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serpentandlily · 11 months

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Untouchable VII - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst angst angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part VII

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Are you alright?”

Feyre’s voice knocked you out of your own head. You swallowed audibly, looking at her before following her gaze down to where you were holding your wine glass, white knuckled. You let out a sigh and set the glass down on the table, putting your hands in your lap.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you said, to get her attention off of you. “Just thinking about my last trip to Hewn City, that’s all.”

Feyre’s brows furrowed but she nodded.

Your eyes flickered back to the other end of the table, where Elain and Azriel sat. Elain was basically halfway out of her chair, leaning into Azriel’s space. A knot formed at the back of your throat. Azriel wasn’t exactly encouraging her, but he also wasn’t trying to put more distance between the two of them.

Jealousy roared its ugly head inside of you. Especially as you watched her place a hand on his arm, laughing at something he said. A hand that wouldn’t hurt him, unlike yours.

You looked away, unable to bear the sight of it anymore. You just wanted this stupid dinner to be over already.

Everyone seemed to have paired off into conversation. Feyre and Rhys, Cassian and Nesta, Helion and Mor, Amren and Varian, Elain and Azriel. You pushed around the food on your plate, feeling alone.

There was one another person here who looked just as lonely as you. Lucien sat across from you, his eyes glued on his mate who was flirting with your…with your Azriel.

Elain laughed again, drawing your attention back to her. This time, Azriel had a soft smile on his face as well.

You couldn’t take it anymore, thankful everyone seemed to be finished eating dessert. You cleared your throat, standing up and drawing everyone’s eyes to you. You kept your focus on Helion though.

“I'm going to turn in for the night. It was lovely seeing you again, Helion,” you said politely. “Goodnight.”

You couldn’t get to the balcony fast enough, summoning your wings to make the short flight back to the River House. You ignored the soft stroke of your brother’s claws against your mental shield, not in the mood to make up excuses for your behavior.

Once you were in your room, you started ripping the pins from your hair and tossing them on your vanity. Just as you were finishing letting your hair down, the shadows in the corner of your room seemed to expand until a dark figure stepped out of them.

Azriel approached you, concern written on his face.

“Y/n? Why did you take off like that? Is everything alright?”

You didn’t turn to face him, instead you looked at him through the mirror.

“I’m fine. I-I just didn’t feel too good.”

“Don’t do that, princess,” Azriel said, stalking forward until he was right behind you, still able to look at you in the eyes considering he was a foot taller than you. “I thought we were being honest with each other now.”

You let out a sigh and turned around, placing a soft hand on his chest. “I’m sorry. I just… I couldn’t stand watching you with her. After what I saw that night—” You choked on your own words for a second. “It’s hard to be around you when I can't be with you.”

Azriel placed his hand over yours. “I cannot apologize enough for that night, princess. But it is only you that I see. It meant nothing to me then and it means nothing to me now. You are the only one who owns my entire heart. I can only pray that a day comes when I can let everyone else see that too.”

You softened, staring up at his beautiful hazel eyes. They were gold right now in the moonlight shining into your room from the balcony doors, a perfect compliment to your own violet ones. But then his jaw clenched and the moment was stolen away.

You pulled your hand away from him, letting your arm fall limp at your side.

“This is also why I left,” you breathed out. “It pains me to see another person get to touch you when I can’t. I hate it, Azriel. I hate that I bring you pain.”

“I’d drag myself across the burning fires of hell for you, princess” Azriel brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, before leaning down to whisper, “I’ve never been a stranger to pain, y/n. Quite the opposite. I’ve learned to like it.”

The heat in his gaze—his words—made you melt right into his hands.

“Is that so?” Your voice was a mere whisper as your hand trailed down his chest, lingering on the waistband of his pants before palming his hardened length with a ghost of a touch.

Azriel groaned, his head falling against your shoulder. “Don’t tease me. Not tonight.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you purred, stroking against his mental barrier.

When he let you in, you showed him exactly how the two of you were going to spend the rest of the night.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You bit your lip, tossing more of your clothes out of your wardrobe and onto the floor of your bedroom as you dug around, searching for your journal. It wasn’t in the place you normally hid it, but that hadn’t been too concerning. You did often throw it about after writing in it for hours. But not being able to find it at all? That was a first.

“What are you looking for?”

You screeched, falling backwards onto your butt at the sudden voice. A masculine chuckle, accompanied with the scent of night-chilled mist and cedar flooded the room. You peered up to see Azriel hovering over you. You pouted at him and his antics.

“It’s rude to just appear in a ladies room, you know,” you snipped, causing him to snort. “I’m looking for my journal. I can’t find it anywhere. Have you seen it?”

Azriel shook his head, offering a hand to help you off the floor. “I didn’t even know you kept a journal. I can help you look.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

Before you could say another word, Azriel surged forward to kiss you. You let out a small gasp before giving yourself over to him. He kissed you with a familiar passion, bringing heat to your core and causing your heart to beat fiercely.

The kiss ended far too soon.

“What was that for?” you panted.

“Can’t I just kiss you?”

You gave him a look that had his lips twitching. “Fine. Cassian needs help in Windhaven so I’m going to be gone for a few days. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You frowned as he played with the straps of your dress, his eyes as pained as yours were at the thought of having to spend time away from each other.

“Do you really have to go? Can’t Rhys go help him? He’s the High Lord, not you.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to your lips again, smiling.

“Is someone going to miss me?”

His eyes softened when the look on your face didn’t change.

“It’s just for a few days, princess,” Azriel said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I suppose you don’t have a choice.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Do I at least get more of a goodbye?”

Azriel let out a small groan as your body pressed against his but to your displeasure, he merely kissed you on the forehead and stepped away. “I wish, princess, but your brother asked me to meet with him before I leave. I’m sorry.”

“Why is he always getting in the way?” you grumbled, more to yourself than anything.

Azriel placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “Be safe. I love you.”

“I love you too, Princess,” he murmured, giving you one last kiss before disappearing in a whirlwind of shadows.

His scent trailed behind him…but then you stiffened, another lingering scent was attached to it.

You sniffed the air.

Jasmine and Honey.

Elain’s scent.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Why did he smell like Elain? Had he gone and said goodbye to her as well? Had he been with her before coming to see you? You could feel your blood rushing to your head and you forced yourself to calm down.

You sniffed the air again, only smelling his night-chilled mist and cedar this time. You let out a long breath, sitting down at the edge of your bed. Perhaps you had been mistaken. Perhaps your own insecurities were making you paranoid.

But something awful curled in your stomach.

And a feeling of dread rushed through you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You busied yourself while Azriel was away. It had only been a day so far, but you already missed him so much. You had buried yourself in reports from the Court of Nightmares and correspondence from Eris. But still, nothing could fully distract you from your thoughts.

You kept going back to that scent in your room.

Had you made that up?

But why? Why would you do that to yourself? You hadn’t even been thinking of Elain. You wrestled with the idea that maybe Azriel had seen Elain before you, to tell her he was leaving. They were friends, after all. It could be something harmless.

But that night kept flashing behind your eyes every time you shut them. Elain on the counter, her dress pushed up to her thighs, Azriel between them, as they ravishingly kissed each other. Elain and Azriel at the dinner table, her hand on his bicep as he made her laugh.

It made you feel sick to your stomach.

The words on the parchment you were reading blurred together and you set it aside with a sigh.

You were overthinking things. Azriel had told you time and time again that he wanted to be with you. That he’s always wanted to be with you and it was your own brother that had kept him away.

You dropped your head down on your desk, sucking in air. You were just being paranoid. You were letting your insecure feelings get in your head. Azriel wanted you. Azriel wanted only you. He loved you. He always had…

Right?

A giggle in the corridor outside your door caught your attention. You sat up straight, recognizing it to be Elain’s. You froze for a second before quietly getting up and walking to your door, pressing your ear against the cold wood.

Another giggle, a bit further down the hallway this time.

You slowly pushed the door open a crack, peering into the dark corridor. Another giggle and the sound of someone shushing another. A streak of golden-brown hair slipping around the corner. Azriel’s scent wafted through the space and your stomach turned over.

You stepped into the now quiet hallway, following after the sound of Elain’s giggles and Azriel’s scent.

He was supposed to be in Windhaven. Why was he here? And why was here with Elain in the middle of the night? Your heart was pounding in your chest. You felt like throwing up. But you pushed yourself to follow despite your better judgment.

A door around the corner slammed shut and you could hear the sound of rustling clothes. Tears pricked your eyes and you darted forward now, pushing the door open.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the empty room. You blinked once. Twice. You couldn’t hear Elain’s giggle anymore, couldn't scent Azriel either.

Had you imagined all of that?

You rubbed at your eyes, exhaustion settling into your body. Gods, you were going crazy. The lack of sleep was finally getting to you. That was the only logical explanation you could give yourself. You left the room and returned to your own.

Just a few more days.

A few more days and Azriel would be home.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The next two days passed in a blur.

You had a stack of reports in your arms as you made your way towards your brother’s office, ready to deliver them. You had been staying in the Townhouse the past few nights, needing space away from Elain–hoping it would make your delusions go away.

It wasn’t her fault that you were going crazy, wasn’t her fault that your own brother had pushed Azriel away from you all those years. You didn’t want to take it out on her, so you figured you’d just remove yourself from the Riverhouse until Azriel returned.

You were passing by a closed off room when a familiar voice made you stop in your tracks.

“Fuck, Elain,” Azriel moaned. “You feel so good.”

You shook your head but the sound of two people panting didn’t go away. You froze, just like last time, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping it would go away. You were truly going crazy. You had to be.

“Gods,” Elain panted. “Please, Azriel, don’t stop.”

Your eyes shot open as your heart dropped to your stomach once more. That feeling of dread came again as bile rose up in the back of your throat. You put your hand against the door, slowly pushing it open, praying that you would be met with the sight of an empty room just like last time.

You choked silently on your breath as you peered into the room through the crack in the door. Your hand shot to your mouth as the sight of Azriel and Elain came into view. You blinked once. Twice.

It didn’t go away.

There was Azriel, holding Elain against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as they kissed. Your heart snapped into a million pieces, your eyes stinging with tears that had started falling.

What the fuck?

How…How could he do this?

They pulled away from each other and Azriel rested his forehead against hers.

“How much longer must you pretend to be interested in Rhys’s sister?” Elain asked, closing her eyes. “I’m tired of hiding, Azriel. I don’t care what Rhys thinks. I want the whole court to know how much we love each other.”

“It’s better this way for now, Elain. If Rhys is suspicious of me messing around with his sister, then he will take the news of us together more lightly. He’ll be relieved it's not her I’m after. Hell, he’ll probably throw us a wedding himself.”

Elain giggled, pecking his lips. “I just hate watching her pine after you. It’s a little sad, honestly. You’d think she would’ve moved on after all this time.”

“I know,” Azriel agreed. “But it’ll be worth it. I promise you.”

You couldn’t bear to hear anymore. You silently took a step back, closing the door as softly as you could. You felt your vision go in and out of focus as you forced your legs to keep moving.

Azriel…Azriel had been using you this whole time? He had been wanting your brother to think he had moved on from Elain to you in hopes that your brother would be outraged by the thought, leading him to be relieved that it was still Elain he desired, not you.

You wanted to throw up.

Wanted to scream at the top of your lungs.

You…Gods, you were such an idiot. You had believed every single thing Azriel had said to you. Had never doubted him until these past few days.

No. No….you couldn’t…you couldn’t do this. You were going to be sick.

You were walking still, not even sure where your legs were taking you. You wanted to winnow to Illyria and throw yourself off a cliff, wanted to curl up in a ball in your room and cry, wanted to…Gods, you needed to get away. Needed to get the hell out of here.

“Dove? Are you alright?”

You blinked, your vision coming back into focus to realize you had walked to your brother’s office—your mind likely on autopilot. His violet eyes were staring at you with concern, tracking the tears falling from your eyes.

The reports fell from your hand, scattering to the floor. Rhys rose from his desk, striding over to you quickly. A sob escaped your lips as he grabbed you by the arms, shaking you a bit.

“Dove, what happened? What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

The words began spilling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel was seated at the kitchen table in Rhys’s family cabin, across from Cassian who looked as miserable as he did. It had been a long day of dealing with Devlon and the other Illyrians.

A shadow curled over his ear.

The High Lord approaches. He is angry with you, master.

Azriel swallowed audibly as a wave of darkness overtook the cabin, Rhys stepped out of it looking like a prince from hell, his violet eyes set on him with a burning rage.

Azriel knew the moment he saw Rhys what this was about. He had finally figured it out. He finally knew what was going on between him and his sister. That was the only reason he could think of.

“Azriel!” The High Lord growled, causing Cassian to jump to his feet, his brows furrowed with confusion. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Azriel braced himself but didn’t move. He deserved Rhys’s wrath. He knew he did.

Rhys tackled him, splintering the wooden chair into pieces as the two males landed on the hard ground. Cassian shouted at them to stop but Rhys began to pummel Azriel with his fists.

Azriel didn’t bother fighting back. He just laid on the ground, letting Rhys beat him even as he began to spit up blood.

He always knew this day would come. Knew that he deserved to be beaten into an inch of life for what he had done. He had taken something as pure and good as y/n and fully corrupted her, marked her, ruined her.

He had never deserved to lay his hands on her perfect skin, her perfect body. Not when his hands were so flawed. Not when his hands had done such terrible things.

Suddenly, Rhys was being yanked off of him by Cassian. Rhys growled at his other brother, trying to push him away but Cassian held strong.

“Azriel, get the fuck up,” Cassian grunted. “Why the fuck didn’t you try to fight back?”

Azriel stood, slowly, wiping a hand at the blood that was beginning to dribble down his chin. He spat out more blood, already feeling the bruising that was going to be scattered all over his jaw.

“Because he knows he deserves it,” Rhys snapped. “You fucking piece of shit! I trusted you! I fucking let you into my home, took care of you like a brother, and this is how you repay me?! I swear to the Gods if you don’t get out of my way, Cassian—”

“Stop!” Cassian shouted. “What the fuck is going on? What the fuck happened?”

“Tell him, Azriel, tell him what you’ve done! Tell him how you’ve been messing around with my little sister behind my back!”

Cassian’s eyes widened, his head whipping back and forth behind his brothers. “Rhys, calm down. I don’t know who you heard that from but that can’t be true. Right, Az? I mean, fuck, the bargain we have wouldn’t even—”

“It’s true, Cassian,” Azriel cut him off. “It’s true. Let him go. I deserve this. I fucked up.”

“Azriel,” Cassian murmured in disbelief, his eyes full of disappointment. Azriel couldn’t bear the sight of it.

“You’re fucking sick, Azriel,” Rhys growled. “You held her as a baby! You watched her grow up for fucks sake! I thought I could trust you!”

“Oh fuck you, Rhys,” Azriel said, baring his teeth at the other male. “Don’t make this into something it’s not. I love her! I fucking love her, alright! I always have! And you knew it! That’s why you made us make that fucking bargain with you in the first place!”

“Oh you love her?” Rhys snapped, sarcastically. “You love her so much, huh? Is that why she’s in her room crying over you right now? Is that why you fucking used her to get back at me for telling you to stay away from Elain? I’m going to fucking rip your throat out!”

He lurched forward again, but Cassian took the brunt of his weight, holding him off.

Azriel froze, utterly bewildered.

“Az…what is he talking about? What does he mean you’ve been using y/n?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel spat. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Rhys. I’m not using y/n and I never even wanted Elain. I was trying to move on from…from loving your sister for gods’ sake.”

Rhys laughed bitterly. “If that’s so, then tell me why my sister came crying to me a few hours ago after catching you and Elain fucking each other?!”

“What!” Cassian swiveled to look at Azriel again. But Azriel looked as shocked as he did.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Rhys? I’ve been here all day with Cassian. I don’t want Elain and I certainly wouldn’t be using your sister to get with her!”

“You’re a fucking liar, Azriel! She showed me what she saw, you prick! Cass, you better fucking let me go—”

“He’s not lying, Rhys,” Cassian interjected. “He really has been here with me all day. I don’t think he’s left my sight once. You can go into my mind and look, but I swear it. If…if what you’re saying is true, then I’ll fucking help you kick Azriel’s ass but I think there’s some miscommunication here.”

“Y/n is in her room crying…because she thinks I’ve been using her? I don’t… I wouldn’t,” Azriel murmured, mostly to himself. “I need to go see her.”

“If you move a single muscle, I swear I’ll tear your mind apart, Azriel,” Rhys yelled. “Don’t you dare even think about seeing her right now! You have no idea what you’ve caused!”

“Rhys, I swear on my life that I haven’t touched Elain since winter solstice! And I would never use your sister. I love her! She’s all that matters to me! I need to go to her. I don’t know what she saw but it wasn’t me!”

“Rhys, please, listen to him. I know you’re upset, I am too, but come on, you know Azriel. Does this really seem like something he would do?”

“I saw her memory of it, Cass. I saw him fucking Elain! I saw him talking about using her!”

Azriel stepped forward, glaring. “I haven’t fucked Elain and I wouldn’t, ever! I don’t understand…I’ve been here with Cass all day.”

“He really has, Rhys. There’s got to be something else going on here…I don’t know what y/n thinks she saw or heard, but it wasn’t Azriel.”

Rhys cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to get home. I need to get to the bottom of this. But this is not over, Azriel! Even if you didn’t use her or cheat on her! You should’ve never even put your hands on her in the first place!”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Cassian pushed him back. “One thing at a time. I think finding out why y/n saw what she did is more important right now!”

Rhys glared at Cassian but backed off. He shot Azriel another scathing look before disappearing into the darkness, winnowing away.

“I need to go, Cass. I need to see her, need to tell her that whatever she saw wasn’t true. I don’t care if you hate me now too, but I won’t let you stop me from going to her.”

“I don’t hate you, Az, but fuck, what were you thinking? I warned you not to hurt his sister,” Cassian sighed, before holding a hand out. “Take me with you.”

Azriel grabbed Cassian’s hand before shadow walking to the River House. The foyer came into view a second later.

Feyre was there examining Rhys’s bloodied knuckles. She peaked over at them as they appeared, her eyes widening as she caught sight of Azriel’s face.

“I tracked down Elain,” Feyre spoke. “She wasn’t even here this morning. She spent the night at Lucien’s apartment.”

She whispered the last part, glancing at Azriel but he wasn’t even paying attention. His eyes were on the staircase that led to Rhys’s sister’s room. He needed to get to her, needed to make sure she knew whatever she had seen wasn’t real.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys snapped, his violet eyes glaring into Azriel. “Mor is with her right now. You stay down here, in my sight, until this is dealt with! Don’t think this has absolved you of anything.”

“Rhys, stop,” Feyre barked. “Now is not the time. Can you remember what your sister showed you? Was there anything weird about the memory?”

Rhys let out a frustrated breath. “No—I don’t know. I was too angry to even think.”

“Well, we need to go talk to her,” Feyre said. “Have her show you the memory again. I don’t know how but someone must’ve planted it or something.”

“Why would someone do that?” Cassian questioned. “Who knew that her and Azriel even had a thing together and would try and get in between it?”

Azriel was stewing in his own thoughts, pacing in front of the fireplace. He couldn’t stand this. Couldn’t stand knowing you were upset thinking he had cheated on you and used you for Elain.

“Azriel,” Rhys barked. “Did anyone else know about the two of you? You better be fucking honest or I swear—”

“You’re not being helpful by being angry right now, Rhys,” Feyre cut in.

Azriel racked his brain for anyone who might have known they were together. They had been careful but there was one person…

“Cedric,” Azriel answered. “Cedric knew we were together. He knew she turned down his proposal because of me.”

“The Prince?” Cassian asked. 'Wait, you and y/n have been seeing each other since you traveled to the continent?"

"Cassian, not the time," Feyre snarled again.

Azriel could tell Rhys’s mind was racing with his thoughts and he too, paced back and forth.

“Fuck,” Rhys suddenly cursed loudly, causing Feyre to jump. “The Prince…his family’s magic specializes in illusions. Could he have…but how? Why?”

“Maybe he’s upset she rejected him,” Feyre suggested. “You need to go talk to her. You need to look into that memory again, see if you can poke through it.”

“He can’t talk to her,” Mor said, walking down the stairs and drawing everyone’s attention. “She left for the continent an hour ago. I was packing some of her stuff for her to send over.”

“What? You let her leave?” Rhys shouted. “Where did she go?”

Mor narrowed her eyes at him. “I didn’t let her do anything. She’s a grown female, Rhys. She went to Vallahan. I guess Prince Cedric said his doors were always open for her and she wanted to get away.”

Rhys cursed again. “No, no! Fuck, Mor! You had one fucking job! Not to let her out of your sight!”

“Well, sorry! I didn’t know we were considering the possibility that someone has been making her see things! She wanted to go and I wasn’t going to stop her.”

“We need to go,” Feyre interjected. “If it is the Prince who caused all of this, then who knows what he’ll do to her now that she’s back over there! He might manipulate her into marrying him.”

“Everyone needs to calm down,” Cassian said. “I have a question. So maybe the Prince knows about her and Azriel, but that doesn’t explain how he knew the background between Azriel and Elain.”

Something clicked in Azriel’s head. “Her journal. Fuck, her journal has been missing. He must’ve stolen it when we were at his castle. You said she left an hour ago, Mor?”

Mor nodded, her mouth in a tight line.

“Shit. That means she’s probably there already,” Azriel growled. “I’m going. I’m leaving right now and I’m going to get her back.”

“No you’re not,” Rhys ordered. “I’ll go and bring her back.”

“We can all go,” Feyre snapped. “Go get in your fighting gear just in case. We’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes so we can go save y/n from that Prince.”

Azriel didn’t need to be told twice.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You brushed your tears away, not wanting anyone to see you had been crying. The castle came into view and you hurried forward, eager to get inside and away from watchful eyes.

You had written a quick letter to Cedric asking if you could visit and he had readily replied with a yes. You needed to get out of the Night Court, needed to get as far away from Azriel as you could.

Your heart was broken, snapped into a million pieces. Your throat was hoarse from sobbing the past few hours. Your entire world had collapsed and you had never felt such despair.

The castle doors finally came into sight, a group of soldiers standing guard with Cedric. He smiled brightly at you as you walked forward.

“Princess! I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon,” he greeted. “Please, come inside!”

You greeted him with a smile, scurrying inside the castle. You turned to face him. “Thank you for letting me come on such short notice, Cedric. I—”

“Seize her.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, at the coldness in his tone. Before you could react, the soldiers surged forward and grabbed you by the arms. You let out a scream, trying to wiggle from their hold as they snapped a pair of faebane handcuffs around your wrists.

“Cedric! What—what are you doing? Let me go!”

Cedric gave you a menacing smile. “You know, I thought this might take a little longer, getting you to come back here. Who knew your insecurities about the shadowsinger ran so deep? I’ll have to send him a thank you after all of this.”

“What are you talking about? Why…unhand me, now! This is…Cedric, what is this? Let me go!”

The soldiers dragged you forward as Cedric stood in front of the doors, hands behind his back looking quite pleased with himself. “Oh no, there is someone very important I need you to meet.”

He grabbed you by the upper arm and a second later, the familiar feeling of winnowing whisked you away.

You landed on soft ground, right beside a lake. Your eyes widened on the shack that sat in the middle of it.

“Cedric, please! Let me go!”

You tried to wiggle out of your restraints but the guards held you with unflinching strength. You let out a tiny scream as a figure emerged from the water. A figure made of smoke.

“Hello, Princess,” Koschei purred. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: ooppp sorry for all the rage/upset I might've caused you with this one. The series is coming to a close though! Two more parts and an epilogue is what I have planned rn! Thank you guys for all your support!

taglist: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @nightless @a-frog-with-a-laptop @woodland-mist @tothestarsandwhateverend @lizziesfirstwife @e-dollly @hyemishii @pricklepearbloom @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @bookishbroadwaybish @pinkangelskies @naturakaashi @sofietargaryen @minakay @alexboshallex @amysangel @i-am-infinite @furiousbooklover @glitterypirateduck @valencia-rou @pinkcowracing @marvelpotter @kennedy-brooke @stupidwingboy @foreverrandomwritings @marvelouslovely-barnes @persephonesong @furiousbooklover @dxjaaaa @kristeristerin @naturakaashi @starlightshowdown @torchbearerkyle @emme-looou @wiseheartzombie @moonlwghts @f4iry-bell @imnotsiriusyouare @val-writesstuff @saltedcoffeescotch @toxic-nathyyy @feiwelinchen @bookslut420 @awkwardnerd @mis-lil-red @exhaustedpotat0 @wallacewillow0773638 @elle4404 @bubybubsters @planetwaynez @kemillyfreitas @furiousbooklover @naturakaashi @marina468 @justbattlecriesdear @pyrostatic @running-writing@esposadomd @aria-chikage @rachelnicolee @daeneeryss @inkedaztec @callsign-magnolia @elle4404 @mell-bell @unstablefemme @running-writing @lostinpages13 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @blessthepizzaman

#acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #rhysand sister #azriel x rhysandssister #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel angst

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luinhealthcare · 27 days

Note

(hey so remember way back when I asked about what the boys were learning and brady arrhythmias came up? and I said I was willing to learn about those too? yeah so you can save this ask for whenever you'd like but like I am Down to learn more from the boyos)

Content warning: detailed discussion about IVs and needles

“Twi, if you’re gonna be floated to the ED so much, you need to act like a legit ED tech,” Warriors huffed, waving a hand. “Honestly, it’s just sad that you can’t start IVs.”

“EMTs don’t do IVs in the field,” Twilight fired back grumpily. “You can’t expect me to use a skill I never learned! And I can’t help that they keep floating me down here.”

“Tsk, don’t be so annoyed about it, you love being with us,” Warriors replied with a snort. “We’re far more exciting.”

“Also fewer kids.” Legend shuddered. “I hate pediatrics.”

“You don’t like kids?” Twilight asked before thinking about it. “Yeah, you know what, that sounds about right. They’d be too honest about your grouchy demeanor.”

Warriors wheezed while Legend glared at his friend. “Shut up! I mean I don’t want to deal with them being sick and hurt. I don’t have a bunch of experience with pediatrics, anyway.”

“That’s fair,” Twilight conceded. “But the point is, the advanced providers did the IVs, not me. I’m just a basic EMT.”

“Well, you’re gonna learn IVs now,” Warriors clapped his hands together. “If you’re stuck with us enough, we’re going to put you to work!”

Twilight hummed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Is this even allowed?”

“Dude, EMTs start IVs all the time in the ED,” Legend explained. “Wars isn’t wrong.”

“Well… fine.” Twilight finally conceded, shrugging. “What do I need to know?”

Warriors and Legend smiled at each other conspiringly. Five minutes later, the pair had managed to snag supplies for starting a line and a victim.

Twilight stared at Wild. “How’d they rope you into this?”

“Legend said he’d taken me to the fancy restaurant we talked about the other day,” Wild answered cheerfully, holding his arm out. “Now hop to it already!”

“W-wait, I don’t even know what I’m doing!” Twilight waved his friend off, swatting his arm away.

“All right, the first thing you need to know about starting an IV is what to look for,” Legend explained. “Doesn’t matter what you use if you can’t find a suitable vein.”

“Now, you have to understand this about veins,” Warriors continued as he showed his own arm. “They have personalities, they have good and bad days, they have their own drama and problems.”

“Veins have drama,” Twilight repeated, deadpan, while Wild wheezed.

“Okay, but I’ve got to hear the tea from Twi’s veins,” Wild laughed. “What—what even constitutes as vein drama, Wars?”

“Lots of things,” Warriors answered, grabbing Legend’s arm, causing his friend to yelp. “For example, Legend’s constantly dehydrated, so his veins are probably on strike and in hiding.”

“Hey!”

Warriors then pointed at a vein popping out of his own arm. “I, on the other hand, have veins that are clear as day because I hydrate.”

“That’s not tea,” Wild grumbled, rolling his eyes. “What if Twilight’s arm vein is best friends with his wrist vein but then his arm vein is secretly best friends with his armpit vein and the wrist vein feels betrayed?”

“Alternatively, Twilight could be an illicit drug user and shoots up and his veins are destroyed as a result,” Legend cut in dully. “That’s vein drama.”

“The point,” Warriors said loudly, trying to redirect the conversation. “Is that you have to know what you’re looking for. Seeing a vein isn’t always the answer. Feeling them is the main thing.”

“Feeling them?” Twilight asked.

Legend grabbed a tourniquet and tied it around Wild’s arm. “Yeah. Good veins are bouncy. That means they have enough plumpness to them that you can use them to draw blood and give medicine. Those little spidery veins you see but can’t feel are useless for that. Putting a tourniquet on allows back pressure to build up in veins, which helps plump them up.”

“Does the hand pumping them do anything?” Wild asked as he flexed his fist.

Warriors shrugged. “Eh. Sometimes. Not always, though. Your biggest help is gravity and heat. If you’re having trouble finding a vein, put the tourniquet on and let the arm hang with that gravity helps blood not flow back to the heart in that extremity. It’s fighting an uphill battle trying to go up the arm, you know? Helps the blood pool in the vein.”

“Heat makes them pop up too,” Legend added.

“Veins love massages,” Warriors said, pointing a finger in the air like this was an important fact. “Rub the spot where you expect the veins to be, friction and heat bring them up.”

Twilight laughed as he poked around Wild’s arm with his finger. “I guess they do have personalities. A little.”

“AC is your best friend,” Legend said, pointing in the crook of Wild’s arm. “Bigger vein, closer to the skin, among the easier places to get access.”

“NO.”

Everyone turned to see Four approaching, hands on his hips.

“Do not put the IV in the AC,” Four argued. “Every time the patient bends their arm it cuts off the flow of whatever infusion is going into the IV because the catheter gets kinked!”

“Access is access,” Legend fired back, crossing his arms. “You go for whatever’s quickest and easiest. The point is to keep the patient alive, not worry about your IV pump beeping about an occlusion.”

“Can’t keep them alive if the IV pump is constantly stopping because of an occlusion!” Four snapped. “Upper arm is better!”

“You can hardly get an upper arm vein without ultrasound help,” Warriors rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for that.”

“I got a chest vein once,” Legend noted thoughtfully. “That was interesting.”

“Where’d you put the tourniquet??” Wild asked, eyes wide.

“If you say the neck, I’m punching you,” Twilight grumbled. “You know Wild would believe it.”

Legend cackled.

Warriors sighed, pulling the tourniquet off Wild. “Important to note you can’t keep the tourniquet on too long. Veins get impatient too. Especially on frailer patients. Older veins don’t last too long if you build up too much pressure. They just vanish. Find what you can and go for it.”

“Okay, so put on a tourniquet, look for a vein, look for a bounce because it’s about feel and not seeing it,” Twilight noted. “Then what?”

“Cleanse the site and pick the appropriate sized needle,” Warriors answered. “The size depends on situation and the patient. Traumas and strokes always get 18G at the smallest. Needles go by gauge size. The bigger the gauge, the smaller the needle. In other worlds, 18G is a bigger needle than 20G.”

“Anybody who needs to get contrast in CT has to have an 18G,” Four piped up.

“When in doubt, get an 18 if you can,” Legend summarized.

“Or a 16G,” Warriors smirked.

Legend gave his friend a side eye. “I remember that, you piece of sh—”

Twilight blinked. “Huh?”

Warriors eyes sparkled with delight, and Legend pushed him so hard he fell off his chair, the travel nurse hastily saying, “Don’t worry about it! We’re going to talk about angle of entry now!”

Four bit the inside of his cheek, knowing better than to aggravate Legend as he himself had run into a similar issue and he didn’t need the entire group to know. “Usually when you’re first inserting the needle you want to line it up with the vein, and the bevel—the hole—should be facing upward. The initial stick is at a forty-five degree angle. Basically as soon as you’ve broken the skin and gotten through, you level out so you’re slinking into the vein instead of stabbing through it. Make sense?”

“Yeah,” Twilight nodded. “Then what?”

“You’re going to look for flash,” Legend explained as Warriors dragged himself back into his seat. “Flash is when you see blood in your needle. It’ll either show up in the catheter surrounding the needle or in the little box above the needle called the flash chamber. Depends on the needle make/model. But once you see that, it means you’re in. That’s when you thread the catheter off the needle and pull the needle out. Remember, the only time when a needle is in the patient is during the initial poke. After that the needle is pulled out and the catheter—basically a straw—is all that remains.”

“Now here’s the kicker,” Warriors said as he smoothed his hair. “Some needles are self occluding, and others are not. What that means is you have a straw in a vein pumping blood. An open straw. So if you don’t attach something to it that prevents back flow, you’re going to basically just bleed your patient out over a long time. Some needles prevent back flow until you attach IV sets to it. Others don’t. So to avoid making a giant mess and making your patient pass out, know which one you’re using.”

Wild groaned, leaning back in his seat. “So are you going to stick me or not, I want to eat!”

Twilight bit his lip. “I don’t know if I… I mean, I definitely would rather not let Wild be the first person I poke.”

“We’ll get a training arm,” Legend said easily. “Or you can poke Wars as many times as you like.”

“Hey!”

Four waved the tourniquet in the air like a flag. “When you’re done with everything—attached the extension set, flushed and seen blood return and all that jazz—do not forget to remove the tourniquet.”

“Wait, but we haven’t talked about the extension set,” Twilight said, baffled.

Wild huffed, rising. “That’s it, I’m starting an IV on myself.”

“Oh my gosh, Wild, fine! We’ll go eat!” Legend rolled his eyes while Twilight laughed. “Honestly, you’re such a glutton!”

#asks #lu in healthcare #writing #lu legend #lu warriors #lu wild #lu twilight #This got too long lol I had to stop XD #There’s still more to it but that’s a very basic beginner’s guide to at least getting it started

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spaceclefairy · 24 days

Text

Ain't No Sunshine

The Ghoul's back in town. Maybe not for long, but you'll take him for as long as you've got him.

You're outside on the front porch of your office when you hear a gunshot in the distance. You drain the rest of your drink and watch the sun slip down past the horizon. You’d originally come outside to enjoy a stiff drink in your rickety old rocking chair and wound up nursing your drink well into the evening, far longer than you’d intended. Most of your nights are spent like this, though, rocking on your porch and watching the sunset after you close up shop. It’s as close to relaxation as you get out here in the wasteland.

You don't think much of the gunshot - they pop off like popcorn in this town, day in and day out. It's as commonplace as the morning screeching of those horrible little mutated roosters your neighbor keeps (they're the size of dogs and have teeth like butcher knives). It's probably wastelanders taking out a radroach. Or each other. Or some kind of hybrid of the two (things have been weird around here lately).

Off down the dirt path, just barely within your line of sight, a cloud of dust picks up on the breeze. You shield your eyes from the haze rolling through, and in the waning evening light, you can just barely make out two shapes in the distance. It’s odd for any of the townsfolk to be out past sundown, but they’re too far away to make out any real defining features. It’s likely a pair of bounty hunters, anyway; bounty hunters coming in late in the day for payout are usually the only ones brave enough to walk these streets in the dark.

As they draw closer, you start to make them out. One of the shapes is small and slight, waifish almost, wearing a jumpsuit that might once have been bright and blue but was now a faded, dirty navy. The other… well, you already know the other one.

Your Ghoul clearly remembers where you live.

When he struts up onto your front porch, spurs clinking against the wood, he gives you what would almost, on any other face but his, be a sheepish grin. It hasn't been long since Filly - about a month. Actually, you expected him to be gone longer, but it’s been long enough for you. You don’t want to know what he’s been doing to be dragging the woman around with him, though.

You do, however, want to know why the woman with him looks like she's been through hell and back, though. She’s barely even standing up straight at this point and seems borderline shell-shocked, and you don't blame her. Even you don't want to know what your Ghoul gets up to during the day, but it seems like she's found out.

The Ghoul nods off back into the distance. “Radroach. Nasty fucker. Killed a couple of those roosters.”

You raise an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “You get it?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “Blew a hole right through it.”

The woman lets out a shaky breath, her already-wide doe eyes expanding even further. “It exploded.”

The Ghoul takes a step closer to you, boots clunking on the wooden porch. “Got room?”

You nod. “Always.”

You usher them inside as night finally falls, snuffing out the front porch lights as you pass.

The Ghoul walks upstairs without a word, every step of his boots and spurs echoing down the wooden staircase. He already knows where he’s sleeping.

The woman stares after them, then looks at you and sticks out her hand to shake yours. “I'm Lucy.”

It finally hits you that she's wearing a Vault-Tec jumpsuit. The Ghoul’s dragging around an honest-to-God vault dweller. You would have figured it out by her mannerisms even if you hadn't recognized the jumpsuit. Wastelanders don't shake hands and introduce themselves.

You're not unfamiliar with the practice, though. You take Lucy’s hand and tell her your name. “I've got a room down here and a place you can wash up.”

Lucy looks like she might cry. “A shower?”

You grin with sympathy. “No, not quite. But there's a sink with clean water.”

“Please, thank you,” Lucy says, and with those doe eyes blinking at you, you get the distinct feeling you'd probably give her your kidney if she asked for it. She looks like she's been through the ringer. “Any water at all.”

“Whatever you need - just don't tell anyone it's here. We keep clean water a secret around here.”

Lucy nods enthusiastically, and you lead her off into the back washroom with the promise of finding her a pallet to sleep on. You drag a little cot in your backroom along with a flat pillow and threadbare blanket. It's not much better than sleeping on the floor, but you're quite sure it's better than anywhere else the poor girl has slept in a while.

You show her to the backroom. “It's not great.”

“It's just fine, thank you.”

You glance at her windburned cheeks and chapped lips. Her skin hasn’t toughened up against the elements up top yet. You can empathize. “I grew up in a vault, too. Topside was quite the shellshock.”

“Really?” Lucy asks, sitting down on the cot. “Why did you leave?”

“Well, my mom fell in love with a wastelander she found topside - she was a courier - and took me with her. I was 14,” you start, leaning against the door frame. “Nice guy. Bounty hunter. He killed her and left me outside a bounty agency.”

Lucy's mouth hangs open, and she starts to form the words I'm so sorry, but you wave your hand dismissively. It’s been a long time. That’s just the way the world works.

“I don't know what he's-” you motion behind you back towards the staircase, “put you through, but since you’re alive, I'm guessing you're not a bounty,” you say gently. “You'll be okay. We vaulties are tougher than we look.”

Lucy nods and sighs. “Thank you.”

You start to close the backroom door behind you, but pause and stick your head back in the doorway. “By the way, you're gonna want to keep this door shut tonight.”

She blinks in confusion, then blinks with realization, and nods profusely. “Got it.”

You shut the door with a click, then head upstairs.

You find your Ghoul reclining back on your bed, back resting against the creaky headboard. He'd discarded the duster and vest on the back of your single chair, bandolier and belt in the seat, and kicked off his boots next to your bed. His gloves and gun lay ready on your nightstand, never far from his hand. He'd found another crusty old paperback - a different one, newer but still decrepit - and taken to reading it.

When you approach, he holds out a hand for you to take and pulls you down into his lap, back to his chest, and situates you between his outstretched legs. He wraps an arm around your stomach and rests his chin on your shoulder as he reads, breathing slow and even.

You let him read for a while in silence, enjoying the simple touch. You don't really want to break the silence, but eventually you do.

“Where'd you find the vaultie?”

The Ghoul hums next to your ear. “Filly first, right after you left. Then the New California Republic.”

You open your mouth, then shut it, then open it again. You haven't heard anything about the NCR in years, not since it was nuked. You’d seen smoke billowing up recently but would have never considered it was coming from the NCR. You want to ask why he’s been out that way, but you really, really don't want to know what he's been getting up to lately if that’s where he’s been. (You don’t want to admit to yourself it worries you where he’s been.)

“I don't want to know, do I?”

He chuckles. “Probably not.”

“Noted.”

The hand crossing your stomach moves to the hem of your shirt and dips just under the fabric to trace your skin. He continues reading the book over your shoulder, and you relax back into him.

“Didn't know you were a vaultie,” the Ghoul says slowly, carefully.

Ah, well, clearly he was listening. You didn’t think he’d be able to hear you all the way downstairs.

“Oh, yeah, a long, long time ago,” you reply. “Been topside longer than I was ever in a vault.”

His hand slides lower, fingertips just barely tickling the soft skin up under the waistband of your pants. It tickles something fierce, but his touch is so, so nice, you can’t bring yourself to swat his hand.

“Did you ever find that bounty hunter?”

“Sure did,” you reply, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “You know, they say revenge doesn't make you feel any better.”

His hand dips lower, past your underwear, the motion of his fingers languid as he trails his fingertips softly through coarse hair. Not wasting time tonight, it seems. You’re pleased.

“Did it?”

He slides a finger down your slit, catching on your clit, and rubs light circles with his fingertip.

You smile. “Never felt better.”

The Ghoul's mouth rests against the shell of your ear; you can feel him smirking against your skin. “That's my girl.”

He slips a finger into you as he reads, then a second, tortuously slowly, but it makes you sigh. It's not quite the feeling of fullness you want, but his fingers are so pleasantly heavy inside you, and his thumb pressing down on your clit makes you squirm.

You stop yourself from grabbing his wrist and relax back against him. This seems to garner his approval because he presses his fingers a little deeper, giving you more pressure against your clit. His breath in your ear is deceptively calm, like he's not pulling you apart with just a hand.

“Hold it,” the Ghoul says, passing you the book. “This is the good part.”

The occupied hand, now free, makes quick work of unbuttoning just enough of your shirt to slip into. You close your eyes while he plays with your nipple, trailing a fingertip over it so lightly it makes you want to crawl out of your skin. His blunt nails scrape over your skin, and you can't stop the whimper that spills out of your mouth. You can feel him smirking against your ear, so smug, but he continues on as if he's doing nothing but reading that stupid book.

You squeeze your thighs together, trapping his hand while his fingers are knuckle-deep, but he pinches your nipple as soon as you do.

“Nope. Spread ‘em.”

You spread ‘em, as instructed. He drapes a leg over your knee so you can't trap his hand again. You've come to learn he likes it when you open up for him.

“Next page.”

You oblige, and your reward is his third finger pushing past your entrance to join the others. He switches to your unattended breast, rolling your neglected nipple between his fingers.

“Coop,” you warn, and your voice sounds broken even to your own ears. You can barely breathe, and the book shakes in your hands.

He hums, and you can hear the satisfaction dripping from his words. “Next page.”

“Cooper,” you say, and he says your name in response, and his voice in your ear makes you feel fucking strung out.

“Relax and focus,” he says softly. He thrusts his fingers, and you can hear every movement he makes. “Now, next page, or I’ll stop.”

You take a deep breath and turn the page, fully intending to relax back against his chest (when had you tensed up?), but he picks that moment to press his thumb down on your clit and roll it around the pad of his thumb. You hiss, and he laughs, and oh payback will be sweet.

The hand that’s been playing so diligently with your nipple abandons the task, and you almost whine, but you don’t want to give him any more satisfaction at the present moment. He runs his hand up your sternum and rests it against your chest just above your collarbone. He doesn’t move to wrap his hand around your throat, but it’s close by, just resting against your chest, and the weight is comforting.

“I know you’re trying to be quiet,” he says, “but I’m sure Vaultie’s heard worse.”

You huff. “Warned her to keep the door shut anyway.”

“Well, then, don’t keep those pretty sounds all to yourself,” he replies, punctuating his words by pressing right on that spot inside you that’s absolutely made you scream before. “Or I’ll make you read the next page out loud for me.”

“You’re so in for it,” you gasp, and oh, he likes that. You can feel his cock twitch against your back, even through his pants and your shirt. “Your hand’s gonna get tired eventually, and then it’s my turn.”

“Threats like that, maybe I’ll stop and see what you do about it,” the Ghoul says. He makes you tilt your head back against his shoulder with the hand now actively around your throat and presses a kiss to your temple that’s a whole lot more teeth and tongue than lips. “Now, why don’t you be good and come for me? Then I’ll let you have your turn.”

“Can I put the book down? Sure would make things go quicker.”

“No,” he snorts. “Next page, babydoll.”

“Fuck, you’re mean sometimes.”

The threats to stop don’t matter much in the end. You come on his fingers, orgasm popping along your spine like static shock. He pumps his fingers slower, more gently, and lets go of your throat to wrap his arm around your waist, keeping you tight to him. You pant, struggling to catch your breath, and let him work you down through your high.

His nose would be in your hair if he had one, so his forehead rests against the side of your head. You can feel him grinning smugly against your ear when he says, “Not so mean now, am I?”

You extricate yourself from his grip, turning around in his arms and kneeling between his outstretched legs before he can get a good hold on you. With his face in your hands, you kiss him hard enough to knock your teeth together. He fists his hands in your hair and holds you close, nails scraping at the back of your neck. You let go of his face, unwilling to break contact with his mouth (you don’t think he would have let you if you’d tried anyway), and yank open his belt and zipper.

When you do pull back, it’s only because you’ve all but run out of air. You take his heavy cock in hand and kiss him again because fuck he’s good at that. “I fuckin’ missed you.”

“Seems like it-”

He’s cut off when you wrap your lips around his shaft and take him all the way down to the hilt. It’s a strangled half-moan he makes that cuts off his words, and it goes straight down your spine like lightning. You’ve never heard him make that noise before - he’s usually pretty quiet at first. You aim to make him do it again.

You wrap your tongue around the head of his cock, licking along the slit, before taking him all the way back down and hollowing out your cheeks. That does the trick; he moans again, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from giving in and just jumping on him. That noise is worth it, though, and you busy yourself with a game of how many times you can get him to do it.

“Fuck - easy,” your Ghoul breathes, pushing your hair back away from your face. It’s not out of an attempt to be sweet - he doesn’t want to miss a second of watching your lips around his cock. “You only get one shot, sweetheart-”

You pull off of him with an audible pop. “Well, let’s see how long you can last, then.”

He grins, and you match him. You take him back in your mouth, all the way down until your nose hits smooth skin. The tip of him sits heavy in the back of your throat, pitted and raw-looking like the rest of him, but surprisingly smooth. You scrape your teeth lightly up the length of him. His head smacks audibly against your headboard, and you giggle around him, the vibration of which only makes him groan and buck up into your mouth.

The Ghoul tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you back just enough to give him some wiggle room. You take that as your clue to unclench your jaw, and he fucks your mouth with the same calculated intensity that he does everything else. Your eyes water, and you can feel sweat dripping down your cheek in the heat, but he swipes away both with his thumb.

Dry humping the mattress isn’t giving you any relief, so you slide your hand down to your cunt. There’s not much room pressed down against the mattress, but you make do as best you can, fingers circling your own clit desperate for any amount of stimulation. It’s what you need though, and between the slide of the Ghoul’s cock in your mouth and your fingers at your clit, you get yourself right there.

The Ghoul notices. He stops moving and taps your chin, half-laughing and half-breathless. “Come here, darlin’, I’ll take care of that.”

You scramble into his lap, legs bracketing his thighs, and sink down onto his cock while he holds himself steady. He scoots you closer, hands on your hips, and holds you down so your pelvis is flush to his. You think he likes the closeness and the feeling of you so full of him, but you don’t mention it.

When you finally start to move, you don’t bother to keep quiet. The Ghoul cuts you off with a kiss. “Think we’ve traumatized Vaultie enough yet?”

“She’s an adult,” you shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, do you know what Vaulties do to each other down there?”

He grimaces, “Ugh… Don’t want to.”

“Lotta weird shit, Coop.”

He closes his eyes and huffs. “Just kiss me.”

You kiss him, clasping his face in your hands while you grind down on him. His hands blaze a path up and down your back like he can’t make up his mind where to put them. He finally settles on your ass, mostly so he can get some leverage to control your pace.

You don’t last long, and neither does your Ghoul. You come with his fingers at your clit and his face pressed into the crook of your neck. He comes right after you with a soft groan muffled by your skin, the heat of him filling you up somehow comforting.

When you finally choose to climb off of him, he doesn’t let you get far. You wind up in much the same position as when you first climbed into bed, with your back to his chest and his arms wrapped around your middle. You relax back against him, sticky and sweaty from the heat of the room and your combined body heat, but unwilling to move anywhere cooler.

The Ghoul rests his chin on top of your shoulder. You think, for a moment, he wants to say something, but he instead busies himself pressing his lips to your shoulder. He may be able to turn a phrase, but you suppose that doesn’t include talking about things.

You don’t want to ask because you already know the answer, but finally, you do. “Are you leaving in the morning?”

“Pillow talk isn't really your thing, is it?”

You give him a look out of the corner of your eye.

He bumps his chin against your shoulder. “Yeah.”

You don’t want him to leave - you really, really don’t. “Okay.”

He says your name softly. “Come with us.”

You don’t know what’s going on, why the Ghoul is dragging Lucy around behind him, why there’s constantly smoke filling the sky and Vertibirds tearing through the clouds, or why this all feels so fatalist, but you know there’s not much you can do other than shoot a gun or get in the way. What you can do is provide a place to come home to for a man who’s wandered the desert longer than anything else currently walking around.

“You want me to come with you, but you could make this your home,” you say. You turn around in his lap so you’re facing him and find him watching you with something in those hazel eyes. “I’ll be right here when you get back. Not if you get back, Cooper. When.”

Your Ghoul nods. “When I get back, then.”

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard x fem!reader #fallout amazon #fallout prime #the ghoul

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hamsterclaw · 1 year

Text

Anywhere but here

You wake from a traumatic injury to find everything around you isn't the same.

Pairing: Jimin x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Nurse Jimin, smut, angst

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings: Swearing, sex, traumatic injury, hospitals, memory loss

When you wake, it’s like you’ve been reset to factory settings. You’re not a robot, but there was a you before, and now there’s a you after.

The accident cut your life into halves, and that’s the reality that you’ve been dealt.

The people around you are nameless faces apart from your family. Your parents, your younger sister and a man you don’t know but he says he knows you.

You can’t imagine what it’s like for them to lose the woman that was the old you and pick up the new you, metalwork in your thigh and a scar along the back of your head that they gave you an uneven choppy haircut to fix.

You don’t have the headspace to try and remember the names of everyone else who cares for you.

There’s the slim woman with a ponytail and kind eyes who always smiles cheerfully when she greets you.

There’s the stern looking older woman who never smiles but has gentle hands.

And then there’s the young guy who looks like he belongs in a magazine who you find a little intimidating, to be honest.

The brain injury means you take longer to process, sometimes you know what you want to say but the words won’t come. It’s annoying but you’re assured it will get better.

More pressing is the frame on your leg from where you broke your femur in multiple places. It took you a while to get used to trying to get around on crutches without help, because there was no way you were going to ask the young guy to help you to the bathroom.

You don’t think there’s anything left of your dignity but you’ve got some pride still.

You’re sitting awkwardly on your bed, listening to the man you don’t know but who seems to know you, trying to shift positions because your leg is singing a chorus of pain, when the young male nurse walks into the room wheeling a portable blood pressure monitor.

‘Time for some observations,’ he says, politely.

You take the opportunity to move into the chair and hold out your arm.

The nurse frowns a little. ‘Your blood pressure and heart rate are up. Are you in pain?’

‘A bit,’ you admit, an understatement.

‘I’ll get you pain relief,’ he says.

It’s another fifteen minutes before he comes back with the meds, another fifteen minutes after that before you can draw a breath.

The man who you don’t know but you’re told you used to love is telling you about people you don’t know, and it’s not nearly distracting enough.

When he leaves you want to cry with relief.

The door to your room opens, the nurse walks in. He checks on the IV that’s running, you hold out your arm because that’s the routine.

As he disconnects the drip, he turns to you.

‘There’s a call bell,’ he points out. ‘If you’re in pain don’t wait, just call and one of us will come.’

‘Thank you,’ you say. You’re wrung out, emotionally exhausted, physically stretched, and all you want to do is pull the covers over your head and be alone.

You’re never physically alone in hospital, there’s no fucking privacy, and somehow you feel lonely anyway.

***

The calendar on the wall orientates you to the day and month, and you’re not so bad that you can’t remember the year.

It’s your birthday today they say, another year older even though you’ve gone nothing but backwards since the accident.

Your family bring you cake, fluffy slippers, and love that makes you feel warm. The man, you know he’s called Taemin, that you were about to marry him, why do you think of him as ‘the man’ in your head?

He calls you sweetheart and you think he means it less and less every day.

Today he kisses you, lips on yours and you weren’t expecting it, weren’t ready.

He pulls away, a flicker in his eyes that looks like disappointment that you see before he can hide it.

You want to say that it’s not fair, that you can’t be expected to be the person you were before, but the words don’t come.

You stammer an apology, make it worse.

You only feel relief when he leaves.

Lately they’ve been letting you wheel yourself down to the restaurant, out to the front of the hospital.

It’s tiring, but it’s nice to be out of your room.

You press the call bell, and the male nurse comes in.

He looks rushed, busy, but he’s already here so you might as well ask.

‘Can I borrow a wheelchair to go downstairs?��

He says, ‘yes, of course. It’ll take me a while because it’s quite busy at the moment, but I’ll try and bring one up when I can.’

You thank him and settle in by the window to wait.

The late afternoon sun turns into early dusk, and he doesn’t come back.

You’re getting ready to manoeuvre yourself back into bed when there’s a knock at your door.

It’s the male nurse, dressed in his street clothes instead of scrubs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It got so busy, I completely forgot.’

You look at the wheelchair he’s handling.

‘Would you still like to go?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re worried you sound desperate but you’ve been cooped up in your room all day and you want to go out even if you don’t get to see daylight.

He helps you into the chair. The ID badge tucked under his jacket says ‘Jimin.’

You try to commit it to what remains of your memory.

‘Jimin,’ you say, hoping that saying it will make it stick.

‘Y/N,’ he replies, giving you a smile that makes his eyes scrunch up.

‘Were you on your way home?’ you ask.

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘Thank you for this,’ you say. You put your hand on his arm, and he moves it away so quickly it’s hard not to feel stung.

‘Sorry,’ you say, putting your hands in your lap.

He’s quiet as he pushes you to the lifts.

‘I can push myself,’ you tell him. ‘You should go home, it’s past your shift.’

‘I’m heading down anyway,’ he replies, very politely.

You sneak a glance at his profile as the lift descends.

He’s pretty, even fourteen hours into a thirteen hour shift. His nose is straight, lips full, and his skin glows like it’s lit from within.

You catch a glance at yourself in the mirrored wall. Your uneven hair that you’re still growing out makes you grimace.

You look down at your lap quickly.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

You force a smile. ‘I know the docs saved my life, but they ruined my hair,’ you say, trying to make a joke of it.

Jimin’s quiet again.

‘I was joking,’ you say, quickly. ‘I’m grateful for everything.’

Thankfully, the lift doors open.

‘Good night,’ you say, smiling at him.

He asks,’will you be ok?’

‘Yes,’ you say. Wild horses couldn’t drag any other answer from you.

He looks at you for a moment longer, then he nods and turns to leave.

***

Physical therapists are demons in disguise, you think disgruntledly to yourself as today’s therapist tries to encourage you to get out of the chair.

Your thigh is screaming in pain, you’re tired and dizzy and sweating from exertion.

As soon as the therapist leaves, you press your call bell and a nurse arrives.

It’s not someone you’ve met before, you know they’ve been short staffed lately.

His ID badge says Matsu.

You ask for pain relief.

He says, firmly, ‘you shouldn’t ask for pain relief unless the pain is bad. The last thing you need is an opiate addiction.’

You’ve never been denied pain relief before.

You feel a wave of shame.

Is he right? Are you addicted? Does it matter?

The pain’s bad though, your stomach’s churning and clenching.

‘The pain is bad,’ you say, dignity be damned, pleading.

‘I’ll check on you in an hour and if you’re still in pain I can give you some then,’ he says.

He’s out the door before you can formulate a reply.

You sit very still, try to distract yourself. The pattern on the ceiling’s swirling, you’re concentrating so hard.

The door opens, the male nurse called Jimin comes in, and you bite your lip so hard you taste metal on your tongue.

He’s saying something, but you can’t hear it over the rush of blood in your ears.

He comes closer, leans over you, voice firmer now.

You can hear your name.

You gaze up into his face, and he looks so kind, and concerned, the tears start trickling down your face.

‘Please,’ you whisper. ‘I’m in pain.’

Jimin leaves and comes back, hangs an IV on the drip stand above your head, connects it up and opens the port.

The cold trickle through your veins makes you shiver but soon enough relief comes, so sweet and welcoming you start crying again.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you realise Jimin’s still in your room, typing notes into the computer.

He says, ‘don’t let it get that bad next time.’

His voice is quiet, neutral, but you can’t help the flash of anger.

‘I asked for the painkillers, and the nurse told me to hold out as he didn’t want me to be addicted,’ you reply, sharp.

You can hear the tone of your voice as it comes out, and you hate it. The thing that you resent most about the constant pain is the way it’s draining away your generosity, your indulgence, your humour.

You can’t stand yourself.

Jimin, instead of snapping back, somehow manages to reply with a kindness that makes you feel even worse.

‘I’m sorry the nurse said that,’ he says, sounding regretful. ‘Please know you can ask for pain meds anytime.’

You’re still crying, indulging in your moment of self-pity, wallowing in it.

God, you hate yourself.

The only thing you hate more is the pain.

***

You’re going for another trip out, you’ve started spending more time outside now that the weather’s better.

You’re waiting to be let out of the double doors to the ward when the nurse, Jimin, passes by.

‘There’s a hairdresser in the hospital,’ he tells you. ‘They’re open now, and they didn’t have any customers when I checked.’

You look at him, considering.

‘Since you said you didn’t like your hair,’ he adds.

You smile. ‘Thanks. I’ll check it out.’

You look at your reflection in the mirror of the elevator on the way down, and impulsively, decide to visit the hospital hairdresser.

It takes you a bit of back and forth to find it, you’re sweaty and frazzled by the time you press on the buzzer.

A woman with bright orange streaks in her hair answers. She gives you a once over, then smiles, kind.

‘You must be Y/N? Jimin said you might come.’

You’re surprised. ‘You know Jimin?’

‘Honey,’ she says, taking the handles of your wheelchair and pushing you in front of one of the mirrors, ‘everyone knows Jimin. He’s a sweetheart.’

‘He’s easy on the eyes too,’ agrees another woman, smirking. The tag on her chest says ‘Suzie’.

‘Jimim said those neurosurgeons did a number on your hair,’ the first woman says. She winks at you. ‘Lucky for you I’m an expert on cleaning up after them.’

You’re startled into a laugh.

Her smile brightens. ‘You’re so pretty! And you’ll look even better when we’re done.’

An hour later, you find yourself in the lifts on the way back to your ward.

You can’t stop staring at yourself in the mirrors.

Is this what you used to look like? You’ve seen a few pictures of you. Taemin’s lockscreen is a picture of you and him on a beach, but you don’t think you look exactly the way you looked before.

Rhonda, the hairdresser who greeted you at the door, had waved you away when you tried to pay her, saying all patients got their haircuts on the house.

You’re waiting to be let back into the ward when you hear a familiar voice.

It’s Jimin, smiling at you so broadly you blink a little at how pretty he looks.

‘You went! Your hair looks beautiful,’ he says.

You look at him searchingly but he seems perfectly sincere.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him. You give him a half-smile. ‘They like you a lot down there.’

Jimin laughs. ‘That’s because I let them do whatever they want to my hair.’

He rakes a hand through his hair to illustrate, and you notice he’s got a new undercut beneath the blonde curtain of his hair.

‘Pretty,’ you say, admiring.

Jimin glances at you. ‘Just like you,’ he replies.

You laugh, because he can’t possibly be serious. ‘Please, in this old thing?’

You pluck at a fold in your hospital gown, and Jimin says, deadpan, ‘the green specks in the fabric really complement your eyes.’

You laugh again.

Jimin asks, ‘Need a push back to your room?’

‘Nah,’ you say. ‘I can do it.’

Jimin nods. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

It’s only when you get back to your room that you realise that your conversation with Jimin, short as it was, is the first real conversation you’ve had in a long time.

***

Taemin’s looking at you very seriously, and a sudden flash of intuition tells you what he’s going to say before he says it.

‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he tells you.

You concentrate hard on the hand he’s put on top of yours.

Was his touch ever familiar to you? All you feel is detached.

You search his face, the curve of his brow, the line of his jaw. He’s attractive even now, but did you ever really love him the way he said you did?

It’s only been a few months since the accident.

Did he ever really love you if he’s this keen to move on without you?

The tears come as a surprise.

He looks alarmed now, as the wetness spills from your eyes, down your cheeks.

You know it’s unfair for you two to be in limbo like this, especially when you don’t think the old you is ever coming back.

It’s just the new you, the now and forever you left.

You assure him you’re fine, that it’s the right thing to do.

He tells you he’ll pack up your things and deliver them to your parents’ house.

You tell him to throw everything away.

What use do you have for the trappings of a life you can’t remember?

It seems like hours before you gather yourself together enough to go back to your solitary room.

You put yourself to bed because you think you’ve had enough of today, and you can only hope tomorrow will be better.

***

It’s Halloween, and you’re amusing yourself with the thought that you don’t even need a costume this year to look frightening.

You’ve had another operation, your leg’s healing well enough that the surgeons have taken the frame off, leaving a collection of red scars and a leg you don’t trust without the external metalwork.

Without the scaffolding that held you upright for months.

Your hair’s grown out, the scar across the side and back of your head is covered but if you run your fingers along your scalp you can still feel it.

The doctors tell you that you’ll be home before Christmas.

You refrain from telling them you can’t remember a home apart from this hospital bed.

Nobody likes a killjoy.

You glance up as someone knocks on your door.

It’s Jimin, a satin cape over his scrubs, plastic fangs peeking out between his lips.

‘Are you here for my blood?’ you ask.

It’s a joke you wouldn’t have been quick enough to make a month ago.

Jimin frowns at you. ‘Where’s your costume?’

You gesture to your leg. ‘I’m the Tin Man,’ you tell him.

‘You are pretty heartless,’ Jimin agrees.

You snort. ‘You’re a nurse, aren’t you supposed to be caring?’

Jimin says, ‘I do care. There’s going to be fireworks later, I got permission to take you to the park if you want.’

You can’t believe your ears. ‘The park? As in, out of the hospital? Do you mean the car park?’

Jimin smiles. ‘I mean the park next to the hospital. An actual park.’

‘When?’ you ask, guarded, not letting yourself get excited, worried he’s going to tell you it’s a joke.

‘I clock off at eight, I’ll take you then.’

You know how hard he works, you’ve been on this ward for months and you think he’s been here almost as much as you have. And you literally live here.

You want to ask why he’d spend his precious time off with you but god help you, you want to go to the park more.

You haven’t been off hospital grounds since you were admitted, a mangled mess of broken bone and blood.

Jimin’s looking at you. ‘If you don’t want to —-‘

‘I want to!’ you say, so quickly you startle both of you.

He’s still eyeing you carefully, so you say, ‘I just feel bad taking up your time off.’

‘It won’t be long. I don’t live far from the hospital anyway,’ Jimin says.

He smiles, and he looks so kind you feel like crying. ‘So are we going?’

‘Yes,’ you tell him. ‘Yes I’d love to.’

***

You feel an unfamiliar fluttering of butterflies in your stomach as you wait by the entrance to your ward for Jimin to finish handing over his patients.

Jimin hurries up to you. He looks a little tired, but he smiles kindly at you. ‘Ready?’

He’s dressed in his street clothes, a plain t-shirt, a hoodie and jeans, and you catch yourself thinking how pretty he looks, even in casual clothes, tired after a long shift.

Shit.

Do you have a crush on him?

At least you don’t have to think about him having a crush on you, you think ruefully. All he’s seen of you are your dumb jokes which you can’t even blame on your brain injury, your hideously scarred leg and your terrible post neurosurgery haircut.

You think you’re good.

Jimin takes the handles of your wheelchair as you leave out the main entrance of the hospital.

‘Thanks for taking me out on your own time,’ you say, wishing you could see his face.

‘It’s not a problem at all,’ Jimin tells you. ‘Like I said, I live close.’

You feel lighter the further you get from the hospital, the fluttering in your stomach getting stronger.

Is this what happiness feels like? Excitement?

Jimin parks you by the side of the lake.

‘I’ve got some time off after this, anyway,’ he says.

‘Yeah? Going skiing?’

Jimin looks at you, bemused.

‘Sorry,’ you say, apologetic.

Your injuries are from a skiing accident. At least that’s what you were told. You sure as hell can’t remember it.

You want to say something else, but you’re distracted by the sudden eruption of fireworks, over the lake.

A starburst of metals burning in the sky.

You don’t realise you’re laughing until you notice the way Jimin’s looking at you.

His face gleams red and orange in the light reflected off the lake.

He’s beautiful.

You stop, self-conscious.

‘Don’t,’ Jimin says. ‘Don’t hide it on account of me, you look so happy.’

A shower of purple falls gently, and it’s so pretty you could cry.

You could keep watching forever.

‘I haven’t seen your fiance in a while,’ remarks Jimin.

Distracted, you say, ‘we broke up.’

Jimin looks at you sharply, you feel the need to explain.

‘He said he couldn’t do it anymore,’ you tell him. You shrug. ‘It’s ok. I know I’m different to how I was before.’

Jimin says, casual, ‘What a dick move.’

You’re startled into a laugh. ‘Isn’t it? But I don’t have any feelings for him either, not now anyway. It would have been a farce.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jimin says. ‘If you’re committed in health ——‘

‘I don’t know how committed we were,’ you say quietly. ‘I can’t remember a damn thing about us.’

You’re both quiet for a moment.

You ask, to break the silence, ‘what are you doing with your time off?’

‘I’m going travelling,’ Jimin says. He looks at you sideways. ‘I’m going to Tuscany with friends.’

You’re excited for him. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Tuscany,’ you say. ‘You’ll have to show me pictures when you get back.’

Jimin smiles. ‘Of course. But at the rate you’re healing you might not even be on the ward when I get back.’

You hadn’t even considered this.

‘I’ll be gone three weeks,’ Jimin says, gently.

‘Well, send me a postcard,’ you say, laughingly. ‘You know where I live.’

‘Deal,’ Jimin says, offering his hand. You shake, as the lights rain down around you, burning bright in the dark.

***

You’re struggling at physical therapy today, more so than usual. Your breathing’s heavier, and it feels like you’re fighting through mud.

Your physical therapist, Mara, finally stops you, just as you’re about to ask for a break.

‘Are you feeling ok?’ she asks, concerned.

‘I’m fine,’ you grit out. ‘I can do more.’

‘I think we should stop.’

You just have enough consciousness left to hear her calling for help as your vision goes dark.

The padded mat is cool under your cheek.

You hear rapid footsteps, voices, and then, nothing at all.

***

You lose two and a half days before they allow you to wake.

First and most pressing, the tube in your throat that it hurts to swallow around, pushing air into your lungs. Breathing for you.

The line in your neck, the stitches holding it in that itch, madly.

You would scratch it but your hand’s tethered with the weight of a probe on your finger, another line in the back of it.

The tube in your nose, hooked up to a pump.

The catheter between your legs, attached to a bag hooked carelessly on the side of the bed.

You’re in intensive care.

When your breathing tube comes out, a cough and a splutter, you ask what happened.

It turns out you had a wound infection that made you septic. You’d collapsed after a physical therapy session.

If you hadn’t already lost half your life to the skiing accident, you’d mourn the loss of the last few days. As it is, all you can do is what you’ve been doing.

Try to move on.

Your muscles, painstakingly built up through months of physical therapy, have weakened even though you’ve only been asleep for two days and change.

Breathing becomes an exercise in endurance that you’ll never take for granted again.

The lines come out, one by one, and then, at the end of your first week, you’re finally line free, untethered again.

Just your battered body for company.

Sohee, the older nurse with gentle hands, coaxes you through your bad days.

You think of Jimin, more than once, sunstreaked and golden in the fields of Tuscany.

You hope that wherever he is, he’s having the time of his life.

Your family, initially terrified by your deterioration, are now talking about where you’ll live when you get discharged.

Trying to help you get over the setback from your sepsis.

You’re trying not to let your discomfort show on your face as Matsu tries for the third time to draw blood from your abused veins.

He buries the needle, deep, and you bite your lip at the throbbing that results.

The door opens, and you look up, grateful for the distraction.

It’s Jimin.

He’s tanned, and glowing with good health, and he stands out like an angel in these four walls that have been your home for months.

‘Jimin!’ you say, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

‘Y/N,’ he says, with such warmth there’s a glow in your chest.

You flinch as Matsu moves the needle in your arm, and Jimin’s face darkens.

‘Hey, Matsu, I can take over.’

The tone of his voice brooks no argument.

Matsu nods, and Jimin takes his tray from his as he leaves.

‘I had a little jaunt to the ICU whilst you were gone,’ you say, lightly. ‘It’s not as nice as Tuscany, but it was a change of scenery at least.’

Jimin smiles. ‘I heard. I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece.’

His hand is warm on your arm as he prepares to draw blood.

‘They did a number on my veins,’ you say.

Jimin hums. ‘I know,’ he tells you. He’s gentle, thumb pressing on your skin as he searches for a vein.

‘There goes my life of being a junkie,’ you say dramatically. ‘I wouldn’t be able to find a place to shoot up.’

Jimin says. ‘Tuscany was lovely. You should go someday.’

‘Yeah?’ you ask, interested. ‘Tell me more. Where did you stay? What did you do?’

You feel the prick as Jimin draws blood, and he says, quietly. ‘I’m in, you can relax, ok? I’ll be done in a minute.’

You close your eyes as Jimin tells you about the vineyard where he and his friends stayed. His voice is low, melodic, and he distracts you so well you barely realise when he’s done.

He places a plaster on your hand, thumb smoothing the edges.

His touch calms you in a way you haven’t felt in weeks.

You turn to him. ‘Thanks Jimin.’

‘I’ve been doing this for years,’ he says.

‘Not just for this,’ you say, gesturing to the plaster. ‘Thanks for the company.’

‘Apparently you like it so much you got septic so you’d still be here when I got back,’ Jimin says, grinning at you, easy.

You laugh. ‘One day, when I get out of here, I’m going to make you breakfast, and the best coffee you’ve ever had.’

Jimin snorts. ‘Can you even cook?’

‘I don’t know,’ you admit.

You both laugh.

‘Well, I look forward to it anyway,’ Jimin says. He gets up, holding up the vial he’s just drawn from you. ‘I should get this labelled up and sent off.’

You’re still smiling long after he’s left the room.

***

It’s Christmas day.

Your family are visiting, they’ve even brought in turkey, your favourite roast potatoes which you used to love, and you haven’t had such a good day in a long time.

You’re still in your Christmas pyjamas, looking out the window after they left, when there’s a knock on your door.

Jimin steps in, slightly bemused at the collection of food and presents you’ve been bequeathed.

‘I know you don’t know who you were before, but you’re very loved,’ he observes.

You’re oddly touched.

‘They left me a tonne of food, have you eaten?’ you ask.

Jimin smiles. ‘I’ve been eating all day, all the staff working today have brought in things for Christmas lunch.’

He pauses. ‘And dinner.’

He laughs. ‘We’re all set until the end of the year, I think.’

‘Dessert?’ you offer. ‘It’s my mum’s sticky toffee pudding, I won’t be able to finish it.’

Jimin considers the container you show him. ‘I can heat it up and we can share it?’

‘Deal.’

Jimin disappears with your container and comes back with two bowls and two spoons.

You eye the tiny gummy snowman candy he’s placed on top of your helping.

Jimin sees your expression, laughs. ‘They’re good. Sohee gave me a whole bag of them.’

He perches next to your window, and you eat in silence.

‘There’s a big tree in the main hospital, do you want to go and visit it after this?’ Jimin asks.

You nod. ‘Also, I got you a present.’

You rummage in your pile of presents for the gold box your sister helped you get.

Jimin accepts, looking shyly at you. ‘You shouldn’t have got me anything,’ he says.

‘Don’t worry, I don’t expect special treatment,’ you tease. ‘I know you save the best treats for Mrs Kim in room 12 anyway.’

Jimin laughs. ‘May I?’

He unwraps the box, and a moment later is staring at the gold Christmas bauble ensconced in delicate tissue paper.

He runs his thumb over the design etched in the glass. ‘The tree of love,’ he says.

You smile. ‘When you came back after your holiday, you looked so happy and recharged, and I thought this would remind you of it.’

Jimin smiles back at you so bright and pretty he’s blinding. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’

He puts it carefully back in the box. ‘The tree I was going to show you isn’t as beautiful as this, but shall we go now, anyway?’

‘Sure.’

You grab your crutches.

‘I can get a wheelchair if you want –’ Jimin offers.

‘It’s my Christmas present to myself,’ you tell him. ‘I’m not going to use a wheelchair again.’

Jimin looks at you for a long moment.

When he opens his mouth, his words aren’t what you expected.

‘I guess I could carry you, if the worst happened,’ he says lightly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Lead the way, Park, I’m fine on my crutches.’

Two lifts and a walk across the link corridor later, you find yourself standing in front of the giant Douglas fir in the front foyer of the hospital.

It’s huge, at least 20 feet tall, and covered in blues and silvers.

You sigh. ‘It smells so good.’

You catch Jimin looking at you.

‘It reminded me of you when I saw it,’ he says.

‘Does it also have a bad leg?’ you ask, teasing.

‘I used to go hiking with my family, every weekend,’ Jimin tells you. He’s looking up, away from you, at the star on the top of the tree. ‘This tree reminds me of that.’

He turns to you. ‘My dad used to do a bit of woodworking, and his favourite type of wood was Douglas fir. You can paint it easily so it can be any colour you want, and at its core it’s light and strong. Look after it, and it lasts a lifetime.’

You’re trying to think about how this relates to you when Jimin says, ‘You’re rebuilding your life, painting yourself different, but you’re the same person at your core. You’re one of the strongest people I know.’

You don’t realise you’re crying until he reaches out, gently, to wipe your cheek.

‘Do you believe in fate?’ Jimin asks.

‘I don’t know what I believe in now,’ you say, honestly.

‘I never did,’ Jimin says. ‘I wanted to leave nursing for a long time. I actually put in my notice last year.’

You’re surprised to hear it. From what you’ve seen, Jimin loves his job. He’s damned good at it.

‘I was on one of my last shifts when you were brought in,’ Jimin says. He’s looking at you now, an expression on his face that makes your heart skip several beats.

‘Seeing you pick up the pieces after you had something so devastating happen to you —-’ he breaks off, throat working as he swallows.

‘It made me realise how much I love my job,’ he says. ‘I think I was meant to do this. I’m good at it.’

‘You’re great at it,’ you say, earnest.

Jimin reaches out and puts his hand over where yours is braced over your crutch.

‘Here’s to next Christmas, when all this is behind you,’ he says.

You don’t know what to say, so you grasp his hand. ‘Merry Christmas, Jimin.’

‘Merry Christmas, Y/N.’

You stand there, hand in hand, admiring the sparkly tree, enjoying the relative lull in activity in the normally crowded hospital foyer this Christmas night, until your legs start to give out, and then Jimin walks you back to your room.

***

You’re in your room, just back from physical therapy, when Sohee walks in. ‘We need your help,’ she says, brisk.

You look up, curious.

‘It’s Jimin’s birthday, and the tradition here is that if you work here and it’s your birthday, you get slimed.’

You’re incredulous. You can’t imagine anyone would ever dare to slime Sohee, with her perfectly starched uniforms and her stern demeanor.

‘Park manages to evade us every year, but this year, he has a weakness,’ Sohee continues.

She looks right at you. ‘You.’

You splutter. ‘Me? How am I Jimin’s weakness?’

‘He likes you,’ Sohee says, matter of fact. ‘He’d never act on it, not whilst you’re in his care, but he likes you, and this year, Park Jimin’s going to get what’s coming to him.’

‘What’s in it for me?’ you ask, nonchalant.

‘I’ll get the catering staff to give you an extra helping on Sunday roast day,’ says Sohee, like she’d been expecting you to ask exactly that.

‘I don’t want to hurt Jimin,’ you say.

Sohee rolls her eyes. ‘No one wants to hurt Jimin. But he’s the quickest out of all of us, and he’s slimed us all over the years, and no one can catch him.’

‘Come on,’ Sohee wheedles. ‘You’ll be discharged next week anyway.’

You sigh. ‘What do I have to do?’

***

You shift nervously in your chair as you wait for Jimin to respond to the call bell Sohee activated before she left.

He knocks on your door and enters, a smile already on his face. ‘Are you ok, Y/N?’

‘I’m sorry,’ you start.

Jimin’s two steps away when the door bursts open, and Sohee, Matsu and the other nurse, Alice, rush in.

Jimin looks at them, then you, and steps in front of you quickly. ‘Ok, ok, you can slime me,’ he says, hands out. ‘Just don’t get anything on Y/N.’

Jimin stands perfectly still as Sohee and Matsu unceremoniously dump buckets of green and purple slime over his head.

You don’t miss how the slime makes his scrubs top mould to his torso.

Jimin turns, slips, and you reach out to stop him from falling.

You lose your balance and Jimin, trying to stop you from falling, slides to put his body under yours as you end up in a heap on the floor.

Jimin’s looking at you, concern in his eyes. ‘Are you ok?’

He looks so ridiculous, covered in green and purple slime, that you can’t help but laugh.

A moment later, he’s laughing too.

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him.

He’s still smiling. ‘I can’t believe you helped them,’ he complains. He shifts a little, and suddenly you’re very aware of the hardness of his torso under you, how his thighs strain against his scrubs bottoms.

‘I’ll leave you kids to clean up,’ Sohee says, not unkindly, ushering Matsu and Alice out of your room. ‘Happy birthday Jiminie!’

Jimin helps you get up. ‘Be careful, it’s slippery,’ he says, holding your arm.

You’ve never been this close to him before.

He wipes his hand on his thigh, then brushes a streak of slime off your cheek. ‘I’ll get cleaned up, then I’ll come back and clean the room, ok? Can you get cleaned up on your own?’

You nod. His hand is still against your cheek.

You’re thinking about what Sohee said about Jimin liking you. Is she right?

Jimin pulls his hand away, and you mourn the loss of his warmth.

‘See you in a bit,’ he tells you.

***

You take one last look back at the room you’ve spent the last few months in whilst you’ve been recovering from your injury.

You came in, in pieces, and now you’re walking out, changed in ways you can’t even fathom.

Your dad and mum are in the car with your things, you’ll be staying with them for a while until you learn to live independently again.

You’ve said your thank you’s and goodbyes. To Sohee, who made good on her promise to get the catering staff to give you extra roast potatoes on Sunday. To Matsu, who you’ve seen grow in compassion since the initial days when he wouldn’t give you pain meds. To Mrs Kim who was constantly saying how much you reminded her of her daughter.

To Jimin, who dropped by after his shift yesterday and gave you his number. He’d told you to call him and it’d seemed like he meant it.

You close the door behind you and see Jimin, rushing down the corridor.

‘I was worried I’d missed you,’ he says.

‘You’re not even at work today,’ you remind him.

‘I live close. Besides, I couldn’t not say goodbye on your last day.’

Jimin smiles. ‘Ready to face the big bad world again?’

You smile back. ‘All my monsters are in there,’ you say, gesturing to the empty room behind you.

‘We should meet up,’ Jimin says. ‘You owe me a breakfast and the best coffee I’ve ever had.’

‘We can meet up,’ you say. ‘Anywhere but here.’

You reach out, and enclose him in a hug.

‘I’ll see you soon, ok?’

He holds you a moment longer, then lets go.

‘Yeah.’

You walk down to the ward doors, press the button to let yourself out.

You give Jimin one last wave, and then, you’re out.

***

You’re watching TV with your parents after dinner, when the news comes on.

‘Hey, that’s your hospital,’ you dad says.

You watch, interest piqued as the newscaster reports on upcoming nursing strikes.

‘They should strike,’ you say. ‘They’re underpaid and underappreciated.’

Later, in your room, you’re looking at the number Jimin saved on your phone.

It’s been two weeks since you left the hospital, and you’ve not got in touch with him.

It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, but you’re worried about what things will be like, now that you’re out of the hospital.

You think of the news report you saw, and you make a decision.

***

It’s the first time you’ve really been out since you left the hospital. You’ve been with your mum to the store, round the corner to the park, but you haven’t made any longer trips than that.

Your leg’s completely healed, you don’t even need crutches anymore, but some days there’s still an ache deep in your bones.

You get headaches but they’re nowhere near as bad as they were.

You hear the chanting, the sound of a hundred conversations, as you walk over to where there’s a crowd gathered, picketing in support of the nursing strike.

Every face is unfamiliar, and you’re starting to wonder if it was wise to come and support the strikes when you see him.

He’s dressed casually like the other times you’ve seen him in off-duty clothes, his hair styled back, holding a placard that says, ‘Safe staffing saves lives’.

Like he senses your eyes on him, he turns, and your eyes meet.

In an instant, he’s making his way through the crowd, to you.

He stops a step in front of you.

‘Is it really you?’ he asks.

You smile.

Jimin wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as a group of people push past.

‘What are you doing here?’ he scolds. ‘You shouldn’t be in a crowd like this —’

You put your hand against his cheek, and he stills.

He moves his head, closer, so close your lips touch.

You’ve wanted this for so long, and this new version of you takes what she wants.

You kiss.

Jimin makes a soft noise, deep in his throat, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head as your lips meet again.

By the time you come up for air, you feel flushed, giddy, your heart pounding a million miles a minute in your chest.

Jimin presses another soft kiss on your cheek before he pulls away.

‘I’m so glad you came,’ he says.

***

Jimin’s shucking his shirt over his head in the quiet of his bedroom, only the moonlight to show you the beauty of his form.

He gathers you back into his arms like he couldn’t stand even that short time apart without touching you. You don’t think he’s stopped touching you at all since you met him at the picket line.

You’re not complaining.

Jimin pulls you closer so your lips meet again. His lips are soft, full, pressing against yours firmly.

He doesn’t shy away, so you don’t either.

He tugs your top over your head, litters your breasts with kisses, tugs the cups of your bra down so he can get better access.

He laves your nipples with his tongue, like he enjoys the sounds you make as he sucks on your flesh.

You can feel his hardness against your centre as he strokes his tongue and hands over your skin.

You reach down to touch him, and Jimin grunts as you curl your fingers around his cock.

‘We don’t have to—’

‘I want it,’ you tell him, lips against his skin, hand on his ass.

‘I want to give it to you,’ Jimin groans. ‘Fuck, are you sure?’

You’ve never been surer of anything in your life.

Jimin rolls a condom onto himself, hissing a little. He positions himself above you, and you move to make room for him between your thighs.

He nudges in a little, gentle as he’s always been with you, and the stretch is so good you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

Jimin presses his face to yours. ‘Tell me to stop if —’

‘Don’t stop,’ you say. ‘Don’t you dare stop.’

Jimin seals his lips to yours as he drives the rest of himself into you. He stops when he’s all the way in, stills.

He lifts his head to look at your face. ‘Are you – is this ok?’

You smile, breathlessly. ‘Can’t you tell, Jimin?’

Jimin groans as you clench around him.

‘You’re so wet. Fuck —’

He moves, and your eyes close with the pleasure of it.

‘Fuck, Jimin —’

He moves again, and you cry out as he rocks his hips against yours.

It’s overwhelming, the weight of him against you, the way his skin gleams with sweat in the moonlight, the soft whines he makes on every thrust. The feel of him inside you.

It’s his voice that eventually tips you over the edge. ‘You’re so pretty,’ he vows against your ear. ‘I can’t believe you’re here —’

You cry his name as you come, and he keeps going, seeking his own release now, gentle even when he’s taut with need.

He kisses you again, grinds hard, deep, and then he’s holding you like he doesn’t want to ever let you go.

***

You can hear Jimin moving in his bedroom, and sure enough, he emerges, shirtless, hair mussed from your fingers through it.

You admire the beautiful lines of his cut torso as he walks towards you.

‘Who knew you were packing all this under those blue scrubs?’ you ask, teasing.

Jimin smiles, pulls you into a hug. ‘What are you doing in my kitchen?’

‘Making you breakfast,’ you tell him. ‘A promise is a promise.’

Jimin leans down to kiss your neck, and you shiver at the touch of his lips.

‘Later,’ he tells you. ‘I’ll make us breakfast later. Come back to bed.’

He grasps your hand, and you follow him back to his bedroom.

You have no idea where this is going, but you figure this is a hell of a good start to the rest of your life.

#park jimin fic #park jimin imagine #jimin smut #jimin fanfic #bts smut

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mochiiniko · 6 months

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follow up to this ask! this time im just gonna be talking about my coloring process (i also want to let you all know that im not an expert in color theory since im still learning, im quite literally just going random bullshit go on the blending modes 💀 lots of explanation under the cut)

the three blending modes i mainly use are exclusion, hard light, and overlay. from the guide above you could see how the blending modes work on their own, and how they look like combined altogether. the cool thing about blending mode layers is that it really is all about experimentation and finding the best combination for a piece (also to any fellow inabakumori enjoyers GRAHH lagtrain pose jumpscare)

i went through a bunch of blending mode phases before i ended up with those main three, though it's funny how ive been using the same overlay color for about 4 years now (multiply used to be one of them, and i still use it from time to time, just not as much). im gonna be honest the whole reason why i know about blending modes being helpful was because one time i accidentally had the fill bucket on and had a certified eureka moment 😭

the best way i could explain these three modes is:

exclusion - honestly i still dont understand how it works either 💀 when i use a really saturated blue color and lower the opacity, it gives a cooler feeling to the palette. feels like a mix of multiply and overlay with how it adjusts the colors without making it darker

hard light - gives more saturation and color

overlay - gives off a glowy effect, especially if the lineart isnt completely solid (this is why it isnt clipped on the folder as shown in the example below, keeping it above the layers gets that glowy effect)

i still use the same colors for exclusion and overlay (while i do alter them with hue saturation brightness from time to time, i just use the same blue and brown for most of my works) though hard light is what i use to make drawings lean towards a temperature

i tend to use warm colors a lot because i think theyre neat and also im biased sorry <3. as a warm palette example, i drew yinu and used this orange color on hard light and lowered the opacity

cold colors have a similar process, it's just the matter of adjusting the hard light layer. i wouldnt really say it's completely cold since i still add warm colors because im still biased </3. as a cold palette example, i drew sayu and used this purple-pink (??) color with the same settings

when it comes to drawings that have characters with contrasting palettes, it does take a bit of trial and error but i most of the time i mix both warm and cold methods like the example above. this also helps for art with several characters in general, since the blending modes help make the colors go well together despite the variety

theres also instances where i dont always use the warm + cold combo, since sometimes drawings lean towards a specific temperature instead (like environments with set lighting/shading, so usually i follow that even with characters with different palettes)

tldr; there are lots of palette combos you could make, not necessarily with just the three blending modes i mention. random bullshit go genuinely helps with experimenting with colors!!

#chiimo art shenanigans #uhhhh should i tag the fandoms these characters are from #fanart is fanart ig???#oneshot #oneshot niko #no straight roads #nsr #chiimo ask shenanigans

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rollingsins · 2 years

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all hers, part v

summary: Long before she was Ghostface, she was just Tara. The sweet, pretty girl from your chemistry class who brought roses to your first date and promised to love you forever. Tara and reader’s first time. Smut. 18+

warnings: smut, 18+. first-time, vaginal-fingering.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: thought we’d go back a little bit, obviously set before Tara became Ghostface. As always, thanks for all the love and support, and let me know what you want to see next! Ask is always open for suggestions.

It’s your fourth date. Officially.

You’d been going out with Tara for a few weeks now. When she’d first asked you out, all shy smiles and curious, wanting eyes, you couldn’t believe your luck that a girl so pretty wanted to be with you. To be honest, you still couldn’t believe it.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach. She’d invited you over for dinner and movies, not dissimilar to some of the other dates you’d had. Except this time her mom wasn’t home. The way she’d said it, flirty, voice sort of high at the end, has your stomach in knots.

You’d never felt like this around anyone. There had been crushes, sure. A first kiss, first girlfriend for all of three weeks when you were fourteen. But nothing serious. Nothing like this.

Tara made your heart flutter. She made it sing.

You grip your palms, nervously. Knock swiftly on the door.

Tara answers almost immediately.

Her hair is down, she’s wearing an apron. She smiles, wide, greets you with a kiss.

“Hi.”

You hover in the doorway, trying to conceal the goofy smile that wants to overtake your entire face. She holds out her hand, and you take it as she leads you through the house and into the kitchen.

“I cooked for us.” She says. She looks a little bashful. It smells amazing. Sundried tomatoes and chicken, pasta simmering on the stove.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

But of course she could. She was perfect.

“Well, my mom’s not really home that much, so I learned pretty early on.” She shrugs. She lets go of your hand to stir one of the pots. Looks over at you, coy, “Worked out well though, all the girls seem to like it.”

“All the girls, huh?” You tease. She looks back at you, her smile shy.

“Well. One girl. Hopefully.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a small smile on her lips.

You reach into your bag, hold out a bottle of your Dad’s finest red. Stolen from his cabinet. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“I brought wine.”

Tara’s midway pouring out two glasses when it happens. The house creaks a gentle groan, then the lights flicker. The power’s out.

You stand a moment, blink into the darkness.

“Fuck.”

You can make out her silhouette in the darkness. She fumbles around for her phone, presses the flashlight.

“The food.”

The stovetop is out, you watch as Tara flashes the light across the chicken. Half-cooked.

“Perfect.”

“Maybe it’s the fuse?” You suggest, trying to be helpful. Tara flashes the light out the window. All the neighbors are dark too.

“Shit.”

She fumbles around the drawers, drawing out some candles. Lights a couple, illuminating the room. She looks so pretty in the candlelight, is all you can think. Mused hair, pink lips, a little flour on her cheeks from the food.

She turns back at you, chewing her lip. Her pretty brown eyes are wide, mournful.

“Well, that’s dinner gone.” She looks over to the living room, as if she’s just realizing, “And the power’s out so no movie.”

She looks upset. “I’m sorry, YN. Tonight was supposed to be perfect and now it's all ruined.”

“Hey.” You touch her arm, move a little closer, “It’s not ruined. As long as I’m with you, it’s perfect. Alright?”

She looks back at you doubtful.

“We have no food.”

‘That’s not true.” You say. Out of the corner of your eye you spot some bread on the counter. You move to it, help yourself to a couple of plates. “We’ve got bread. Do you have peanut butter? Jelly?”

She bites her lip.

“PB&J?” She asks. “That’s not very romantic.”

Butterflies flutter in your chest. She wants it to be romantic. Of course she does, idiot, you scold yourself, it’s a date. You feel your cheeks getting hot.

“But a PB&J by candlelight is very romantic.” You assure her, a little thankful she can’t see how your cheeks burn in the darkness. “With wine, don’t forget.”

A smile plays on her lips.

“Second drawer on the right.” Is all she says.

She might be a better cook than you, you reason as you slap peanut butter all over the bread, but nobody beats your PB&J’s. When you’re finished, she’s poured out two glasses of wine, gestures for you to follow her past the dining room table.

Her house is nice, much nicer than yours. All high ceilings and leather furniture. This room is maybe the most impressive room, a long, cobbled fireplace sits in its center.

“We were going to eat at the table,” She tells you, setting down the glasses. She reaches for a throw on the back of one of the sofa’s. Lays it down on the floor, right in front of the fireplace, “But this is better. Like our own little picnic.”

She takes the plates off you, lowers them to the floor.

“Here.”

She’s holding out her hand for you, helping lower you onto the floor.

“Do you know how to do that?” You ask, a little concerned with the way she fumbles with the firewood.

“Yeah. My sister taught me.” She assures. She strikes a match, drops it against the wood. It flashes alight, the immediate smell of smoky wood fills the room. She looks back at you, smiling as she settles down next to you.

You hand her the sandwich, push the edge of your crust into hers.

“Cheers.”

You take a small bite, watches as she does the same.

Lean against your hand. She mirrors you, lets the tip of her pinky brush yours. Electricity flows through you.

The fire burns bright. You’re talking about school when she kisses you. Suddenly, out of nowhere, like she can’t control herself any longer. The surprised gasp that slips from your lips lasts only a moment, before you’re dropping your sandwich to the floor in favor of threading your fingers through her hair.

You kiss for a while, a familiar heat rising in your stomach. You’d often end up this way, making out desperately in the middle of your dates. This time feels different. It feels more urgent, feverish. You shiver as she pulls back, looks into your eyes.

The way she looks in the firelight, lips parted slightly, red and swollen. Beautiful brown eyes, wide and wanting. You want all of her. You want to give her all of you.

You swallow hard.

“Tara-” You trail off, a little nervous. How do you tell someone you want to give them your virginity?

She leans up to you, brushes the hair off your face with her fingers. You lick your lips. She wants it too, you can see it in her eyes.

“I’ve never-” You swallow. She’s staring at your lips.

“Me either.”

“Should we-”

“Yes.”

You sigh as she crashes into you. All lips and tongue and roaming hands. She’s pressing you back into the rug. Her weight on top of you feels impossibly good. The butterflies in your stomach are gone, instead fireworks explode, electrifying every part of you. Your body thrums hot, cheeks flushed with an uncontrollable desire for her. Her hands roam down your body, a little nervous, apprehensive, like she isn’t quite sure what she’s doing.

She’s gripping the top of your jeans, with her fingers, pulling back from your lips just long enough to ask the question with her eyes.

God, yes.

You nod, and she lets out a breathy, excited little noise as she fumbles with the button of your jeans. It’s not slick at all, it takes almost twenty seconds; her hands are shaking, but the look in her eyes when she’s sliding them down your legs makes it more than worth it.

“Yours too.” You murmur, sitting up slightly to reach for the button of her pants. You’re quicker, help her out of them within seconds. She’s pressing back into your lips, climbing into your lap. The feel of your hands on her bare thighs makes your head spin, her weight in your lap makes you throb between your legs. Your kisses are getting sloppier, more feverish as you pull the rest of each other’s clothes off.

When she unclips your bra, your breasts spilling out, her pupils dilate.

“Oh my god.” She says as she reaches up to take one in her hands. Her fingers immediately find your nipples. She dips down, takes one between her lips. You moan, the sensation new, and sexy. Her mouth is hot and wanting, her tongue flicking gently against your pebbled nipples. She works them in her mouth for a few moments before you’re tugging her back with impatience, wanting your turn.

Hers are a little smaller than yours, but her nipples are just as hard. Your mouth waters as you take one between your lips, suckling gently. Her fingers thread through your hair, she lets out a tiny moan. You hold her by her hips, licking and sucking. When you trail kisses back up to her lips, she’s looking down at you with dark, hooded eyes.

The warmth of the fireplace and her body combined as you flushed red. She pushes you down onto your back, hands wandering as she kisses you.

When her fingers hook your panties, your breath catches in your throat.

She tugs them down your legs, her eyes on yours. As she tosses them away you reach for hers.

She slips her thigh between your legs, groans as her lips crash onto yours.

You gasp. Her wet heat against your thigh, yours on hers. No barriers between you anymore, just you and her, naked and entwined in each other. The lights dimmed, illuminated only by the light of the fire and the candles.

She grinds against your leg for a moment.

The sensation is unreal. Her weight, impossibly good on you, the soft heat of her bare skin. Her desperate lips pressing hot kisses to your lips. Her excitement drizzling all over your leg.

Her hands are on your thighs, prying them open. She bites her lip as she settles in between them, hands roaming from the outside of your thighs to the inside.

Your hands are around her neck, keeping her close enough to kiss.

“Can I touch you, baby?” She whispers against your lips, breathless. You nod wildly.

“Please.”

It isn’t like when you touch yourself.

Her fingers brush across your slit, gently probing, exploring. She gathers the wetness from your entrance, rubs it down the length of you, her mouth open, eyes filled with desire.

She circles your clit, a little jerky. The moan that escapes your mouth is out of your control. She leans down into you, kisses you as she continues movements.

Small circles at first, warming you up. Everything feels hot: the heat of the fireplace, her swollen lips against yours, the burn of your cheeks. You clutch onto her shoulders, gasp as she dips her fingers lower, teasing your entrance.

When she hooks her finger up, slipping a single digit into your wet heat, you both moan.

Her eyebrows knit together. Your heart is thrumming, you think it might burst out of your chest. She’s knuckle deep inside you, the tip of her finger hitting your g-spot perfectly.

“You’re so tight.” She marvels with wonder. Her voice is throaty and low. “Fuck.”

She moves her hand slightly, movements a little jilted, unsure. You gasp as she hits your spot just right.

“Is this okay?” She asks, “I’m not hurting you?”

You shake your head, bite your lip.

“No.” You say, “That feels so good. More please, baby.”

She complies. Another finger sinks inside of you, stretching you out. She kisses you, tilting her fingers in and out, her pace glacial. Your fingernails sink into the bare skin of her back, trying to take her deeper. Your lips against her neck, groaning into her skin.

Her confidence is rising, the longer she’s in you. She’s paying close attention to the way you clench around her, the noises you make when she thrusts a little harder. It isn’t long before you’re rutting against her, orgasm building.

“I’m going to cum.” You gasp out, right before it happens. Your body goes stiff against her as it washes over you. You moan, low and steady, as it overtakes your entire body, from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your heels. She kisses you through it.

You slump back onto the floor. She presses a gentle kiss to your chest, slowly withdrawing her fingers. When you look up at her, she has her own fingers in her mouth, sucking off your wetness. Her eyes black with want.

You swallow. Arousal surges through you.

Before your mind can even register, you’re reaching up for her, tilting her back onto the floor. You spread her legs with your knees, only one thing on your mind.

She looks a little surprised, but her expression quickly changes to pure want the moment your fingers brush her.

Your heart is hammering again, lump in your throat. You are still so painfully turned on. Feeling her slick heat beneath your fingers only makes you want her more. You’ve done this to yourself before, so it isn’t totally new, only she feels so much better. She’s sticky, so wet, so warm. You graze your fingertips over her clit, watch the way her mouth opens, her eyes close as you tease her entrance.

When you sink inside of her for the first time, it’s like an out of body experience. Warm, wet heat encompasses you. She grips your fingers, like her pussy is trying to keep you in place, exactly where you belong. She lets out a small, breathy gasp each time you curl your fingers up into her. She looks perfect: laid out before you, nipples hard, lips swollen, pussy dripping wet under your fingers.

You tell her so, lean down to kiss her.

She sighs up into your mouth.

You build a steady pace, copy what she’d done on you. It isn’t long at all before you can feel how desperate she’s getting, clawing at you, pussy tightening around your fingers. When she cums, she groans, low, cunt squeezing your fingers, eyes pressed tightly shut.

It’s gorgeous. Beautiful.

You want to do this forever.

You kiss her through her orgasm, slow down as she breathes, her grip on you loosening. When you slip out of her, she grips onto you tight, pulls you down on top of her.

Your fingers are soaked. You bring them to your lips. Her scent is overwhelming, so good it makes your mouth water. She’s bitter, it makes your tongue sting pleasantly, watering for more.

You lean down against her chest, let her shift slightly. She cradles you against her.

Her heartbeat is slowing down. You entwine your fingers with hers, close your eyes.

You feel her lips against the top of your head.

“That was-” She trails off. Squeezes your body slightly.

“Amazing.” You finish for her. “We’re so doing that again. And again. And again.”

She chuckles. You open your eyes, watch as the fireplace flickers in front of you, burning its last log.

All you can feel is the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes against you. The smell of her skin as you breathe her in. Your eyes droop, as her fingertips rub gentle circles on her scalp.

Maybe this is what falling in love feels like.

Next part

#ghostface!tara #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #scream #fanfiction #mine #ah

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yongislong · 2 years

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physical insecurities + dreamies.

genre: nct dreams fav insecurities on other people, fluff, angst if u squint and shake, suggestive? nonidol!dreamies but not specified tbh

note: i dont think there are any cws... i thought this would be a cute idea. none of these are things that i think people should be insecure about but rather things ive personally been insecure about and things that other people have mentioned make them insecure if that makes sense haha, lmk what you think, if i wrote something that sounds weird or could be taken the wrong way please let me know, not proofread

mark... stretch marks. thinks stretch marks are so cool, like actually thinks they're so hot. likes to trace them when you both watch a movie together, its so second nature to him. when you told him you didn't like them he was kinda lost. he's like 'what, dude you look like a painting." likes them especially when they're deep/dark but doesn't care where they are, likes them when you have them in places only you and him can see as well since it makes it more personal. heart eyes for you always and isn't corny about it, he makes you feel so hot about yourself deserved. encourages wearing whatever you want regardless of if it shows the marks because he'll always be there to hype you up. also likes that his name is in the name LOL

renjun... noses/side profiles. ADORES big noses and unique side profiles. tells you its a challenge for him to draw because he HAS to perfect you on paper. can't stop looking at you. traces his fingers on your nose all the time and loves when it's cold out and the tip of it gets all pink and reddish hehe. compares you to paintings all the time, its in his nature. once he meets you, he goes on a mission to try and perfect drawing your side profile even before you guys began dating. even going as far as to sit next to you in lectures just to be able to sneak glances at you LOL. nose pecks and boops all the time

jeno... plus sized people. TO ME i feel like plus size people are the joy of his life. hates when you're an adult and people either infantilize or sexualize you for being plus sized because like damn... it gets on his nerves lol. never thought it was that big of a deal other than the fact that he thinks you're a god among humans. just finds you so gorgeous and you're such a beautifully stark contrast from what he looks like, that its such a good balance in a sense of like everyone wants what they cant have, yknow? just loves feeling how smooth/curvy and soft you are??? he's obsessed with everything about you to be honest. never makes you feel fetishized or weird. #1 defender. takes couple pics by standing behind you and placing his palm on your lower stomach YALL KNOW WHAT IM TALKIN ABBTTT

haechan... crooked teeth. OH MY GOD thinks its literally the cutest thing ever. he didn't know you didn't like your smile until he caught on to how much you would cover your face whenever he would make you laugh. he would make it a point one day to tell extra jokes and catch you smiling so he could grip your wrists and pull your hands away from his face. takes this as an opportunity to GUSH about how much he loves the way you look when you smile and how cute your teeth are and how much you remind him of a bunny, or a certain animal hehe. WHEN YOU SMILE INTO KISSES?? he loses his mind. likes to pull up the corners of your lips whenever he's a bit sad because he claims seeing your pearly whites will recharge him haha

jaemin... round faces. GOSH, oh gosh he is obsessed. always pokes your cheeks and runs his thumbs on your cheekbones whenever he holds your face in his hands. likes it when you put on a lot of blush because it excentuates your face shape. LOOVES when you smile and your cheekbones lift up sm and you look so glowy yknow?? cheek pincher and squisher. oh my god i've said this before but he thinks you look so adorable when you wake up all puffy because it makes your cheeks and face 10x more round and soft. likes pulling your cheeks and taking off guard pics with your eyes shut tight, hand reaching for his to make him stop. does that thing where he sucks your cheeks with his mouth LMAOOO. you are his soft angel baby

chenle... acne. it doesn't matter where the acne is, he never minds it or makes you feel bad about it. likes helping you with your skincare and putting cute pimple patches on any marks or blemishes. he has acne too im sure so it's nice to be human, yknow. never understands why its an insecurity to you because he thinks its the least important thing about you. always tells you how having acne never makes you any less pretty. always encourages you to wear tank tops or clothes that may show body acne because he thinks it doesn't matter. and not in a bad way like he would never ever dismiss anything that would upset you, i think he would just try and make it a point that some acne is never gonna change how attractive you are to him. shoulder kisses always

jisung... thick thighs. ON MY SUNG THICK THIGH ADGENDAAA he loves them sm. likes playing with them like silly putty. doesn't matter if you have big thighs but hip dips, wide hips, flat butt, big butt, like he does not care he just loves your lower body in general lol. can get suggestive with it once you get closer in your relationship but also just likes poking and playing with the fat and skin on your upper thighs for funzies. runs his hands on your butt but so genuinely innocently lol. you are his best pillow. likes laying in between them while you do things. head on your stomach with your legs on either side of his head, runs shapes on the outer part of them with his fingers. knows how when he squeezes your legs with rings on, you jump from the cold metal, he thinks its funny lol

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penaltyboxboxbox · 5 months

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i love ur charlos parents au sm!! im not requesting art or anything if u dont feel like drawing (tho youre a phenomenal artist!!), but i was wondering if you wanted to share any more details abt the au? i thinks its so cute haha and would love to know more. also hope ur having a great day!

I LOVE THIS AU TOO i do want to draw more i always have ideas for it.... but i will gladly ramble about my lore ive developed

1. is this an mpreg au even i do not know or care to know. yes these are their biological children who look like them and share their genes but how did we get here ill leave that to you to assume. either way both of them definitely wanted big families and even tho i draw them with 2 kids i think they want at least 4..... charles wants a daughter and carlos says the same but secretly he only wants sons. hes picturing a future football team and also doesn't understand women conceptually

2. i actually think carlos3 was an accident child and charlos get shotgun married over it. its part of the reason why theres a bit of a gap between their first and second child. they had to like reassess and settle stuff after kind of having to get their shit together and make honest men of each other.

3. they get divorced at some point during all this mainly due to SAINZ SENIOR PRESSURE. probably while carlos3 is like highschool age. charles talks so much shit and then proceeds to get emotional like I SHOULDNT TALK ABOUT YOUR FATHER THIS WAY vs carlos like. bro tries to just act like they are normal regular friends now like man thats not how this works....charles always plays cool irl but is annoyed as hell underneath. very good coparents though....always at all the events together. when the kids stay at sainz family evil mansion for the summer they come back to charles so villainous and feral. he has to go supernanny on them...

4. charlos DO get back together after like 10 years of being separated lol. and yeah there were lots of messy nights out and not quite reconciliations throughout that time. very confusing family dynamic but theyre happy at the end

5. carlos3 grows up to be a guy who just kind of piggybacks onto whatever business endeavors his dads are doing. ultimate nepotism hire. hes not bad at what hes doing he just never really found that passion. his passion is like.....posting peaky blinders quotes on instagram. hes kind of a failson but hes also the perpetual baby for charlos so they just...coddled him too much his whole life djhdksndksbs.... younger son herve becomes a FASHION MODEL!!!! hes beautiful gorgeous and also a perfect nepo child so he's ripe for this career....he walks runways in paris

thats all i can think of for now thankssssss ily

#ask #parents au

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jamiedc-they-them · 5 months

Text

Good People Part IV: Safety in Numbers (Platonic)

Summary: A new friend joins you on your travel for this infamous head. A vault gives you a moment of safety. But, like always, the world comes crashing down around you. But this time, it's not just you that it collapses for.

Episodes 5/6/7.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

"Should we wake them up?" Maximus, the Knight you had saved - and the one who had saved Lucy - asks as he sees you slumped against a pillar, eyes shut. It hasn't been too long since he had gotten out and saved your friend, and yet you found yourself drifting off.

Lucy looks back to you, You look peaceful. For once, you don't look at war with yourself.

There's a feeling she has inside. For a moment, it reminds her of how she is with her brother - loving, protective; but most of all, accepting.

"I think a few more minutes won't hurt them. I think they need it. Haven't really seen them rest yet."

Maximus nods. He knows he needs the head and all, but he can also understand Lucy's reasoning. This place isn't kind to anyone, and having your guard down isn't the greatest thing. But, you do seem to need it at this moment. That, and you did save him, so.

Lucy gets him to agree to have you both accompany him to find the head. 'Safety in numbers' she says. He can't exactly argue with that; after all, without you two, he'd still be in the suit - or dead.

Maximus packs up his things. Lucy gets up and approaches you, crouching down in front of you. She lightly taps you on the arm.

"Y/N. Y/N, wake up," she says, keeping her voice soft. She keeps her taps quick, respecting the boundary with touch.

You jolt, then seem to calm down as you open your eyes. The first thing you do, she clocks, is check the area around you both.

She smiles, "made good on my promise," she teases, "no urination for you, my friend."

Friend. It feels nice to say it now and know it goes both ways. You're friends. Maybe Maximus can be one, too. Still, one step at the time.

You snort, eyes softening as you look to her, "that you did," you say, standing up - she mirrors you - as you then stretch a bit, "thank you."

"I should really be the one thanking you," she says, "it's you who got me the help."

You shrug off the thanks - still not there with that, it seems; ok, she can work with that - and roll your shoulders, "was all the Knight. I just got him out of the suit."

She wants to argue in your honour, but doesn't. Like said before, she can work with this. Baby steps.

"We're gonna be travelling with him," she says to you, "he needs the head too. So, I figured, someone else looking out for us can't hurt, right?"

You don't seem too sure at first, then nod.

You all go on your way, Lucy asking about what had happened in the last 200 years, as if either of you can summarise that.

"People in charge did what they always do," you say, "they chose power over lives."

"Sounds a bit like a red to me," Maximus says.

You shrug once again, "maybe. Still, ain't exactly patriots out here to shoot me for it."

Lucy looks at you concerned, Maximus shakes his head. You're an odd one, but you're honest. So, he respects that.

You come to a bridge, with two people on the other side. Lucy tries to calm the situation down. You and Maximus, seemingly reading each other, get ready. You stand in front, no weapons, but you'll go down first and give him time to draw.

It works, and part of you believes that it just might work, too. But, the inevitable happens; the fiends see the pipboy on Lucy's arm, and they draw. Your instinct was correct; Maximus draws Lucy's weapon, and gets a shot off. A shot hits his arm, you move Lucy back, just to be safe - it all happens quick, but you still manage too - and he then fires the second round off.

"I hate it up here," Lucy laments.

"Don't we all," you say, looking to Maximus, "your arm ok?"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Lucy protests, "you've been shot!"

"I'll be fine," he says, "let's just keep going."

Lucy looks to you. You sigh, nodding at your friend, before looking to the Knight:

"Look," you say, "we'll keep going," you put a finger up to stop Lucy before she says anything and continue, "but, we'll also keep a look out for a stimpack, or something for that wound, ok?"

Maximus nods, going with the diplomatic solution.

"See?" you say, "not so bad for a red, huh?" Maximus snorts at your tease. He shakes his head. Sure, he'd probably disagree with a lot of your views on things, but you're good as a person - hell, you gave him the space he needed for that interaction. He decides then and there to trust you.

The three of you continue. You reach Shady Sands, and Maximus tells you about how he was from here. He was a survivor, and how the Brotherhood gave him a purpose.

You might fully like the Brotherhood - at least in what you've seen; a company like that with brutality will always go wrong in your eyes - but Maximus is a good man, even if tortured.

You look from the massive hole, to Lucy. To your friend who gave you a purpose - at least for a little bit. You gulp.

You were bad luck. Hell, you even hit your head when Lucy first said 'hello' to you. You're a magnet for trouble. Yet, she stuck with you. Fought for you in your honour. She stuck by you when others would've left.

You find what you think is a hospital. Lucy enters, you follow, then Maximus does.

You split up, trying to find what you can.

You find some caps. Maybe your luck really is turning.

You hear a scream. Lucy's scream. You run out, back into the lobby area, and barge through a door...only to find that apparent adjoining one is fake.

You feel the floor give out from under you...

You wake up in a startle. For once, no dreams haunting you.

"Good, you're up," you hear a voice say. You turn, alert. It's a woman. She holds up her hands, "look, I understand the concern," she says, "but, we're not a threat. We're not a threat. We have your other friends. They asked about you."

So, they're alive, you know that at least.

"You're Y/N, right?" the woman asks. You nod, now noticing the blue jumpsuit...there's no way, "I'm Birdie," she says to you.

You approach the window, and look out at everything. It's all so clean and...nice. Everyone smiles.

You look back to Birdie, who seems to be waiting for you to ask, "are we -- I mean...is - is this a -"

"A Vault?" she asks, smile on her face - seems your instinct was right, "it is," she confirms, nodding as well.

You nod, taking it all in.

"Now," Birdie says, we kept you in there to make sure you weren't radiated or anything. But, all seems clear. You're free to see your friends. We'll get some food in you, then show you to your room."

"My room?"

She nods again, "welcome to Vault 4."

You are let out, and look over the railing at the place. It's like a community all onto itself.

Lucy spots you, and instantly beams, calling out your name and giving a wave. You wave back, before making your way down to join them.

Lucy gets up, and gives you a hug. You stumble a bit, but soon find yourself being ok with it.

"I'm glad you're ok," Lucy says.

You tap her on the back, and she pulls away - seemingly understanding your code language for 'too much'. She nods, "come eat."

You sit down, Maximus and you sharing a nod. Birdie, and then Ben - the overseer, come over and introduce themselves. You cant help, though, but notice Ben's one massive eye. No one else seems to bat on eye. And, hell, you've seen your fair share of mutations out in the Wasteland - as Maximus says, it happens. But, Lucy seems more disturbed.

You, however, let yourself feel a positive emotion for once - it doesn't feel natural to you - and it's a feeling of safety.

"Lucy," you say, "we're in a vault, that's gotta be something, right?"

"I - I want it to be," Lucy says, "but...Y/N, my Vault fell. I don't want - I don't want it to happen anywhere else."

"That's fair," you say, voice soft and distant; you both have your trauma's, and both have similar reactions with it - wanting to do all you can for it to not occur again.

Yours was isolation, her's seems to be more vigilance.

Still, she softens as you look around in awe at the place. Maximus clears his plate, before looking to you.

"Hey," he calls out. You look to him, "after we finish, did you wanna go see our rooms? I think they should be near each other?"

You look to your plate - at the actual full meal in front of you that you've barely touched. It feels wrong, eating this amount of food, but you've been given it. They have given it to you. And it would be rude to not take them up on this.

You look to Maximus, your new friend, and nod. He smiles, bright. You do too.

Lucy looks between you both. She's still unsure, something in the back of her mind telling her that something isn't right; but, she then sees you both and your eagerness for this place. To her, it felt like a homecoming; to you, it was a new world with a whole new set of rules to understand - and, god, the eager look you both had; the conversations you both have as you finish your own food. She doesn't interrupt you, she just lets you both talk, and that, that is what makes her feel that humanity may just make it through this to the other side; connections. Friendship.

She turns down the offer to go up with you both, saying that she'll catch up, but wishes you both the best. Her smile is honest, but you don't see the way it struggles to stay up right. She wants to best for you, she does really, but that voice in the back of her head won't leave you alone. It seems that, here anyway, it's not there for you - but instead now for her - and so she'll follow it.

You're her friends. She has to look out for you both.

Maximus is right, your rooms are next to each other. Everyone is so nice here. They smile and wave. They say 'hello' and pass you by and leave you be. No one tries to take things from you. No one has an ulterior motive. Everyone is just kind.

That, and no one pisses on you, so that's a win in your book.

Maximus give you a nod and a 'see you later' before entering his own room. Your door opens. You flinch at the hiss it makes, but Ben just assures you that it's ok.

You enter, and it shuts behind you. Ben explains how to reopen the door. He even demonstrates it for you, before leaving you to get acquainted with it.

It's bright. Colourful and expressive. There's no dirt on anything. There are clothes left out for you. Even a kind of gown. You take off your clothes, and enter the bathroom. You see a shower, you turn it on. It works. There is a heat that hits you. It's comforting. You put yourself fully under it, letting it wash over you fully, before you start using some soap to clean yourself. It smells nice. You could get used to this.

You get out of the shower, getting changed into your new clothes. You feel something on your cheek. You put a hand to it and wipe. Puling away, you see a tear.

More come after that. A mix of happy and sad emotions all hitting you at once. You've never let yourself feel. You've never been able to. But, here you are, letting yourself have a moment. To process fully all that you've been through. All you've lost, and what you've gained in such a short amount of time.

You hear a knock on your door. You open it, it's Lucy. She looks concerned, out of breathe. Just a mix of things.

She enters, shutting the door behind you.

"Y/N, I - I think..." she pauses whatever she was about to say, seeing your state, "what happened?" she asks.

"I, uh," you say, "I don't know," you wipe some stray tears, "just - just something dumb. Nevermind -"

"It's not dumb," she assures. She has so much suspicion for this place, and yet her first concern is you.

There's a beat of silence. She waits. Despite the anxious thoughts on her findings. She waits.

"It's just..." you look to the floor for a second, before back up to her, "it's a lot," you confess, "all of this. I smell good, Luce. I don't -" you shut your eyes, seeing the memories you are used to seeing, "this is a good thing. A nice place. Nice people."

She nods, wanting for you to go on, "and I don't - I don't know how to feel about it."

She turns her head to the side, watching as you struggle with your words - so, she says a few of her own, "you deserve good things, Y/N."

You scoff, looking back up at her with your arms folded and back hunched, "maybe," you say, not fully believing it, "but...least I'll have you, right?" your walls are down fully. Emotions on your sleeve. Assurance, that's all you want.

"Always," and she gives it. It's instant, too, tone serious. Your lip wobbles.

"Even after we find your dad?"

She nods, eyes firm, "I'll do whatever I need to, to get you guys a spot in my vault. You'll be safe there. I promise."

A few more tears slip, and you nod. You let yourself have this. Something good. Something to hope for.

Then --

"'Your vault'?"

She nods, hating to have to crush your hope a bit, "there's something wrong here, Y/N. They're - They're talking about Shady Sands. They celebrate Moldaver!" she says to you in a whisper yell.

Your eyes widen.

"Look," she says, putting hands on your arms, "I will fix this. I won't leave you behind. But, you deserve something good, Y/N, and I mean that. Even for a little bit longer."

You look at her, eyes shinning with new tears - one of worry for her.

"I will be fine," she promises, "I know Vaults. I did engineering there. That, and I can take care of myself."

You never doubted that, but still, "but, safety in numbers."

She nods, "I know. But, like I said, I know vaults. I know where to go and how to get there. Before this all comes crashing down, you deserve some piece of mind. Just, keep an eye on Maximus, ok?"

You nod. You can do that.

"Be safe," is all you ask her.

She nods, giving your arms a squeeze, "always am."

"One hundo percento?"

She smiles. There she is, "one hundo percento."

"Okey Dokey."

Her smiles softens, "Okey dokey."

With that, she's gone. Determined now more than ever.

She knew her feelings for Maximus, the word for them. An attraction. But you, it was a deep platonic love. A similar one to Norm.

If this was before everything she'd seen, she'd name it gladly. Fami-

But, she wasn't that person. She was still Lucy Maclean to her core, but something had shifted in her. Something broke. She'd always help if needed, but there was an edge now. A voice in the back of her head that told her that all was not well. It did with her father and Moldaver. She hated it, the doubts it plagued her with. She kept walking, though.

So, when it came to your friendship, she refused to use the familial term. Just in case.

It does go wrong. But, not entirely as she expected it to. These people were victims, who killed their oppressors.

She'd read stories of people like this. She idolised them. And yet, now, she was the one doing the oppressing. The one doing the judging.

She knew her sin. She understood it, clear as day. Still, you both had done nothing wrong. Nothing at all. You'd both just lived above ground with shit luck to life.

So, despite having like no leverage, all she asks is simple.

"Can my friends stay?"

And, to her surprise - once the initial shock of them not killing her, and even giving her supplies for above - they say yes.

She's glad. She's done that right at least --

BOOM! BOOM! BANG! The sounds of Maximus in the armour reverberate off the walls, before a gunshot goes off from a rifle. You're both here. 'Saving' her.

"No, no, no, no, no!" She calls out to you both. But you're too caught up. Too caught up in trying to save your friend, that you don't even notice said friend trying to stop you.

You don't get far, but there is still some damage done. You may have smashed a window to get to the weapon. And Maximus may of stolen the fusion core for the armour.

"Guys!" Lucy calls out. It works on getting your attentions, "I'm ok!" she assures you, "look! look!" she gestures to herself, "no injuries! They were even giving me stuff. Look!" she says, grabbing an item that was inside the crate they have, "they aren't the bad guys. They're the victims!"

It really takes the winds out of your sails. You and Maximus both look to each other, before you both in sync say a single thing:

"Sorry."

With no arguments from any of you, you are banned from the Vault. Lucy looks to you and Maximus; him with the core, yourself with the weapon. Finally a -

"We need to give them back," Lucy says. You both look at her like she's mental.

"I mean it," she says, "we're not bad people. We don't just steal. Especially not after something like that."

"We tried our best," you say, folding your arms like a child being reprimanded.

Lucy rolls her eyes, "I know, and I thank you for your courage in your actions," she says, "but, the circumstances did not require them. They're good people. They need all the help they can get. Plus," she says, bringing out her pistol, "I have this."

You whine, leaning back and shutting your eyes, "but I want a weapon!!"

Lucy rolls her eyes again, "You can still fight, Y/N. You don't need a gun for that. We have each other, and our wits. And," she says, looking between you both, "once we're done, you won't need a weapon again. We'll be safe in the Vault. Trust me."

You and Maximus look to each other. You both sigh, then nod. He takes out the core; you open the door for him and you both deposit your items. You hear a 'thank you!' from below.

"There," she says, "how'd you feel?"

"Vulnerable," you say, gaining a third eye-roll.

"That's not a bad thing," she says.

"I don't mean the emotional kind."

She shrugs, "I know. But, we'll be ok. We have each other, and soon we will have the head. Then we'll be free."

Maximus looks to you. You just gesture for him to go ahead of you. He does, after giving you a pat on the shoulder.

You sigh, taking your own leave. Lucy watches you both leave. She nods, taking a steady breath.

"Okey Dokey," she says, before following after you.

You've done a good thing, she's happy that it's gone well. That, for once, an interaction out here has gone well and ended happily for everyone.

She just hates that voice in the back of her head. That doubt. That fear. That hesitation.

You're her friend. Her best friend, she'd wager. Someone she'd burn down a vault for - hell, she almost did - but there was also that voice in the back of her head. One that said to watch out. To not get fully attached.

There was a dark cloud in her mind. One she didn't quite know how to get rid of.

But, she knew one thing.

You had her, and she had you.

All the way, no matter what.

Part V

#lucy maclean x reader #lucy maclean #lucy fallout #lucy maclean imagine #lucy maclean fallout #maximus x you #maximus imagine #maximus x reader #maximus fallout #fallout x you #fallout x reader #fallout imagine #fallout #lucy maclean x you

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crowind1 · 8 days

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You may ask why i didnt upload anything for "acnologia day"... or anything in this last months that has passed.

Ive decided that i will no more upload my art on internet (At least not without glazing it or using any possible tool to not allow people to steal it easily.) The whole AI problem has reached a point for me that its scary and discouraging. Ive worked so hard to have the level i have today and because of AI now only few artists with a very defined style and skills will survive which... its impossible for me.

I will still keep working and developing my art but until i dont create a well defined proyect that allows me to live of it i wont share it with anyone.

I am sorry, i am sure that you guys were happy to find an artist that only would draw Acno (Since there is little or no fanarts about him) but the fact the AI its capable to replicate the appearance of Acno without having much fanarts of him... its honestly concerning and i have the feeling/hunch that some of my illustrations has been used as well to get this feat.

So this is a no-no for me. Tumblr its also no precisely a good plataform, for what i know, it can create perfectly with the data of the plataform their own AI and i wont risk it. (Not that the plataform said anything. Its more the people that work in the app. I dont trust anyone.)

This means a honest good bye.

I will soon erase this account or maybe i will just abandon it. (The illustrations will be erased. My illustrations are already circulating around the cloud so there is nothing i can do about it but at least i can stop the creations here and enjoy art at my tempo, as ive always wanted.)

I hope that you can fullfill your dreams and aspirations; i really hope that you guys can keep enjoying art or in other hand, developing yours. I am sure that you guys can reach far and yes, thats sounds weird taking into account that i am saying goodbye; the logic thing would be to encourage others to leave social media too but the truth its that, this whole thing just have hurted me in a deeper level so, in some sense, i just leave because of my own personal weakness that i cant bare to see of what has become of the world of art nowadays.

Now, i wish you the best and hopefully, if god so want it, we may see each other again.

#Goodbye

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allureasdiary · 3 months

Text

Currently ppl I've been using as muses & inspos:

• Rihanna

• Aaliyah

• Nicki Minaj

• Beyonce (in 2000s)

• Kendrick lamar

• Sharpay Evans

• Marilyn Monroe

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The main take away from all these ppl listed above is that they embody a certain self concept that I've felt called to embrace this year. Key themes such as standing up for myself, following my intuition & calling more, tapping into my dark feminine, enter my heiress/queen era, embracing leadership qualities, reflecting on my influence/how my character may impact others, not going back on my word aka standing on business, use negative energy as motivation.

Recently I had an encounter with an anon telling me something negative, I didn't give it much energy only a little however that alone made me feel something inside. A form of power when I did that. It felt good to stand up for myself and not just take the disrespect. Ive found myself feeling more positive when i did things i wanted to do rather than settle on what others wanted me to do. For example, me cleaning my room I share my room with my little sister which I despise honestly 🤦🏾‍♀️(currently manifesting new family btw), i had held off cleaning it because i felt as though since the mess is from her she should be the one tk clean it which only made me more irritated because i knew she wouldn't. Well i finally took things ibto my own hands and cleaned it all myself, I found myself not only feeling more vibrant but happier when I cleaned it the way I wanted it really reduced my stress. It's the same with my self care routine, when I did it the way I wanted a weight was lifted off my shoulders. It's only when I feel like my decision of how I may feel best is overshadowed and trampled over by outside opinions is when things tend to go south. I've felt the need more and more to break from boundaries and social norms and do my own thing without everyone else in my ear telling me what I should and shouldn't do.

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Rihanna:

○ When it comes to rihanna, recently I've found her rawness really drawing to me. Especially when she was younger. She isn't afraid to say what she wants. Recently she did a photosgoot and i was super drawn to it. She continues to embrace her rebel "bad gyal" image and I've found myself relating to it. As someone who has always been label the "good girl" the dark theme has been truly drawing to me. Even if it isn't just dark colors, but the regal sex appeal, the rawness, the unfiltered chaotic energy, it's very magnetic to me. She also falls in the vixen archetype, which is one of the archetypes I have from the feminine archetype quiz.

Aaliyah:

○Now...I'm gonna be 100% honest, Aaliyah definitely wasn't someone I'd think I'd relate to at all. I didn't know her 100% well celebrity wise since I grew up with ppl like nicki, Rihanna and beyonce. However after doing research on her here and there and taking notes on how she was as an artist and person I've found I've related to her more than anything this year. She carries a mystic air about her that in today's artists you can see many tried copying and replicating. She was quite literally the world's it girl and even now ppl still talk about how amazing and sweet she is. I love how she didn't tell everything but told alot about her. She respected her own privacy majority of the time. Also I connect alot with her aesthetic of having like a tomboy look but it still looks really feminine in a way. She was a trendsetter at its finest and was soft spoken as well which makes me like her even more.

Nicki Minaj:

○ Ms. Nicki minaj, nicki Lewinsky, nicki da harajuku barbie!! She has been my #1 inspiration and muse when it comes to a high self concept. Despite the things that's happen in her personal life and seeing how her career has transformed over the years one of the main takeaways I can see is that since day 1 she never stopped affirming that she in fact was the #1 queen and that there would never and will never be another one like her, after her, can't even replicate her. Even in her old songs she quite literally prophesied and solidified her position as the queen of rap for years to come. Regardless if you love her or hate her u quite literally can't deny it since no one in this world has done what she's done even the ones that's tried to, failed. She is the definition of having true passion in what she loves, having unwavering ambition and drive to keep going despite all odds going against her. She also had this motherly energy towards her fans that I appreciate especially in her early days. She's always loved the barbs and continues to show gratitude. Learning from that I could take away to always be humble but don't ever let anyone step all over u either. Also she's probably the best I've seen when it comes to self branding yourself. Literally the situation with ice spice is a perfect example with the wigs and flow she did. Nicki has curated her aesthetic and brand so well that literally even the littlest change on someone such as pink or bangs or ankle inched black bussdown hair is associated with her and her brand. Now nicki herself may not have created these things and yes there were ppl before her who have worn pink and long hair but none of them actually made it there BRAND their STAPLE PIECE it may have been a moment but it wasn't a LOOK and that's what nicki did. After learning from that currently I've felt to go in the direction of making my own "princess self concept", a smaller version of her "queen" like nature. (Since rn I don't feel like much of a queen at all and see myself as a baby queen, a princess. Its not time yet)

Beyonce:

As a fellow virgo she too has perfectionism and I myself am a perfectionist. I 100% respect her work ethic especially when it comes to her performances. She continues to wanna top herself and not settle no matter the heights. Another thing is her gold aesthetic that I've felt more and more drawn to. It just screams royalty, that's something I've felt more and more called towards as well. She literally turned herself into a star amd made sure she shined the brightest. I love older vids of her where she always wanted remain as honest as possible and u could even see on some of her facial expressions when she knew some stuff was bs or just wasn't up to par. For that I have to respect that and her heavy keen eye to detail. She tolerated zero room for disrespect and this could be seen in her bow down record and though she said no name all the hit dogs hollered.

Kendrick lamar:

○Now I'm ngl, after the drake and kendrick beef its made me have a ton for respect for him as an artist but it also made me do some digging back in his old music. After doing proper thorough listens, I noticed his humble character and down to earth nature. After the battle, I was really drawn to his straightforwardness. He didn't play any internet games and didn't sugar coat either. That leads me to my self concept. More and more I find myself feeling good when I just start telling ppl like it is, where my boundaries are, where I am with this and that person. Not only does it makes things less confusing for the both of us but it shows that there is just some things that I'm not ok with tolerating and I will say it as many times as needed until u realize that. I also took note of how in his music he tended to talk about actual issues especially within the black community. As someone who expresses myself through art, that is something we have in common. Using our forms of art to heal ourselves and those around us by connecting through our problems and fixing them. For example, his song father time was him talking about his daddy issues ans his wife telling him he needs therapy. Though the song was technically about the men, as a growing young woman with daddy issues I related to the song heavily. This is the same with his unreleased song prayer where he continually used examples of separating the art from the artists and how we as ppl shouldn't be idolizing the celebrity and then stop when we see them doing something bad, the main point is that they are no better than us regular folks and still do bad things and make mistakes also, however those mistakes shouldn't be a reason u should stop loving there art entirely because if that was the case then no celebrities should exist because they've all done something bad in there lives just like we have. For that, I can takeaways the power of not just being aware of others faults but our own as well. He even admitted himself he still has healing to do and that's something I can relate to. The value of not staying the same and growing into your highest self definitely adds to me working on a growth mindset rather than a egotistical narrow minded one.

Sharpay Evans:

○ I'm ngl when i was younger i hated her. I thought she was egotistical, arrogant and messy. Now that im older i can see that she wasnt 100% that way at all, she was confident in herself and knew who she was and was literally oblivious to anyone who didnt like it. She had her own signature to everything as well thats how u knew it was sharpay whether u saw cute kitten heels, glitter ink pens or fur. Even on graduation she stood out with her signature SE hat. And her fashion was always top tier and iconic regardless of how stressed out she was from gabriella she didnt allow herself to go a day without looking good.

(Honerable mentions to Regina George, Elle woods, Cher Horowitz. My fav blondie girl bosses)

Marilyn Monroe:

○ Last but certainly not least is Marilyn Monroe. I think I've connected to her on a deeper level not just because of her manifestation story but also because I have the best connection to her when it comes to the way I feel about beauty. Beauty and being in the spotlight is something I highly struggle with, simply because it's something I daydream about so much whether it's imagining me getting plastic surgery or just me waking up one day with my dream life. Knowing that even someone who's considered the most beautiful woman in the world felt insecure in herself as well made me feel almost more human with myself and how I look and act. I did research on her years ago and found old vids of how she would talk about how much she'd study herself from her mannerisms to the way her hands moves to how she sounds to her facial expressions and so much more to give off illusions of things, even in her iconic walk I think she trimmed one of her heels to give the illusion of her hips swaying. She literally studied and curated her entire persona until she became who she is known as today. Even then I saw a few later vids of her and how sad she seemed in the eyes. This not only taught me more on self branding but also the importance of self love as well. I have a feeling had she lived a bit longer she may would've grown deeper into that. However something I could take away was the importance of enhancing your qualities of yourself the best way you can and that's exactly what she did

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Anyway that's all for now darlings I have so many things in store for the future and I can't wait to share them all with u guys!! Xoxo, Allurèa

#msallurea #ms heiress #nicki minaj #rihanna #marilyn monroe #beyonce #my blog #girlblogging #girly tumblr #just girly things #allurea's diary

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