front of him and the child. Alex loved him for it.
Just then, the alien wiggled and jumped out of Alex’s arms. It ran over to the man and put a green hand on his boot. Slowly, the intruder picked the little one up. Immediately, it nestled in the man’s arm.
Whatever the relationship was between the two, there was clearly a connection and a bond. Alex now knew the man was telling the truth. He could feel it, even though it made him sad to say goodbye.
The Mandalorian held out a small metal ball and the child cooed and its ears wiggled as it grabbed onto it.
As the man turned to walk away, the child made a whining noise. The Mandalorian shook its head but finally groaned and put the alien down. It ran quickly to Michael and held its arms up.
Puzzled, Michael bent down to pick it up. “What’s up, little dude?”
The alien put his small hand and touched Michael’s temple. Michael gasped and closed his eyes.
It was showing Michael a vision...but of what?
After a few moments, the child removed his hand and touched Michael’s cheek.
Michael cleared his throat, “Thank you...thank you for that.”
The alien did a small nod and Michael gently placed it back down to the floor. It walked over to Buffy and patted her head. Buffy’s tail slid across the floorboards in response. The child looked at Alex and smiled making a little noise of approval.
Returning back to the Mandalorian, the man scooped him up once more and headed towards the door. But he paused and looked back. Muffled through the mask he wore he said, “Thank you for keeping him safe. You’re good people.”
“Of course,” Alex replied. “Different doesn’t scare us,”
“Maybe he was meant to meet you after all then.” The alien’s ears wiggled happily. “May we meet again someday,” the Mandalorian said with a nod. Then they went into the morning sun.
Alex rushed towards the cabin door and saw in the distance a small ship. The child’s pod reattached to the side of the ship. It rumbled and hissed, and then hovered in the sky. Then away it went as if a distant memory, but not to be forgotten.
He hoped like hell that the military hadn’t witnessed that, or they were in for it.
“Wow...that was something, wasn’t it? Feels kind of like a weird lucid dream.”
When Michael didn’t reply, Alex turned around. His boyfriend was standing next to the window, frozen in his shocked expression.
Alex walked over and touched Michael’s arm gently, “What did he show you?”
Michael came to the present moment and looked at Alex, his beautiful hazel eyes filled with tears, “My home.”
As his heart started beating out of his chest, Alex held on to Michael’s hand, “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
Michael smiled and pulled Alex into his arms. “I’m now even more certain though, that this… you, are my home, Alex.”
Alex held onto his cosmic soulmate tightly as he realized that the galaxy had all but collided and yet their love had only seemed to grow with the confirmation that they were clearly meant to find one another.
Their love story would simply continue to live on within the stars.
#alexweek2020#alexappreciation2020#alex manes#malex#michael guerin#roswell new mexico#my fic#my graphic#crossover#star wars#the mandalorian#baby yoda#buffy manes#rated: g#michael x alex#otp: cosmic
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Mornings (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)
Good morning y’all (fun fact I’m not actually from the south I just picked this up cause fuck saying ‘you guys’). A little light fluff to start the day and hopefully bring the doctor closer to us and in a relationship! Enjoy and let’s hope that we don’t fuck up in front of the governor today!
Tag List: @the-soot-sprite @ethandaddyramsey @silverlitskies @sherlockedmcu @trappedinfandoms @samihatuli @marywitchjane @awalker965 @openheart12 @flyawayboo @hatescapsicum @edith049 @princess-geek @akacalliope @dr-nancy-house @hipstercoffeeshop
Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Parker Kennedy)
Summary: A typical morning in the life of Ethan and Parker.
Warnings: A couple of swear words maybe, implied sex
Word Count: 930
Ethan had always been a morning person, his wife on the other hand…not so much. His alarm went off early, 5:00 am early. He carefully, pulled his sleeping wife off his bare chest and laid her back on his side of the bed.
“Ughhh, no Ethan,” she whined, already missing the body heat that kept her warm through the night. She reached out for him, trying to tempt him to stay in bed longer with her.
“Shhh, go back to sleep love,” he whispered softly and tucked her smaller frame back into bed with a soft kiss to her forehead.
Once he was sure she was situated and warm, Ethan got up and changed into a sweatshirt and shorts. Jenner, like his original master, was an early riser. Now that the beagle was older and little fatter (thanks to Parker spoiling him all the time), so Ethan would take him on early walks. It allowed Ethan to wake up and warm up his body before he hit the gym, and remind Jenner who the real master was.
Their stroll around the block and to the park was quiet as usual, with not too many others out and about at the early time. There were a handful of other dog owners walking around, but for the most part it gave Ethan a chance to mentally go through his list for the day.
After their walk, Ethan came back up and let Jenner into the apartment. He watched the dog scamper to the bedroom to snuggle with Parker like he did every morning. Ethan, on the other hand, went back downstairs to the apartment’s gym. He would go every morning, hence how he maintained his muscles. Parker had offered to go with him a few times, but she didn’t like working out in front of others and didn’t want to wake up that early. She preferred to do yoga in the comfort of her own living room because she ‘always does the positions wrong’.
Once his cardio and weights were done, he went back up to the apartment. By 6:30 Ethan’s back in home and starting a pot of coffee before his shower. When he walked into the bedroom, he smiles at Parker cuddling Jenner in bed. It may happen every morning, but it’s still the best part of his morning. When their relationship started, Ethan slowly watched as Jenner fell in complete love with the young woman. Now it seems like they’re inseparable. Jenner is always by her side if she’s home and gets excited whenever she comes back.
Walking over to Parker, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Time to get up my love.”
“5 more minutes,” she groaned, pushing her face into her pillow.
“If you wait that long you’ll go to work with wet hair.”
Another groan leaves her lips and she sits up in bed. Her blonde hair is going in every direction as she yawned and stretched in bed. A little more awake, she looked up at her husband and smiles, “Good morning”
Smiling back like a dork, he said good morning back. They move towards the bathroom, and Ethan started the shower for them. He hoped in right away while Parker untangles her hair before joining him. It has become an art for the two to be able to shower in the mornings together sometimes and not be late every day (though Parker may try to persuade Ethan).
Pulling off a baggy shirt and her underwear, she joined him under the hot water. It started out fine, washing their hair and bodies, but Parker quickly tries to change Ethan’s mind as he goes to leave.
“Parker…we’ll be late.” His voice was stern as he looked at Parker clinging to his arm.
She pouted, sticking out her bottom lip and giving her best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”
****
“Fuck,” he groaned as his wife got up with a devilish smirk on her face.
“Wasn’t that worth being a little late?” Parker teased.
Ethan responded by pulling his wife in his arms and kissing her. Their lips moved in sync, still under the warm shower water. Finally, Parker pulled away giving him teasing feather-like kisses over his face.
“We have to get out of this shower.”
“C’mon,” he mumbled, dragging her out.
Once they were dry, the two did their own routines. Ethan would get dressed right away and go out to watch a bit of the news and enjoy his coffee. Parker, on the other hand, would dry her hair and put a little makeup on before picking her outfit for the day. Once she was ready, she would get her travel mug of coffee ready to go. Together, they’d go down to their car and head off to work. The commute wasn’t too bad, traffic sucked. The positive aspect though was that it gave them time to talk and catch up. Their schedules tended to get busy very quickly, so they both learned very quickly to enjoy the traffic.
As they walked toward the glass façade of Edenbrook, Parker turned to Ethan, “I don’t think I’ve told you I love you today…”
“I don’t think I have either.”
Parker stopped in her tracks in front of the door, Ethan stopping too. Shifting her mug of coffee into her left hand, she put her right hand on his cheek and rubbed her thumb against his facial hair lovingly.
“I love you Ethan.”
“I love you too Parker.”
She gave him a chaste kiss, then walked into work with her husband ready to kick ass.
#ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x mc#parker kennedy#open heart 2#open heart#open heart fanfiction#parker kennedy x ethan ramsey#ethan x mc#dr ethan ramsey#dr ethan ramsey x mc#dr ethan jonah ramsey#ethan jonah ramsey#choices#choices stories you play#play choices#choices open heart#choices oh2#oph 2#oph#oh#oh2#edenbrook#ethan ramsey fanfiction#ethan ramsey fluff#open heart fic
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Good Boy!
a/n: I’ve fallen for George and refuse to get up. I have tons more blurb ideas but wanted to start nice and easy with this fluff... send in requests y’all!
w/c: 600
───※ ·❆· ※───
"George! Get back here right now!" You were racing through the neighborhood, trying to remember each corner you turned passed in a hurry. You had just moved to the city, and this was not how you pictured spending your first free weekend.
And while you really didn't want to go on screaming down the street like a lunatic it was your only hope this far behind.
"George I swear to the heavens! Slow down!"
Patrons ducked out of your way, passing quizzical glances and pissed off mumbles as you dodged frantically between them. But just as you were about to shout again you saw him.
"George! Thank God." You stopped running when you spotted your beloved old beagle, who was possessed with the energy of a puppy on his first walk in the new city. He dashed away, yanking his leash from your grasp and sending you on a rather embarrassing runabout. Luckily your pup was stopped at the feet of a kind stranger who managed to grab his leash in time.
"I'm sorry, have we met?" The handsome man turned to face you all the way, keeping your dogs leash in his grasp. He seemed just as startled as you.
"No, I don't think so." You cautiously stepped toward the fella, wishing you had. His bright blue eyes and the tiny grin that turned up the corners of his pillowy lips made your heart buzz to life.
"But, thanks for stopping my dog. He just got a bit excited on his first tour of the town." You sheepishly explained, reaching to claim the leash. "Come on now George, you rascal." You casually reprimanded your pup as he sulked his way toward you.
The handsome stranger kept his brilliant eyes on you as a tiny chuckle escaped his throat.
"What's so funny?" You asked, looking to the guy with a smile of your own
"Why'd you name your dog George?" He shifted closer toward you.
"He's always getting into heaps of trouble and I thought a respectable name might balance it all out. So much for that, huh?"
The man kept that stunned smirk on his face while he listened and laughed at your tale. Then he softly asked for your name, and you told him with all the perfectly maintained giddiness of a well-mannered school girl. You stood there on the sidewalk, hardly paying attention to the people passing by. All the brightly colored vendor trucks and clattering doorbells were somewhere off in the distance as you struggled to break away from the trance that the pretty stranger had on you. When he lifted his hand out toward yours, you could hardly wait to make his acquaintance.
"Lovely to meet the pair of you. I'm George, and I think I might be I heaps of trouble too."
Your cheeks burned as he stood there gently shaking your hand, and introducing himself. George let his coy smirk turn into a smile and your stomach filled with butterflies at the sight.
"Oh, lovely. I guess I ought to apologize for shouting at you, then." You grinned, quirking your brow at the recent memory of calling your dog and watching the pretty stranger turn toward your attention.
"Oh, no need. I'm rather glad you did." It was then he let go of your hand, seemingly just realizing he was still sort of holding it. You tried to keep your cool as you both straightened up, and your pup whined at your feet.
"Care for a tour of the rest of the city?" George wondered, looking to you like he was sharing a secret. How could you say no? Your dog was already pulling at his leash again, desperate for the adventure to continue. When you nodded at George and he smiled even brighter, you realized your own adventure had just begun.
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hey there! i’m cassiopeia, but most people just call me cass or cassie! i’m 17, my pronouns are she / her, i’m a lesbian, and i talk about dogs a lot haha. i’m also southern so yes i do say “y’all” and “ain’t” a lot and am obsessed with sweet tea
this is a personal blog where i’ll share a lot of miscecanis related stuff! you’ll also see me talk a lot about my pack, which i’m currently working on and will hopefully be up soon!
i’m an alpha mainly because of my desire to feel needed and care for others. and yes, i do have a mate! she’s my whole universe and i love her more than i can express.
i own two dogs! one is a 1.5 year old beagle named millie and the other is a 3 month old miniature australian shepherd named penny! they’re the lights of my life but also cause a lot of chaos. i also work at a dog daycare, boarding, and grooming facility and i love working there but it’s definitely not for everyone.
i’m a digital artist and my current favorite shows are 9-1-1, the owl house, psych, stranger things, and teen wolf. my favorite movies are the jurassic movies, outbreak, deep water horizon, and san andreas. if you can’t tell, i love disaster stuff, dinosaurs, and supernatural stuff!
that’s all the important stuff i can think of, so i’ll end it here! see y’all soon!
#alpha/beta/omega#omegaverse lifestyle#miscecanis pack#omegaverse pack#miscelupus#miscecanis#a/b/o#omegaverse
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Immortal Soulmate [1team edition]
Genre: immortal!au, soulmate!au, supernatural!au, fantasy!au, slice of life
Word Count: 1,110
Summary: werecat!bc, faerie!rubin, werefox!jinwoo, vampire!jehyun, werewolf!junghoon with genderneutral!ocs
9.21.21
EDIT! due to Xen and Jehyun redebuting, i included OX in the tag due to that. maybe in the future i could add the rest of the OX members. for now i’ve just done this and to hope clear any confusion.
notes: bullet-list. five in one. a brief introduction of each immortal member as different types of otherwordly beings. also i’m not all that familiar of 1team and hope it’s good enough for y’all!! (Sol means Pine, Namoo means Tree, Yiseul means Dew, Hanbyul means One Star, and Haru means Day just an FYI on why i chose the names lol)
alright hello! the original request was something different and realized that i just couldn’t write it even if i tweaked it. so i would like to apologize to @rainbowglitteramythyst for waiting so long to read something and it wasn’t of your original request. i hope this one is good good enough even though it was an older worked titled Immortal Soulmate with different idols, but i felt that i could do something with that for the 1team boys here. also why it’s titled the same with the brackets since i really do like that title in general lol but yeah anyways, who doesn’t love some dark romance right? i honestly had a lot of fun writing this one and imagining as said immortal being. maybe one day i could actually write a fuller fic for the boys, but for now it’s just this. anyways, thanks for the request, and sorry once again for not writing it out. as for everyone else, hope y’all enjoy as this is my first gender neutral ocs as i usually write the ocs as female! kthxbai, Admin Lia~
werecat!CSH
name is Chin Sungho
appears to be in his mid-twenties, but is actually over a few centuries years old
his cat form is an abyssinian
loves being pampered while in cat form
while in cat form likes to steal the neighbors' laundry for some reason
while in human form owns two actual cats named Shy and From
can play the flute and saxophone, but has no effect on his soulmate
he's pretty laid-back, but reserved around strangers
by day he's a university student, but by night he's part of the rap underground
and how Sungho manages to be a cat in-between his beyond him
some powers includes: night vision, inaudibility, stealth tactics, and spiritual awareness
Park Sol is a normal human also in their twenties
Sol is indirectly Sungho's owner as Sol's mother was the one to adopt the apparent 'stray' cat
Sol's unaware he's is a shape-shifter and that both are unaware that they're soulmates
they both attend the same university with Sungho majoring in veterinary science and Sol's majoring in visual arts
the mother named him Bryan, but Sol calls him Rayi instead
while in cat form, Sungho adores Sol, but as a human, he's quite aloof for some reason
Sol also own two other cats, Andante and Texas, but they don't quite like Sungho in either form
faerie!LRB
name is Lee Rubin
appears to be in his mid-twenties, but is actually over a few centuries years old
half-elf, elven mother and human father
neither good or evil, neutral although a bit mischievous and playful
is wondrous, but slightly haughty
changes hair color constantly
looks human despite an ethereal glow and unnatural beauty to him
gets into a lot of arguments with the butterflies when it comes to flowers
is still learning french despite his age
can play the piano and guitar although this has no effect on his soulmate
besides elven abilities, faery magic, and ecokinesis, Rubin has large sparkly wings and can manipulate fairy dust
Kim Namoo is a normal human also in their twenties
they have been neighbors since babies, but are not friends as Namoo tells people
Kim Namoo is unaware of his true background and neither of the two are aware of the fact that they're soulmates
they both attend the same university and are both majoring in fine arts
Rubin likes teasing Namoo the most, but is quite protective of Namoo if others mess with them, too
he's the reason why Namoo has dreaming and sleeping issues
Namoo has a beagle named Ruru and a scottish fold named Prince and they both have a love-hate relationship with Rubin
werefox!LJW
name is Lee Jinwoo
appears to be around in his early twenties, but is actually a few centuries years old
his fox form is an arctic fox
in his fox form he has three tails with each having their own personality
is quite active and may be why he eats a lot in either form
favorite food is ramen and fried rice, especially with animal heart and liver
has a great sense of smell and hearing
as a fox loves cuddles and has perfect heat insulation
Jinwoo is super shy with strangers, but very lively with closed ones
despite being a fox spirit, Jinwoo actually likes dogs
some powers includes: illusions, enhanced physical skills, possession, and fox-fire
Baek Yiseul is a normal human also in their twenties
Yiseul lives in the same apartment complex as Jinwoo, but on different floors
they also attend the same university with Yiseul majoring in photography and related media and Jinwoo majoring in nutrition
Yiseul is unaware that he's a shape-shifter and is his soulmate
Jinwoo knows that Yiseul his soulmate due to the invisible galaxy-colored fox flower tattoo on their upper back
he's the reason why Yiseul's pet hamster, Malik, goes missing and returns a few days later
Yiseul's pomeranian, Zayn, hates him because Zanik knows Jinwoo's a fox spirit
vampire!MJH
name is Moon Jehyun
appears to be around in his early twenties, but is actually a few centuries years old
dhampir, vampire dad and human mom
a natural charmer and a smooth talker
enjoys pulling pranks on unsuspecting humans
prefers animal blood over human blood just as the same with animal meat to human meat
eye color changes based upon current mood
still needs to be invited inside
owns two cats name Coco and Kkotnim
by day he's a university student, but by night he's a street dancer
besides vampiric abilities and umbrakinesis, Jehyun has bat-like feathery wings, can shape-shift, and walk in sunlight
Sun Hanbyul is a normal human also in their twenties
they live in the same house block and have a circle of mutual friends
Hanbyul is unaware of his true nature and background and that their his soulmate
Jehyun knows Hanbyul's his soulmate because he recognizes the old soul within them that glows pale lilac
they attend the same university as fashion design majors although Hanbyul thinks Jehyun should be a model instead
Hanbyul works at a late night dessert bar cafe and Jehyun would stop by during one of his nightly visits
Hanbyul has a jack russell terrier, Groovin, who isn't quite fond of Jehyun
werewolf!LJH
name is Lee Junghoon
appears to be around in his early twenties, but is actually a few centuries years old
his wolf form is a mix of the grey and red wolf
as a wolf Junghoon's fur coat is tawny brown with silver and golden highlights
can shift body temperature to accommodate any weather and climate changes
has a cool demeanor and doesn't hold grudges
can be a bit emotional and sad at times, especially during the full moon
isn't particularly weak against silver or related substances, but it hurts a lot when it happens
usually craves raw meat, but will eat a rare to medium rare
by day he's a university student, but by night he's also part of the underground rap scene
some powers includes: enhanced physical skills, healing factor, invulnerability, and area affinity
Jung Haru is a normal human also in their twenties
they've been acquainted since babies as their great-great-great-grandparents have been long time friends
Haru's unaware of Junghoon's background and that their his soulmate, but feels a strong attraction to him
Junghoon knows Haru's his soulmate due to their scent smelling like the spicy fragrance of the night gladiolus
they both attend the same university with Haru majoring in social welfare and Junghoon majoring in environmental education
Haru has a samoyed named Juan and an alaskan malamute named Frizzy that absolutely adores Junghoon
Haru also has a friend that's part of the underground scene and would accompany that friend
#staytheb#1team scenarios#chin sungho#lee rubin#lee jinwoo#moon jehyun#lee junghoon#omega x scenarios#xen
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This is the first time I wrote a really long post about DuckTales
So, to pass the time until DuckTales come back in April I decided to map out the seasons that’s already been aired to find out who and what the season’s about, how many episodes a particular storyline or arc is given, and maybe make a few theories about season 3.
Before I start, season finales are not included in the count up because I think they just include everything that we learned throughout the season.
Season 1 is Dewey’s season. His main arc is about finding out what happened to his mom, but his personal arc is learning that he doesn’t have to always have do things on his own to impress anyone and that it’s okay to rely on others for help.
Now on to how many episodes that focused on him this season:
Escape to/from Atlantis! (Woo-oo! part 1)
The Great Dime Chase!
The Infernal Internship of Mark Beaks!
The Spear of Selene!
The Missing Links of Moorshire!
Day of the Only Child!
Sky Pirates...In the Sky!
The Secret(s) of Castle McDuck!
Total: 8 episodes
I really debated on having some episodes included in the list because if you think about only four episodes focused on his Della investigation and some episodes didn’t focus entirely on him but still had a major part. The Last Crash of the Sunchaser is not on here or any of the following lists because I think the focus was evenly divided among the characters. Well I guess you could make the argument that it focused on Dewey and Scrooge since they seemed to be the driving forces in that episode. But I don’t count it because it’s way too sad and I’m not putting myself through that. But anyway, I got to thinking “No it’s Dewey’s season. His episodes don’t have to be exclusively tied to that arc.” Besides, his other episodes have moments of what he really thinks of himself and how he wants others to see him. Plus, we got Dewey Dew-Night!
Wow that got long but let’s move on to the next season!
Season 2 is Louie’s season. His main arc is about him trying to find a specific in his family and how to fit in it with what he knows how to do best. His personal arc is about him learning to be more humble and more appreciative of what he has.
Episodes that focused on him:
The Most Dangerous Game...Night!
Storkules in Duckburg!
The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck!
Happy Birthday, Doofus Drake!
Timephoon!
GlomTales!
The Richest Duck in the World!
Total: 7 episodes
I honestly had no problem trying to decipher which were Louie’s episodes. I didn’t think to include The Ballad of Duke Baloney because it was mainly about Glomgold.
Season 1 also had another character that it focused on and that was Scrooge. His arc was about reconnecting and bonding with his family after being separated from them for so long.
Woo-oo!
The Impossible Summit of Mt. Neverrest!
The Missing Links of Moorshire!
The Golden Lagoon of White Agony Plains!
From the Confidential Case Files of Agent 22!
The Secret(s) of Castle McDuck!
Total: 6 episodes
I counted these episodes even though some of them was also about other characters because they were about Scrooge’s history and relationships with these people.
Season 2 was also Della’s season since this was the first time we fully got to know her. Her arc was about reuniting with her family and learning to adapt to new situations.
What Ever Happened To Della Duck?!
The Golden Spear!
Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!
Raiders of the Doomsday Vault!
The Golden Armory of Cornelius Coot!
Timephoon!
The Richest Duck in the World!
Total: 7 episodes
I think Della’s episodes were pretty much straightforward. In episodes where she’s focused or involved in a B story where she has a role that has some significance, Della either bonds with her kids, makes connections with new people and/or learns a lesson while also learning something new about her in the process.
In season 1, Magica is the main villain. Her arc is about stealing Scrooge’s Number One Dime to free herself from it, then to seek revenge on Scrooge and his family.
Terror of the Terra-firmians!
Jaw$!
The Other Bin of Scrooge McDuck!
Total: 3 episodes
I decided not to include The Beagle Birthday Massacre because the episode was mainly about Lena and Webby, and Magica doesn’t appear until the very end. Also, we don’t get mention of any plans from her until Terror of the Terra-firmians.
In season 2, Lunaris is the main villain. His arc is about befriending Della to gain access to her rocket ship manual for him to use to invade Earth.
What Ever Happened To Della Duck?!
The Golden Spear!
What Ever Happened to Donald Duck?!
Total: 3 episodes
Nothing Can Stop Della Duck is not on the list even though Lunaris appears at the end is because that was primarily a Della episode. Same reason why The Richest Duck in the World is not on here. Lunaris may not have actually appeared but Penumbra did send out a warning about Lunaris’ invasion. However, that happened at the very end of the episode.
From doing this, we can tell that a season is usually about one of the kids, an adult relative of theirs, and their respective season’s villain.
So for season 3, we already know it’s Huey’s season and that investigating F.O.W.L. is one of his arcs.
I gonna take a guess as to what his other arc could be about but it could be that Huey learns that some things can be out of your control and that you need to make the best out of the situation. I’m basing this on some moments in the show of where something didn’t make sense, Huey would get angry, upset, or afraid.
Donald could be the adult relative that the season is also. Plus, we been told that Donald does have a mini arc coming up.
F.O.W.L. is the villain of season 3. Either just the faction or the vultures themselves doesn’t matter.
Well that’s it for my train of thought. I hope y’all enjoyed get a look into my head about these seasons!
#ducktales#ducktales 2017#huey dewey and louie#scrooge mcduck#della duck#donald duck#magica de spell#general lunaris#f.o.w.l.
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Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: 101 Dalmatian Street (Cartoon)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Dizzy (101 Dalmatians), Dee Dee (101 Dalmatians), Delilah (101 Dalmatians), Doug (101 Dalmatians), Dolly (101 Dalmatians), Dylan (101 Dalmatians), Bea (OC)
Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, animal testing, Animal Abuse, Flashbacks, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Hallucinations, Nightmares, Sad Backstory, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff
Summary:
The dalmatian family takes in a caged beagle puppy that mysteriously appears on their curb. As the dalmatians all do their part tend to their guest's physical and emotional injuries, they learn more about the pup's troubled past. [CW for graphic descriptions of animal testing/violence and PTSD/anxiety]
ayyyy i’m starting a fanfic series about my OC, Bea.
are y’all ready to get reaaaaal sad? :D
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