#i think it might be me like…damn i want my whole self to be concentrated on doing this one thing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jostepherjoestar · 3 years ago

Text

Rodeo Gyro

notsfw !! // gn reader // taking care of Gyro and thigh riding

notes/warnings: thigh riding, mild biting, gyro teasing reader

I really wanted to write an nsfw Gyro fic since that cowboy makes my brain mushy. So here it is 🥰 yeehaw besties 💖✨

link to AO3

–NSFW BELOW THE CUT– MINORS DNI –

“On your left!” You grunted out with a heave as you tossed the hay bale towards Gyro. Droplets of sweat trickled down your skin, forehead already soaked from the heat and the beads running down your back not making it easier not to flinch as they settled at the base of your spine. It’s another scorching summer and the stables are worse off than the outside. You were never one to hate a good nap in the hay come wintertime, but during summers like these you wished to step out of your skin itself for some relief.

The blond easily caught your throw, letting out a small sound on impact he’d rather you didn’t hear. Can’t have you thinking he’s handling this heat any worse than you, now can he? Although, his shirt has been long gone. He proudly announced that Italians know how to handle heat, boasting that his grandfather worked in 45 degree weather and never as much as peeped about it.

You had rolled your eyes at his statement but the annoyance at his antics soon faded when he had revealed his torso.

His skin was a beautiful olive hue, no tan lines, indicating he had probably spent his spare time just as shirtless as now. The muscled lines surging over him seemed sculpted by God themself, a dewy shine having already settled on his godly abs and pecs.

And his arms, oh his arms. Those hay bales had kept him fighting-fit and soon your eyes trailed the expanse of his chest where short curly planes of hair rested, only further emphasising his muscular pecs.

Like you were being guided by the valleys and streams of a gorgeous landscape, you arrived right at the river mouth: a trail of more short curly hairs barely visible by their champagne colour leading you down a path of despair you’d happily embark on. It led all the way from his belly button down to where his jeans started, his signature belt buckle making you realise just how dry your throat had gotten.

And all this in a mere second, or two. Or at least five, who are you kidding? You had cleared your throat and resumed throwing Gyro the hay bales one by one, trying your hardest to focus on the task at hand. It had been going well too, a steady pace made time fly by quickly. Just a couple more to go and you’d be able to gulp down a liter of water and a glass of iced tea to top it off.

If only that glimmer of a bead of sweat making its way down Gyro’s sculpted back hadn’t distracted you. As Gyro slowly turned, time almost seeming to have slowed, you threw the bale right at his middle, much lower than anticipated and landing it straight into his ribs. You gasped and rushed over quickly to your helping hand who was bent over and breathing out painful wheezes.

“Watch where you throw those! Christ…almost knocked me back to Napoli”

But he regained his unaffected self after a few deep breaths, while you knew how heavy these stupid bales were. He swatted you off as soon as you tried to check the place of impact.

“Sorry Gyro…I got distracted! Uh, if you want I can finish up alone!”

You felt bad for letting him get caught in the crossfire of your longing stares, cursing this damn heat once again. He only brushed you off with another quip and urged you to throw the last couple ones faster so you’d both be done quicker. You could clearly see the hit bothered him but he remained ever prideful and kept on working till the last bale was stacked.

“Hey I’m sorry, man. I’ll watch out better next time. I think I have a salve that’s really good at soothing pain. I can go-“

Before you could even finish Gyro tutted, waving his hands a little too close to your face and scrunching his nose.

“That’s enough, I’m a grown man, I’ll live”

And with that he grumbled off, back to the main house where Johnny had been resting on the porch, trying just as hard to beat the heat.

—

Ointment in hand and as stubborn as the Italian you were bringing it to, you knocked on Gyro’s bedroom door. He had his own private guest room at Johnny’s place, they’ve basically moved in together but neither is admitting to it for some god-knows silly reason. But as much as they’re best friends, you’ve also got a neat spot on Johnny’s moderate ranch he acquired after the race. A bed to sleep in and a roof over your head for when you’re helping out at the stables like today.

Your knock was curtly answered, the door being swung open in one swift move, sending your hair flying in the startling wind of his antics.

A bit taken aback by his brashness you cautiously stepped inside. You were used to Gyro’s behaviour by now and had a feeling he was feeling a little grumpy, since he always gets like this when he’s hurt but too prideful to admit it.

“So I got you the ointment…” you leaned on the heels of your boots tentatively, trying not to stare at him.

Gyro had moved back into the chaise longue that rested at the end of his bed, obviously miffed, clenching his jaw while crossing his legs. Obviously the idiot was in pain with every move, and badly trying to hide it too.

“Gyro, stop being such a baby. Here-“ you slid over and joined him, the little glass jar already opened by the time your behind fully met the soft cushioned seating.

“ ‘M not being a baby. Just- do your stupid ointment thing please” He huffed under his breath, uncrossing his legs again.

“You uh, you’re gonna need to take off your shirt for that. Do you need help?”

Your question might have been earnest, filled with care for your close friend and his well being, but a small part of you was chomping at the bit to see his beautiful torso again. This time, even closer.

“Fine. Try not to stare as much though, darling. That’s what got me stuck with this pain in the first place” his remark was quick, finally turning to face you, his big golden grin shining back at you. Like his grills were rubbing salt in the gaping wound you didn’t know he knew about.

“Oh-“ you paused, trying to control the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Well. Shut up before I poke your bruise!” you scooped up a small dollop of the cooling ointment, hand hovering just above the already purple spot forming on his ribs. You really did a number on him with that hay bale.

Gyro clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, friendly bickering between you two was never far off. But his cheeky annoyance quickly washed away as the cooling gel met his warm skin. Your touch was gentle, rubbing circles on the sore area while your other hand rested on his waist. You looked so focused, your brow scrunched up and lips pressed tightly together in concentration. He’d always thought it was cute how lost you could get in your tasks. And he was beyond pleased he was your task for the moment. So pleased in fact, that he found no use in holding back his wiles anymore. Perhaps the lack of sweet and caring touches got to him- not that his pride would let him admit that fact.

“Say, why’re you holding on to me so tightly, sweetheart? I won’t run” Gyro teased, his tone dropping down to a sultry smooth grit that made your cheeks heat up once more. His comment made you snap out of your focus, realising that he’d been right. His comment only making you want the earth to swallow you whole.

“Just trying to be thorough, Gyro. A-and you were squirming! Now let me finish-“ you defended yourself. Not that you seemed all too sure of your case, the way Gyro smirked at you made your resolve falter more and more with each second passing.

“I wasn’t squirming” his eyes had all but cast over with a deeper hue of alluring emerald. His calloused hand now gently holding your wrist. You could only helplessly stare up at him, the shift in mood not having gone unnoticed. A familiar heat already earning footing between your thighs. Somewhere deep inside you were scolding yourself, angry at Gyro’s effect on you. Letting yourself get distracted and now turning to putty when he’s only holding on to your wrist. Angry that you wanted nothing more than for him to continue whatever scheme he was up to.

With your wrist still in hand, Gyro closed the small glass jar of ointment and slid it further along the chaise longue.

“Well I must thank you for taking care of me, even if it was your fault I got hurt-“ The fires blazing in your eyes and the sour look you shot at his remark only made him chuckle.

“Yes, Gyro. I was there.” Through gritted teeth and nothing short of annoyed you tried to tug your wrist out of his hold. It only made him tighten it around you.

“I wasn’t done talking, darling.” He tutted.

“Let me return the favour. I’m feeling charitable today”

“Gyro, what?” You rolled your eyes, what was this idiot getting at? First, he gets all sensual and now he’s straight up teasing you. Not that it wasn’t just as titillating, his pet names for you only made your head swim and thighs clamp together.

His answer was clear, setting you down on his lap in a quick move that caught you by surprise. And there you were, the spot you’ve only fantasised of being. His natural musk having become the very air you breathed to survive. Stunned and still slightly confused you let him put your arms around his neck. Your legs however, were strategically placed on either side of one of his thighs.

“You in for the ride? I won’t hold it against you if you want us to stop” His tone was sincere, gaze softened just enough to let you know it was alright.

“Y-yes. Yes. I- yes Gyro” you sputtered. God, this was embarrassing but you were glad you didn’t sound as desperate as you really were to be this close to him. At least you thought so.

And with that, the blond cowboy was satisfied, letting out a little “nyoho” that somehow remained sultry.

You suddenly became all too aware why he’d placed you like this, over his thigh. But there wasn’t much time to think, not when Gyro moved into your neck, placing soft kisses along your jawline. His lips were softer than you’d expected. His breaths so nice and warm whenever he moved further down your sensitive skin.

“I’ve seen you ride,” he murmured into your skin just below your left ear. “Now show me how it’s done, cowboy” goosebumps rose all over your skin, letting out a shuddering moan as he bit into you. Not quite hard enough to make you yelp out in pain, but just enough for you to rock your hips straight into his tensed thigh.

He continued his assault on your neck, bites and kisses alternated on each side as you rocked your needy heat on him. With a particularly hard bite, your arm snapped to right next to Gyro, exactly where his hat had been laying on the chair. Even in the heat of the moment you grabbed it and plopped it down onto his champagne locks.

“Keep it on please” your breath shuddered as you continued. He had moved his lips to your shoulders now, moving away your top to reach every spot he wished to worship.

Every swish of your hips drove you further and further, lost in the pleasure as your head felt like it might just explode. Tingles had already started making their way up your abdomen when Gyro released himself from your skin.

“Tell me what you want,” He asked roughly. He was having a hard time keeping it together, it seemed.

“Y-you, Gyro” you whimpered, slowing yourself and burying your face inside the crook of his neck. Too embarrassed to face his stare just yet.

“I know that, sweetheart. But tell me what is you want exactly”

“Gyro…” you whined, burying yourself even deeper.

“Yes?” He quipped, pulling himself back and taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, that stupid grin antagonising you.

Cheeks heated and puffy you had no choice but to give in. “I want you to fuck me Gyro. Are you happy now?”

“Nyoho, very happy! I knew that” he laughed.

“Oh fuck you!” You grimaced, still trying to chase that fleeting peak that you were so close to.

“I like hearing you beg for it, darling” his lips had finally met yours, melting away any and all of his teasing, just like that. God, he made it so easy to give into him. He was just as playful now though, swirling his tongue and clashing his lips with yours like he was taming you.

As he continued his sloppy passionate kiss back down your jaw, you sped up your riding. Never one to finish last.

One last peck and one last tug of your skin between his golden clad teeth and you could feel fireworks rising all the way up to the top of your head. Gyro grinned widely as he admired you, using him like he’d asked you to. One less thing he needs to fantasise about, he’s living it. And eating up every single second of it, the throbbing in his pants nearly took care of itself. He stared in awe, your face contorting in pleasure as you tried your best to contain your desperate moans. Your breath was ragged as you came down from your high, letting your full weight rest on his thigh even though you were beyond sensitive at this point.

“You’ve never looked better riding like that, beautiful” a single soft peck touched the tip of your nose, the gesture was surprisingly gentle.

You had regained your senses enough to start up your own round of teasing. Sporting the same grin he had just a minute ago, you started pushing him down the chaise longue, landing him on his back.

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow. The pain in his ribs all but forgotten thanks to your treatment.

“I ain’t done riding just yet. Better hold on to that hat cowboy” slick as ever you dove down to return a forceful kiss that nearly knocked the breath out of Gyro. Not before letting out a “nyoho” in his surprise.

Oh, he was going to like this even more than your last rodeo.

#gyro x reader #jjba x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #notsfw #minors dni #gn reader #gender neutral reader #thigh riding #jjba x y/n #gyro imagine

253 notes · View notes

tokoyamisstuff · 3 years ago

Text

Tender Ch. 1 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Even though Loki doesn’t understand why the new member of the Avengers should be kind to him of all people, he doesn’t want you to stop either.

Warnings: Loki being depressed, the Avengers being kinda mean, mentions of Torture and Death

Words: ~2100

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

All eyes were on him again.

As soon as Loki would step inside, the previously lively room would fall completely silent. Well, it’s not like he wasn’t used to being the involuntary kill-joy...

Usually, the God of Mischief craved attention, may it be positive or negative - most of the time being the latter. But lately, after months of having all those distrustful and hostile glares piercing holes into him, he’d rather wish for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Umm, so...I gotta go.” Natasha was the first one to flee the unpleasant atmosphere, not even putting the energy into mutter anything else than a cheap excuse on her way out. Clint wordlessly followed her close after, but not without shooting the Odinson one last, spiteful look.

Loki on the other hand was picking on his hands, a nervous habit he had inherited from his mother. As much as he tried to avoid meeting their eyes, the tensioned aura they were emitting making him feel close to breaking down completely - but he would never give them the satisfaction to witness this, he swore to himself.

And yet: Maybe he should just leave. Disappear, forever.

Although he’d never admit, Loki had grown very tired of his life following this stirr path, unable to diverge into a new direction. Everything he did would ultimately bring death and destruction upon mankind, inflicting fear in the hearts of all people.

His whole existence was based on being condemned to fail - just for others to reach their ‘glorius purpose’.

“Great” Tony scoffed. “Now they’re gone. Well done, prince of nothing.” Steve cut his friend off, clearing his throat very exaggeratedly.

The god still hadn’t moved from the doorframe of the conference room, while all others were already sitting on the oval-shaped table. He didn’t got what all that fuss was about. If Steve didn’t insist him to attend this emergency meeting, he’d just have gone about his usual business and avoided everyone as good as he could.

“C’mon, brother” Thor sighed, well knowing that if his brother was to stay in the team, it would ultimatively drive a wedge between them. All that pressure in the air was straining for everyone, including himself.

Tony on the other hand was pretty chill about everything, aside of being passive-aggressive. This was probably due to their similar coping styles.

Even though his near-death-experience back when he stopped the Chitauri was still eating on his mental health, he’d prefer glossing over it with stupid jokes and overly confident behaviour. “No sassy remark today, Reindeer Games?”

Stark was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as he rose an eyebrow on the god, who only muttered a hoarse “No...not today.”

Yeah, it was kind of his style to break the unsettling silence through puny comments or self-glorifying speeches, to distract from his own insecurity.

But right now, he was just so damn tired.

Of this planet and it’s people, as well as the humiliating circumstances he had to dwell in. The fact that he was a prisoner at the Stark Tower, amongst his worst enemies. Being forced by his brother to keep up this meaningless act, as if he’d ever be seen as a team member or ally - when in reality, he was but a slave to the people he once ought to reign.

Just like back on Asgard: Never one of them, never belonging. No way to break free - for his true self was something to be loathed.

However, first and foremost the one thing he was especially tired of was himself, for he couldn’t get out of his own skin. Not only could he never be considered a hero, let alone be redeemed.

After all the atrocities he had commited due to Thanos’ torture and the tesseract’s influence, now that he woke up from that naive dream of power stilling the emptiness in his dark heart, there was nothing left for him - other than to be haunted by his crimes until the mercy of death would overcome him.

“Well” Steve began, slamming his palms on the desk to attract everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we are welcoming a new team member today.”

“They all know?” Of course they wouldn’t let him in on such sensitive information. Not that he minded either way - one Avenger more or less, it didn’t matter how many people hated him in here.

“Please, come on in.”

Loki cleared the entrance when he heared Tony’s words, turning around in anticipation of another dull creature like the Hulk to torment him - but his calm demeanour dropped completely at this unusual sight:

“Y-You?!”

That was simply not possible! The last time he had seen you was almost a year ago, and you were on the brink of death at that!

“For everyone that doesn’t know yet: Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She is one of the victims HYDRA experimented on, and they succeeded in forming an artificial mutant.”

Steve went on and on explaining about your powers, but Loki’s head had already turned on autopilot, the only thing he could concentrate on being how the hell you of all people ended up here.

All these months, he was desperately trying to get any information about you, all of his hints ultimately leading him to dead ends - and in the end, tragically believing in your imminent death.

The memories were still painfully vivid in his mind: It was his first mission together with the Avengers, at a HYDRA hideout with most likely no civil survivors.

Actually, he had planned to make his escape right when the others engaged in a fight, wandering the hallways of what resembled a torture chamber rather than a laboratory.

On the walls were several instructions, about a serum that might cause a human to mutate if they were exposed to unbearable stress - pain being the most effective method, apparently.

Yet instead of finding anything useful for his personal gain, he found you: A beautiful woman, yet emaciated and lying in a puddle of her own blood. At first he thought you to be dead just like the others - but as soon as your faint whimpers drang to his ears, he burst the cell you were trapped in open, rushing to your side immediately.

“Shh...” the god scooped you up from the cold stone floor, wrapping his cloak around your broken body. “Everything is alright now. Your savior is here.”

Loki gasped as he felt your hand stroking his cheekbone, even through all your pain and weakness wanting to bid your hero this due respect.

“Hel...you humans are such fragile creatures...” Loki muttered under his breath, cursing his own lack of talent when it came to casting healing spells. “Hang in there, look at me!”

Your eyes were teary and bloodshot, yet not less fit to bring across a message no words ever could: Incredible gratitude, and admiration.

He could tell you were close to passing out when your hand left his face, falling limp to the side. But he held you firmly in his arms, not once stopping to utter sweet words of encouragement as he made his way to the ship, leading you into safety.

“Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”

Those were the words he once directed at Black Widow - but only now he understood her attempts.

Saving one person could never make up for all the lives he had destroyed - and yet he knew that for you, it would mean the world none the less.

In one way or another, with your life at his mercy, he began to finally grasp the preciousness of life, and doing everything in one’s might to protect it.

“Reindeer Games” Tony tapped on his shoulders, making Loki wake from his pondering. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t scare her away on the first day already.”

Oh.

Just now he was noticing his own grim expression, having towered over your much smaller form this whole time with furrowed brows.

“My apologies” was his firm response, but you only shook your head, trying to tell him it was not a big deal.

So this was what you looked like when you’re not imprisoned, he realized when he took in your physique.

Much to his pleasure, all of your wounds had seemingly healed, and you finally gained some much needed weight. Like this, you looked so much more healthier - and most definetly even more bewitching than he remembered you.

If people had let him know, would he have visited your sickbed, aiding you towards health again? Who knows...

Yet somehow, he dwelled in the thought of you being able to lead a happy life now that you were free - which made your decision to seek out the Avengers in wish for more battles even harder for him to accept.

“You are incredibly strong, Lady Y/N” Loki spoke firmly, everyone else rolling their eyes at his usual exaggeration - but you knew he meant every word. “Be sure of my eternal respect.”

The God of Lies’ eyes widened in excitement when you directed a warm smile at him, knowing for sure that this one was genuine. It wasn’t like those fake smirks the other Avengers gave him out of politeness, or the mocking laughs when they were making fun of or excluding him.

No - that one was just pure affection. And it left him in awe.

“Thank you for saving me back then” you signed, just for Loki shooting you a puzzled look.

“What, I thought the all-tongue knows every language?” Tony yelled, as inconsiderate as always. Thor was quick to explain on his brother’s stead, him still being deeply invested with you. “Every spoken one, yes. ASL is not one of our fortes.”

Usually, Loki had always been a quick thinker. But right now he was to bewildered by your appearance that thinking straight was out of the question.

What language were they speaking of? And why have you not been saying anything up until now? Maybe his presence was making you uncomfortable, after all? Should he leave on your behalf?

To make it easier for him to understand, you rolled down your turtleneck, revealing the unsighty scar that covered your whole throat.

There were not many people bold enough to come close to the God of Mischief without warning, yet suddenly you simply took his hand and slowly led it to your neck.

How could you be so naive and offer someone like him such a vital spot?! He’ll never get the human philosophy...

And yet, the flabbergasted god hesistantly let his hand run over the scar, while you opened your mouth to no avail - for 11 months already, no tone would leave your vocal cords.

“I’m incredibly sorry...” Loki whispered with a sorrowful tone, while the others just stared in disbelief. “If only I was able to heal this wound back then...”

What a puny god he was...and an even more pathetic wanna-be-hero at that...

He would try to take a few steps back, but you took a hold of his hand, squeezing it with both of yours, that cheerful smile not faltering in the slightest.

“Please, don’t be sad. I’m only alive thanks to you!” Bucky, whose cousin was mute as well, translated what you were signing for Loki. His tone sounded quite irritated, not fitting those meaningful words. “I only wanted to join the Avengers because I want to be just like you. You’re my idol!”

Those words touched him deeply, igniting a flame inside of him he thought long to be defunct. Was it hope?

Of course it was not nearly enough to pull him out of that deep, dark hole he felt trapped in for as long as he could remember - yet somehow, he now felt that it was not impossible to escape.

While the others were cringing at your declaration, making jokes about ‘choosing wrong idols’ or would plainly not believe Loki to have a positive effect on anyone, the two of you would just stare at each other in silent admiration.

Shyly, you signed yet another word for him - and this time, Loki would know what you mean from pure intuition.

He smiled.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Loki was able to smile again, just thanks to your heartwarming welcome. And he was still blissfully unaware about what effect you could have on him, if he was brave enough to let you close.

One thing was sure: You literally had him wrapped around his finger from the very start.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Oneshot #Self Insert #Marvel #Disney #Fluff #Fem! Reader #God of Mischief #Loki / Reader

229 notes · View notes

cinna-stars · 3 years ago

Text

Worth Waiting For

Uhh, okay, this is my first ever fanfic! I might continue it based on the reception, but it was a few thoughts I had in my head that I wanted down on paper.

18+! Some sexual themes and content throughout, however for those experienced smut readers, this is some mild sauce, not very much spice.

I have to credit @cyancherub for making me think about Kiri smelling like cinnamon, the thought hasn’t left my brain.

Kirishima x Fem!reader

A cool breeze whispers through the slightly ajar window of your dorm room. The sun set a little while ago; studying always seems to eat up most of your free time, so this wasn’t exactly a surprise. You lean back in your desk chair, arms up, and stretch your muscles into a big yawn. The sudden contracting muscles have your stomach gurgling. It’s definitely time to take a break, so you close your textbook and stand up from your desk. I wonder if there’s any of those expensive sounding potato chips that Momo bought back from her trip abroad left over? The thought makes you salivate as you begin towards your door. You glance to the mirror in the corner and look at your own reflection: hair pulled into a loose, messy bun, torso swallowed up by an old band shirt Denki gave you (after a conversation initiated by Mineta on what you liked to wear to bed) and bare legs sticking out from the hem. Shouldn’t be a problem, as long as Iida isn’t feeling like a stick in the mud this evening. You open your door and begin creeping your way to the kitchen, hoping to keep noise levels to a minimum as to not disturb anyone who might be sleeping already.

Your ears perk up when you hear conversation coming from the communal area.

“On a scale from 1-10, with ten being the most boring, you have exceeded my expectations and we’ve hit an 11.”

“Shut up dude, it’s an absolute cinematic masterpiece. This is why you don’t have the remote- we’d be watching Care Bears or some shit.”

You approach the seating area to see Bakugou, Kirishima, Sero and Denki. The latter two arguing over what to watch. Bakugou looks like he’s about to blow a fuse, so Kirishima chimes in,

“Hahah, okay guys, why don’t we just watch a horror movie, like Scream or something? It’s an easy watch.”

“Sounds like a good idea as long as Kaminari doesn’t shit himself.” Sero tries to start again, but this is perfect timing for you to interject.

“Sero, I’m sorry, last time I checked, you’re the one who had to ‘leave suddenly’ when we watched Halloween.” A smirk appears on your face from ear to ear as all four boys turn their head your direction. You notice an empty spot next to Kiri and take the opportunity to sit, careful not to flash anyone.

“Hey Y/N don’t be startin’ on me. I have plenty of stories about you that we could share you know? What about the Jaegerbomb incident?” Sero matched your grin, and you feign shock by slapping your hand to your heart.

“You’re breaking my heart, Hanta. Are you the only ones up?”

“Yeah Iida sort of ‘encouraged’ everyone to go to bed early because of the test tomorrow, but” Denki motions in Bakugou’s direction “the angry Pomeranian barked and he gave up with us.” Bakugou snaps his head up from his phone to stare Denki down, but realizing he’s just proving his point, sighs and goes back to scrolling on his phone.

“You okay Baku-babe?” he grunts and flips you off, but you could see the corner of his lip turn up in a weak smile at the affectionate nickname. You knew he meant well, especially after the time you had spent together over the last summer with the guys; he just had a defensive temperament.

“You wanna join us, y/n?” Kiri propositions with a wide grin. His hair was still styled into sharp points from classes today, contrasting with his relaxed clothing choice of a t-shirt, shorts and crocs. He’d also made the addition of a white bandana around his forehead. As usual, he was looking incredible.

After the time spent together as a group over the break, it was great to get to know everyone better. As Sero��s oldest friend, it was always easier to stick by him, which had ended up in your favour by meeting these clowns. You’d slowly got closer to the other three boys too, but there was something about Kirishima you couldn’t shake.

The way you felt when you were left together alone in the same room at a party, or when the other guys ended up flaking so you spent the night together at his place, there was always a feeling of excitement, in more ways than one.

You’ve never been very good at flirting and you just seem to come across as an anxious mess, but Kiri was pretty much just as bad. Meaning neither of you ever made a move. Just awkward giggles and eye contact that lasted just a little bit too long for friends.

“I actually came to steal some of Momo’s fancy chips but yeah, let me get a snack and I’ll be ready. You guys want anything?” You get up off the couch and start your way to the kitchen.

“BEER. BEER. BEER.” Denki chants, making you giggle.

“Oh I’ll come and help you carry them!” Kiri jumps up to follow behind you. You can hear Sero make a ‘wha-PISH’ whipping sound which makes Denki burst out with laughter. In their defense, it was painfully obvious you were both pining for each other.

The kitchen isn’t far but it is out of earshot of the sitting area. You open the cupboard in the corner to find Momo’s chip bag, left sat there completely empty. “Oh come ON” you sigh, picking up the bag and placing it in the trash.

“No chips left? Don’t worry I got you covered.” Kiri stretches to the gap between the top of the cupboard and the ceiling, feeling about with his hand. Your eyes fixate on the skin that is now showing just above the waistband of his shorts. You slowly move your view up the side of his torso, his shirt draping over his body in all the right places, and then to his face, one eye closed and tongue sticking out in concentration. He totally caught you checking him out and now you’re both stood there blushing like idiots. He finally located the bag he was looking for and brings his hands back down, showing off the slightly dusty bag of unopened chips.

“These are your favourites, right?” You stand in bewilderment looking at the bag and nod. “There are many bonuses to being one of the tallest in this dorm” he grins. He even remembered your favourite chips? You can’t help but smile back.

“Thank you so much. Oh let me get the beers!” you walk over to the fridge and open it up, bending over to search for the well hidden cans. You know your ass is on show, and you’re doing everything you can to make it the best view. Arching your back slightly, barely moving your hips from side to side, putting on a full show without being too obvious. “Ah I found them!” You gather them into your arms, the cold metal against your skin sending shivers up your spine and making your nipples protrude from the thin material of your shirt. You stand back up and close the fridge, turning around to a very red in the face Kirishima. You send a sweet smile his way.

“Do you mind taking a couple they’re coldddd” you whine. He composes himself and grabs the first can he can see looking ready to fall. He then proceeds to take another, slowly exposing more of your chest and your hardened nipples. You notice his eyes dart to them and then back on the beers. Are you two really going to carry on like this? Acting like the sexual tension couldn’t be cut with a knife? His wandering eyes now have you blushing and you’re quick to fill the hanging silence. “Should we really be drinking when we have a test tomorrow? I’m no NARC but you know what Denki can get like. He’ll wake up the whole house.”

“It’ll be fine. The only ones that know where the rest of the stash is are you and me. As long as you can keep a secret, we’re Gucci” he winks.

“Did you… really just use the term ‘Gucci’? like completely unironically?” You laugh, nudging his side.

“Shut upppp y/n. Come on let’s get back to them before Bakugo kills Dumb and Dumber.”

“Hoes and bros we come bearing beverages!” You walk in and pass out the three beers you held to the boys, Kiri slowly following with the chips and the last two drinks.

“Wait, who are the hoes?..... oh.” Kaminari has a moment of self-realization and stares at the beer in his hand.

“Denki don’t listen to her, she is the last one to be calling anyone a hoe” Sero hits you with another of what will be many insults of the night.

“Uhhhh says the guys who has a body count tally on his wall. If you ever get with Mina you’re going to need to take a trip to Home Depot to paint over those you know?” You counter.

“Can we watch the damn film already?! Could’ve watched half the fucking thing by now.” Bakugou finally lets off some of the pent up steam. Both you and Denki lift your arms up to your forehead in a salute. “Yes sir!”

Grabbing a blanket, you and Kiri get back into your original seats next to each other on the sofa furthest away from the TV. Sero is on the chair to Kiri’s right, sprawled over it in the most boyish way possible, legs stretched wide and arms hanging over the back. Denki and Bakugo share the sofa to your left, Bakugou reserved to the spot at the very end, finally turning his phone off, while Denki almost mimics Sero’s positioning, but one hand is wrapped around his beer chugging it a bit too fast. Sero presses play as you sit back into the sofa. Kiri’s arm is already draped over the back of the headrest, and it’s only a matter of time until his arm drapes around your shoulder and you lean into him.

You’re about ten minutes into the movie when he starts to move his fingers in little circles on your upper arm. If anyone saw you right now, they’d assume you two were together. The months you’ve both spent flirting and teasing, the light touches and the lingering cuddles. This is becoming unbearable for you, its overwhelming. How haven’t you kissed yet? You weren’t really a ‘hoe’ as Sero said, but you certainly weren’t inexperienced and have never had this trouble before, so what was stopping you now? If things continued like this, you were going to explode.

You look up at Kiri, admiring the contours of his face against the light of the TV. The way his eyebrows slightly furrow, and the way he’s chewing his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. You inhale the mild aroma of cinnamon, which is a scent that follows him around everywhere. You’re certain he’s aware you are staring, by the light blush reforming on his cheeks, but he allows you to for just a little longer. Right up until Denki yelps aloud from a minor jump scare in the film, causing you to jolt yourself and grab onto Kiri’s shirt.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” he asks, voice low and husky. “Don’t worry, I got you.” He lifts his free arm and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I-I wasn’t scared. Denki made me jump” you pout.

“Aww, even worse haha” he chuckles, the vibrations flow through your body, straight to your core, making you instantly wet. If he ever really knew the affect he had, you might just die from embarrassment. You release his shirt and return your head to his shoulder; however, his hand has maneuvered itself away from your upper arm and is now placed on your hip. The large amount of warmth is slowly followed by a very light squeeze of reassurance, and you’ve never been more aware that you aren’t wearing any shorts.

His breathing has now quickened, and his hand feels like it might even be shaking a little bit. He was so nervous, which makes him even more endearing. A wave of adrenaline rushed through you as you lift your hand to rest atop of his, to give him the assurance that it is absolutely okay to have his hand there.

About three quarters of the way into the film, all drinks have been consumed, chips have been eaten, Sero pauses and gets up for a pee break. “Couldn’t your bladder have waited? There isn’t that much longer left Se-bro” Kiri teases

“Ei, I don’t think I know anyone who could wait as long as you have” he leans down and darts his eyes between the two of you. You glare with intent to BURN. You thought too long for a comeback and unfortunately, he’s already happily waltzing off to the bathroom.

Kiri turns to you with a smile and lowers his voice. “Did nobody tell tape face that anything worth having is worth waiting for?” and you swear in that moment an entire flutter of butterflies were trying to escape you. That’s the most direct he’s ever been and it’s not something easy to ignore.

“I know you both have hidden the beer and I take personal offense.” Denki bellows. “I bet it’s on top of the cupboard where Kiri keeps all the good stuff” and he gets up and skips off to the kitchen, fully convinced he’s going to find what he’s looking for.

“I’m going to bed. Gotta be up early and you extras are pissing me off.” Bakugou gets up and stretches. “Love you, Bakubro! Mwah!” both you and Kiri heckle him with air kisses and you are met with yet another middle finger as he strolls off to his dorm room, that small smirk still present.

There’s that feeling coming back again. The way you feel whenever you’re alone with Kirishima. But this is the most compromised you’ve been: you’re basically half naked, he’s got his hand on your hip and he just dropped an absolute bomb of a line thanks to Sero. You can’t help yourself and before you truly think it through,

“Ei, I think I’m done waiting.” You lift your head off his shoulder, faces only a few inches apart. You can feel both your heart rates quicken in sync and your bodies getting hotter. He raises his hand and takes your chin in his hand, urging your lips forward onto his. The anticipated contact sends electricity through your body and the kiss deepens quickly, his tongue licks your lower lip asking for entrance and you accept immediately, releasing a soft moan from the motion.

You twist your body round so that you’re straddling his thigh, his wandering hand had slipped under the fabric of your shirt in the same place, playing with the fabric of your underwear. Your hands find their way to the back of his head, pushing him further into your mouth. You both are getting sloppy as lust takes over and you find your hips involuntarily grinding on his thigh. He breaks away from the kiss, pulling at your lower lip and working his way down your jaw to your neck, nipping and sucking lightly, causing louder moans to escape you.

“So- fucking long- I’ve waited- to touch you like this” he groans out between kisses and bites, sure to leave a mark. “Sound so pretty”

“Ah- me too, I- fuck” the stimulation from his voice and touch is almost overwhelming, but clarity sets in quicker than you’d like it too. “Sero will- ah- be back any second” and you release your grip on his hair. He’s really trying to pout at you, but he can’t help let his goofy smile beam through. You stare at each other for a few seconds, both absolutely beaming with happiness. He lets out an almighty sigh,

“Uggggh, you’re right. Hey, what are you doing after this?” he asks as you settle back down next to him, making you chuckle.

“Well I was planning on going back to my dorm and sleeping. Unless you have a better offer?” you beam.

“Well…” his grin gets wider, “you know there’s a sequel to Scream, yknow? Think you might wanna… what’s it called..”

“Scream 2.”

“I can make you scream, too. Sure” and you erupt into laughter together, from his disgustingly awful pun.

Sero approaches from the corridor “Well you two sure can clear a room.”

“I’d blame it on Kiri’s terrible puns, but Bakubabe went to bed and Electabuzz is currently trying to find the rest of the beer but- oh there you are” Denki walks in, with a pout on his face, and flops back on the couch in disappointment.

“Denks, how about we throw a little party tomorrow after the test. We’ll let you in on where the secret stash is, too.” You offer, his expression immediately switching to that of delight.

Even though there was only a half hour left of the movie, it felt like hours until the end credits started rolling. Denki had managed to fall asleep and was snoring at full velocity, and the only person left paying full attention was Sero, as you couldn’t stop your brain from wandering from anticipation.

He shut the TV off and you tasked yourself with waking up Denki while Kiri cleaned up the empty beer bottles.

“Kami, come on sweetie, you need to go to bed.” You nudge him slightly causing him to stir. Sero walks over, and gives him a hard slap on the ass

‘WAKE UP ASSHOLE! Iida will kill you if you sleep on the couch”

“…I- sleep- your mom-..” he sits up and rubs his eyes

“Don’t be so rough Sero, he’s so sleepy look at hiiiimm” You say, admiring how cute he looked in such tired state. Kaminari finally gets up and all four of you head to the lift… shit.

You are Denki are on the 3rd floor, Kiri is on the 4th and Sero is on the 5th… how are you going to get to Kiri’s room without being suspicious?

A/N: Thank you if you read this in full! Please let me know what you think and if you’d be wanting to read the next part (which would include a lot more spice!)

#kirishima smut #kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x you #kirishima icons #kirishima imagine #kirishima x reader #kirishima fluff #mha x reader #mha smut #kirishima x y/n #kiribaku #denki kaminari #hanta sero

153 notes · View notes

evilregal2002 · 3 years ago

Text

Tara Lewis x Reader- "I like looking at you"

This isn't my best fic, but I have a sinus infection right now so I feel kinda shitty but I still wanted to write something today. I tried to fix any mistakes and make sure the story was coherent and made sense, but I think being sick and the medicine I took has made it hard to concentrate. So enjoy this crappy, self indulgent Tara Lewis x Reader fic that I'm sure was better in my head than whatever I wrote down.

Warnings- Alcohol, drunk reader, slightly drunk Emily, most everyones kinda tipsy, also fluff

Words- 931

Sitting at your table sipping your on your fourth martini of the night you listen to Penelope talk to Emily about some tv show they’re addicted to. Looking around the bar trying to find your girlfriend you finally find her playing pool with Matt and Luke. Seeing her laugh a giddy smile takes over your face while a blush spreads across your cheeks.

“Your looking a little smitten over there Y/n,” JJ remarks as she walks back to the table with drinks for all of you. Blushing even harder you try and hide it by taking a large gulp of your martini emptying it. Emily and Penelope laugh at JJ’s comment causing you to let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“Ha ha very funny, I can’t help it if my girlfriends hot.”

“Were not judging Y/n, it’s actually quite sweet I wish someone would look at me like that.” JJ sighs.

Emily scoffs while downing her 3rd glass of wine, “Will’s a fool, I would look at you like that all the time if we were together.” Everyone at the table is suddenly silent looking back and forth between Emily and JJ. “Wait that’s not what I uh meant um.”

“Hey Em why don’t we drink some water huh?” Penelope offers trying to get rid of the tension. Glancing over at JJ you notice she’s staring off into space, raising an eyebrow you get the feeling that JJ might be considering Emilys quote on quote “offer”.

“Well I think I’m gonna go and say hi to my very pretty girlfriend,” you slur as you try and stand up. “These heels are ridiculous, why did I ever decide to wear them?” You mumble slightly irritated by you shoes.

“Cause you’re shorter than Tara so the heels somewhat make up the height difference,” Penelope chimes in helpfully.

“Ohhh, yeah that makes sense.” You go to grab your 5th martini intend on finishing it before you get to your girlfriend. You take a big gulp almost downing the whole thing while leaning on the table to help you stand up straight.

“Y/n how many drinks have you had?” You hear Spencer ask as he comes up from behind you, setting a hand on your back to steady your wobbly frame.

“I dunno, like 4, maybe 5,” you confess looking at him. Watching him nod you quickly finish the drink on your hand before setting the glass down on the table and walking towards the pool table where Tara and some of the guys were.

Trying to walk as steady as possible you finally make it all the way across the bar to your beautiful girlfriend right in time for you to lean on her as the room starts to spin.

“Hi baby,” you giggle gazing at her beauty. Watching her smirk at you before raising her eyebrow she gives you a once over before wrapping her arm around your midsection.

“Hi to you too, may I ask how drunk are you?”

“Not that drunk, just like a little drunk.” You say smiling at her like an idiot.

“Aww, okay. Well why don’t you stand right here and lean on me while Alvez takes his shot, okay baby?” She asks you smiling. Nodding excitedly you cuddle into her side while Luke lines up his shot before hitting the ball and completely missing.

“Damn,” he mutters.

“Ohh, that had to hurt,” Matt comments while patting him on shoulder. Surrendering Luke leans his pool cue on the table behind him.

“Well I’m done for the evening, I have a very gorgeous lady waiting for me at home. So if you’ll excuse me.” He finishes while grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair getting ready to leave the bar.

“You’re talking about Roxy aren’t you?” You question asking him earnestly with surprisingly no sarcasm in your tone at all. Probably because you’re drunk.

“Yes as a matter of fact I am.” He states before quickly heading out just barely missing Tara teasing him.

Looking over at you Tara sees you smiling at her with admiration in your eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asks with a confused smile on her face.

“I just like looking at you,” you reply before snuggling back into her side for warmth.

“Ahh, yeah you are so drunk,” She says while laughing causing Matt who was getting ready to leave himself laugh as well. Looking over your shoulder you see Garcia avidly talking to Spencer while Emily sips on some water trying to sober up quickly and JJ drinks the rest of her bear. Shaking your head you wonder when those two will figure out they are obviously meant for each other. Hopefully tonight helped them get a little bit closer to realizing it.

“What are your smirking at?” Tara questions you.

“Just watching two people who are obviously in love try and figure it out.”

“You’re talking about Emily and JJ aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you sigh before nuzzling your face into her neck.

“Well let's go home so you can go to work tomorrow somewhat coherent, and you can tell all about what happened between those two on the way?” Tara looks at you with a raised eyebrow. Nodding you both walk over to the table everyone is sitting at before telling them you both are heading home for the night.

As you guys walk over to Tara’s car you lean closer to her happy that you guys aren’t obvious idiots like Emily and JJ.

#tara lewis #criminal minds #tara lewis x reader #wlw #Slight Jemily #aisha tyler #damn writing is hard #being sick sucks

42 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Unconditionally. Completely. Infinitely.

Corpse Husband x Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Five months in and Y/N is not having such a nice time with the tenant that’s living inside her. She loves the company and wouldn’t exchange it for the whole world, but all the disadvantages are getting more annoying with each passing day. No worries, she’s not tackling it alone. Her amazing boyfriend, soon to be fiancé has her back.

Requested by Anon. Thank you so much for you request! As I mentioned in the reply, this is my first time writing a pregnancy fic so if I got anything incorrectly I sincerely apologize. I did some research but I can’t be sure I got everything right. If there’s something you’re not happy with, feel free to let me know. I’d be more than happy to fix the fic to your liking. Hope you enjoy ❤❤❤

“How are you doing, babe?“ This is his third time checking up on me in the last forty minutes and it’s downright hilarious. Since I can’t drink, for obvious reasons, I shoot my group chat a quick text to take a shot every time Corpse drops by to make sure I haven’t chewed off my own arm in frustration.

I’ve been chilling with a bun in the oven for about five and a half months now and it feels like I’m climbing a mountain that never stops getting steeper. I’ve progressively gotten more passive aggressive and cranky as though I myself am a baby. I think I’d be more aggressive and less passive if I could stand on my two legs without the room spinning right round. If I do manage to stand up, my feet won’t let me remain in that position for too long. I’ve heard foot massages help but to me that sounds like hell - I don’t like massages and especially not foot massages. I’d appreciate it if no hands came in contact with them, thank you.

“Yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry about me, I’m not that helpless.“ I give him a reassuring thumbs up. “Go do something fun, babe. Heck, do it twice - one time on my behalf. I don’t want you stuck with me like this.“

I’ve been trying my hardest to be my regular cheery self around Corpse. He’s been nothing but sweet, supportive and loving since day one and he doesn’t deserve to see me during my low points where my frustration is through the roof. Sure, this was kind of an oopsie for the both of us, but I’ll never forget how happy he was when I told him.

“So, you say it’s mine, huh?“ He jokes like this every now and then, never failing to get a giggle out of me.

“I don’t leave the house, silly! Of course it’s yours.“ Is my usual response. And it’s true. I really don’t leave the house. I didn’t leave it before and I can’t leave it even if I wanted to now. The pregnancy is hitting me hard and I spend almost all my days in bed.

It’s not a pleasing sight and I try to spare Corpse as much as I can. I try not to ask for too much from him, or from anyone really. I know I can do most of the things, if not everything, on my own, so why bother my loved ones to have to deal with my messy self.

“I’m not stuck, Y/N. I want to be here.“ He sits down next to me, “Plus, playing video games without you isn’t fun.“

I automatically cuddle up to him when he gets settled on the bed, resting my head on his chest, “Aw I miss play with you. But right now all of my little bit of energy is concentrated on not falling over whenever I stand up.” I start absentmindedly tracing abstract patterns on his chest, “Who knew that in order to develop a human you lose the ability to function as human yourself? I feel like a whale washed up on land. Big, tired and sad.”

He snorts, restraining his laughter just in case it might piss me off. He’s such a sweetheart, but he should know it would take a lot for him to piss me off. Even in this state. “How can I help? I’d do anything, you just tell me what. Maybe a mass-...” I lift my head to give him the well known finish-that-sentence-I-dare-you glare. “Maybe not...”

Suddenly, I feel pressure on both my temples. It’s not yet pain, but I know it will get there soon. I cringe as I force myself to remove my hand from Corpse’s chest, reaching towards the nightstand where there’s always Advil and at least two small bottles of water. I swallow one pill and chase it with a long gulp of water, making a mental note to take another if the pain doesn’t go away in 30-40 minutes.

“You know how you can help me?“ I say, carefully adjusting my position so the both of us are comfortable, “Distract me. Talk to me. Tell me how you see the future with this misfit that’s already giving me headaches.“

He chuckles, the noise vibrating throughout his chest. I can hear the speed on his heartbeat change - it has quickened. I can only write that off as excitement when he speaks: “I don’t think the headaches will go away. I have a frightening feeling they’re just gonna get worse. A lot more sleeplessness, but a lot less vomiting. A lot more standing up and walking around. A lot more smiles and laughter. More of our friends at out house. Who am I kidding? Rae alone will invade the entire house just to spend time with the baby. You and I be damned.”

I find myself visualizing every detail he describes, all the pictures so vivid and so realistic. A smile spreads on my face as I let myself get transported into Corpse’s version of the future. To be honest, his version is almost the exact same as mine, “If she’s so occupied with the baby, maybe we’ll be able to dip out for a date night every now and then. We may be parents, but we’re not even in our mid-twenties yet.” I sigh, closing my eyes for a second, “I now regret not leaving the house more often while I could, you know?”

“Oddly enough, I do too. I feel like I haven’t taken you on enough proper dates. We didn’t seen enough of the world while we had zero responsibilities, it almost feels like it’s too late now.“

I frown, sitting up to be at eye level with him. I gently rest my hand on his cheek, making sure he doesn’t try to avoid eye contact. “Listen here: Fuck the date nights and fuck the responsibilities. I wouldn’t mind being stuck in a single room if you’re there with me.” I think for a second. Deciding not to make the conversation too serious, I add, “That is if we have food and water. Wouldn’t want you to turn into a cannibal on me.”

He smiles, “I’d never and you know it.” I’m aware his response refers to both halves of my statement, putting my mind at ease.

Having sent my message across and having it well received, I sink back down in my previous position. His hand travels to my hair, his fingers combing through it carefully and sweetly, giving me that feeling of being in a bubble of love and safety. His touch has the ability to calm me down, comfort me, encourage me. He is my guiding light through the fog that represents the confusion from all the pain and exhaustion I’ve been suffering through recently. I know those bad sensations will pass, but the power he has over me is forever.

Him and I are forever. Well, Him and I and a new addition in the next four months.

“I love you so much, Y/N.“ He whispers, cutting through the comfortable silence.

“I love you too, Corpse.“ I whisper back.

“I hope our baby is like you. I hope it’ll be smart like you. Talk like you, act like you, look like you.“ He trails of, his voice wavering.

“I hope it’ll sound like you.“ I say mischievously, hiding my smirk in the fabric of his shirt

He laughs, “Sure, unless it’s a girl.”

“Are you kidding me?“ I giggle, “Especially if it’s a girl.“

His laughter rings in my ears, reminding me there’s always gonna be something to hold onto when you’re in pain. Be it his laughter, his touch, the look in his eyes. I’ll always have him there to relieve my pain. To take my mind off all my troubles. To love me.

And for me to love him right back.

Unconditionally. Completely. Infinitely.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis

981 notes · View notes

darthkruge · 4 years ago

Text

Anakin Skywalker x Reader ~ Help

Summary: The five times the Senator!Reader needs Anakin’s help but refuses to ask for it and the one time they do

Warnings: Language, reader is afraid of vulnerability, reader is going through it, angst, violence, fluff (it ends on a positive note, I promise)

Words: 4k

A/N: This idea has kinda been bouncing around my head for a hot minute and I finally decided to just go ahead and write it. And somehow it became the longest fic I’ve ever written! Is this self-indulgent? Who’s to say?!

(not my gif)

Okay, so a right, then a left, then another left, then-

You groaned. You’d been going over the cryptic instructions Padme gave you back at the temple but they were, unfortunately, not helping. It was your first time alone in Coruscant and you were completely lost in the painfully literal sense. You had just been given your first actual mission with the Council as a senator, something you’d worked your entire career for. As an added bonus, you were on the same planet as your boyfriend, Anakin Skywalker.

You’d gotten close over the last year and were elated when he asked you on a date the last time you were in the same place. This was the first time you were together in the two weeks it had been since then.

Anyway, you were currently wandering around the bustling Coruscant streets, looking for the market. Well, you were looking for the market. Now, you realized you would probably never find it and were just trying to make your way back.

You debated calling Anakin. You could. He would be able to guide you home easily, you rationalized. But it’s Coruscant! How difficult could it be? If people came here for missions all the time and didn’t get hopelessly lost, so could you! And Anakin was probably busy anyway, you didn’t want to disturb him. Besides, the relationship was so new! You didn’t want to annoy him. After weighing the odds, you pushed down the urge to reach out and decided to just find your own way.

This logic was ridiculous, you realized far too late. Fuck. There was no way around it, you were going to be late. Or at the very least, cut it exceptionally close. You started running, heart racing. It would be so stupid to be late to your first actual Council meeting because you got lost. You wanted them to take you seriously and think of you as a professional. Tardiness as a first impression went against all of that!

After sprinting and taking several aimless turns, by some stroke of magic you found your way to the Temple. You checked the time and realized you had two minutes to make it to up several flights of stairs.

Fuck it. You decided, taking off in a run. You took the stairs two at a time, stumbling occasionally before unceremoniously bursting through the doors to the meeting.

You gulped in air quickly, chest heaving while you desperately tried to calm your heart. You inelegantly brushed a hand through your hair and gave an awkward smile.

“Hi, uh, everyone! Hi! I’m,” You took a quick break to breathe in some more oxygen as your gaze shifted to Anakin. He looked amused and concerned as he took you in. He gave you a discreet and supportive smile and head nod. You gave your own in return. He believes in me. “I’m Senator Y/N L/N”

II.

Honestly, you didn’t know how your speeder had broken. You’d been flying them for years and, despite being a senator, you were pretty damn good at it. It was something that gave you solace as a kid, those little moments of freedom. Even then, though, you were a decently cautious person and didn’t break many of them.

Thus, you ended up in your current predicament. Staring at the fried wires under the hood of your speeder, trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong. You knew Anakin was freakishly talented at fixing basically everything. He could probably look at the speeder for 10 minutes, know what’s wrong with it, and get it back to you in perfect shape.

You think this is why you don’t want to tell him. What if he thought you were stupid? Shouldn’t you be able to figure this out yourself? You fought with your instincts, feeling the conflict build inside you.

You knew he wouldn’t judge you. You knew he’d be glad you came to him for help. Even so, you felt physically incapable of moving to call or find him.

Frustrated, you turned back to your work. You decided to pull this one gear, thinking it might do something. Well, you were right about that. A stream of oil sprayed out of the speeder, coating you in its thick, black paint. You stood there frozen for a second, trying to mentally comprehend that you had just been sprayed with oil because you were too afraid to talk to the man you were in a literal relationship with!!

You groaned, wiping your hands on your pants before grabbing a towel to wipe some of the grease off your face. You walked back into your apartment quickly, praying to the Maker that no one would see you like this. Honestly, they’d probably smell you first and run the other way.

You finally got back without problems and made a bee-line straight to the bathroom. Pulling off your clothes and turning on the hot shower, you sighed as you finally felt the oil washed off your skin. You spent about twenty minutes in there, scrubbing furiously to ensure you didn’t smell like a fucking garage.

Finally, you went out and saw Anakin sitting on your bed, messing with a piece of wiring.

“Hey, Y/N! Did you know your speeder was broken? It looks like you blew a cable, easy fix, don’t worry. I’ll have it ready for you by tonight.”

He looked up and saw your exhausted state and the clump of dirty, grease ridden clothes you were holding.

His brow furrowed, trying to piece it together. “Maker, what happened to you?”

“I had a fight with the speeder. And lost”

Anakin bit back a laugh before his confusion compounded. “Wait, you know I can fix this, right? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was an idiot. I mean, I did something and broke an entire speeder and somehow didn’t even know what I broke! It’s humiliating!”

“Cables are hard, it’s not your fault you didn’t know what to do, love.”

“Really?” You asked, unconvinced.

“Really. Come on, let’s go throw those clothes in the wash and I’ll get back to fixing this.”

“Oh, no, Ani you don’t have to-”

Anakin cut you off with a kiss, distracting you enough to quickly take the clothes from your hands.

“I’ll have it ready within the hour, my love.”

III.

Who the fuck decided to put the plates that high up?!

You jumped again and again, arm outstretched as far as possible. Once again, you didn’t even get close. Sighing, you looked around the apartment and noticed a ladder. It looked a bit unsteady but you would be fine, right? You were a whole ass senator, you were sure you could handle an old ladder.

Pulling it over to you, you climbed up and reached out. Much closer this time, but you still couldn’t reach them. You went on your tiptoes, eyebrows furrowed and lip bit in concentration. You angled your body just a little further, a little further-

The ladder was suddenly ripped out from under you and you desperately shot your arms out, hands clawing to try and stop your imminent fall onto the hard kitchen tiles. Bracing yourself for the inevitable pain, you squeezed your eyes closed.

“Y/N!!” You heard as your fall suddenly stopped. You opened your eyes and noticed you were barely floating above the floor. Anakin ran toward you and noticed the ladder strewn on the floor beside you.

“What the hell were you doing?” He said, offering you his hand and pulling you up.

“I was just-” You gesture lamely to the plates, realizing how ridiculous you must look.

“Y/N, no one can reach those! Next time, just call me, I’ll get them for you!”

“But-” You sigh, hating this. “I wanted to be able to do this, I don’t want to rely on you and your Jedi powers all the time”

Anakin’s gaze softened. He knew you had trouble relying on others. Even so, he couldn’t even start to think of what would have happened if he’d arrived home even 10 seconds later.

“I know, baby, I know. But, please, try. You’d have to rely on me a lot more if you break your legs falling off a ladder.”

“I know” You reply softly, giving him a shy smile. “I’m working on it, I promise”

IV.

You’d been up all night working on a new presentation for the Council. You’d spent hours going over it, the facts, the plans, the details. Everything was set. Well, everything except one little piece. To make your point stronger, you needed the statistics from the latest Jedi missions.

The only people with access to those were Anakin and Obi-Wan. You knew, logically, that if you asked Anakin he’d give them to you without hesitation. He supported you always and knew that you only used your power as a senator to improve lives.

Even so, there was that part of your brain that told you he wouldn’t give them to you. He would think you’re just trying to use him for his connections as a Jedi. Or perhaps he simply wouldn’t care enough to search through the reports to find the information.

All of this was, of course, completely inaccurate. But you’d never had someone who actually wanted to help you. It's always been “okay I’ll do this for you but only if you do this for me, too.” No one ever looked out for you and you’d grown accustomed to it. It’d become almost comforting, in a way. At least you knew what to expect.

This was how you ended up seeing your beautiful boyfriend across the halls of the Jedi temple and walking another way. Your heart tugged painfully and your brain screamed at you. Why don’t you allow yourself to trust him? Why would you assume the worst? Why can’t you fight these thoughts?

You took one more look back at him. You didn’t want to be closed off by any stretch of the imagination. You wished you could turn off the thoughts and the doubt. You knew Ani didn’t deserve it. You sighed. There he was, training by himself in the courtyard. You looked away and took a moment to compose yourself before your legs carried you away and toward your good friend.

“Hey, Obi-Wan, could you help me with something for the next Council meeting?”

You were running. You were running and as fast as you moved, you never got closer to him. You were never safe. A masked figure was chasing you and you just couldn’t get away. Your legs burned with the effort, your lungs straining to grasp oxygen. You were exhausted to your core, your sheer panic the only thing keeping you awake.

You looked back and saw the man gaining on you. Tears started streaming down your cheeks. You knew what he was capable of and had no doubt he would kill you if he caught you. You didn’t want to die, not like this. You didn’t want him to beat you. You were so, so scared. You screamed as he caught up to you, your body no longer moving. You pleaded with your legs to work, reasoned with the heavens, did anything you could, and yet you wouldn’t budge.

The stranger’s claw of a hand twisted around your neck, squeezing. You fought. It was pointless. You began to black out, feeling the life slip out of your body. Dark spots appeared in the corners of your vision and you tried once again to kick your way out of his grasp-

You bolted awake, eyes shooting open. Your chest was heaving and tear stains marked your cheeks. You placed your hands on the bed sheets, bunching them up and trying to feel the texture to remind yourself that you were safe. You tried to breathe, tried to calm yourself but nothing was working.

You got up, pacing quietly. Out of all the nights to have a nightmare, it had to be today. The one night you and Anakin weren’t together. Since you had to hide the relationship, you couldn’t technically share an apartment. This didn’t stop you from spending basically every night together, though. His chambers became yours after the first month or so of dating, neither of you wanting to spend time apart.

But, unfortunately, the Council seemed more cautious as of late and you didn’t want to risk it. Thus, you decided to spend tonight apart. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care right now. You grabbed one of his Jedi robes, pulling the black fabric around your body. You were immediately calmed by his scent and wrapped it closer around you. You started to make your way down the hall. You knew it was risky but after that nightmare, you just needed him.

You made it to his apartment, went to knock on the door, and abruptly stopped. What are you doing? You can’t just go to him! He’s exhausted, he’s been working all week! He finally got home from a mission and you want to wake him up in the middle of the night because you had a nightmare? It wasn’t even real! Maker, get a hold of yourself, Y/N!

Your hand hovered over the door. You wanted him, you did. But those lingering thoughts, those lingering emotions remained. A childhood of neglect, of constant feelings of unimportance left scars you couldn’t avoid. You hated that your parent’s inability to show you affection or care manifested in your inability to be vulnerable. Despite this, you somehow understood. You’d spent years letting them in and only getting invalidated in return. Like all patterns, this one wouldn’t go away just because you wanted it to.

Now, every time you tried to let Anakin in, it’s like an alarm was tripped in your brain. Every part of you that wanted to allow him to know you was combated with the overwhelming fear that, if you did, if you went to him for comfort or help, he would think of you as a burden. He’d leave, just like the rest of them did. So you pushed the urge for comfort aside, dropped your hand, and made the lonely walk back to your room.

You got back to your room, mentally beating yourself up. You wished your brain worked differently. You wished you would allow yourself to be loved. You wished you could trust, fully and completely. You sighed. Knowing you wouldn’t be getting any sleep, you made yourself a cup of tea and sat on your cough, the room solely illuminated by the moonlight. You kept Anakin’s robes around you, wishing it was his arms. You sat like that until morning, sipping the drink on and off until it grew cold. You were zoned out, staring out the window at the Coruscant traffic. Your thoughts either drifted to him or your past trauma. Maker, you wished you could change it.

Fuck. You’d been driving around on your speeder, zipping in and out of alleys, for the last twenty minutes. There was a bounty hunter after you. A damn good bounty hunter, at that. Being a high profile senator, it made sense you’d run into the occasional person trying to kidnap you. Or kill you.

Damn, this bitch is good. You kept trying to lose them but you couldn’t shake them. You didn’t even know who they were but it didn’t matter, you supposed. At the end of the day, regardless of who was in that speeder, they wanted you dead. And if you didn’t figure out how to get out of this mess, you would be.

They’d been shooting at you for a while now but you’d been able to avoid the blasts. Whether it was skill, luck, or a combination of both, you weren’t sure. Even so, you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shoot back at them, as you stupidly forgot your blaster. Who could blame you, though? All you wanted to do was go for a ride to clear your head, you didn’t expect to be fucking shot at!

You continued like this for a while. All you had to do was get back to the Temple. You were probably about 10 minutes away if you continued at this pace, 7 if you really pushed it. You looked ahead and saw the walls of it come into view and suddenly safety didn’t feel so far away. Despite the circumstances, a smile graced your face. You could do this.

Or maybe not. As you tried to swerve between more buildings, they hit you. You felt your speeder plummet 10 feet instantly and screamed. Your engine sputtered and your heart dropped. Mind racing, you tried to drive but came to the chilling realization that there was no way you’d make it back. Your engine was done for, it wouldn’t make it 3 minutes, yet alone all the way back.

Your mind went to him. Anakin. Fuck, you loved him. You let out a humorless laugh. Since you started dating, you almost never asked him for help. You couldn’t let him in. Something in your brain stopped you every single time. And yet, now, all of that felt stupid. It felt juvenile. When you looked at your speeder, slowly but surely stalling and the bounty hunter approaching, you felt this overwhelming sense of clarity.

You were going to die. This person, they would get to your speeder and shoot you. You didn’t have a single weapon. It was inevitable. Your mind, however, wouldn’t relent. It was stuck on him. In this moment, you pressed the comm button in your speeder, hoping beyond hope that it would still work.

“Y/N?” Anakin’s staticky voice cut through the speeder and went straight to your heart.

“Hey, Ani” You said, your voice broken up with unshed tears.

“Y/N? Where are you? What’s happening?”

“I’m- Anakin, I’m in trouble. A bounty hunter is after me, my speeder is hit and going to stop working probably within the next 20 seconds. I don’t have any weapons to defend myself. I, I, uh, I need your help”

“I’m coming to get you, stay where you are.” His voice was firm, his need to protect you overruling everything else in his body.

“I’m just a few-”

“I’ve got you, love. I can sense you in the Force. I know where you are”

Of course he could. You took a few deep breaths and you speeder sputtered out, stopping in a deserted alleyway. You looked around and saw the bounty hunter, now obviously male, stepping out and making his way towards you.

“He’s here, Anakin” Your voice was tight, anxious. You were quiet, paralyzed by fear.

“Please, Y/N, fuck! Hold on, I’m almost there”

“Ani, Anakin I’m scared! Ani! Ani!” You were hysterical now, screaming and sobbing his name as the man punched the top of your speeder, fracturing the glass. He pulled you out of it by the hair and threw you harshly onto the concrete.

You yelped in pain as he kicked you directly in the ribs. He backhanded you across the face, the power from his hit making blood pool in your mouth. Harshly you spit it onto the ground, looking up at him with pure hate.

He placed the blaster to your head, right on your forehead. You let your eyes flutter closed. Your knees were scraped, legs bruised. You were sure at least one of your ribs was broken. You could feel blood running from your temple. Your arm was radiating pain from landing on it. Despite all this, the only thing you thought of was Anakin. Funny, you thought, how the brain chooses what to focus on in its last moments. All you hoped was that he didn’t feel responsible for your death. All you hoped was that he knew you loved him.

“You’re finished, Senator”

“I don’t think so” Anakin’s smooth voice, tight with anger, cut through the air. His lightsaber unsheathed, he swung it directly into the man. You gasped, everything happening so quickly. As soon as the blaster was gone from your forehead, you scrambled back.

Anakin walked up to you but, from the shock, you pulled back even further.

“Hey, hey, it’s me, it’s Anakin, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you”

You whimpered, looking at him and placing a hand on his jacket before harshly jumping into his arms. He gripped you to him, both of you sighing in relief.

“You came for me”

He looked at you like you were insane. “Of course I did! You needed me, you called! I’m always going to be there for you, Y/N. I am always going to show up”

“Thank you” You said, voice muffled against his chest. His hands raked through your hair while you just breathed him in. His scent comforted you, his strong chest and large arms grounding you after a day so intense and horrifying that nothing felt real.

You were still trembling, the aftershocks quite apparent.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re safe, he’s dead, he’s gone. No one’s ever gonna hurt you again, I promise.” Anakin whispered these affirmations into your hair, holding you until the shaking ceased.

“Thank you for calling me, Y/N. I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“It wasn’t that hard, to be honest, I- wait? What do you mean, you know it couldn’t have been easy for me?!”

Anakin looked at your sheepishly. “You honestly think I haven’t noticed your problems with asking for help? We’ve been together for almost a year and, contrary to popular belief, I can be quite perceptive. I didn’t want to call you out on it, I assumed you’d be embarrassed. But I’m glad that when it actually came down to life or death, you called me.”

“I’ve always known I could call you, Anakin. Please, I don’t want you to ever think my inability to be vulnerable is rooted to anything you do. You’re, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re kind and compassionate and caring and you’re always looking out for me. Look, I know I haven’t been too open about my past and I still struggle with that. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ve never had someone who actually wanted to be there for me. This thing where you care and want me to come to you when I’m hurting or simply just want affection or company or help with the little things, it’s foreign to me.”

Ani’s heart broke at your words. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you back then, Y/N. I hate that this” He said, gesturing between you both “is unique to you. But, seriously, anytime you need anything I’m someone you can come to. I honestly want you to come to me. Regardless of if you think it’s something small or this life-altering favor, ask me. I doubt I’d turn you away and, on the off chance I do, I’m not gonna hold that against you.”

“You won’t leave? Even if I show you all of me? Even if I rely on you?”

“I won’t leave you, beautiful. So long as you allow me to show you all of me, too. And you let me rely on you, too.”

Your eyes widened at his words. “Of course! Of course, Ani! I’m here for you, I got you, too, always.”

“I know you do” His flesh hand went up, cupping your cheek.

“I know you do, too.” You sighed into his touch. You were exhausted beyond belief, your body and mind pretty much shutting down from the stress of it all. Even so, you relaxed further into his body. Yeah, this was new. Yes, it was scary. But you were going to try. Even though it terrified you, you wanted to be loved. You wanted to be loved by him.

tagging julia bc she asked when i was textpost-complaining about having to edit this <3

@anakinswhore

#megan writes #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x gn!reader #anakin skywalker x gender neutral reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker

442 notes · View notes

kithtaehyung · 4 years ago

Text

Room 3 | PJM

summary: it’s just another normal day for you at the wellness center until it suddenly isn’t. note: standalone for now! part 2 is semi-written but no solid plans atm. note 2 (june 7th, 2021): this will be revamped in the future! i really enjoyed this premise so i won’t get rid of it completely. pairing: idol!jimin x massage therapist!reader genre: fluff word count: 9,188

Thirteen.

The sidewalk underneath your feet has thirteen cracks in the little square you stand in. Sliding a small rock into one of them provides you with something to do until you hear the squeaking, screeching brakes of a bus struggling to a stop in front of you.

You adjust the strap on your shoulder as the doors open with a hydraulic hiss, and you give the driver a small smile before finding a place to stand. There aren’t many people commuting today, so it’s a pleasant surprise that you get to sit down for a change.

It was just another day in your life. You got up this morning and did your routine, listened to your wake up music on repeat, and checked that you had your wallet, phone, keys, and earphones before heading down to the bus stop. The very same earphones are still on as you now have your library on shuffle, and you hum along to the “na na na’s” of the current tune.

Living in Seoul for about a year now, you were pretty settled in. The people were accommodating, the quality of life was much better than where you were before, and you felt like you could live here for the rest of your days. It was insanely tough at first, but the initial culture shock and feeling of loneliness lessened as you made friends and befriended coworkers. You don’t have many people close to you here, but you can count on the ones that are.

You turn your head to gaze out the windows. Shimmering glass buildings tower over you, shops and street signs whiz by, and people look like they’re walking in slow motion as you follow them with your eyes. Blips of pastels and bold colors mingle together and you look down to observe your own monochrome uniform. For the place you worked at, you didn’t expect the clothes to look luxurious, but they’re actually designed very well. And they’re soft.

That’s enough for you.

Your stop is next, so you hook your arm around the nearest pole to prep. The steel has a coldness that seeps into your sleeve, but your only thought is wondering what you should eat for lunch.

Why do you feel so tense?

The sign right above you emits a sense of relaxation, but there’s a tightness in your shoulders. Odd. You lock your phone with one hand and grip the strap of your pack with the other before taking a deep breath. You count down from three before letting it out.

The hiss of your exhale mingles with the standard sounds of the city, and you concentrate on the flow of life both inside your body and the environment around you. You did this often when you felt out of place, and it served to recalibrate you and your thoughts. Storing your phone away, you make your way inside the frosted glass doors.

Working at one of Seoul’s prestigious wellness centers was definitely something you were proud of. If there was one thing you’ve wanted for years, it was for a way for you to massage yourself. Everyone seemed to love your massages, but no one knew how to massage you. That is, until you came here. You’ve never experienced people knowing exactly where you were hurting and effectively working out all of those kinks during one session. It was magical.

What is even more magical is the fact that you joined the ranks of those same angels from above. You love them, and they love you.

“Good morning! I hate you!”

Well.

“Morning, Yoon,” you respond lowly as you take your earphones out and store them. “Love you, too.” As you walk around front reception, Yoon smiles at you and comments,

“No, really, I think you legitimately repulse me now.”

You shoot her a look of pure terror. “What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing,” she sighs, dropping her eyes to the papers in front of her.

In a state of panic, your mind speeds through any events that happened since the last time you saw her. Did you accidentally ignore her once? Look at her funny? Yoon was big on body language.

You didn’t realize you were still staring at her until she tapped the glass counter between you two. “Hey, I’m sorry. I know you’re nervous. I just thought jokes would help.”

What?

“I’m not nervous, just tense for some reason. Although, you definitely made it worse,” you admit, “I might need to take a longer break today and somehow get Jay to rub my shoulders. Maybe I can bribe him with samgy--”

“--Uhh, forget him; have you even checked your client list for this week? I’ll do anything if you switch your schedule with me.”

Double-what?

“Okay, now you’re just being weird,” you chuckle, “But also, no, I haven’t checked yet. It’s Monday!”

In a sing-song manner, Yoon warns, “You better check your schedule before I snatch it...”

You laugh again and wave her off, but her words only mess with your head. As you make your way to the back room, you fidget and check your phone for any notifications you missed between when you exited the bus and now. You don’t know what you expected: still nothing.

As if you feel the weight of eyes on you, you glance up and notice some people are giving you looks.

What in the hell is going on? It’s 7am on a Monday and therefore way too early for people to be this upset with you. Yoon may have said she was joking, but by the looks of everyone else...

A hand claps onto your shoulder, causing you to yelp and feel like you rocket right into the ceiling. Only the hearty laugh beside you clues you in on who you were getting revenge on later.

“Geez, someone’s not looking forward to today.”

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Jay,” you seeth, hands rubbing your temples as you struggle to steady your heart rate. “Also, what’s so special about today? Yoon was being strange just a second ago, too.”

Your coworker looks at you like you have seven heads. “Okay, first off: if I had the amount of adrenaline in your body right now, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. And second: you didn’t check your schedule yet?”

They didn’t know it, but they were going to be the death of you.

“No, I ha--It’s a Mon--you know what, I’m going to check now; you guys are killing me.” You leave Jay in a rush and race to the employee lounge. The anxiousness in your chest is bubbling over.

Jay’s on your heels, whispering loudly, “I can spoil it right now if you want!”

You respond in a low voice, “Don’t you have a client to see?”

“Nope!”

You round the corner and see the back room door is already open, so you power through and head straight for the docking table on the other side. Everyone working here has a personal tablet, and you unplug yours from the charging port. Pressing through the menus as quickly as the tablet allows, you feel a thin layer of sweat on your skin. Touch ID. Login. Main Menu. Scheduling. Weekly Outlook. Confidentiality Prompt.

Shit.

Confidentiality Prompts are for the therapists that have huge clients scheduled. They’re put in place for celebrities and business executives to have guaranteed privacy.

With a start, you wonder why the hell Yoon wanted your schedule. Everyone here is wary of high-profile people. It’s a whole different experience since they basically hold your life in their hands in each session. You recall a horror story that happened when you first started working there, and still don’t know where that employee ended up.

Your only problem is that you’ve never had to deal with this before. Jay, Yoon, and a bunch of the veterans have, but this is going to be your first.

“Damn, yours is longer than mine was,” Jay observes before you squeeze your tablet to your chest. “That looks intense.”

“Umm, snoopy much?” You shift your body away from him and speed read through the very long, very wordy window. When you hit Accept, another window pops up that you have to read through. This one is even more fine print. You suddenly realize something and dart your eyes up. “Wait, you got one, too?”

Jay nods and looks away, and he actually looks nervous. “Yeah, we all got them this time.”

Now that is alarming. This client must be something else.

Window after window comes up and you wonder if you should probably read these in earnest. It’s starting to genuinely scare you.

If this is that big of a deal…

You banish that thought from your mind as soon as it appears. Elephants would have to fall from the sky before you believe someone from that group is booking you here.

You hit Accept before you realize you didn’t actually read and instead mindlessly scrolled through the prompts. As the screen buffers, you bite your lip.

The screen goes back to normal and presents your schedule for today. Your coworkers are living their normal lives, putting their stuff in their lockers and getting materials ready for various sessions. Jay is being completely normal as he can’t stop laughing at your expression.

And your life is anything but normal anymore because elephants are dropping from the clouds and the words Monday, 8am, Park Jimin are staring you right in the face.

“You mean to tell me that you cleared your morning schedule just to see my reaction?”

Jay laughs in earnest. “Yes, and it was so worth it.”

You are failing to stop bouncing your leg as you wait at one of the tables in the employee lounge. There’s a cup of coffee in front of you, but you already know you aren’t going to drink a drop of it. You are about to be in close quarters with the equivalent of a royal family member, so coffee breath is out of the question.

Suddenly self-conscious, you ask, “Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?”

“I actually do. Let me grab it.”

As your friend gets up, you scrutinize the table in front of you to avoid peoples’ lingering stares. How everyone somehow knew your upcoming client before you did was a mystery, but you don’t really care enough at the moment to find out.

Jay hands you what you asked for and you thank him before heading to the bathroom to freshen up. After you brush your teeth like a madman, you check your face for discrepancies and sigh at your choice of almost no makeup today.

You can’t help but wonder if the thirteen cracks in the sidewalk are laughing at you at this very moment.

Checking your smart watch, you realize you have either the longest or shortest 30 minutes of your life left before your appointment with Jimin.

You huff out a laugh at how ridiculous that sounds. You refuse to believe this is real until you physically see him in the room. Confidentiality forms or not, the name Park Jimin or not, you still can’t wrap your head around the situation.

Speaking of the forms, you assume that they were printed out for company records as soon as you submitted yours to sign. You decide to head back to the front desk after throwing Jay his spare toothbrush, to which he responds with pure disgust.

It was like Yoon was waiting for you because as soon as you open the glass doors, she’s hounding you, “So what did you do in a past life? Did you save an emperor? Rescue a prophet?”

“I don’t know about a past life, but I did save a turtle when I was five.” You tap your fingers on the reception desk and stare at the orchids on the counter. “Or at least I thought I did. I probably just made his life harder. Can I see a copy of the forms I signed?”

“I’m gonna go with the saved prophet. Which one was it?”

“Yoon,” you beg, desperate as you glance at the abstract clock above her and see that you have 20 minutes left. A mere 20 minutes until he is supposed to arrive to check-in.

“Okay, okay! Hold on,” she chuckles and rolls her chair away from you and towards the printer. “By the way, if I wasn’t the one checking him in, I would’ve hijacked your entire day already.”

Her words are garbled since you are laser-focused on rubbing an orchid petal between your fingers. Its soft and supple touch is calming you, and just for a second, you are able to clear your thoughts.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when Yoon hands you the forms. The paper is still warm as you thank her and head towards the doors.

“Oh, wait,” Yoon calls behind you, and you turn to see her grabbing another small stack of papers. When she extends them over the counter, she explains, “I was waiting until you saw your schedule to hand these over. Read through them carefully.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, even more anxious than before.

Your heart jumps into your throat when you see what Yoon handed over. You don’t even remember the walk to the back lounge and to one of the secluded tables; all you can focus on are the papers in front of you. They look like they were written on and scanned before being sent over to the wellness center.

It’s Jimin’s handwriting.

You’ve seen his penmanship before. There is no mistaking the neat, determined strokes. Even the way he checked the boxes and circled the pain points on diagrams proves very... well, him. Any other uncertainty dissolves after you see his birthday filled in, as well.

This is really happening.

You gently slam the papers on the table and hunch over to commit the information to memory. Months and months of schooling have sharpened this ability of yours, and you are determined to imagine this as just another client you have to memorize.

Light to medium pressure. Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back. Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points. Facial area priority.

A trip to the countryside right at this very moment sounds like a fantastic idea.

Jay plops into the seat in front of you, and that thought bubble bursts. “This color on your face suits you. Reminds me of what’s-his-name, Edward.”

“How much time do I have,” you question, not even acknowledging him.

“Seven minutes.”

“Of course,” you mutter before standing, the irony not lost on you. “I’ll go prep now.”

You don’t see Jay waving you off. “If you survive, I’ll see you on the other side!”

A laugh escapes you. Personally, your only goal is to make it through five minutes. If you pass away after that, you would have no regrets.

You stand behind the reception doors with your tablet to your chest, staring at the wall across the way. The subtle wallpaper pattern is a great choice for this place, you decide.

Indescribable anxiousness and fear aside, you have a job to do. As long as you keep your outside actions professional, your inner turmoil can be whatever the hell it wants. You’ve been in this profession long enough and you know you’re ready to do this. You’ve seen the whole spectrum of human emotion in this line of work. No matter how well of a job you do, there are still people that are never happy. As long as you focus on keeping the client’s wellness and health in mind, you keep your consciousness clear.

Then again, you haven’t had to deal with a client like Park Jimin before, let alone a high executive or well-known actress.

A muffled “Good morning and welcome” reaches your ears and you push yourself off the wall. The frosted glass only allows you to see so much, but you can make out a few guys standing in the front area. Two are taller and only wearing dark clothes, and the other is a bit shorter. The latter is looking to be wearing a beanie, light colored top, and dark pants.

You can’t hear anyone talking other than Yoon, but suddenly the shorter one makes his way to your doors.

It’s him. You’re absolutely sure.

Steeling your resolve, you pull your side open. With a smile, you look straight at your client’s sunglasses-and-mask-clad face and greet him just like you would anyone else, “Good morning and welcome. Am I speaking to Mr. Park?”

He stills for a second before he nods.

“Nice to meet you. We’ll be in Room 3.”

Jimin bows to you slightly and whispers a thank you, and you follow him to your room. Your heart is rattling nonstop as you note the height difference between the two of you. It isn’t as bad as you thought it was.

The door to Room 3 is already open, and when Jimin enters you stop at the entrance.

You lied earlier. None of this feels real. He’s physically in the room, and you still don’t think this is happening.

You let Jimin put his bag down on the corner chair before gliding into the formal greeting, “Since this is our first session, please let me know if there’s anything you need. I did go over your forms, but if there was something that wasn’t specified, feel free to ask. I want to make sure all of your needs are met today.”

“Your name?”

You falter. “What?” Did he just...

Jimin takes off his sunglasses, and you feel all oxygen leave your body. He’s still wearing a mask, but you can see that his eyes are creased just a tad. “It wasn’t specified on the forms. Your name?”

A part of you just chalks this up to being standard Jimin behavior, but the other part of you wonders if he really didn’t know whom he was getting a massage from. Did Yoon not tell him? Check-in is supposed to confirm your specialist.

You also note that his voice is infinitely softer in person. TV and recordings did not do this man justice.

Keeping it professional is all you must do. You tell him your name, apologizing for not introducing yourself already. It’s also on your tablet, so you show him while you talk.

Jimin leans forward to read it and smiles again. “Ah. Pretty.”

Are your five minutes up? Can you pass away now? He’s a mere six feet away from you but it feels like his presence is engulfing you.

All that escapes you is a tiny thank you. “So, mhm,” you clear your throat and yell at yourself to get it together, “Go ahead and undress down to your comfort level and lie down on the bed with the sheet on top of you. That remote there is connected to my tablet, so just take it off the charger and bring it to the bed. You can press the green button whenever you’re ready.”

Jimin looks towards the console table next to him and sees the white remote. It’s docked in a sleek charging port and stands out against the light wood. He nods, and you give him one last smile before reaching out and closing the door.

The only words your brain can process at the moment are not work appropriate, so you just go on autopilot to the employee lounge. You expected Jay or even Yoon to be chomping at your heels as soon as you left Jimin by himself, but neither of them are around. That was completely fine: employees aren’t allowed to divulge anything that goes on in client sessions unless it’s dangerous to either of you.

You help yourself to a cup of water and down it before pouring another. The fruit flavor for today is strawberry, and you watch the fruit and ice swirl around as you stir the big glass container. There are pastries and assorted breakfast foods calling your name in the clear cabinet next to you, but you refuse. Your adrenaline is hindering your appetite.

People are still giving you daggers for stares, but after seeing Jimin in person you really can’t blame them. Even when you couldn’t even see his face, you felt his presence. His aura filled up that entire room and he only spoke around ten words. It would be a lie to say that you aren’t intimidated. You can already count the number of times you almost bolted out of the room on two hands. But you made yourself proud: as long as you keep your outer actions calm, you can get through this. Your voice was fairly level for someone whose heart was bouncing out of their ribcage. In the end, you want to make him feel comfortable and safe. Emotions cannot exist right now.

Self-deprecation comes into play as you wonder if this is a huge mistake and if Jimin is already out the door to find a better therapist.

Oh, well. At least he said your name was pretty.

Your doubts are casted aside as your tablet dings.

Jimin’s ready for you.

When you enter the room, you can see that your client followed your instructions completely. You glance at the corner chair and see that he even folded his clothes and set his jewelry neatly on the thin, long table. Since Jimin can’t see you from his position, you allow a warm smile to grace your features.

You close the door as softly as you can. The way the room is designed, the clients lie down so that their head is opposite the doorway. It takes you a few steps until you reach the head of the bed. You gingerly take the remote from where Jimin placed it next to his neck and turn around to redock it, and start to dim the lights with your tablet. Per standard, you ask, “Mr. Park, is this okay, or would you like the lights lower?”

His voice is projecting straight towards the floor, but it still sounds so light, “This is good, but please, call me Jimin.”

That’s definitely not what you expected, but you are touched. You nod before realizing that he still can’t see you. “Do you have a music preference for today?”

“Whatever you prefer is fine.”

Jimin is being so agreeable that your nerves start to dissipate. You were expecting him to at least be a little particular at some things, but he is being really easy to work with. The atmosphere starts to feel safe enough for you to joke, “Well, it does depend on my mood, so for now I’ll play Standard Spa Chord Progression, No. 5 instead of No. 3.”

The small chuckle you hear melts your heart. “Ah, is that the one with the harp?”

“No, that’s Spa Concerto, No. 4. We don’t have that one in our library, but I think it’s terrible anyways.”

Jimin’s head lifts from the table in an earnest laugh, and you can’t help but laugh with him. It’s infectious.

You select a random song on your tablet, and you weren’t lying when you said it was standard. The song is less of a song and more like a bunch of reverberating chords in slow succession. That’s one thing you noticed about this place: modern tech but very outdated music. Get with the times! At least have some nice piano covers to choose from.

“Not having Spa Concerto, No. 4 may be a deal-breaker for me,” Jimin comments, a hint of a smile in his voice.

You’re still tapping on your tablet to get to his file, and you make your way back to the door. There’s a clear slot on each room’s door to hold employee tablets, and as soon as you store yours, you can finally start. “I don’t blame you, even though I think it’s awful, that one still topped the char--Oh, shit!”

You aren’t watching where you’re going, so you don’t see the shoes in your path. It’s so dim in the room and his shoes match the floor color but none of that matters because right now you are falling and you are falling fast. Your first instinct is to grab the table, but that would risk pulling the blanket off of Jimin and you would rather die than do that to him.

So, floor it is.

Your hand not holding the tablet breaks some of the fall, but your face definitely makes contact with the ground. You can feel the slight burn on your nose and hand, and a sharp lingering pain follows.

Okay, now can you pass away. Someone from the heavens can come claim you now.

Drowning in shame, you don’t help yourself off the floor right away. Not only were you breaking your rule and joking around, you also weren’t paying attention and now possibly ruined Park Jimin’s shoes.

You’ll look up good resigning practices later tonight. You have enough money saved up to make it a couple months without a job, you reckon.

When you finally lift yourself off the floor, you turn around and see Jimin pushed up on the table. His whole upper body is bare and twisted towards you, and this is the first time you see his entire face. It’s more beautiful in person, you conclude, even though it conveys nothing but concern right now. “Are you okay?”

You nod furiously and stand up completely. Your voice is shaky as you apologize, “I am so sorry. One moment.” Before checking yourself, you check your personal tablet. To say it was worth more than you isn’t that far of a reach. No scratches, though. Praise be.

“Don’t apologize… Did you trip on my shoes?”

Embarrassment washes over you as you nod, not looking at Jimin. Placing your tablet gingerly on the console table, you dust your uniform down and inspect your hands and feel your nose. Luckily, there’s no blood, only slight rug burns. If there was blood, you would have to postpone the appointment until you effectively sanitized. With what you have, you just need to go wash up.

Jimin is still watching you intently, which makes your face burn even more. What a mess. He’s probably second-guessing this whole thing.

You bow, feeling tears at the corners of your eyes. “Mr. Park, I am so sorry.”

“Jimin.”

“I’ll just need to clean my hands and then I promise we will start as soon as I get back. I know your time is valuable so I’ll make up for the minutes we lost.”

“I… Okay. Thank you.”

You make your way out of the room, still courteous enough to shut the door quietly. Rushing to the nearest sink, a small sob leaves your throat as you wring your hands under the water. Life is kind to you at this moment because no one is around. You would never live it down if someone saw you coming out of Jimin’s room crying.

After splashing water on your face and drying it, you take out a cotton pad from one of the glass containers on the counter. You press it onto your eyes, decreasing the evidence of your current state.

So much for making Jimin feel safe and comfortable. You’ve only made it awkward.

With a deep breath, you enter the room.

Jimin turns his head and puts it in the crook of his arm to look back at you. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t help you…”

You go over to his shoes and move them under the chair, wincing when you see visible tears on them. Guess you’re withdrawing a chunk of your savings to pay Park Jimin for damages.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you state firmly, but soften, “But I’m really sorry about the shoes; I may have torn them. I can pay you back.”

You hear sheets shuffling, and when you face him, Jimin’s fully on one elbow and turned towards you. “No, please, don’t worry about those. I should’ve put them out of the way. I feel bad.”

“It’s definitely my fault,” you countered, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jimin uses your name, which stops you in your tracks. “Everything’s okay, I promise.”

You should feel many different things, like pride in getting to see this man in person, or happiness from him actually addressing you by name. But all you can think about in this moment is how disappointing you’ve been to another human being, and you sigh.

You nod, but still plan to pay him back. You know enough about designer brands to know those aren’t cheap, and they’re shoes you’ve seen him wearing a lot in photos.

“It’s okay to lie back down,” you say softly, unmoving.

Jimin searches your face one more time before settling back face-down on the table.

It’s a normal day at work, you tell yourself. Go through your routine.

Launching yourself into action, you move to the far end of the console table. Grabbing a bottle you’ve clutched so many times before that its label is wearing down, you uncap it and oil your hands and wrists. You also unstopper a bottle of lavender oil and pour a few drops into the nearby bamboo diffuser and start it.

You make your way to the head of the table and grab a rolling stool from a corner of the room. The wheels on your chair don’t make any noise, which you fixed up yourself. This day isn’t any different - it’s still silently gliding on the carpet. Plopping your devastated self onto the cushion, you scoot towards Jimin’s head. You’re about to place your hands onto his bare shoulders to start, but you whisper,

“It’s also okay if you want to cancel and reschedule with someone else, Mister--Um, Jimin.”

You can’t believe you just gave Park Jimin a way out of a whole 60 minutes with you. Where did this conviction and restraint come from? Is this going to be the regret of your entire lifetime?

After a long silence, Jimin answers with his face in the headrest, “If you call me Mister Jimin again, then I will.”

You huff out a laugh at his unexpected answer, and your shoulders finally relax. It seems like he’s still fine after everything that’s happened, and you thank any deity you can think of for this second chance.

Light to medium pressure. Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back. Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points. Facial area priority.

You aren’t a fan of light pressure, but you understand why people prefer it. Not everyone can handle the deep tissue or harder pressure massages.

Jimin’s shoulders are incredibly tense, though, so you feel bad that you’re limited in what you can do. You allow some medium pressure to the worst spots, and when you approach the insides of his shoulder blades you lessen the intensity.

Gliding your fingers back to the ridge between his neck and shoulders, you feel that his right is still tight. You use your left elbow to work that knot, careful to press even lighter than you would with your hands.

Jimin grunts, and you still. “Is that too much?”

“No, I like that.”

You keep that in mind as your hands travel over the rest of his upper back area. From time to time, you reapply the oil to allow for less friction. It lets your fingers slide deftly across muscles and quickly work any troublesome areas, which Jimin has a lot of.

It makes sense: you can’t even imagine the amount of pressure all of the boys were constantly dealing with. There was a lull in their activity recently, so you knew something was in the works. Between recording songs, shooting music videos, fulfilling their brand contracts, and whatever else they do, you’re surprised you don’t feel more knots under Jimin’s skin.

The soft chords of the next song float around the room, and you lose yourself in your movements. You can’t see his face, which makes it a lot easier. You worked through his whole upper body, neck, and upper arms area so naturally that you were admiring his wrist tattoo before remembering who you were massaging.

For the seven hundredth time that day, you cannot believe this is happening. You really hope Jimin does feel safe here despite your whirlwind of thoughts. Have you kept it professional enough? Neutral enough? He seemed to be fine with your joking earlier, and he didn’t seem upset about the shoes in the least.

But still… Maybe he was just tolerating you because it’s the same situation for him, different place and day. Putting yourself in his shoes, you would feel pity for you trying your best to accommodate him. The pressure over everyone everywhere you go had to be exhausting. It couldn’t ever be normal.

Your shoulders suddenly slump under the weight of what you feel for him.

And Jimin seems to notice. “Really, it’s okay about the shoes. Those were getting pretty worn anyways.”

You still. Of course he thought you were still fussing over the shoes and not over his life. His unending consideration was like a burning hearth: it made you feel so warm.

“Okay,” you respond softly, “I understand.”

“Good. If you worry about them again, I’m walking out barefoot,” Jimin says sternly, even though you know he’s kidding. “And don’t test me, I’ve done it before.”

Your words leave you before you think. “I don’t believe you.”

“Oh?”

Jimin puts his hands on the table and you yelp, “Okay, okay, stop!”

He laughs and plops his arms back down flat. You lament as you still can see how his muscles bulge in your mind.

You shake your head and sigh before rolling to his left and softly taking his arm. His skin is so soft you don’t even need the oil, you notice. You work his forearm before moving down to his wrist and fingers. Thinking about Jimin’s threat, you are pretty curious. “Be honest: did that really happen?”

“It didn’t,” he responds immediately, “But I thought about it once. My shoes were killing my feet so I thought about walking without them until I found a shoe store.”

It sounds so childish to you that you chuckle. “Where was this,” you ask, completely intrigued now.

“Ah, I honestly can’t remember. I think somewhere in Europe.”

“...Did you just pick an entire continent because you couldn’t remember?”

“...There’s seven continents and one of them is Antarctica! Picking one out of six is easy.”

This man is something else. You finally finish off his right side, and you gingerly set his arm down on the table. With a mental pat on the back, you get ready for the next part of the routine. In your softest therapist voice, you instruct, “Okay, go ahead and turn over and slide down until your head is on the table.”

Jimin obeys right away, shifting over and moving down. The white sheet slips down his body a bit, and you diligently pull it up until it’s covering everything up to his neck. During this, you feel rather than see his eyes on you, so you don’t dare yourself to look.

You go back to your plethora of containers to re-oil, and roll your chair to the foot of the table. All that time, Jimin thankfully has his eyes closed.

You were equal parts dreading and looking forward to this part of the massage since his face was going to be visible. This way, you can’t escape the reality of the situation.

But you decided to follow the flow of the conversation. You learned the subtle nuances of human communication throughout your experiences: when people wanted to talk or stay quiet, if they were liking the conversation or not, etc. Jimin seems to be fine with talking despite your assumption that he was going to be quiet for the most part. It has definitely made this easier for you, though.

“I want to visit all seven continents one day,” you decide to admit.

“I do, too,” Jimin responds, eyes still closed. “How many do you have left?”

You start on his feet, working along the smooth skin.

“Uhh, well,” you whisper, “A good chunk. I’ve only been here and back where I’m from, and I just moved here around a year ago.”

After you tell Jimin where you were before, he sounds amazed, “You seem like you’ve lived here for so long. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He’s definitely being nice. You are just now getting decent at the language and customs, but there is still a lot you have to learn.

“But, I do want to start traveling again for a specific reason,” you divulge, sighing to yourself as you think yet again about your lofty dreams.

“Which reason is that,” Jimin asks, and you somehow know his eyes are open now.

Your own eyes betray you as you connect your gaze with his. “I want to experience different techniques in person.” You don’t know he can feel the fire behind your eyes. “There’s no better teacher than experience, at least to me. I know I’m good at what I do currently, but there’s so much out there that I want to learn and get better at.”

You debate whether to keep going or not. Jimin’s eyes are alight with curiosity, so you take that as your cue. It’s surreal that you get to talk about your dream with him of all people, so you strive to make it count. “Take music, for example: everyone agrees that music is healing, therapeutic. But, there’s so many genres, so many ways to create it. I see massage as the same way: therapeutic, but many different ways to make people feel better.”

Jimin is silent as he tears his gaze from you to look at the ceiling. You concentrate on his ankles, working them as delicately but effectively as you can. A part of you wants to keep talking, but you don’t want to push it. You may have said too much as it is.

The next song has soft chimes to accompany the rippling chords. Lavender wafts through the air and quells your nerves. You continue to Jimin’s lower legs and glide your fingers along the flow of his muscles. When you feel a break or disturbance, you stop and tend to it until you feel it’s balanced. After his lower legs are done, you move on to his thighs. You feel tightness all over, and you apply medium pressure to these areas because of how much muscle they contain.

Jimin’s legs are a work of art on the outside, but so chaotic on the inside. The chakra highways are disjointed, and you have worked through so many kinks in the roads. If you imagine yourself as someone walking down a path, you are stopping every 10 steps to smooth over a pothole or breakdown a hill in the way. You can’t see how this person can even walk, let alone perform on stage like this. All of them never cease to amaze you.

“Where would you start?”

Jimin’s sudden inquiry throws you. You swear he was silent for a good ten minutes. “What?”

His eyes are glued to the ceiling still. “Which places do you want to visit? Like, where would you go to learn?”

“Well…” You are almost too stunned to speak. He has been thinking about what you said this whole time? Aren’t there plenty of more important things he needs to be thinking about right now? “There’s this technique called amma that originates in Japan, and there’s an American technique called esalen that I want to learn, too. I think that one is from California.”

On a high from Park Jimin’s interest in your life, you ramble about a few more, your voice getting more animated the more you talk about different things. It can’t be helped; you’ve been passionate about traveling and learning for so long. You’ve just never been able to really try it since money was part of the equation. Or more so out of the equation. In addition, you didn’t really get to talk about it with anybody. No one’s actually asked. But somehow, Jimin did.

When you realize you actually stopped massaging his thigh, you look up in horror to apologize, “Oh, I am so sorry - I didn’t mean to stop.”

Jimin’s head is turned to the side, his hair falling into his eyes. The smile gracing his face is soft. “It’s okay,” he assures you, “I feel much better already anyways.”

Your cheeks flush before he even stops talking. “That’s good,” you whisper, “We’re almost done so I would hope so.”

“What!” Jimin’s eyes dart to the clock on the table. It’s already 8:50am.

That saddens you a lot more than it should.

“On second thought: I feel tense in my hand, I think you need to go back and redo it. Here.” He’s extending his right hand towards you as if to shake hands, and you laugh.

“Nice try, Jimin,” you say, “But I do need to work on your face for the last part. Close your eyes for me, please.”

He stares at you for a second before obeying. The smile from earlier makes a return.

You roll your chair back to the head of the bed and plop down. Jimin’s face is angelic even upside-down, and you pray to the heavens that you massage it perfectly.

When you start, you quip, “See? You’re so happy we’re almost done.”

“No, no!” Jimin laughs. “That’s not it. You just called me Jimin - it was nice.”

“Oh.” You swear steam is billowing from your head. How can he affect you so intensely? And how were you keeping yourself together?

With the resolve of a thousand emperors, maybe including one you probably did save in a past life, you steady your hands on his temples. Rubbing in delicate circles, you start the last segment.

Face massages are your favorite. Even the smallest movements are invigorating, and you feel very refreshed after one.

“When I come back, Spa Concerto, No. 4 better be available.”

You smile. There’s no way Jimin will be back, but you appreciate his friendly nature.

“It’s not even all that great, but I’ll let them know,” you play along. “I’m more of a piano person, though. There’s a lot of piano covers saved in my phone that are way better.”

Jimin’s eyes flash open at the same time he proclaims, “Ah, I love piano covers! Especially on rainy days.”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, “I can listen to those all the time.”

Your heart drops like a stone as you glance at the clock and see your time is up. The hour absolutely flew by. Dropping your eyes back onto Jimin’s face, you take your hands off his cheeks and say, “Okay, that’s the end of our session today.” You get up to dry your hands and lower arms with a cloth while going over the last steps, “I’ll leave you to get dressed, and I’ll come back to the room to give you water and some stretch and wellness recommendations moving forward. Just press the green button on the remote when you’re ready, like last time.”

When you turn back to him, Jimin’s fully propped up with his hands behind him. The blanket over him is draped across his body, just enough to cover his ribs. He’s smiling right at you as he speaks, “Thank you. You’re really good.”

You bow in thanks, face lighting up like wildfire. “You were great, too,” you comment in return, immediately cringing inside. “I’ll be back when you’re ready for me.”

Right after you leave clients is when you start filling out their evaluation and wellness recommendations on your tablet. You just worked on them, so the memories are fresh. The forms are a mix of multiple choice and fill-in, and you recommend some specific stretches and deeper pressure for Jimin.

This time, Jay is in the employee lounge when you come in to wait. His legs uncross and he pops up from one of the modern loveseats that are just as firm as they look. “She’s alive!”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the flush in your cheeks. “I’m here, but barely,” you chuckle, your tablet dangling in your hand by your side, “I still can’t believe that actually happened.”

Jay leans in so that no one can hear what he has to say, which makes you suspicious since there’s no one around you. In a low voice, he reveals, “Yoon and I made a bet.”

“Wonderful,” you drawl, “I’m gonna walk away now.” You can already tell this is one-hundred percent not in your favor.

“No, wait!” His whisper is loud. He bounces after you to the water and food station. While you fix yourself a cup, he continues, “Yoon thinks you’ll get done with the appointment unscathed, but I think you’ll come out of it with a problem.”

Jay’s words remind you like alarm bells.

You need to pay Jimin for damages.

“Oh, shit, I need to get something,” you say in a rush, grabbing your tablet off the food station and scurrying to the locker room. In the wellness center, the employee lounge is in the back, and the locker room is in the back of the lounge. You think you still have time before Jimin is ready.

There’s a notebook you keep in your bag along with a pencil case. Tearing a sheet from the notebook, you write down what you think is a good estimate for the shoes. Before you write anything else, you pause.

You only skimmed through the confidentiality prompts, but you do remember a section about personal information. Therapists aren’t allowed to give out their personal information unless specifically asked, and there has to be solid intent behind the client asking. Jimin didn’t need to ask you for yours; he just said not to worry about it.

After a good thirty seconds of your pen lingering above the paper, your tablet chimes.

A split second decision has you crumpling the paper and chucking it in your bag. You tear out a new sheet and tuck it with the pen under your tablet as you head back to Room 3.

You get to the room with a paper cup of water you grabbed on the way, and since you have things in both hands it’s a bit difficult getting the door open. You try the handle but it only jiggles a bit. One more try has you pushing the door right as the handle gives, and it works.

Jimin goes to you immediately when he sees your hands full, and you almost reel back from having him so close. Which should be odd, since you were literally just with him for a full hour, and he was not fully clothed. In the end, his presence alone is enough to affect you no matter the situation.

You extend the cup to him and he grabs it with a small thank you.

“I filled out your evaluation and it should be printed at the front already. Make sure to drink more water after you leave,” you say with a smile, your chest heavy. This was most likely the last interaction you would ever have with him.

Jimin nods, his mask covering his smile but not his eyes. He doesn’t say anything more.

You almost leave it at that, but something in you doesn’t want this moment to end, so you take your chance. “And, umm,” you stutter as you fumble with the pen and paper. You just lay your tablet on the massage table to free your hand, and click the pen open. “How much should I pay you,” you ask, your gaze ironically on the very shoes you tripped over earlier.

Jimin sets his cup down on the console table before taking the paper and pen from your hands. You watch him write something - a price in Won most likely - as you explain, “I’m a big believer of making things right, so please let me pay for your shoes. I should’ve seen them on the ground.”

He folds the paper and hands it back to you with the pen. “If you insist. But don’t check this until you get home.”

“What, why?” Your eyes dart to his face.

Jimin stares at you before responding, “Nothing bad. It just might shock you.”

Immediately, your gaze lowers. If you tell anyone how your day went today, you would think they were weird if they believed you. If you tell anyone why you’re suddenly broke come this Wednesday, they would be lying if they just went with it. “Okay, I won’t,” you assure him, and you’re telling the truth. You are equal parts surprised and nervous that he’s allowing you to pay him back.

With a deep breath, you give Jimin your best soft smile. Your heart is hurting as you send him off, “Well, it was a pleasure. Have a great rest of your day, Jimin. Until next time.” You catch yourself in a sea of emotion as your words die on your tongue. The boys have schedules on schedules, so the likelihood of him stepping foot inside this wellness center again is minuscule at best.

If anything, you’re grateful that you get to address him by name, and you succeeded in making this as smooth and safe as possible for him. At the expense of a scraped nose and hand, but rather you than him.

Jimin hoists his bag on his shoulder, the water cup you gave him already in the trash bin. He walks right up to you and stands there, and you swear both of you can hear your heart beating. One of his hands comes up to his masked face, and he speaks softly as he advises, “Ointment will help your nose if it still hurts.”

Warmth blooms in your chest and cascades all the way to your fingertips. Mirroring him, you bring a hand up to your nose and nod. Your words tumble out, “Oh, yes, you’re right. I can check if we have any in the back.”

Satisfied, Jimin nods. “Until next time,” he offers, his eyes creased and warm.

You smile again and bow slightly. He puts on his shades before heading out the door frame and into the hall, and you feel emptiness in his wake. The world is fuzzy around your vision and you are trying so hard to commit everything that just happened to memory.

Until the doors to front reception close, you watch Jimin’s retreating back. When the frosted doors close shut, you close your own door to Room 3 and lean against the wooden frame. The scrap of paper is creased in your hand as you clutch it to your hammering chest.

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself. It takes a good minute for you to compose yourself before pushing off the door and getting the room stripped and ready for the next session. The whole time, you replay everything in your head.

Jimin was just as nice as you have seen him through the lens of cameras. If that was the case, all of them had to be the same way. You are proud to like these wonderful people.

You’re so happy you got to actually spend all this time with him, but that just magnifies the sadness you feel when it’s over.

The room is done and cleaned up, and you go through the rest of the day on autopilot. Not even Jay’s constant teasing could free you from your euphoria-numbed state. The only thing that throws you back into focus is Yoon, and it happens at the very end of the work day.

You push open the doors to front reception, and smile big at your friend behind the counter. She’s beaming right back at you, and she puts her chin in her hand and shakes her head.

“That must’ve been one hell of a message,” she says through a barely contained smile.

Your hand flies to your forehead and you nod. “I can’t believe that happened, Yoon. I mean, it was really him. Opportunity of a lifetime… I just hope he enjoyed the whole thing.”

“You could say that,” she chuckles, “Enough to book you again, at least.”

What?

“He did?” Your breath leaves you in a rush. “If you’re joking with me, I’ll--”

“--He did. It’s not for a long time, but he asked for you specifically.” Yoon gathers papers in her hand and starts to organize them in the containers behind her. “You really piss me off, you know that?”

“Love you, too,” you whisper, your head completely above the clouds. You grab your phone and start checking your schedule from the wellness center app you have installed. Grabbing the door handle, you absentmindedly wave back to Yoon and call out, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The sun emits a golden glow at this hour, and the glass buildings along the street bask in its shine. You head towards your bus stop while skimming your calendar for Jimin’s next appointment, but you’re already four months out and see nothing. Not losing hope, you keep going and see a booking six months in advance. Your heartbeat skips as you click on the appointment, and almost skids to a halt when you see his name written down.

As soon as you enter your small apartment, you head straight to your bed and drop your bag on the comforter. Your whole body bounces as you plop yourself down next, and you stare straight at the ceiling.

Your life is still normal, right? Sure, you were able to spend an entire hour with Park Jimin, but that didn’t mean you aren’t still completely and utterly average.

You close your eyes and go back to Room 3. The scent of lavender fills your nostrils and you can still see his number tattoo as plain as day as you massage his wrist.

In all honesty, it still feels like a fever dream. That was someone else’s life you were able to live, someone else there with Jimin and you just decided to hitch along for the ride.

But that was real, and so is the amount of money you still need to withdraw from your bank account.

With a sigh, you reach into your bag and take out the piece of paper. You were dreading this moment all day since he left. Unfolding it, you prepare for the worst.

But all you can do is stare.

Jimin didn’t write down a price at all.

Your name is at the top, and the rest is as follows:

Save your money for traveling and learning new things, not on me. I can’t wait to see what you’ve learned when we meet again.

a/n: thank you for reading! if you guys have any comments or feedback, please feel free to let me know!

#text #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #bts fics #jimin fics #room 3 jimin #room 3 #ryen writes #member: jimin #long post #grammy nominated singer fic!!#ryenwrites

543 notes · View notes

fukurodianthus · 4 years ago

Text

Its just skin

Synopsis: Self-love is not something that comes to you naturally. Years of self-depreciation makes it difficult to grow into the habit of loving yourself despite of the scars peppered across your skin.

But with your fiancé, Tooru Oikawa, you find yourself stealing glances into mirrors quite often. It catches you by surprise when you find yourself...beautiful?

Pairing: Tooru Oikawa X fem!reader

Genres: tooth-rotting fluff , a lil bit of angst thrown in

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: The reader suffers from body positivity issues and insecurities regarding her appearance.

Author’s note at the end!

(p.s. didnt proof read because im ✨lazy✨ might do it later when im feeling cute idk)

“Y/N-chan, can we leave already? We’re getting late for the party” Oikawa whined, tugging the sleeve of your shirt lightly.

“Tooru, stop being so impatient!” You pushed your whiny fiancé away and concentrated on covering up the acne scars and freckles peppered across your face with layers of concealer. No matter how much you tried, you could never make your skin look half as perfect as that of the girls who dominated your Instagram and YouTube feed. Every time you looked in the mirror, the taunting voices of your family members and friends would creep into your mind.

Oh my god! Whats wrong with your face?

Don’t you wash your face properly?

You’re never going to get married if you look like that Y/N! Do something about that face of yours!

Do you want me to recommend a good dermatologist to you?

No matter what the topic of the conversation was, people always found a way to bring up the topic of your skin condition in it. You could be talking about quantum physics for all they cared, they would somehow find a way to bring up the topic of your skin.

But they didn’t know all those sleepless nights you had spent on the internet looking for remedies, they didn’t know how you cried yourself to sleep every night, praying that you’ll somehow find that your skin had magically healed up when you woke up. But miracles didn’t happen in this world. At least for you, they didn’t.

You spent a humongous chunk of your salary buying medicines, serums, anything skincare specialists would recommend to you. But none of it could you fix you. Ultimately it all ended up in the trash and you ended up on the bathroom floor, sobbing as you looked into the mirror, face contorted with disgust and self-loathing.

But then, Oikawa Tooru stepped into your life. The first person who didn’t grimace as he looked at your face. He looked at it with childish wonder in his eyes, as if he was looking at something…beautiful? Every night, when you fell asleep in his arms, his fingers softly grazing your cheeks, you felt an unfamiliar warmth blossom inside your heart. If he could love you despite your flaws, what was stopping you from doing it?

But years of self-depreciation made it difficult to develop the habit of loving yourself. There are still moments when you found you yourself drowning in self-hatred.

Take the present moment, for instance.

No matter how much concealer you caked on your face, it didn’t look half as good as you wanted it to. You let out a frustrated groan as you plopped down on the bed. How could you go to the party looking like this, especially when Oikawa would be by your side? Everyone’s appearance paled in comparison to his flawless beauty. Then how could you, of all people, ever stand beside him as an equal? You knew everyone would be comparing you with him behind your back, their jealousy-tinged voices emphasizing on how someone like you didn’t deserve to be with him. You’d always be an undeserving lover for him in their eyes.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Oikawa’s voice was laced with heavy concern. “Do you feel sick? I told you to not eat that expired candy bar last night, but you didn’t listen-”

“Tooru, its not that. I think I look very fucking ugly right now and I can’t bear to look at myself in the mirror. I can’t go to the party right now, not when I’m feeling like this.” You buried your face in a soft cushion and let out a frustrated groan as you turned over on the bed.

“Y/N, did you start putting yourself down again?” You felt him plopping down beside you on the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Tooru, don’t lie to me, my skin still looks just as bad as ever.”

“You know, sometimes I wonder if astral projections are real.”

“What? Have you finally lost it?” Your widened eyes searched his face, trying to make sense of his words.

“If it was real, then I’d pull your soul out of your body make you look at your face through my eyes. Because there’s clearly something very fucking wrong with your eyes if you cannot see how damn pretty you are.” Tooru huffed, looking at you nonchalantly as if he was stating the obvious.

“Tooru-” you whimpered, turning on your side to face him.

Tooru and his horrible pickup lines.

Gosh, how can I not love him?

His chocolate-brown eyes softened as he pulled you into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat drowned all the cacophony of all the negative thoughts cluttering your mind.

“Y/N, I thought love at first sight was way too cheesy and corny to be real. But then, one day, back in high school, I saw Iwa-chan talking to you. You looked so fucking pretty, you know? The way you’d bite your lips when you were confused, the way you’d look down and let your hair cover your face whenever you were flustered, it was so damn adorable. I might have gone down on my knees right then, if Iwa-chan hadn’t been there. He’d beat the living crap out of me for playing my ‘disgusting tricks’ on his friend.” Oikawa took your hands in his and slowly drew circles on your palm with his thumb.

“Iwa wouldn’t have to beat you up, I’d do it without a second thought if you pulled any of that shit on me. I always found you very bratty, clinging to Iwa with that radioactive sweet smile of yours.”

“Wow, I was head over heels in love with you on first sight, while your first impression of me was that I’m a brat? No wonder you were Iwa-chan’s friend, you both are so mean.” He pouted, looking at you with playful annoyance.

“That was before I got to know you. Your brattiness started growing on me, gradually. Now I’m so used to it, I think I’d forget how to breathe if I didn’t hear your annoying voice every morning.” You chuckled at how his face kept getting redder with every insult that you threw at him.

“You’re used to my brattiness? Are you implying I’m still a brat?”

“Exactly. Looks like you do have a brain.”

“The most amazing setter on this planet doesn’t have a brain, is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but instead of asking me out on a date directly, you bugged Iwa to set us up on a date until he finally shouted at you in the middle of an English class, saying ‘Alright, Shittykawa, I’ll set you up on a date with Y/N, now stop running that fucking stupid mouth of yours.’ " You stole a glance at his face, savoring his flustered expression. "I’m right, am I not?”

Oikawa’s face reddened to the extent where it seemed that he would spontaneously combust at any moment.

"Tooru, c'mon, we both were emotionally constipated fools who could never ask each other out if Iwa hadn't stepped in." You softly ran your hands over his chest, savoring the warmth radiating from him. "Now stop pouting Brattykawa."

"You and Iwa-cha, both of you can never appreciate me before backtracking, huh?" He ran his fingers through your tangled hair, slowly massaging your scalp.

He knew it always calmed you down.

"Hey, did you really find me pretty that day?" You mind went back to how you looked the day when Oikawa first saw you. Greasy hair stuck to your face, cavernous dark circles covering your under eyes, face swollen as a result of pulling all nighters for a whole week. How could anyone, let alone Oikawa find you pretty when you looked like that?

"Can you not hold a conversation for 5 seconds without putting yourself down, huh?"

" I dont think I can Tooru. It still weirds me out that you, of all people found me beautiful when I looked like such a mess."

"Y/N I think we really need to try astral projections now-"

"Tooru, I'm serious-" You whined.

He chuckled, twilring your hair in his fingertips. "Y/N, after being with you for so long, I've realized something. You look for validation in the eyes of people who couldn’t care less about you. But when finally, someone who really cares for you and sees you as who you are tells you that they are truly beautiful, you brush it off. Why do you pretend that our compliments aren't heartfelt? Why are you so scared of being appreciated?"

Every day, when he saw you stealing glances into the mirror, he noticed how disappointment flashed across your face. He knew how you beat yourself up for not being pretty enough. You were never enough for yourself.

If your mind was a place, he’d waltz into it, shredding the self-destructive thoughts gnawing at you sanity into pieces. He’d untangle the mess inside your head, shattering the walls that bars genuine compliments reach your heart.

Oikawa wasn’t the best with words, not at times like this. But he’d give it his best.

He could feel the wet spots blossoming on his shirt, as you buried your face deeper into his chest.

"Oi! You dummy! Are you crying?"

"To-Tooru I just think th-that I d-don’t deserve your love because I'm not as good looking as-" You choked out in between an onslaught of sobs.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” He cupped your flushed cheeks and lifted your chin up, his eyes scanning your face in concern.

“Those fucking stupid scars on your face don’t define who you are, okay? Its just skin, Y/N, you are so much more than just…a piece of skin, you know? Honestly, we’re all just bags of flesh and bones if you look at it that way. Do you think I loved you because you were a particularly pretty bag of flesh and bones?” Even though you found his analogy slightly funny, you noticed how his face lit up with passion so you refrained from making any sarcastic comments. He was trying his best.

“Continue, Tooru. I’m listening.”

“I love you because of who you are. I love the way your lashes flutter when we stargaze on the roof every night, I love you how your hair is a tangled mess when you wake up, I love how your puff your cheeks in annoyance when I stop you from over-drinking coffee every night, I love how you whine when you spend hours trying to get your eyeliner right, only to end up smudging it when you rub your eyes absent-mindedly, I love how your eyes light up when I put an extra spoonful of Nutella in your sandwich…gosh, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Your grip on his hoodie tightened. He looked at you, breathlessly, scanning your face for a reaction.

Your stared at your reflection in his chocolate-brown eyes, struggling to find the right phrases to express the way his words made you feel. You felt your heart race as if it was beating in pace with a rhythm set in by a drug-induced ecstasy.

What would you call this feeling of warmth that washed over you with every syllable he uttered?

“Thank you.” You wondered if you could’ve said anything better to express how much his words meant to you. God, where were a the fancy words you had learnt from corny YA romance books when you needed them?

But he didn’t need to hear your words to know that you’d been moved by his words. Fancy phrases could never tell him what the faint rosy glow of your cheeks could.

“Stop thanking me for stuff like this. It’s my duty, Y/N. I’m your fiancé for fuck’s sake.”

“You’re such a sap Tooru.” You giggled, squishing his cheeks softly.

“Yeah but you’re hopelessly in love with this sap, so deal with it.” His grip around your waist tightened as he nuzzled his face on your neck, his hot breath fanning across your collarbones.

“Now let me go Shittykawa, we have a party to attend.” You pried his arms off your waist and sat up.

“Babe, we’re about to get married in a few months, you really need to drop that stupid nickname.”

“Hmm, let me think.” Cocking your head to your side, you pretended to be immersed in deep thought. “Nope, not happening.”

“Don’t blame me for what happens next.” Oikawa sat up and tackled you to the bed, pinning your wrists by your side.

“Ooh, now that’s hot, Tooru”

“You know whats hotter Y/N?”

“What?”

“This.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond as his hands slid down to your waist. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

And then he started tickling you.

You broke out in an uncontrollable fit of laughter, kicking him, trying to get him to stop.

Two minutes later, you both lay side by side, panting, faces flushed with breathless fits of laughter.

You caught a glance of your face in the bedside mirror.

Even with your reddened face, tangled hair and smudged mascara, you looked…beautiful.

You felt beautiful.

As you nuzzled your face on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat rumbling in your ears, his words kept replaying in your mind.

“Its just skin, Y/N.”

Author’s note: ahhhhh I kinda wrote this in a flow?? Its a comfort fic/drabble???Idk what this is tbh. This is very self indulgent because I’ve suffered from skin problems(cystic acne ugh🤢) all my life, so I decided to comfort myself through this fic 🥺👉👈 . If only I had an Oikawa in my life 😩✋

N E ways, drink water, get enough sleep(lmao the irony that I’m saying this-) and remember to love yourself because you are beautiful!😤❤️I’ll come for your kneecaps if you put yourself down🤩🔪.

Reblogs would be highly appreciated!

#haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #tooru oikawa #oikawa #tooru oikawa fluff #oikawa fluff #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa x fem!reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hqradiostation

234 notes · View notes

darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years ago

Text

The Dark Team (part 8)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

Join the taglist in here (Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman)

Warnings: violence, near death experience, suicidal consideration.

With all the information you needed in your head, you ran up to the hotel room. Loki and Bucky were wandering around the neighborhood, handling the “incognito” part of the mission very poorly. But you’d be soon back with them, you just needed to grab the suits, some more information and a scribbled map, and you’d be back on the streets, fighting criminals or… whatever the Hell those two were doing.

It was just a matter of time until you finally got the stick. What did it have that Tony Stark feared so much to be in the wrong hands, you would never know. Unless you grabbed the stick before giving it to him and found out yourself, of course (but no, that would be irresponsible, an invasion, all levels of illegal and probably would result in getting you in jail, or maybe even assassinated).

It sounded good, though.

After what felt like a thousand stairs later, you finally arrived at your room. Grabbing the doorknob while inserting the key, you realized it was already open. You stopped. Was anyone in there? You weren’t the last one to come out that morning, so you weren’t sure you closed it well. Bucky was; and he was generally distracted on those details. He would sleep on them because he can take anyone, he’s a supersoldier, after all.

You didn’t let go of the doorknob, and opened very carefully as to not make any noise. Damn, if I just had my gun with myself this would be much easier, you thought for the hundredth time on the mission. You made a mental note on not leaving the room without a gun ever again.

If it wasn’t bad enough, you didn’t bring any communicators with your teammates on. What for? The last part of the mission was done with all of you together. It made sense you’d sleep on it too.

You stopped the self-loathing on your last few decisions and thought about who or what could be on the other side of the door. It couldn’t be someone who wanted the information you’d already collected, because you informed absolutely no one about it. Not even Stark. And you had made sure nobody followed you or heard your steps. So, it had to be someone from the Hydra base. Someone who would think you had the stick with yourself, and wanted it back.

Basing your actions on that speculation, you calculated the time and risks to get to your gun and suit before you’d get attacked, if the agent was still in there. You could only assume it was an agent. What else would Hydra have, in the middle of 2021?

Alright, you thought. Maybe it’s empty already. I only get one chance.

You slammed open the door and ran to your suit and gun as fast as you could, suiting up with a button, and, in a matter of seconds, you were against a wall with your Beretta 92 pointing at whoever could come and attack you.

Silence and adrenaline filled the room. You looked around, and nothing moved. Not a single sound. Not even a fly.

“Whoever’s here, I don’t have it. I swear, I don’t have it”, you said, still with your gun up. “And I don’t know who has it, yet”.

No answer. You looked around a little, opening some doors and looking under the beds, but it really seemed like you were alone now. Someone had definitely been there; your papers were all disorganized and some chairs were on the floor. The window had a gunshot. But whoever went there, saw there was nothing they wanted and left, not long ago. Maybe you could even seek them with the street cameras.

You walked to the window and traced the gunshot with your fingertips. You recognized the bullet; Bucky had used them before, as the Winter Soldier. Looking outside you recognized in the distance, about three blocks away, the unmistakable figures of your teammates.

A cocking gun in your nape brought you back to the room. You didn’t turn around just yet, waiting for some talking (they usually talk, they don’t want you dead; they rather want your information. Quite difficult to take from if you won’t be able to answer). After some more silence, you turned around violently and tried to kick the (huge, even bigger than Thor) man’s gun off. Instead, he grabbed your leg and pushed you to the floor.

Maybe you weren’t exactly awesome when it came to hand-in-hand combat, alright?

Pointing your gun at him from the floor, you tried to get up, and as soon as you felt him get closer to grab your gun, you shot. You made sure to not actually shoot him; just close enough for him to think you were going to shoot him if he got close. He didn’t get fazed at the shot; didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. Instead, grabbed your gun and bent it as if it were melted plastic.

Holy fucking shit.

Good news were, now you knew what exactly was in that stick. Bad news, it was already in the wrong hands.

“Chemistry works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it, fella?”, you asked the supersoldier standing in front of you. “When did they serum-ed you? You might be experiencing some side effects”, you chatted, waiting for your teammates, hoping they’d walk a little bit faster. Hopefully, they’d heard the shooting and realized you were in trouble. They didn’t know exactly how much trouble you were in, though.

“You do realize the more you talk, the faster I’ll have to kill you, right?” said he, finally.

“What’s your name? Can’t see you with your weird mask on” you said, standing up slowly. “Let me guess… you must be familiar with James, right?”.

The supersoldier blinked in confusion, and charged his gun, pointing it directly at your forehead.

“You have exactly ten seconds to tell me how you know about James. Ten”.

“Must be a very difficult experience”.

“Nine”.

“To be so close, yet so far away”.

“Eight”.

“You know, it’d do you wonders some therapy maybe. To process the whole James thing”.

“Seven”.

“You sound like Monica Geller”.

“Six”.

“You’ll get bored of counting, eventually”.

“Five”.

“Alright, pack it up”.

“Four”.

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Three”.

“I don’t know anything about that James, it was a wild guess. Everyone is called James these days”, you explained. He stopped counting but pressed the gun harder against your head.

“Quit the mocking. Give me the stick and I’ll let you live”.

“There’s no way you’re letting me live. I already know Hydra has some more supersoldiers, and I guess the thing in the stick is the formula, isn’t it? Give me the secret formula, spongebob, right?”. The man realized you were just making time, and tried to grab your wrists. “Took you long enough to notice. Soldiers are not the brightest, let me tell you”.

As he tried to lock your wrists, you used all your body weight to push him out of the window. Terrible idea. He was at least five times stronger, and instead of your original plan, the one getting thrown off a nine-floor window now were you.

Bucky and Loki were a block away, and all they saw was a tiny speck on the sky, getting rapidly closer to the street. It didn’t take them much thinking until they realized that speck was you, flying off the hotel room. Loki took impulse and teleported himself as fast as he could to the nearest floor you were currently passing, and grasped your arm and hand with his both hands, holding himself with only his legs from a balcony.

Hanging from just one arm, with seven tall floors behind your feet, you tried your best to not look down. Oh, heights weren’t your best friend, much less the possibility of a bad movement and instantly dying right there. You could only think in how lucky you were your teammate had quick reflexes, and how idiotic you were to think you could’ve possibly taken that man by your own. He bent your gun with his bare hands, for God’s sake. You looked down, and saw the supersoldier already fighting with Bucky on the streets. Your face turned even paler as you observed how tall you were. Everything was tiny below you.

“Look at me”, said Loki, with a calm voice. You redirected your gaze to him. His eyes. There was a glimpse in his eyes, showing something. Your own emotions weren’t allowing you to actually concentrate on his face expressions, anyways. He sensed it, and repeated. “Look at me, don’t look down. I’m here”.

You met his eyes once again and this time you didn’t leave them. There it was. His eyes irradiated pure and raw panic. Fear. No, not even fear; terror. What was he terrified of? Terror of losing you? Why would he care so much? Why would he care that deeply? It didn’t matter now, for you were definitely dying. His grip was strong, but your hand was starting to numb and you were losing strength. You were dizzy and sweating, frightened. He gripped harder and it pained you.

“Hold on to me. Do not let go, I'm here”, he said. His words were tranquil and reassuring, trying to keep it as undisturbed as he could, but a drop of desperation cracked his voice. “Hold strong, I’m lifting you up”.

“Don’t. You’ll fall down. You can’t take this height either” you said without hiding your dread. Your tight throat did the job and your eyes watered. That was it, you thought. And it was. There was no way Loki could lift you without him falling down too. And even if there was a possibility, why would he risk his long and meaningful life for the sake of yours? “Let me go, Loki”.

“I’m not letting you go”.

“You’ll die”.

“No, and you won’t either. Hold onto my grip”, he assured you without leaving any room for discussion, trying to lift your body and almost tripping in the process. He gasped and you left out a whine.

“Loki”.

“Stop it, I’m not letting you go”, he said, less calm than he’d have liked to. “I’m not letting you go”, he repeated, almost in a whisper.

In a struggle, he brought you into the balcony he was hanging from. Your legs were shaking, as you laid on the marble floor by his side. Both of you breathless, looked at each other without saying a word. After a brief moment, you took his hand and squeezed it gently, not ever breaking eye contact.

“You saved me. Thank you”.

94 notes · View notes

ajaxwrites · 3 years ago

Text

GENSHIN IMPACT FANFIC REC LIST II

(previous: part i)

Seaglass by Aevas

There was more to the contract than a gnosis and test of Liyue. It seemed like a simple deal five hundred years ago: so long as Morax never had a soulmate, the Tsaritsa would never harm Liyue and she would not get his gnosis. But the moment he gained a soulmate, all that belonged to him was forfeit. He thought the deal left Liyue safe—he'd lived thousands of years without a soulmate. The Tsaritsa would be dead and gone by the time she'd have a chance to collect.

Five hundred years later, Childe appears in Liyue, Zhongli gains a soulmate mark, and everything falls apart.

(The obligatory soulmate AU, featuring a Zhongli with PTSD, an oblivious Childe, and demon-worshipping cultists.)

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: I CANNOT BELIEVE I SLEPT ON THIS FIC FOR SO LONG. Read it and I mean it! I admitted initially steered clear of this fic because I wasn’t comforted with a soulmate tartali fic pre-Osial but this fic is actually post-Ostial *facepalm* The writing is phenomenal and Aevas does some beautiful worldbuilding that you typically don’t see in Genshin Impact fics. I love the dynamic between Childe and Zhongli here and the angst is real. The author writes the two as very human characters who makes mistakes, etc. and notably Zhongli struggles with the concept of Childe as his soulmate (who understandably is upset by the rejection when he realizes). They get better though. Also very plotty. A+ writing.

it's a hard rock life for us by reptilianraven

“Ah, no need to worry about that,” Azhdaha waves a dismissive hand. “There is no real Kun Jun. He’s dead.”

A leaf blows past and plaps onto Aether’s face.

“You killed him???” Paimon screeches.

“No,” Azhdaha scrunches his eyebrows. “He was dead when I found him.”

“And you just decided to wear his corpse?” Aether says, leaf still on his face.

He shrugs. “It was free real estate.”

“Azhdaha...” Morax says, sounding vaguely pained.

Or the one where Historia Antiqua Chapter II: No Mere Stone goes a little bit different and Azhdaha gets more time.

He ultimately uses that time to bully Morax into confronting his immortal neuroses, to make Aether and Paimon suffer, and to figure out how to get that ginger boy Morax has his eye on to make a move already.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, Past Azhdaha/Zhongli

Notes: Very lighthearted, humor-filled fic. Love how Azhdaha is so flippant. Interactions with Zhongli and Childe are pure gold.

if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes by moonlight_mist

Childe has a Weapon problem- specifically, that he can't keep one.

He's too reckless, too wild, and too keen on pushing his Weapon partners past their limits. He's just about ready to give up when he meets Zhongli, a Weapon who just might be the solution- so long as Childe can manage to keep his dick in his pants.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This is a Soul Eater AU with some college/university AU vibes (?) but you don’t really need to know much about the anime. It’s a cute AU and I love the premise. Light angst but otherwise, it’s a pretty semi-plotty fic. Easter egg Kaeya and Diluc though.

To Kill A God by IlluminanceinTales

In Snezhnaya, they call them sansis—lost souls that have no guidance but themselves. It’s an apt description, given that most of the time, wannabe-Archons have to go through dozens of tests with nothing as their reference, relying solely on their wit and strength and hoping it would be enough. At least, until they survive the end of the whole game—and they might not have to undergo a painful reincarnation which feels like a hundred bones being stitched together again.

On his seventh game, Childe Tartaglia reincarnates this time in the body of a young man.

Damn, he thinks, looking down at his thin body, his slightly calloused fingers. This won’t be good when facing the other Hydro Decisions.

In a world where an Archon's position is not chosen but fought for in games, Childe Tartaglia is a Hydro Decision who's poised to become the next Hydro Archon. Of course, that's only if he survives his seventh reincarnation. All would be so much easier if it weren't for a certain Geo Archon interfering with every possible chance he gets.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Think Hunger Games meet Political Intrigue meet Genshin Impact. Love the premise and world building that’s done. Features overprotective Zhongli and lots of Childe whump. Has one or two supplementary OCs that aren’t really important outside of plot device reasons. Warning for character death tho lmao.

Three's a Family by IlluminanceinTales

Childe finds a kid that looks just like him.

Of course Zhongli wants to keep him.

Or: How a harbinger and an archon accidentally become fathers. The kid is their wingman

Ships: Childe/Zhongli (?)

Notes: Your everyday cute AF kid fic. Fluffy as hell and super cute. Zhongli and Childe get domestic pretty quickly. Xiao gets dubbed a grandfather and begrudgingly plays along. Super wholesome.

in pitch dark i go walking in your landscape by snowbrigade

He glanced down at him, at the silvery scars peeking out from beneath his robe, and at his eyes, properly now. They were the bright blue of high quality noctilucous jade, but he could see it, an underlying darkness.

Zhongli wondered what his eyes betrayed about himself. --

Rex Lapis is dead. Zhongli, formerly known as triad leader Rex Lapis, is a detective investigating his own "death." Childe, also known as Tartaglia of the Fatui mafia, is undercover as an escort looking to kill Rex Lapis- until someone beats him to it, and he wants to know who. Goals intersecting, they form a partnership of ulterior motives.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: There’s like one scene that skews NSFW but otherwise surprisingly not explicit. Really fun AU. Like how the author addresses Childe’s reaction to being stuck with the undercover escort stuff and how the dynamic between the two develops. Pretty plotty so far.

Phantom Lines by iskendaris

“It’s a measure of one’s self, Mr Zhongli.” Childe says. “Maybe you don’t understand it since you work as a consultant, but as an ambassador from the Tsaritsa, as one who fights in her name— this is how I learn to know the measure of myself.” “I understand,” Zhongli says thoughtfully. “It is a warrior’s way, to test one’s strength against the incomparable. To find where one falls short. To find where one has risen to the challenge.”

In which Childe has insomnia, vandalizes public property and runs into a mysterious funeral consultant on his first night in Liyue.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: THE FEELS. I can only describe this as the fic where Zhongli pays Best Boyfriend Ever only to FUCK UP big time (via Gnosis deception). Poor, poor Childe. Look, he gave the boy feelings and then broke him. You can really feel Childe fall in love in this love. He also does mental swooning a lot lmao.

adventitious by Anonymous

It's said the Ley Lines remember all things that happen in this world, from the surface down to the deepest depths... But in the hidden corners where the Gods' gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming.

There's a dormant bud where Kaeya's eye once was. One day, it will bloom. (Never forget: memory is untrustworthy.)

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: I don’t even know where to start. This is very headcanony and lore-focused. Very much concentrated on Khaenri'ah. The implications of this story is grotesque to say the least (according to this fic, Visions are the literal eyes of the people of Khaenri'ah). Warnings for eye and body horror.

Without Those Dark Memories by StrangeDiamond

Diluc awakens in Stormterror’s Lair with no memories of the past five years. Kaeya is on the trail of a rogue alchemist, with a habit of testing his chemicals on unwilling human subjects. Now, in addition to capturing the criminal, Kaeya has to shake him down for an antidote . . . and deal with an amnesiac Diluc who acts exactly like he did before their brotherhood fell apart. (Standalone Fic.)

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: This is sort of a classic amnesia fic. I particularly really liked the way that Kaeya was written in this. I feel like the author did a really good job nailing his character and they have a way of capturing the subtle things.

Through the warmth, through the cold by strikedawn

“It’s you!” Paimon shouted with a twirl in mid-air.

“…Excuse me?"

They were drunk. Were they drunk? Was he drunk? Because Kaeya had the feeling his guests had been talking to him for a while now, but none of their words had made any sense whatsoever.

That was, until Venti stepped firmly in front of Kaeya’s desk and set his hands on the top, the better to lean over towards Kaeya and say: “For the end of the Windblume festival, Sir Kaeya Alberich, we’re going to auction a date with you.”

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Shortword, Kaeya gets auctioned off. Diluc makes impulsive (but good) decisions and scores himself a Date but displays an inability to do Date Planning. Venti deserves a pat on the back. Very sweet.

Hide and Seek by Kiri_Kaitou_Clover

Childe did not expect regaining his memories would bring him such frustration.

He makes the best of the situation by messing with one amber eyed consultant in anyway he can.

A reincarnated storm god wades through life in Liyue, all while screaming about one dragon god's incompetency at being human.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Features Childe as Osial’s very exasperated reincarnation, who gets the joy of discovering that his rival/enemy Morax is not only an idiot but also broke AF. He still falls in love anyway. Contains this golden line:

"Did... did that complete blockhead really use my money in order to get me a gift that basically says that he is proposing to me?!"

(Osial was screaming. When had the other god become like this?! Had he always been like this?!)

Getting that Bread by tzitzimeme

Concubine AU where Zhongli is Emperor, Xiao is an assassin sent to kill him while disguised as a woman in his imperial harem, and the only reason he doesn't actually do it is because he pities Zhongli for being so catastrophically stupid (also Xiao falls in love).

Ships: Zhongli/Xiao

Notes: Like Xiao says, Zhongli is an idiot. Fluff and humor filled. Xiao spends a good 95% of this exasperated by Zhongli’s bullshit.

prayers for a boy by Recluse

The only way to reconciliation is fierce combat!

Hm... Come to think of it, there will be a lot of interesting news to be heard the next time we gather for drinks. Filling in the blanks.

Ships: N/A

Notes: I...don’t really know where to begin with this? It’s exactly what the summary implies...but more? I was tempted to describe this as the fic where Zhongli puts his foot in his mouth but...that’s not exactly write? I feel like this was more of a character study. It explores the aftermath of the Osial Incident and how Zhongli and Childe reconnect. Platonically...though I guess it can be read romantically.

one kind of longing, two places of sorrow by lady_peony

Zhongli's hands rest behind his back, both gloved hands clasping one another. His fingers tighten around one another for the merest moment, before he relaxes his grip.

"There is a tradition in Liyue," Zhongli says, his back still to Childe standing behind him, "of inviting out a companion to a last meal before a farewell."

A pause.

"A tradition?" Childe echoes.

"Yes."

"With a companion?"

"Yes."

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: The fic where neither of the two communicate about jackshit but go on a quiet, sad not-date before Childe leaves for Snezhnaya. Childe pulls (? on accident or on purpose, I can not tell) the equivalent of leaving the jacket in the car post-date to get date to call for the second date. Also, the author has a gift for like...writing angst...without writing angst? Like the whole fic is like brimming with everything that the characters aren’t saying but the thoughts aren’t necessarily written out BUT YOU KNOW THOSE DUMBFUCKS ARE JUST LIKE. BRIMMING WITH FEELS?

The People of Liyue by queer_occurrences

But Zhongli whispers, his low voice rooted in the back of Childe’s mind. “Changsun, the merchant, who is never too Mora-enthralled to turn away a needy child. There’s Tiantian—she will allow anyone to join the Adventurer’s Guild—she knows what it is to be desperate.”

Childe ducks away from them and hurries out over the bridge. It’s a warm, sunny day, the kind he would have complained about, whining about his delicate Snezhnayan skin. “It’ll burn, or worse, freckle. Would you still like me if I was freckled?”

Then Zhongli would say, “The people of Liyue will remember your sacrifice.” And he would wrinkle his nose.

Or: after it all goes down, Childe takes a walk.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: The author has a way with perfectly balancing angst with humor in a way that makes you cackle. There’s a lot of feels in this one. Zhongli tries communicating--Childe runs away a lot. There’s a lot of love for Liyue in this one.

cold blooded, warm blooded, hearts all the same by reptilianraven

Teyvat Petting Zoo @tyvtpettingzoo

Well would you look at that! Zhongli, our resident spinytail iguana, has gotten quite cozy with Childe, our new (and very feisty) ginger ferret! Aren’t they adorable all cuddled together like this? 😍😍😍

[Attached image shows a brown spinytail iguana curled up against a ginger ferret. The iguana’s head is nuzzled under the snout of the ferret.]

At the Teyvat Petting Zoo, Zhongli and Childe fall in love.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: ...I promise I’m not weird. This is just super cute. Cross-species love affair? Childe the ferret is very besotted. The internet is confused and the zoo keepers are just done.

a geo archon's guide to the modern era by Erina

“Morax,” Xiao says after Zhongli finishes his retelling of the incident. “He thinks you’re a weirdo.”

“No, don’t say that,” Barbatos snickers. “You’ll give him hope that this is salvageable.” He lowers his voice. “Morax, he thinks you’re a boomer.”

(In which Zhongli hibernates for centuries and wakes up in the modern world)

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This took me, I shit you not, FIVE SEPARATE ATTEMPTS to read. Not because it was bad but BECAUSE THE SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT WAS REAL. Like, omg, just reading about Zhongli’s introduction to modernity made me want to dig a hole and die. Super funny though. Do not read in public or you will look like a lunatic. Has a...parallel (?) fic in the same series called buy two get one archon free where Zhongli gets reversed isekai’d into an anime convention.

time flies like an arrow by Erina

He’s tired, tired of the unbreakable loop of watching his loved ones pass on, tired of getting attached only for the connection to be violently ripped away from him. He wonders if the real victors during the Archon War were those who perished, who died long before their godhood turned into a curse that chained them to the land that they were fighting for.

But that is not a problem for Childe to worry about. That is Zhongli’s burden to bear, delivered to him in a pretty package years ago in the form of a gnosis.

His very first contract.

(Zhongli and Childe, across many lifetimes)

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This is a quiet fic. It’s this kind of slice-of-life fic colored by this overpowering sense of love and loss as Zhongli remains immortal and Childe dies and lives and dies and lives for hundreds of lifetimes, but always finds his way back to his geo archon. It’s so lovely but also unbearably sad.

Tartaglia’s Favorite Professor by GreyLiliy

The famed hitman Tartaglia of the Fatui Syndicate spends his days as the charming college student Childe. The two lives remain as separate as possible in order to maintain a flawless cover to keep the authorities off his back and to better serve the Tsaritsa.

However, new intel about a rival syndicate intersects his two lives in a way he could never have predicted.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Mafia AU meet College AU. Childe is somehow both a horny AF college student and murderous hitman. Zhongli gives off major DILF vibes. GreyLily somehow makes this work while also avoiding cringe. Highly recommended!

like a handprint on my heart by fallingintodivinity

“Strictly off-the-record,” Jean says, with a small smile, “I’m really happy to see you and Captain Kaeya getting along again, Master Diluc.”

“We’re not – we’re not getting along,” Diluc tells her, indignant. “We’re working together. Unwillingly, I might add.”

“Yes – oh, yes, of course.”

Diluc stares at Jean suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me?”

Jean clears her throat primly. “I would never.”

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Super, super cute! Sort of reads like a first date fic except genshin impact style? Writing style is very refreshing!

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #fanfic rec #rec list #zhongli/childe #childe/zhongli #tartali #chili #diluc./kaeya #luckae #fanfiction #took a while but i have been steadily reading my way through the fandom #still not all my recs #but you can check my ao3 for what i'm reading lmao

99 notes · View notes