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alastor-simp · 3 months

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Alastor with a female reader who is selectively mute Part 2

Here is part 2 of this story. Mimzy is gonna be in this story as well, since we havent heard her talk yet or what her personality is like, im just gonna write how I think she will talk and act. Enjoy everyone:)

***5 Months Later***

You had adapted to hell surprisingly well. Yes there was some bumps along the way, due to you being mute, but you adjusted as time went on. Your relationships with everyone in the hotel had grown significantly. Charlie adored you and loved you like a sister. She was this close to telling her dad if it was possible to adopt you into the family, but you frantically declined as you suspected it would complicate things, but it was sweet that she loved you so much to do that. Vaggie slowly adjusted to you, don't blame her, she was always untrustworthy of everyone in the hotel, but she came around sooner or later. She offered to teach you some self defense as you were still an easy target. It was a bit difficult, but you managed despite your clumsiness. Angel Dust was a bit annoying in the beginning as he really wanted to hear your voice, but the puppy dog eyes you gave him made him quit. Now he treats you like his bestie, taking you shopping and having you attend some of his shows, which flustered you, but you wanted to support him. Niffty found you adorable when you first met and she still does. She has tried not to speed run towards you, since it always shocked you, causing you to drop your notepad in the past. It took a while, but she was able to do it. Husk was literally your dad figure. He always came over when you appeared upset about something and offered to cheer you up with his card tricks or make you a virgin cocktail, especially since your alcohol tolerance was negative 1000. You loved that he became that caring towards you, especially how gruff he was with everyone else. Sir Pentious was a new addition to the hotel. He first appeared when he tried to blow up the hotel a second time, only for Al to defeat him easily. Later after that, he became a patron at the hotel. He wondered why you didn't speak, but after a talk with Charlie and Vaggie, he no longer questioned it. He did enjoy your company, whenever you came to his work space, as he was crafting his inventions. His Egg Bois adored you as well, which pleased him. Alastor had become almost your protector/best friend. Its crazy to think how in the beginning, he was a bit annoyed when you didn't respond to his question, to now where he was always there to help you whenever you were in a pickle. His radio tower was your sanctuary as you always headed up there during his broadcasts. Alastor would always anticipate you coming as well, as it made his day a whole lot better whenever you showed up and took a seat next to him, admiring him as he continued his broadcast.

Getting ready for the day, you stood in front of your mirror, making sure you look spiffy. Alastor had invited you to attend one of Mimzy's shows at her club. Excitement raced through your body, and you nodded quickly when he asked you. Alastor mentioned before that her shows were very entertaining, so it made you very happy when he invited you to come. After a few minutes of looking yourself over, you walked over to the bed and grabbed the cell phone that was there. Charlie had gotten you it a few weeks ago as a gift. She had installed a text to speech app on it, so whatever you typed on the phone, a voice would respond back. Tears filled your eyes when she gave it to you, almost apologizing for all the trouble she had to go through to get it for you, but she said it was fine and it hardly cost anything. You knew she was royalty, so one cell phone wouldn't be a big deal, but it was to you. After a bunch of persuasion from Charlie saying it was really alright, you accepted the cell phone, not before engulfing Charlie in a hug. It took a while to get use to it, but it got easier over time, and it was a whole lot better then the notepad.

Rushing out of the room, your feet carried you over to the lobby, where a certain deer demon was patiently waiting. Alastor's ear twitched when he heard the pitter patter of your feet, turning to face you with a smile. Stopping to catch your breath, you stood in front of Al and gave a small wave, causing him to chuckle. His eyes scanned your outfit and found it to be perfect for today's activities. "Excited are we, my dear?" Looking at Al, you nodded your head, smiling widely. How adorable he thought. Hooking his arm with yours, Alastor banged his microphone on the ground, causing a portal to open in front of you. "Transporting like this may be new to you, my dear! Hold on tight!" The both of you entered the portal. It felt extremely odd, but you powered through it. The portal had brought you in front of a large building, with a large neon sign reading "Mimzy's." There was a crowd of demons around the building, probably ready for the show, as Mimzy was very popular. Entering inside, your eyes were drawn to the decor. It was a lavish place, the walls were covered in burlesque posters, and string lights decorated the ceiling. It had a very spacious bar and in the center of the room was a large stage with a small band in the background. Heading over to a certain section, there was a table that read VIP. This must be for us, since Alastor was a frequent visitor at this place. Sitting down in the seat, Alastor called over a server, asking for their most popular giggle water, while turning to you and asking what you would like. Taking your phone out, you typed your answer and played it out:

"𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎."

The server was confused at that, but just shrugged and nodded while going over to complete the order. Alastor was not fond that you had to resort to that annoying technology to speak, but he did noticed how more calm you were using it then the notepad, so he kept his opinion to himself. After the server returned with the drinks, the lights began to dim, and the crowd began to let out cheers, as the main entertainer made her way to the stage. Mimzy was a very short demon, a little chubby, but very gorgeous. Her flapper dress suit her very well, as she made her way to the center of the stage. "Good evening, Ladies and Gents! Y'all ready for tonight's performance?" Cheers and whistles were the response to that. "That's what I like to hear! Hit it boys!" The stage lights flashed, as Mimzy walked closer to the front of the stage, standing in front of the microphone, ready to amaze everyone.

youtube

(LOVE THIS SINGER, Check her out)

The performance drew to a close, and you were blown away. Her voice was amazing. Loud cheers and applause radiated throughout the whole room, as Mimzy gave a bow. Both you and Alastor clapped with the crowd as Mimzy left the stage, leaving the band there, as they played some jazz to keep the entertainment alive. Alastor turned towards you, asking if you enjoyed the show, to which you responded with an enthusiastic nod. "Why Alastor! You made it" a familiar voice, called out from behind the both of you, as you saw Mimzy walking towards the both of you. "Of course, Mimzy my dear! You do know how much I adore your performances!" Alastor smiled as he greeted Mimzy, placing a kiss on her hand. Mimzy's eyes then locked on you. Oh boy, you hoped she was friendly. "Oh My Goodness! Who is this adorable little peach?!" Oh thank Lucifer, she was a nice demon. "Ah yes! This is another acquaintance of mine! Say hello my dear!" Mimzy glanced at Al when he spoke, then turned back to you with a kind smile. "How ya doin suga~? Did my voice blow you away?" Feeling uncertain, you wondered if she was going to treat you differently if she knew you were a mute. She seemed friendly enough, plus Al said she was a good friend. Slowly you grabbed your phone and typed out what you wanted to say to Mimzy.

𝚈𝚎𝚜! 𝙸 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚎, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚍𝚍.

After the voice played, you pointed your eyes to the ground, feeling very shy. Clenching your hands under the table, you worried Mimzy was going to mock you for not speaking. "Oh my satan! Alastor, where did you find this angel? She is simply precious!" Mimzy had grabbed your cheeks, and began to squish them, like what a mother would do to a baby. "She had arrived in Hell a few months ago! She is a shy little one!" Alastor chuckled as he watched Mimzy coo at you. "No apologies needed suga~! Just happy you enjoyed the show! Here, let me give you a VIP pass so you can visit with no problems. Okay, darling?" Mimzy let go of your cheeks, and handed you the card. She had a very motherly side to her, which you liked. Grabbing the card, you nodded your head and smiled. Mimzy smiled and hugged you again. She then departed both of you as she had to meet up with some gents on the other side of the room. Both you and Alastor stayed at the club for a little bit, chatting about certain topics until you realized it had gotten late. Exiting the building, both you and Alastor decided to walk back to the hotel. Could have teleported, but the breeze was nice plus you both needed to stretch your legs after sitting for a long time. Your arm was hooked with Al's as he walked with you. Always such a gentleman. After walking for a couple of minutes, Alastor had stopped in his tracks. "My dear, may I ask you a question?" Alastor turned towards you, as he let your arm go, as he left you to stand in front of him. Staring into his eyes, you looked to see if there was any evidence of anger in them, but you found none. There was a little hint of sadness though, yet Alastor was still smiling. "I noticed during conversations with others, you always apologize! Why is that, my dear?" Tilting his head at you, he waited for your response.

Painful memories from your past began to flash in your mind once Alastor asked that question. Tears started to form, but they were blinked away. Reaching for your phone with trembling hands, you slowly wrote your answer and played it for Al.

𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚢, 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚘. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝. 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, as you pointed your head to the ground. Everything you felt from back then began to pour out of you, and you couldn't stop. Alastor was silent in front of you, and you figured he was upset with you, but before you could type a response, you were caught off when you felt someone wrap their arms around you. You found your head being placed in the crook of his neck, as he held you tightly. HE WAS HUGGING YOU?!? The last months while staying at the hotel, you were able to find out that Alastor didn't liked being touch. Yes, he would touch you and the others, but it mostly involved an arm hook, slight shoulder hug or head pat. You never expected that Al would be hugging you like this. After a few seconds, he began to speak. "I am truly sorry you had to suffer through that, my dear! But let me tell you this, people who mock and taunt others for being odd or a little strange are the ẗ̸̝́r̴̦̒u̵̦̅ē̴̢ ̶̰̈́s̴̱̈c̷̪͒ù̶̧m̶͇͐ ̸͎̔ò̴̦f̸͔̈́ ̶̦̃t̶͈̽h̶̟͌ȩ̴̾ ̴̯̀è̴͍a̴̞͝r̸͙̊t̸̰̕h̸̤̉! They are the true monsters! Don't believe their heinous words! To me, you are the sweetest and most unique demon in all of the seven rings! Never apologize for being the way you are ever again!" His words made you cry even more. Moving your hands slowly, you placed them on his back, tightening the hug. You felt the slight flinch from his body when you did that, but he slowly relaxed and squeezed you tighter.

The hug lasted for a bit before Al slowly released you, snapping his fingers to have a handkerchief appear in his hands, as he wiped your tears away. Once he finished, he leaned down and placed his hands on the sides of your mouth, moving them up to make it appear you were smiling. "Come on, my dear! Smile!" The smile on his face was outstretched, revealing all of his sharp teeth. His antics never ceased to make you laugh. Looking at him, you gave him a great big smile. Chuckling, Al leaned back up and grabbed your arm again, continuing his walk back to the hotel. After about a few minutes of walking, you both stopped in your tracks as an unknown voice called out to the both of you. "Well well well, if it isn't the Radio Demon."

*(TO BE CONTINUED)*

Part 1 of the Story is Here

Part 3 of the story is Here

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thatsdemko · 8 months

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without you there’s nothing to live for - l.norris

masterlist

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy + insecurities + fluff + build up(kinda long I’m sorry about that) + some errors here or there

a/n: while I had bits and pieces of this work in millions of other lando drafts I think I have to give credit where it’s due to @userlando and her anons ☺️🫶 I’m in such a shit mood so i figured posting this might make me feel better. enjoy xx

Lando Norris was annoying. a childhood friend of yours that somehow stuck throughout the years and never seemed to vanish. he was like a a piece of gum stuck to your shoe, he just never left.

and while you’re thankful he’s the longest lasting friendship you have; did you fail to mention he could be annoying?

his hands drum against the kitchen island, a distraction worthy of you flicking your pencil in his direction, but he’s too quick the pencil would just end up behind him, so you result in throwing him a very pointed look that shuts him up.

“is that pencil up your ass too today?”

you give him another look before staring down at the empty grocery list you failed to create, because lando has claimed your flat as his flat. the lavish lifestyle penthouse was abandoned at the instant call of your arrival to Monaco, and now all of his expensive taste clutters your space.

“did you put eggs on the list? I need eggs. it’s good protein—“ he shuts up to the sound of you breaking the pencil in half, another annoyed look tossed his way.

lando could be a lot. but there was no one who could keep up with you. there was no one like him in your corner, and while he pushed your buttons you were eternally grateful for his loyalty despite your rather jaded friendship.

“let’s just go to the store? I’ll drive.” he says like there’s another alternative to the store. ever since he got his license and moved in, you’ve never even put your foot on the accelerator. you’ve almost forgot the thrilling feeling of driving.

“eggs have been added to the list.” you finally say, typing up your notes of a grocery list once you were finally able to think straight without lando tapping away or chatting your ear off.

god was he annoying, but you loved him for him.

—

his wallet funds are bigger than what you have. you feel guilty every time he buys, but it’s not like you have the funds to do so. he knows that guilty look across your face when he ends up paying for 10% groceries and 90% female hygiene products. he doesn’t mind, just shoves his card in the machine and says a thank you for the person who bags your things.

“you have to let me pay you back—“

“no, nonsense.” he cuts you off, the conversation goes like it always does. you beg, and beg, to try and wiggle in a payback, but he refuses. all those years of your parents giving him shelter, taking him to races, or letting him play in your backyard it’s the least he could do.

“but the price adds up, and you’re paying for most of the rent—“

“I won’t have this conversation with you. just get in the car.” he says it without letting you have another word in. it’s his turn to shoot you down with pointed looks every time you try to mention money.

“y/n?! is that you?”

lando’s heart nearly drops to his stomach at the sound of that voice—that voice, being your ex boyfriend. he came out of nowhere, like the stalker he is, and finds himself walking around lando’s spiffy mclaren with wide eyes and confusion at your presence with the formula one driver. he must’ve forgotten lando was your best friend.

“you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend?”

before you can protest lando shakes his hand. you can tell by the grip lando has on him it’s a firm hard handshake. one to prove a point about the 2 a.m calls of you crying to your best friend from across the world. he was a shitty man, and maybe showing lando off like that would put him in his place.

“this is lando, you guys met awhile back.” you say.

you watch the two of their eyes glimmer in the sunlight with hatred for one another. lando was the guy you told him not to worry about— and he still was— and he was the guy lando was desperately wanting to kick ass.

“don’t remember that.”

“I actually remember, didn’t you spend half the night snogging another girl?” lando’s gentle reminder makes your ex’s face flush pale. you watch a little smile lift to lando’s lips before you both excuse yourselves to head home.

“my new boyfriend is so cool.” you say in a sarcastic tone once it’s just the two of you in his car.

lando let’s out laugh, and just puts the car in reverse. the simple act makes your head spin. his hand reaching behind the head of your seat, the way his eyes quickly glance on you before he looks back to ensure no one is coming. these thoughts were never present until this run in. would lando be a good boyfriend?

you can’t help but explore those thoughts in the twenty minute car ride home in pure silence.

your mind wanders to the idea of waking up to him in your bed. his legs tangled with yours, lazy soft kisses pressed your cheeks. you could melt at just the thought of it.

or maybe he’d make you eggs. you’d wake to the smell of bacon grease and him shirtless—like he always is in the kitchen— creating a masterpiece meal that you devour in minutes.

what switch has suddenly changed in you? because now when you look at lando, your heart does things it never did before. your head spins of ideas of him as your boyfriend and it’s so sickening you could throw up.

“I’m going to unload the groceries, you’re more than welcome to sit and stare into space for as much as you need.” his words spook you. a little yelp escaped your lips that he’d caught you. your eyes bug wide—like they always are when you get into your daydreams— and mind so full you lose track of time and often forget your surroundings. you had no clue you’d been sitting in the driveway this whole time.

“where do you want the tampons again? I seem to forget.”

“under the bathroom sink please.”

you wonder if you can shove your thoughts under there too. a nap is needed to clear your mind of whatever seems to be boggling it all about lando.

—

a nap certainly did help, however, waking up to lando shirtless in your bed also napping? yeah, all that hard work of suppressed thoughts came right back.

you think about taking your finger and running it all over the divots, curves, and muscles of his body. you think about how much stronger he’s been looking lately and how the little hair on his chin is growing onto you. what is going on with you?

it was common for lando to come in your room and sleep with you. nightmares were rare for you, but they happened more often than you expected and lando always wanted to be there for it. but this was just a nap? why did he have to come in and sleep with you? he could’ve just slept in his own bed, that certainly would’ve helped your heart if he did.

you roll out of bed and tip toe around your bed, until your heart makes you stop. you stare at his peaceful state. the way his curls fall over his forehead, the thick long lashes you desperately want, the soft smile on his lips— his eyes are opening, shit, you think to yourself.

you quickly book it out of the room to save yourself from the embarrassment of him catching you watching him sleep. what a creep you were becoming in the matter of hours. this is why you shouldn’t like your best friend. hell, this is why you shouldn’t let your man best friend live with you. it was destined for one of you to fall in love.

but it was also destined for you to most likely get your heart broken.

lando doesn’t date women like you. you’ve seen his roster of women rotating in and out of your place, none of them looked like you: an average woman with average looks. who’d want that?

a little part of hope lingers in your chest when you see him enter the kitchen. his lips press against your temple as he mumbles a good morning.

“how was your nap?”

“not long enough.” you admit watching him type away on his phone. his elbows are pressed against the granite counter tops, his fingers work vigorously against the screen. a little smile appears on his lips that make you nauseous. it could just be max, but it could be another girl.

almost two hours ago this wouldn’t of mattered to you. you wouldn’t of cared if lando invited a girl over and you stayed locked up in your room, but now all of a sudden it’s bothersome.

“what’s got you all smiley?” you ask, partially out of curiosity but partially to just kill your heart with his response. he sets his phone face down on the counter resting his chin in the palm of his hand, “max is coming over, and so is pietra.”

“exciting.” you grin, though the words disagree with your expression making his face drop with worry.

“are you worried max is going to take your best friend spot? he could never, y/n.”

best friend. yeah, that’s all you’ll ever be when girls like ria and pietra exist. deadly beauty that could put a man in his place. when was yours ever going to show up?

—

you’re tipsy off the expensive bottle of wine max brought. your body is pressed against lando’s for support as you all laugh about something max said. you can’t help but wrap your arms around his strong bicep, resting your head against his shoulder listening to pietra expose Max’s recent mess up.

lando doesn’t take notice in the way you’re seated. he knows you’re beside him based off the heat that radiates off your body. you always got overly warm when drunk, and sometimes a bit too affectionate, but he didn’t mind. he actually loved it when you wanted to be beside him.

“so when did this happen?” pietra points her finger between you two, a bright smile pressed against her lips as she cozies herself up to her own boyfriend.

lando clears his throat. he practically yanks his arm out of your grip leaving you to fall back against the cushions beside him. you hide your face into his back out of embarrassment suddenly becoming aware of how you two look. “oh umm—“

“oh gosh! I’m so sorry. I think it’s the wine talking in me.” she quickly apologizes, a blush filters her face similar to yours.

“it’s not the first time today that’s happened.”

“do tell,” max sits on the edge of his seat listening to lando explain the run in, your face is still pressed into his back. you’re hoping that maybe if you just stay there you would disappear into thin air or end up in your bedroom sound asleep away from all of this.

“I still want to kick that guys ass—“

“wait,” pietra cuts off max, her voice demands all the attention in the room. you pry your head from out of lando and peer behind him at her, “you didn’t even tell him you are just friends? you let him assume that you’re dating?”

lando’s mouth opens and closes. nothing seems to come out making max throw his head back in a laughing fit, “oh god! I owe ria money for this, you like y/n!”

Lando’s face is flushed red, a similar color to the glass of wine in his hands. there was nothing he could say. he couldn’t even protest it when it was true. he hadn’t even realized he never corrected your ex boyfriend, because truth be told, he wanted to be shown off as your boyfriend.

“come on pietra, let’s leave these two alone.”

they leave as quick as they came, leaving only the half full bottle of wine for yourselves. you both sit in silence, no one musters up the courage to speak.

you both get ready for bed like nothing happened. the awkward silence eats you up. you want to speak up and tell him you feel the same, you want things to go back to normal. you just want annoying lando back.

when you finally finish your nighttime regiment, you’re ready for bed. you turn the corner into your bedroom and see the silhouette of lando reflecting against the wall. your night light was on, and he was laying in your bed, cozied up under the covers.

“sleeping in here tonight?” you ask slipping under the covers beside him, he moves himself closer to you occupying the middle of the bed.

“you don’t mind, do you?”

you shake your head curling your body against his, “I like it when you sleep with me.” you say making a sense of pride soar through his chest. he likes the way your body molds against his.

“your new boyfriend will protect you.” he smiles down at you, carefully place a kiss to your forehead before reaching over and turning off your lamp.

“thank goodness he’s here, I can’t sleep without him.”

“you know I’m talking about myself right?” he lifts his neck up, face looking down at you, your eyes closed practically half asleep already.

“goodnight, boyfriend.”

“goodnight, girlfriend.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz

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hisunshiine · 10 months

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—college nights, diner fights | jjk

pairing: waiter!jungkook x waitress!reader au/genre: diner au, e2l, angst, smut, fluff rating: M wc: 9,664 warnings: POV switches (obvious, tho) mentions of domestic abuse and alluded infidelity (parents not pairing), JK's mom has terrible boyfriends and his dad is a petty "Disney" dad, Reader's parents are better but not around often, mentions of Jungkook having to protect his mom from the bad boyfriends, mean teachers, enemiesssssss, triggering middle school memories can be brought up upon reading the banter of middle school JK and reader LOL but also not LOL, swearing, vulgar statements, forced proximity, secret mutual pining, a drunken physical altercation/assault at work (mild), mentions of blood, minor cuts/scrapes, kissing, tattoo tracing SMUT warnings: oral (f receiving), praise an: shoutout to my beta readers @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @peachiilovesot7 for helping me get this thing done in time despite me being on vacation and dragging my feet! thank you all so much for the motivation, for brainstorming, and just all around positive feedback! summary: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! You and Jungkook have been enemies for as long as you can remember—elementary school even—and when Seokjin hires him despite knowing this, you have to call a truce during working hours. When an incident at work leads Jungkook, and you, to put things into a different perspective, will the heated diner fights become a passionate college night? Or will it fizzle before it can start?

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by ME of @bangtanwritershq

My Big 3 are: Sun (Member): Gemini- Jungkook, Moon (How They Met): Scorpio- Late Night Diner, Rising (Trope): Libra- Enemies to Lovers

Part 1: Elementary School

Elementary school is supposed to be fun. For you, 11 years old and in the fifth grade, elementary school is perhaps the best time of your life so far. Your dad signed up for career day, and you are excited beyond measure for him to come in and meet with your class to talk about his job.

It’s rare that you get to spend time with your dad, as his job keeps him pretty busy. The fact that he was able to show up today was a miracle in and of itself, but he negotiated presenting first so that he could leave first to get to work.

“Everyone, please welcome our first parent speaker, Mr. Cha.”

Your classmates applaud as your dad steps forward to the podium in the front center of the classroom and you beam from ear to ear. He looks all spiffy—hair styled well, suit pressed, and shoes shined.

“Good morning, boys and girls, I am Mr. Cha, and I am here to speak to you about my career. To be honest, I have two jobs,” he pauses as the kids, including you, look at him in both awe and confusion, “I am the father to that little girl right there,” he points to you and you giggle. “That is a full time job all on its own, but for the other time spent working, I am a plastic surgeon.”

You can’t help the pride you feel from your classmates clapping as your dad shares. He talks about the schooling needed to get to his position, shares study tips for the transition to middle and high school, which—while still some time away—will be good to begin practicing even now.

“You’re so handsome, Mr. Cha! Have you ever had any work done yourself?” one of the students asks during the question time.

“Ah, great question! I have tried some of the treatments that we offer at my clinic, because if I don’t believe in it, why should others have faith in me and the services I offer?” he explains. “I had a colleague of mine fix my deviated nose bridge, which I injured playing basketball in college, and I maintain my skin with various anti-aging treatments as well. It’s important to start taking care of your skin even at this age! Princess, come help me please.” Your dad gestures to you, and you rise from the chair, only a little embarrassed at him using your nickname. “Help me pass these out to your classmates.”

You begin walking around the room, placing the small cardstock printouts on each of your classmates’ desks as your dad continues speaking.

“These are coupons for my office. You can give these to a family member, or if your parents will allow you to come in, we offer a free consultation to check your skin, and a reduced rate for any skin care products or procedures for any of my princess’s classmates and their family.” He wraps up his presentation there, pulling you into him for a side hug as he smiles at your classmates and the other parents waiting in the wings to present. “Thank you for letting me present, I’ve got to run because I have a rhinoplasty scheduled today, and I need to prepare, but I had a lot of fun talking with you all today!” As your dad kisses your forehead, he whispers a quick goodbye as he leaves your classroom. You’ve never felt so proud.

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“Okay, everyone, let’s line up for P.E.,” Ms. Kim directs, and you jump in line with your peers to walk down to the field. Your classroom teacher disappears for his break as Ms. Kim takes over, and thus ensues a battle between your class as you play ‘Capture the Flag’.

“The rules are simple,” Ms. Kim explains, “a ball is placed on each side of the field in that box.” She points at the four cones creating a safe zone with a kickball inside of it. “Once the game begins, players have to cross the midline into ‘enemy’ territory to try and capture the ball and bring it back to their side. The other team has to stop you from stealing the ball by pulling the flags to remove your waistband—no tackling! Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Kim!”

“Good. If your belt is pulled off, you stand off to the side at the cone here, okay? That’s the jail. To rescue your teammates from jail, you have to high five them. You must return to your side before attempting to go after the ball again. Once a player enters the box, they are safe, but they cannot stay in there forever…”

You tune out Ms. Kim because you already know how to play, and instead busy yourself with wrapping the tan belt around your waist, adjusting the position of the three blue flags hanging from it. The red team moves to their side of the midline, and you stretch your legs idly as you wait for the teacher to blow her whistle.

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Huffing, you pout as you walk to the jail cone, re-attaching the waistband that your classmate pulled off. He’s put you in jail several times now, almost as if he’s targeting only you during the game. It’s getting a little irritating, since Jeon Jungkook is the fastest boy in the fifth grade, but he’s spending all of his time chasing you instead of helping his team win. Even now, he’s guarding the jail so your best friend can’t come to save you again.

“Dang, JK, you pulled her flag again?” Kim Taehyung snickers loudly as he jogs over to where you’re held captive.

“Can’t let the princess get everything, now can we?” he taunts, a sarcastic tone to his words.

Kim Taehyung, unable to whisper to save his life, leans into Jungkook and asks, “Do you think her dad worked on her face? No way she’s that pretty on her own.”

Your feelings are split between irritated and pleased at the backhanded compliment.

“She’s not that pretty, it looks more like her dad messed up her face, ‘cause she’s so ugly,” Jungkook counters, and it’s hard to decipher if his cheeks are red from playing or from talking about your looks.

“But, you said last week that she was—”

Ms. Kim’s whistle blows to end the game, and you miss the end of Taehyung’s statement. Walking away from the two fools, you barely get a foot outside of the jail zone when a sharp tug at your waist stops you in your tracks. You look down and see your belt missing, and hear a soft thud a few moments later as it hits the grass in the opposite direction several yards away.

Taehyung is laughing, his large boxy grin behind his hand as Jungkook smirks at you.

“You lost.”

The two then take off towards where your teacher is collecting the game belts, leaving you to backtrack to get yours.

“What took you so long? Everyone else has already returned to the building. Taking your time to head back to class is not good sportsmanship.”

“But, Jungkook—”

“No excuses. Hurry up and get inside.”

Jogging back to the building, you get another scolding when you reach the classroom, with your teacher telling you that just because your dad is a surgeon and came for Career Day does not mean you get to behave this way. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jungkook eats up every second of the scolding, seeming to enjoy the way you wilt as it continues. As you walk back to your seat, you don’t see Jungkook stick out his foot, and you trip loudly as the desks and chairs nearest you clatter and clang as you try to regain your footing.

As the boys snicker at your forced clumsiness, you vow to yourself that Jeon Jungkook is the worst person to exist, and you will hate him for as long as you live.

Part 2: Middle School

Jungkook’s had a hard week. Chuseok just ended, and he had to spend it with his dad’s family instead of with his mom this year, per their divorce agreement. He’s partially thankful because it allowed him a moment to rest. His hypervigilance with his mom’s new boyfriend is tiring, and his grades are suffering for it. But Jungkook is tired of these men sniffing around for a piece of the ‘supposed’ alimony his mom receives from his dad, because everyone was aware when the CEO of Jeon Industries divorced his wife and married his secretary. Jungkook begged to switch schools, but his parents refused, despite it being reported on several news outlets for a month in sixth grade.

Eighth grade hasn’t been so bad for him though, no one talks about the divorce anymore, and Jungkook is able to be just Jungkook, known for his athletic abilities and gaming. He was able to guilt his dad into a new gaming computer, since he forgot to take him back to school shopping, and Jungkook is able to help his mom pay the bills each month with the earnings he makes betting on Overwatch.

So when he returns back home, tired of hearing tales and seeing pictures of the trip to Cancun with the new baby that conveniently interrupted the planned shopping trip, to see his bed holding a Nike box with the shoes Jungkook begged his mom to get at the start of the year, he’s elated. He erupts into shouts and whoops of excitement, running to the kitchen to hug his mom.

“Ouch!” she can’t hide the wince as Jungkook pulls back from the embrace.

“I didn’t even squeeze you that tightly, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, you know how clumsy I am, I ran into the dining room table the other night—”

Jungkook doesn’t even think as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, barely lifting it to see an ugly burgundy bruise spreading across her abdomen.

“Mom! Did he do this to you?” Jungkook demands, fury building in his body.

“N-no, honey, you know how I c-can be,” she stutters through the lie, but they both know the truth.

“Mom, if he did this because of money, just return the shoes, it’s fine.”

“No. I bought those for you. You deserve them.” His mom is resolute, turning away and adjusting her shirt as she goes back to cooking dinner. “Plus, we broke up. He won’t be back.”

Up in his room, Jungkook readies the shoes for school tomorrow. He has a few nice things, his dad is a CEO after all, but after the divorce, Jungkook chose his mom, and his dad took it personally. His dad didn’t understand, but the choice was clear to Jungkook. His dad had a new wife, but his mom had no one. Jungkook couldn't leave her too. But his dad became spiteful after that, and so Jungkook can’t take most things his dad buys him to his mom’s house, including certain clothes and shoes.

It’s why he’s so upset about his dad missing back-to-school shopping, because those were usually the only things he was allowed to take to his mom’s, but this year he has nothing new. Not until his mom bought him the Nike Dunks he’s been coveting. Jungkook is happy, proud of his mom for choosing him over the newest boyfriend, and lying in bed, he finally feels like maybe his life isn’t so bad. He hears a knock at the door, and his mom’s tired feet shuffling to answer it.

“Please, Jongyeon-ah, I promise, it won’t happen again.”

Jungkook rolls over, grabbing his headphones to drown out the sounds of the pleading, good for nothing, weaseling himself back into his mom’s life.

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“Yo, Jungkook, those dunks are fly!”

Jungkook props his shoes up on the desk next to his in class, showing off the brand-new kicks to Taehyung.

“Yeah, they're limited edition.” Jungkook knows his response is a little douchebag-esque, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted these shoes for the longest time, and after all of the bullshit he dealt with during Chuseok and now waking up to see that greasy slimeball his mom said she was done with shirtless at the table for breakfast, he just wants to pretend for once that his life is perfect.

“Take your crusty shoes off my desk,” you scoff. Jungkook ignores you for a few seconds, leaving his feet where he has them propped on your desk. He hates that you called his shoes crusty, knowing that they’re not. They don’t even have a speck of dirt on them! He made sure of that upon his arrival, being overly cautious with each step and wiping away any blemish he perceived to be there.

“Awe, is the princess jealous she doesn’t have the limited edition dunks?” Jungkook can’t pinpoint when this rivalry started, he just knows that for as long as he can remember, the two of you have been enemies.

“There’s a reason the supply is limited. It’s because they’re ugly and they stopped making them once they realized someone would have to be an idiot to wear them. You sitting here with them just proves this point.” You push his crossed feet off your desk and he lets you, but Jungkook holds you in his glare.

“One day you’ll stop being a hater, drowning in all that Haterade you’ve been drinking,” Jungkook makes a play on words, and his friends ‘ooooh’ and high five at his middle school burn.

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At lunch, Jungkook precariously steps between the seats to avoid damaging his shoes. His shins are starting to hurt from how he’s walking to avoid creasing his sneakers, but it’s worth the pain to him. He’s successfully avoided getting any food on his shoes from the sloppy eaters, and as he makes the last stretch to the door, a loud yell catches him off guard.

“Watch it!”

Nayeon, one of your lackeys, warns everyone as she’s bumped by you and her red sports drink goes flying. Jungkook is stuck between tables, backpacks cluttering the aisle and Nayeon’s body flailing taking up all of the space. It all happens in seconds—a hip check, a flying drink, and the contents now strewn across the floor and Jungkook’s new sneakers and laces now stained a bright red, dripping across the leather and fabric of his brand new, limited edition Nike Dunks.

“Oh my god, Nayeon, you are so clumsy!”

Jungkook gawps at you, unbelieving, as your annoying voice fills the silence that took over the room only moments before.

“So sorry, Jungkook. Nayeon bumped into me and then she spilled her haterade—I mean Gatorade—all over your new shoes! I hope those weren’t hard to get or anything! I’m sure your CEO daddy can get you a new pair.”

Jungkook storms from the room, seething at your audacity. If you had any idea about his life, would you treat him this way? He wishes you could walk a day in his shoes, maybe you would realize that life outside your perfect, princess bubble is not always sweet, and would think twice before being a bitch to him, but it’s too late for him to change his view of you. You are the devil’s spawn and Jungkook has never hated someone as much as he hates you.

Part 3: High School

Getting into BTS-U should be easy for you, what with your dad being an alumnus, but you don’t want to rely on nepotism. You’ve been working your ass off for good grades all four years of high school, and the final determination of your competency is about to start. Only one student can represent your high school as the Youth of the Year, winning prestige and honor by being granted early admission into any four-year university in the country of their choice without needing CSAT scores.

The last of the trials, the oral interview, is scheduled for today and as you sit outside the room in the creaky, overly hard chair, your heart pounds. Of course, the final two students competing for this merit would be the two students who despise each other the most in the school, making the competition that much more important to you.

You cannot lose to fucking Jeon Jungkook.

“We’re ready for you!”

The chipper voice startles you from your thoughts as you steel yourself to go into the final challenge.

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“Thank you all for your participation in the Youth of the Year program. As you know, the contenders were all very high achieving and will have plenty of options available to you for your future. Do not let not being named deter you from the future awaiting you all. Now, today, we interviewed the two finalists from this wonderful school, and while both were outstanding, one student really opened up and shared a vulnerable side to him that inspired us. He has already begun an incredible journey in his young life, showcasing a will to succeed. Jeon Jungkook, please stand.”

The crowd in the auditorium bursts into applause as you burst into tears. The one good thing about this ceremony is that the finalists do not sit on stage, so in the chaos and celebration, you are able to sneak away to the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook looked so shocked to have been chosen, but you knew that he couldn’t actually be shocked. His mom stood up with him, hugging him with pride, and your parents couldn’t even be bothered to show up for such an important moment.

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal, that you have done well and will most likely have the same options for college as Jungkook does, but being a Youth of the Year finalist is not the same as being the Youth of the Year. What really hurts you the most is that if the roles were switched, Jungkook’s mom would be there to hug him and tell him he did great and fought hard. If you had been chosen, you still would’ve been alone, but at least the loneliness wouldn’t have hurt as much.

The judges who interviewed you must think you don’t need the help, that you have everything you could ever want, so why would they choose the spoiled little rich girl? Why would they choose the girl who eats dinner with the maids, who read bedtime stories to herself growing up, the girl who has everything—everything except a family that loves her more than their careers and supports her unfailingly?

Facing the mirror, you reach for your purse and pull out the small makeup pouch so that you can erase any evidence of the sadness you feel today, brimming with the unshed tears of yesterday, and prepare your battle face to go back out there and be cordial as the runner up. Another battle you’ll face alone.

Part 4: College at BTS-U

“Welcome to Jin’s Diner, have a seat wherever you’d—what the fuck are you doing here?”

The chiming of the door opening caught your ear, so you’d turned to greet the newest customer, except instead of an overly tired trucker or a group of post-clubbing college students, you’re faced with one Jeon Jungkook.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, eyebrow pitched and smirk full of snark.

“No, I kiss your father with this mouth. Now get out.” You go back to wiping down the counters, ignoring the stare of your arch-nemesis as you finish cleaning.

“Now, now, Baby Cakes, let your new coworker into the diner so you can finally get the help you've been asking for.”

You turn to the owner’s son, Kim Seokjin, mouth gaping open in confusion. “Coworker? I thought you read through the notes I made on all of the applicants?”

“Yes, I did, and they were very helpful. He’ll be working nights with you, so show him to the back while I grab a lock for his locker and a uniform.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Cakes.”

Seokjin disappears into the hallway towards his office, and you turn back to Jungkook, who’s standing smugly with his arms crossed watching you.

“Ugh, keep up, small fry.”

Jungkook’s black boots squeak along the freshly mopped floor as he hustles to catch up with you. The doorway behind the counter opens into the kitchen, where the two line cooks, Hoseok and Yoongi, work diligently. Hoseok is sitting next to the recently delivered products with a clipboard in hand as he counts the items, while Yoongi is wiping down his area before the rush begins. You clear your throat loudly to gather their attention.

“We have a new waiter, his name is Jeon Jungkook, but he shall go by Small Fry, I think.” The smile on your face is devilish, and the two men snicker as they take in the newbie rushing in behind you.

“Wait, why am I ‘Small Fry’?” he asks, only a little out of breath from having to round the counter and catch up to you.

“Because everyone who works here gets called a food nickname, helps with the creeps, especially on nights.”

“I’m Suga,” Yoongi greets, “and this here is Hobi-Honey, but we just call him Hobi for short.”

“And I’m Baby Cakes, as you heard bossman say.”

“What’s your real name again, Small Fry?” Yoongi asks, his platinum hair shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

“It’s Jungkook,” he answers, emphasizing his name as he glares at you.

“Hmm, Baby Cakes, I think he might be better suited to Cooky…”

“Isn’t that too close to his name?” you argue, hoping to keep Small Fry, but when you see Hobi shake his head, you know you’ve lost.

“Fine, Cooky it is then! Next new hire will be called Small Fry no matter what!” you concede, waving Jungkook to follow you towards the back of the kitchen.

He trails you quietly as you push a swinging wooden door with a circular window in it and lead him into the employee lounge. Seokjin is whistling to himself as you enter, twirling a metal lock around his finger. You look around the room, surprised at how quickly he had everything ready.

“Great, you met Suga and Hobi then?” he asks, nodding at the door you just entered.

“Yes, I figured it would be best to do that first on the way here.”

“So, Jungkook—”

“He’s Cooky,” you interrupt, but Seokjin just shakes your rudeness off.

“—Cooky, this here’s the lounge. The door you just entered is used while you’re on shift for breaks and such. When you arrive for your shift and leave for the night, it should always be through the door behind me.” He gestures to a purple-handled door. “To the left are the employee cubbies, and to the right, we have the laundry station, small kitchenette, and door to the staff bathroom.”

You nod at the TV mounted on the wall next to the swinging door. “The remote always stays on this table,” you tap the main table in the room that seats six, “and we typically keep the TV on ESPN, MTV, or my personal favorite, HGTV.”

“Thank you, Cakes. Now, your Jin’s Diner gear stays here, we’ll wash it for you after each shift you work.” Seokjin points to a stacked washer and dryer in the corner. “Just throw it in the wash after your shift each night. We’ll put it back in your cubby for you once dry.”

Jungkook nods, but he looks a bit overwhelmed from all of the information. You take the lead and sit down first hoping he’ll follow you. You know Seokjin talks fast and moves through the employee information even faster, and despite not liking Jeon Jungkook, you need the help on your shift since Mochi quit to focus on his last semester.

You grab a permanent marker and white label from the center of the table, tossing it across to Jungkook with a little more force than necessary.

“We each have a cubby, with a small locker inside. Use this to write your name and then claim an empty spot, and you can also write your name on the tags of your uniform.”

Seokjin grabs plastic-wrapped clothing articles from the cabinet next to the laundry station and approaches the table, too, tossing down the new clothing.

“Your gear. Shirt, apron, and a ballcap. If you want a visor instead, let me know. Black, khaki, or blue jeans, black non-slip shoes, keep the blingy jewelry at home.”

“Dammit, I was planning to choke him with his chain after the first shift.”

Seokjin levels his gaze at you, and you know you’re pushing your limits with him.

“I’ll have you follow Baby Cakes around to learn the drill for taking orders, but mostly you’ll be bussing tables tonight. I’ll work on the final processing of your paperwork in the meantime. Cakes, come with me while he changes.”

You follow Seokjin out of the lounge and back towards the office. He opens the door and steps back to allow you to enter first, shutting the door behind him as he follows you into the room.

“You need to tone it down. I know you said that you and he have some bad blood, but we need the help and he’s the best applicant we have.”

“It’s deeper than that, Jinnie, he’s literally been tormenting me since elementary school. We work with heavy-duty machinery and cutlery. You might come in one morning to find that one of us has stabbed the other to death.” You push out your bottom lip and give him your best, roundest, watery puppy eyes. “Is that what you really want?”

“What I want is to have a fully staffed evening shift so that my best girl can stop having bags under her eyes and complaining about her feet hurting every shift.” Seokjin smiles teasingly at you. “Plus, you need a good annual review to get a raise, and training new employees looks good to the owner.”

“Your dad is the owner! You can just tell him to give me a raise!”

“I could…but this is so much more fun. Who knows, he’s kinda hot…maybe you find out that the reason he’s picked on you your whole life is because he has a crush on you.”

“That fallacy is just a way for the patriarchy to continue to push abuse acceptance and the ‘boys will be boys’ agenda.” You cross your arms, but overall you know Seokjin is right. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to adapt well to situations, put a fake smile on when you need to deal with rude customers or your parents missing another monumental event in your life. “But fine. At work, it’ll be a ceasefire. That’s about all I can promise you.”

“I thought you said there would be a ceasefire!” Seokjin yells at you from where you sit in his office. Jungkook is seated next to you, slouching in the chair with his head turned away towards the wall. You can see his jaw clenching every few seconds as Seokjin continues berating you. “Instead, I got a call from a family friend that you two were so busy yelling at each other for not doing your jobs that you effectively stopped doing your job!”

You huff as you roll your eyes, turning away from Jungkook’s severely hot—no—aggravating jawline, (where did that thought even come from?) to respond to Seokjin.

“That’s not even what happened last night! This idiot decided to fuck with the seating and of course, since the big game is tomorrow, we had a lot of people stop in and it was noisy. I was trying to seat the guests who were being louder and rowdier on one side so that our regulars,” you glare at Jungkook, who’s still refusing to look at either you or Seokjin, “could dine in peace, but when I ran to the back to restock the napkins for the bar top, he seated people himself. He’s not the host. He’s still a newbie! It’s been, what? Three, four months?”

“...Four,” Jungkook mumbles, but you ignore it.

“And so then poor Mrs. Hana ended up dealing with the hooligans who disrupted her meal, and yes, it was when I was trying to explain to him how seating works—”

“I know how seating works, it’s not rocket science!”

“So then why would you mess with the flow of the diner and seat them there?!”

“Because you,” Jungkook finally breaks the stoic act and turns to face you abruptly, so much so you almost visibly jump, “kept seating the large groups in your sections, which meant that you were giving yourself the better tips and leaving me with the geriatrics who barely leave anything!”

“Are you serious? You think I was trying to take tips from you? I hate dealing with the sports crowd! I would have gladly traded with you if you had said something to me, but you were too busy ignoring me when I was trying to talk to you about dividing up the floor—”

“—you talk to me like I’m a child, so of course I was ignoring you, you dolt—”

“—really piss me off, you think I would stoop so low, probably because it’s what you would do—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin’s eyes have a hardness to them you are not used to seeing. He’s usually laid back, but the stress lines on his face speak to an underlying tension you aren’t aware of. “Look,” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly, “this can’t happen again. Mrs. Hana could’ve broken her hip slipping on the spilled soda, and her son is debating suing us. My dad is obviously handling this situation, but that means your jobs are on the table. If her son demands it in exchange to avoid a lawsuit, I can’t stop it.”

It settles on you at that moment, how severe this is. You know that the little, old lady regular slipped and fell, but both you and Jungkook rushed over to help her up, comping her meal and walking her outside to sit quietly and assess how she was feeling while waiting for her son to arrive. Not only that, but he didn’t seem mad when he picked her up—just worried about if she was in pain and if she needed to go see a doctor. Apparently, after the shock wore off, his anger set in.

“I’m sorry, Seokjin. It won’t happen again.”

“Get to your shift, I’m sure Nam—I mean Porkchop—is ready to go. Remember, Suga will be late today, the championship game is tonight. So no more ignoring the hooligans and Cooky,” Seokjin gives his leveled glare to Jungkook this time, “Baby Cakes is in charge. I know you’re eager to prove yourself, and you’ve done well so far, but she’s worked the aftermath of championship games before.”

Jungkook stares back at Seokjin, a low humming tension filling the room before he answers with a “Yes, sir.”

The diner is louder than Jungkook’s ever heard before as he goes around clearing tables now that the game is over. His coworker, Yoongi, did amazing from what he saw on the screen. BTS-U wore their white home jerseys with purple and black lettering, so it was easy to see when number 3 hit the game-winning three-pointer.

Now, as the same white jersey is stepping into the diner, all of the fans cheer and bang their cups and silverware to congratulate the MBC Cup National University Basketball Championship’s MVP for the win tonight.

Jungkook looks across the dining area, where he sees you kneeling on the countertop clapping your hands above your head. The uniform dress that you chose for tonight has risen higher up your thigh than normal—probably from the way you climbed up onto the counter—giving Jungkook a pretty good view of the skin leading up to what he’s sure are lace panties. He’s walked in on you changing one too many times to not know your preference.

He can’t look away from you; something about the sheer energy radiating off of you is magnetic, as if you’re lit from within, and before he knows it, he’s moving closer to you. Jungkook knows he can’t stand you personally, but physically? He’ll never admit this aloud—not since Taehyung almost told you the truth back in elementary school— but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

He doesn’t have much time to ponder your looks as you bring two fingers to your lips and let out a loud wolf whistle, setting you off balance with the action. Luckily he’s already been pulled into your orbit, because he catches you with two strong hands on your waist before you can fall off the counter.

“Thanks, Cooky!” you say, eyes alight and voice pleasant, as if you’ve forgotten who Jungkook is to you, and who you are to him.

“No problem, Baby Cakes.” Jungkook helps you climb down, and when you bend forward to place your palms on the counter to dismount, he sees his hypothesis on your panties is right. His eyes remain on your ass as you extend a leg to the floor, and despite the trouble the two of you got into before your shift, Jungkook can’t seem to care to remember why he shouldn’t be enjoying the view.

“Congrats, Suga!” Jungkook watches as you launch yourself into Yoongi’s arms, giving him a loud smooch on the cheek.

“Thanks, Cakes, that last shot was for you.” He winks, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so affected, but he wants to blame it on those panties you unknowingly flashed for the irritation he feels toward his friend for flirting with you. She’s your enemy, Kook, get it the fuck together.

Jungkook stalks away, grabbing his bussing bin and rag so he can clean up the table of the group in line to pay.

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“Fuck you and your sorry-ass school!”

Jungkook turns his head to see you standing feet shoulder-width apart with your arms crossed, looking so much like the evil bitch he’s come to know. Only this time, it’s directed towards an EXO-U fan, by the looks of the silver and black shirt he’s sporting.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

You command the space well, and had the man been sober, he probably would have listened to you when you gave him the polite option to leave on his own two feet. As luck would have it, the man grew more belligerent with each passing moment, causing Jungkook to run and grab Yoongi from the back to help handle the situation. Jungkook doesn’t like what he’s hearing when he returns to the front.

“You dumb cunt, we don’t have to leave! Come over here, baby, suck my cock like you suck their players, bet that’s why they won, huh? Saw you all over their star player earlier, let me get a piece, bitch.”

Jungkook wants to lunge at the man, but Yoongi beats him to the table, effortlessly grabbing the man by his arm and neck to yank him from his booth seat.

Jungkook gets to his other side, helping the man walk towards the double glass doors as Yoongi mutters menacingly at the patron.

“Best not show your face around here again, if you know what’s good for you. Find another place to eat, and we won’t beat your ass.”

Yoongi lets go of the man once they clear the sidewalk into the parking lot, the man’s friends stumble out behind, but Jungkook shoves the man hard, and he falls to the ground. He feels no remorse for the man; he reminds him too much of the creeps his mom dealt with: stench of alcohol on their breath that grew with each vulgar word that rolled out of their mouths, animosity leeching from their greasy skin—Jungkook needs to wash his hands and splash his face.

Fleeing inside, he bypasses you cleaning up the mess the rowdy table left behind, unable to hear the words you say clearly enough to decipher them. He knows that it’s almost time to close up and he has a few tasks to do to help speed up the process, but he’ll get to them in a minute. He just needs a minute to shake off this feeling, and then he’ll be okay to do the final cleaning for the evening, and find out what you said.

You’ve always hated dealing with the championship game guests, but always loved being with the crowd because of the thrill and your love for the game. The shift wasn’t terrible work-wise, as Jungkook really pulled his weight throughout the shift, allowing you to be in charge as the hostess and main waitress, filling in where you needed and bussing tables as the guests rotated through the double doors.

And you can’t lie, when you almost lost your balance on the counter, it was kind of hot that he was there to catch you, and help you down safely. With his jawline that can cut glass and his warm hands sitting large on your hips, you were a little sad to have them drop away, but you hid your disappointment in congratulating Suga and then moved on with the shift.

Of course, such a perfectly good shift had to end with a douchebag. To your surprise, when you turn to look to Jungkook for help, he’s already approaching with Suga in tow. And damn your worst enemy if he doesn’t do the second hottest thing of the night, vanquishing the drunkard with the sailor’s mouth from your sight, his foul friends trailing behind.

You clear off the table, the half-eaten food discarded in the trash and you realize that it needs to be taken out now before the last of the tables are done. Jungkook speed walks past you, so you call out to him, “Cooky, take the trash out, please!”

You finish sweeping under the table, then wipe down the booth’s table as Suga also returns inside, pausing to check on you.

“Everything good, Cakes?”

You nod, placing a hand on your hip as you reflect on the incident. “Yeah, he was a real fuck boy, but you and Cooky saved me just in time.”

“Always…I’m surprised Cooky was so worked up when he called me from the kitchen. Usually you two are at each other’s throats, I would’ve thought he’d enjoy seeing you deal with a rude customer.”

“Well, we did get yelled at earlier by Jin for last night, so we promised to work together and drop whatever rivalry we have during working hours. So maybe that’s it.”

“Mmm…maybe. Well, let me go help Hobi, this last wave will keep us later if I don’t.” Yoongi takes a few steps to round the counter, then calls back out to you, “The trash is about to overflow, Cakes!”

Frowning, you notice that Jungkook has yet to return to take out the trash. Glancing around the room, you see most of the tables are in stages of eating or waiting for their food. They all seem well and distracted with clips from the post-game coverage, so you decide to take out the trash yourself. Maybe the truce between you and Jungkook isn’t as intact as you think.

Grumbling to yourself, you tie off the bag and lift it from the bin, foot angled to keep the wheels from sliding across the floor from the tug. You eye the replacement black bag, but decide to put it in once you return from the dumpster.

You hate taking out the trash; you love feminism but some tasks are just made for men. You refuse to use the loud trolley with the janky wheel, so you carry the bag gingerly, resting it down every few steps as you make your way across the sparsely lit back parking lot.

“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who didn’t let me finish my meal.”

You snap your head around, eyes roving for the source of the raspy words, finally landing on the douchebag discharged from the diner only 10 minutes ago.

“We didn’t charge you for it, so I suggest you leave before this turns into a real problem.” You keep your eyes on him, watching as he shifts around on his feet, inching closer to you. You hold your stance, refusing to look weak in case he decides you’d make a good target.

“Maybe if you come suck me off like a good girl, I won’t leave a bad review online about how much of a cunt you’re being. Matter of fact, throw in some pussy, let me fuck you properly and I bet all that attitude will drop. You just need someone to tame you.”

The man lunges for your left arm, his meaty fist closing around your wrist and you pull back to break the contact but he’s strong. You yell out, stumbling back away from the trash bag and he follows, heavy footfalls adding to the sounds of the evening.

“Let go, you freak!”

You jolt your arm, wrenching it in as many directions as you can to try and relax his grip but he pulls you closer to him until you can smell the ethanol on his breath as he places his other hand forcefully on your shoulder.

“I said I wanted you on your knees, stupid bitch,” he utters, and reflexively you punch him in his dick. He groans and releases you, hunching over in pain. You make out a figure stepping through the service door, and you call out for help. Attempting to step around the man, you only make it a few steps before you feel the weight of the man bearing down on you again.

“You stupid bitch!”

You try to run, but the man has the back of your dress in his grip so instead, your shoes scrape the asphalt in the same place repeatedly. A loud thwack of flesh on flesh sounds right before you’re released, dropping the short distance to the concrete. Your palms and knees feel the sting of the gravel but the relief of being out of the man’s hold overpowers any lingering pain as you scramble to your feet.

Behind you, Jungkook is pummeling the man in the face, and you pause for a moment in shock before you rush back to him, grabbing his bicep to stop him from swinging again.

“Cooky, stop, I’m okay! Jungkook!”

He freezes, turning to look at you as if to see if your statement is true, and seeing that you’re serious, he appears to deflate a bit, no longer an attacking watchdog but a protective knight, making sure his charge is unscathed.

“Let’s go.” He gestures for your hand and you place yours in his, letting him guide you away from the groaning sack of trash and the garbage bag on the ground.

The fluorescent lights of the break room are blinding after the darkness of outside. Vaguely you hear Jungkook yelling at the others working, followed by the clattering of kitchen items, but you’re so out of sorts you don’t even realize that Jungkook has maneuvered you into a chair and is gently checking your knees, palms, and arms. He brushes off the remaining dirt from your skin.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

His voice sounds pained, and this pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present with him.

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Where all did he touch you? It might not hurt now, but once the adrenaline dies off, you might feel it.”

“Um, my arm, my shoulder, I can’t…I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, let me check your neck…he grabbed your dress and pulled you, so I wanna make sure it won’t bruise.”

He takes your face in his hands delicately, tilting your head to expose your neck to his view. The proximity has your head spinning, his cologne enveloping you as he leans closer, a hand leaving your cheek to allow a finger to trail across your neckline. You know he’s just checking to make sure that there’s no lingering marks, but you don’t think that the after effects of tonight will be anything anyone can see. He grabs a glass of water for you, and you sit quietly while he tends to the minor cuts on your palms from the jagged gravel in the parking lot.

Time seems to pass as you’re deep in thought, but you’re not sure how much until Seokjin appears, his purple and white painted face replacing the doe eyes and clenched jaw. He looks frazzled, as if he just left an after-party for the championship and was pulled into work. You realize after a moment that that’s actually what happened, and chuckle at yourself. He says your real name, pulling you out of your laughter.

“I’m so sorry this happened, luckily Jungkook was there. I don’t know what I would've done if something happened to you.” Seokjin pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, squeezing him tighter as the feeling of being held feels good. He pulls away sooner than you like, but he continues talking to you about what’s been going on since you’ve been sitting in the employee lounge.

“Look, don’t worry about staying and cleaning up tonight, okay? We’ve got everything under control. Hobi called the cops and Yoongi made sure the guy didn’t flee before they came. He’s in their custody now.”

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, uncharacteristically using his given name.

“He’s giving his statement to the police now. They’ll want to talk to you too, but I can put it off for tonight if you need,” Seokjin offers kindly, but you want to get it over with.

“It’s okay, I’ll speak to them now.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll grab one of the detectives now and they can take your statement, and then I’m sending you home. Jungkook will drive you, okay? You’re still a bit shaky.”

You look down at your hands, seeing the tremble Seokjin is referencing and nod. There’s no use in putting up a fight. All of the men you work with have now proven that you’re safe with them. Seokjin walks over to the door, popping his head out to call for an officer, and he paces quietly as you recount what happened, starting with the attacker growing belligerent in the dining area. Once finished, Seokjin grabs Jungkook from where he’s talking with Yoongi outside the door, ushering him to take your belongings and get you home.

You follow along, compliant, waving goodbye to the others as Jungkook pulls off into the main road back towards campus.

“You live by BTS-U, right?”

“Yeah, at Omelas, next to the train tracks.”

Neither of you speak again until he parks, turning off the engine to his jeep.

“Here, let me help you.” Jungkook grabs your backpack and climbs out of the SUV, coming around to the passenger side door to open it for you. You jump out and lead the way to your first -floor apartment. Unlocking the door, you flip on the lights as you toe off your non-slip work shoes.

“My roommate is out of town visiting her parents this weekend.”

Dumping your purse onto the kitchen counter, you walk further into your home, Jungkook trailing you slowly. He kicks off his shoes, socks shuffling quietly along the carpet as he enters your living room after closing and securing the front door lock. He places your backpack on the couch, and the two of you stand there awkwardly.

“Um, do you want some water or something? I have juice, milk, beer…” you trail off, uncertain.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice water to return the favor from earlier as you bolster your courage to thank him. You hand him the glass and before you can think too hard, you just start speaking.

“Jungkook, I just wanted to thank you, for coming out there and, you know, saving me. I know we don’t get along much, but you really came through and I appreciate it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, blinking up at you from where he’s sitting on your couch. He takes a long sip from the glass, and he seems uncertain if he wants to speak but does so anyway.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Why, um, why did you help me, I mean—I’m just saying, oh this is coming out wrong—”

“Look, I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with creeps like him. I’ve had to do it plenty for my mom, and I just don’t like to see anyone getting hurt, not even my arch nemesis.” Jungkook tries to joke it off at the end, but his tone reveals so much more to you about what he’s not saying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that for you back in high school.” You sit down next to him, closer than you normally would with your backpack taking up part of the seat, but you don’t mind it. You feel safer being closer to him.

“I mean, why would you know?” he asks, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip. “You have a perfect family, I’m sure nothing like this happened on the weekly at your place.”

“No, but like, my perfect family isn’t what everyone thinks it is, either. My parents didn’t pay attention to me, always busy working and what not. Honestly career day, back in like fifth grade was the only time one of my parents made it to something, and even then, it was so my dad could advertise his business. I felt so sheltered growing up, like I had no life skills. It’s why I work at the diner.”

Jungkook digests your words, understanding blooming through his chest.

“I get that. It’s funny, I remember that day so well, I was so jealous of you, because your dad showed up for you. I guess our dads are the same though…I think if I had grown up with my parents still together, I would’ve felt like you do. My dad kind of left me behind when he remarried, you know? In a way, that made me less sheltered, because when I was with my mom, I had to grow up fast. I couldn’t always have the nicest things because she couldn’t always afford them.”

“I didn’t realize that you had to split time between them. One of my friends, Jimin? He told me about how your dad wouldn’t let you take things back and forth between houses.”

“Why did he do that?” Jungkook looks a little scandalized, and you’re sure it’s because Jimin is one of his best friends. He’s the one who recommended that he apply to Jin’s Diner in the first place, and how you knew to warn Jin to not hire Jungkook, not that it worked. “I didn’t know you were close with Jimin!”

“We used to work together…you actually replaced him. It’s why we were hiring in the first place. But, he told me that because he was trying to get me to ease up on you one day. I was complaining about something and he was trying to make you more human, I guess.”

Jungkook just nods. You know he probably realizes there’s no reason to be mad, it was all in the past and Jimin was coming from a good place when he revealed that.

“Well, it’s true. My dad is kind of the worst. My mom saved up to get me some Dunks back in middle school because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take me back to school shopping. As if I didn’t grow a foot and 3 shoe sizes.”

“Oh fuck, you know, I’m sorry for making Nayeon spill her drink on your shoes. That was really evil of me.”

“We were like 13? 14? All middle school girls are evil.” Jungkook chuckles. You’re relieved at how gracious he’s being, but a little annoyed. You turn to him to say as much, but he continues to speak. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we went toe to toe like that. We probably would’ve been best friends if we had combined our smarts. You were really great during the Youth of the Year competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, I think you deserved to.”

Jungkook is looking back at you now, with his pretty doe eyes, sitting so close to you. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, instead focusing on his star-filled eyes and the way they’re staring into your own. His arm moves slowly, lifting to bring his hand to your face, curling a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“It’s getting pretty late now, I should get home,” he starts, but his eyes speak volumes and it doesn’t seem like he wants to leave just yet. “But there’s still one more thing I need to apologize for.”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to what incident it could be when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, not too forceful but not shy either—just the right amount to let you know this isn’t a mistake. It takes you a few seconds to respond, but when you sense Jungkook about to move away you pull him in closer, keeping his lips where you can access them. It’s not enough though, so throwing caution to the wind, you straddle him as your tongue swipes for entry, pushing him further into the couch as you lean into his fit body. He groans at your boldness, large hands planted firmly on your ass as the kiss deepens. You feel dangerously high, lacking oxygen, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. He’s intoxicating.

His fingers tighten imperceptibly, and you know he, too, is at the end of his air, so you break apart, chest heaving as you stare at his lips, red and plump from the kiss.

“That was your…apology for? Or you were…apologizing for…kissing me?” you pant, trying to catch your breath.

“Both?” he says with a cute, bunny-like smile, “one, for hating you all these years, and two, for kissing you out of the blue.”

“And if I want you to apologize to me more?” you half-question, half-goad, and Jungkook gives the right answer, leaning into you once more so he can kiss you hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away.

“That’s something I can do.” Jungkook uses his strength to flip you onto your back on the couch, knocking your backpack out of the way and onto the floor. “Is this okay?” He searches your eyes for your consent to his hands on your thighs, fingertips skimming the hem of your dress.

You nod, and he trails them higher until he’s grasping the band of your panties and sliding them down without haste. You enjoy the commanding presence he takes on, unlike the people you deal with on a daily at work, indecisive with what to order, he knows exactly what he wants, and when Jungkook pushes up your dress and buries his face between your thighs, it takes everything in you not to climax right then. His tongue flits around your clit, teasing you as his hands massage your thighs while keeping them wide for him.

“Jungkook,” his name is a breathy whisper in the air as your fingers curl around his locks, tightening your grip when he flicks closer to where you need him. “Please.”

You wiggle your hips, searching for more friction from his tongue but he just pulls away, tutting his tongue at you for being bad. You sit up slightly to glare at him.

“Patience, baby.”

Whining, you lay back on the couch with a huff. “This is why we hated each other bac—oh, fuck me,” you finish with a moan as he flattens his tongue across your pussy and stimulates every nerve he can cover. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he begins to suck, gently flicking his tongue every few seconds as he positions two fingers at your dripping center. Delving inside of you, the plunge of his fingers reaches the ache inside of you, causing your legs to tremble as he fine-tunes your body like an instrument.

“Feels so good, mmph, fuck,” is all you can manage to say as he continues to pump his fingers, the squelching of your walls suctioning them back in with every tug out only making you wetter. Jungkook hums, and the thrumming sensation curls your toes. Arching your back, you tug his hair hard as you mewl loudly from the impending orgasm.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me,” Jungkook praises, “you’re doing so well, squeezing my fingers so tight, watch me.”

When his mouth once again finds its rhythm on your core, it takes just a few seconds of making eye contact with Jungkook, doe-eyes wide as he watches you enjoy his tongue, before you shiver and melt into the euphoria he’s bringing to your body.

“That’s it, fuck—you look so pretty, baby.”Body spent, you stare up at the ceiling blinking as you come back to earth. Jungkook tucks himself behind you, holding you in his arms. You look down at the arm over your waist, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his exposed full sleeve. You can feel his bulge, know that there’s so much more…apologizing you both need to do after years of being enemies, but you have all night for that. And in the morning, you don’t know what will happen, if there will be more to come after tonight, but what you do know is that at this moment you don’t hate Jungkook; not even a little bit, not even at all.

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thank you for reading!!!

1K notes · View notes

7ndipity · 20 days

Text

Take Care

Namjoon x Reader

Summary: Namjoon tries to remind you that looking after yourself is just as important as looking after you partner

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: slight angst, swearing, mentions of illness and medications, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request! Sorry it took me soo long to get to, I got a little stuck, so it might be a bit eh, but I hope you’ll still like it!💜

Masterlist

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“Just please make sure to look after yourself.” That was one of the top five things that Namjoon said the most to you, second only to “I love you”. It might’ve made him sound a bit like an over concerned parent sometimes, but you didn’t mind, knowing he meant well.

He had always worried about you, even before you got together, and with the past few hectic weeks of work, his concern had only worsened, but you had tried to assure him that you were doing alright and managing fine, which wasn’t entirely true, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t need to know about the long hours and sleepless nights to keep up with the deadlines that were rapidly creeping up on you.

Your eye twitched with fatigue as you scanned through your notes for the nith time, casting a quick glance at the clock before saving and closing your laptop, trying to push down the faint uneasy, sinking feeling in your gut, and focusing on getting ready for your evening out with Joon.

He had asked a few weeks ago if you wanted to come with him to a special art exhibition featuring one of his favorite artists, which you had readily agreed to, although currently, the idea of spending multiple hours wandering around a gallery didn’t sound ideal, but you couldn’t imagine canceling on him, knowing how much he loved getting to share his interests with you.

You were putting the finishing touches on your look when you heard him knock, smiling massively when you opened the door.

“Hi.” He said, kissing your cheek. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you, you look pretty spiffy yourself.” You teased, turning to grab your bag, pausing slightly as you were hit with a small wave of dizziness.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine, just a little tired.” You assured quickly, flashing him a quick grin, but he still frowned slightly, unconvinced.

“If you’re not feeling well, we don’t have to go-”

“No, I want to.” You interjected, stopping him. “You’ve been looking forward to this, I want to go.”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, but he let it slide for the moment.

The majority of the night passed smoothly, you talked and laughed with his friends, earning more a few proud smiles from him, though you also noticed him periodically watching you with a cautious eye, making sure you were okay.

You’d begun to feel increasingly unwell at various points through the evening, but you’d managed to keep a calm facade for the most part, not wanting to spoil you and Joon’s evening, until you were suddenly hit with another wave of dizziness, causing your steps to falter.

You instinctively reached out for Namjoon, catching hold of his arm for support as you tried to steady yourself.

Joon immediately glanced down at you in concern, his other arm coming to wrap around your waist to hold you.

“Are you alright?!” He asked, eyeing you anxiously.

“yeah, I just feel dizzy.” You said weakly.

He instantly went into protective caregiver mode, carefully guiding you over to an empty bench in the corner of the room, bringing you some water, and feeling your forehead for any sign of fever while going through the usual list of questions.

“Did you eat today?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you take your meds?”

“I-” You tried to think back through your day, but everything was a frenzied blur of work and getting ready to go out. “I might’ve forgotten it.”

“You might have forgotten?!” He asked sharply.

“I don’t know, Joon, I was busy! What does it matter?!” You snapped, not in the mood to be scolded by him.

“It matters if you get sick!” He said sternly, carefully pulling you up from your seat. “C’mon, we’re going home.”

“I’ll be fine, I just need to rest for a few minutes.” You tried to pull away from him, but the sudden movement caused another bout of dizziness to hit you, coupled this time with a touch of nausea that had you sinking back into your seat.

As soon as he saw your face lose color, every ounce of anger and frustration in his body disappeared, replaced only with worry for you.

“You’re not fine!” He said seriously. “We’re going home.”

You didn’t bother trying to argue with him anymore, feeling increasingly lightheaded and woozy, wanting nothing more in that moment than to just lay down.

Joon barely spoke on the way home, a growing sense of guilt brewing on your stomach as you watched him, his hands tight on the steering wheel as he drove.

“Joon-” You started, but he was quick to stop you.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay? Right now, I just want you to rest.”

As soon as you got home, he carried you to bed, helping you change and making sure you took your medications before finally sinking into the bed, falling into a dreamless sleep almost immediately.

Joon however barely slept, waking every couple of hours throughout the night to make sure you were alright. Eventually, he gave up on sleep entirely, watching over you while you slept instead.

You looked so fragile to him like this, his mind couldn’t help wandering back to your earlier comments. How much had you been neglecting yourself recently? Were you eating properly? He knew you hadn’t been sleeping well.

Maybe he was overreacting and it was just a one off event, but it was still more than enough to scare him. He was well aware how hectic things had been lately, but he had hoped they weren’t taking such a harsh toll on you like this.

When you woke the next morning, your eyes immediately landed on his half sleeping form propped up next to you in the bed.

“Joon?” You croaked, your voice small and ragged from sleep, snapping him to attention.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked softly, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“ ‘m okay, tired.” You replied.

“That’s alright.” He smiled. “Are you hungry? I can order food. I thought about trying to cook, but I figured that might not be the best idea.”

“Yeah, probably not.” You replied with a grin, glancing around sleepily. “What time is it?” The light streaming in through the curtains indicated that it was well past your normal wake up time.

“About ten.”

“What?” You gasped, scrambling to sit up, the sudden movement causing your head to spin again.

“Careful!” He said gently, pushing you back down into the bed. “Everything’s alright. You just need to take it easy and rest.”

“I can’t, I’ve got a deadline!” You tried to sit up again, but he pressed you back down firmly. My boss is probably wondering where the hell I-”

“I already texted your manager and told them you were sick and wouldn’t be in today.” He said matter of factly.

You gaped at him. “Why would you do that?!”

“Because you need to rest.” He said, pulling you into him. “They’ll be fine, everything won't fall apart just because you took a day. You need to take time to look after yourself too, you know?”

You looked down, avoiding his eyes, the guilt from the night before bubbling back to the surface.

“I know, I just…I didn’t wanna ruin your night.” You sniffed, trying to fight back the frustrated tears that threatened to spill. “I don’t know, I’m sorry I upset you.”

He pulled you closer. “The only thing I’m upset about is how hard you’ve been pushing yourself. I know things have been tough, but I don't want you to hide from me. And I don’t want you putting everyone else ahead of you. You are far too important to ever neglect, you hear me?”

You nodded, letting Namjoon wipe away the few stray tears that slipped down your cheeks, “I didn’t mean to get so caught up, it just kinda snowballed.”

“I know, I’ve done the same thing.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “But do you remember what you did last time it happened?”

You scoffed. “Basically kidnapped you for the weekend?”

“Yep,” He grinned. “So, consider this my payback.”

Joon helped you get settled back under the covers, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Thank you Joonie.” You mumbled.

“Always.” He wrapped his arms around you. “Get some rest, Sweetheart.”

You fell back to sleep in his arms, feeling safe and at peace for the first time in weeks.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#bts one shot #bts drabble #bts comfort #bts scenarios #bts requests #bts x y/n #bts x reader #namjoon scenarios #namjoon drabble #namjoon fluff #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts fluff #namjoon one shot #namjoon oneshot #namjoon comfort #7ndipity

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slytherinshua · 4 months

Text

FLYING BICYCLES AND LOVESTRUCK MAGIC

genre. fluff. kiki's delivery service au-ish. a lil mutual pining. warnings. reader is basically kiki and sohee is basically tombo lol. some psychic magic mentioned. it's mostly just them being whipped for each other. osono cameo cause she's mvp fr. pairing. sohee x witch!reader. wc. 2.5k. a/n. the riize brainrot is SO REAL. idk why i felt sohee would fit the role of tombo so perfectly hes just sooo 💔💔 i love him guys 🥹

Sohee was 97.62436% sure that he was going crazy when he first saw you flying on a broomstick through the city. Of course, the other 2.37564% that had gone completely insane was fascinated, excited, and probably (definitely) head over heels in love.

He lived in a small town. One where the word went around like a whirlwind as soon as anyone new moved in. It was the most exciting thing that could happen for the residents there, especially when the newcomer happened to be a very pretty girl from a rich city.

Most people would move out of the town when they reached 20 or so to discover themselves. Yet they always seemed to find their way back when they were a bit more settled. It was a rite of passage— a route to adulthood that almost everyone assumed the youth of the town would take. Sohee liked his town, though, and didn’t feel any need to move away. He had already discovered himself enough to know what he wanted to do with his life.

There were exciting things to do that he doubted he would be able to do anywhere else. Visiting the town’s grandpa that ran the old antique shop, getting free candy from the young lady who ran the candy store after the old owner had passed away, seeing every new addition to the art gallery from the aspiring painters and sculptors in town. And, his favourite activity: investigating the old junk yard for spare parts to make his newest models.

Sohee liked to call himself an inventor. It felt spiffy and official. He showed off every new creation he pieced together with rusted tools and even rustier bits of metal like it was the next world-changing invention. He could spend hours in his dad’s old workshop working with nuts and bolts, seeing what the pieces could make once they came together.

He had been determined to make a flying vehicle for years now. After finding a beautiful old wind turbine in the junkyard when he was 14, he had started planning mock-ups for a bicycle. He would attach the turbine in front of it so that when you pedalled, the turbine spinned. The hope was that with enough inertia, you could eventually lift off the ground with it. He was skeptical that it would actually work, though.

He hadn’t officially talked to you yet. You had been in town for a couple days now, staying with the couple that ran the local bakery. Sohee thought you were absolutely beautiful from the moment he first saw you. He had been riding his bicycle past the bakery on his way to the carpenters to pick up some tools. One glance at you through the window had him abruptly pushing on the brakes, eyes going wide.

Maybe it was a bit of an exaggeration, but you looked like an angel. Or a goddess. Or a fairy. Sohee couldn’t decide which one, but he knew that you were the most stunning person he had ever seen. Since that day, he kept running into you in town, but his own nervousness had stopped him from talking to you properly. He had held a few conversations; enough to know your name and age, but clearly not enough to know that you could fly through the air.

Now, he was staring wide-eyed at the clouds, watching you soar just beneath them so effortlessly. He craned his head to watch you as long as he could before you disappeared behind the clock tower.

“Woah…” He whispered, jaw dropped in an awestruck expression.

“She’s quite the girl, isn’t she?”

Sohee turned to the side, nodding in agreement with what Osono, the bakery lady, had said.

“She’s amazing. Do you know how she does it?” He asked with a grin.

“Haven’t you heard by now, Sohee? She’s a witch! She chose our town to do her witch training.” Osono explained.

“That’s incredible! I didn’t even know witches actually existed! Do you know what she’s training in?!” Sohee felt like his brain was spinning at a speed incomprehensible to mankind. He kept thinking of more and more questions about you. He’d never seen anyone quite like you before, and the more he learned, the more intrigued he became.

“She said she’s still figuring it out— but she’s interested in love readings. For now, she’s using her flying skills to help me and the town. She’s an excellent delivery girl!” Osono beamed.

“Love readings…?” Sohee pondered the idea on his way back home. The next day, he found himself at the town’s library, scanning through the small section on magic and witches with more focus than he had put to almost anything.

“Miss witch, I’d like to get a love reading!” He announced happily, swinging open the door to the bakery where you were seated at the counter, seconds away from falling asleep due to the lack of customers. You jerked up at the sound of Sohee, immediately knowing that it was him from his playful nickname for you— miss witch.

“Really!? You want one!?” You jumped up from your seat and rushed around the counter to be face to face with him. Sohee had become your first friend in town. After he had seen you fly that day, he discovered the key to talking to you without being awkward. You could fly and he wanted to fly. There was a perfect common interest.

You loved talking to Sohee. He was infinitely more interesting than the kids back at your old home, most of which were stuck up and rude. Sohee was bright and kind and full of imagination and dreams and inspiration. He never got bored of you talking about being a witch, and you never got bored of hearing about his new inventions. You had never clicked so well with someone before.

There was also the fact that he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. But that was… less important. You had a bad habit of crushing on boys without it ever going anywhere. You were determined not to repeat that disaster a sixth time.

“It would be my great honour to be your very first customer.” Sohee said dramatically, making you giggle with excitement.

“Well, then, dear client, shall we go to my witch lair? I can’t perform the reading anywhere else.” You responded, matching his dramatics perfectly. He grinned and nodded and you grabbed his wrist to lead him upstairs.

“It’s a bit messy— give me a second!” You rushed around your small attic space that Osono had been so kind to let you stay in for free. You hurriedly put away the food that you had gotten for breakfast and shoved some odd trinkets under your bed so that they were hidden. Sohee just watched, his heart racing. He really needed to get that under control.

“Where’s my witching supplies- Aha! Here it is!” You held up a small purple box, bejewelled with gold ornaments. It looked ancient and rusty— exactly the type of artifact that Sohee loved.

You set down a thin blanket on the wooden floor before taking out the little baubles and setting them in the middle of the fabric. Sohee sat on one end, and you on the other.

“Alright, mister… I have a series of questions, but for this to work, you must answer them completely honestly. If you lie even once, the whole thing will be messed up!” You had put on your mother’s joke witches had for fun. The sight made Sohee laugh, especially when you deepened your voice to sound old as you explained how things would work.

“I got it. I’ll tell only the truth.” Sohee promised.

“Once you answer all the questions, I’ll flip over this blank card. If everything works out, the name of the person you love the most will slowly appear before your eyes! Now… Are you ready?” You quirked an eyebrow, staring seriously at him even though on the inside you were about to burst with excitement. It was your dream to open your own love reading business. You just weren’t completely sure if you were good enough at it yet.

Sohee nodded eagerly, a mix of excitement and nervousness stewing inside of him. He wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, so he carefully followed along with what you did to make sure he didn’t mess anything up. You closed your eyes and he followed suit.

The questions you asked started out simple, without Sohee needing to deliberate before delivering the honest answer to you. But as they went on, they got more complex and more personal. Sohee had never doubted your abilities as a witch, but he hadn’t expected you to be able to see right through him.

“Last question…”

“Mhm?” Sohee could feel his stomach twist in nervousness, but he breathed steadily to try to calm his nerves.

“Do you believe yourself to be in love with someone at this current moment?”

Sohee swallowed slowly, his mouth and throat feeling parched all of a sudden. He took his time to think through it, though the answer was almost painfully obvious. He had never been more in love in his entire life.

“Yes.” He finally answered with certainty, a slight burden lifting off his chest. It was almost as if he was confessing to you in a way— and though he didn’t say it directly, it still eased some of his anxiety. He opened his eyes hesitantly after answering to see your face scrunched in concentration.

“No way-” You opened your eyes as well, frowning in confusion and looking up to Sohee with a questioning gaze. “By any chance are you…?”

“Huh?” Sohee blinked, confused at your actions. You shook your head quickly and stared down at the blank card.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

The air felt a little tense as you slowly flipped over the black card. You held your hand over it for a few seconds, shielding it from Sohee’s curious view. You lifted your hand carefully once you were sure it had worked and watched as the name slowly appeared on the card.

You sat in frozen shock once you read the name on the card, struggling to process what you had seen. Your name was displayed on the card, clearer than ever. There was no way that anyone could possibly mistake it or misread it, but you just couldn’t believe it.

“It- we- we must’ve messed it up somehow! There’s no way that’s- It must’ve got me confused, right!?” Sohee spluttered helplessly, his entire face a bright shade of red. Somehow in his calculations, he didn’t expect for the card to expose him that horrendously, right in front of you as well.

“I don’t think we did it wrong, though… Everything felt… right.” You said quietly. “Do you… like me?” You could barely get the words to come out of your throat.

There were some parts of your magic that you still needed time to trust completely. Flying had always been easy in that aspect; you either flew or you didn’t. But when it came to love readings, you wondered how likely it was that your magic had gotten messed up. You liked to be whimsical and believe that your love readings could be completely accurate, but your confidence had never been as low as in this moment.

However nervous you were feeling, it was a thousand times worse for Sohee. You had a small inkling of hope— hope that he would say yes. But for Sohee, he could only think of the possible rejection. Or the even worse possibility that this would tear apart your friendship.

“Yes…?” Sohee whispered out to you. You had never heard him this nervous or quiet before.

“Really? Are you sure?” You asked again, this time with a little more voice and hope surging in you. Sohee must have picked up on the hopeful tone, as he answered yes again, this time with more certainty.

“Then the reading wasn’t wrong?! You actually like me?” Your hand clasped over your mouth before you could ramble anymore in your state of disbelief.

“What about you? I mean… you probably don’t, right? But maybe…?” Sohee couldn’t help but be hopeful for your response, but he held himself back from being too expectant on the response he was dreaming for.

“Do I like you back?! Of course I do- It wasn’t obvious before now?” You stuttered in disbelief.

“I mean- I hoped you did, but I couldn’t be sure.” Sohee clarified. The tension in the room had completely dissipated by now, and your smiles were slowly coming back as the reality settled in.

“I’ve liked you since I moved here, I think. Didn’t you ever question why we kept running into each other before we became friends?”

“No? I just thought it was a lucky coincidence.” Sohee admitted with a laugh.

“It was because whenever I spotted you biking around town, I’d land in a street nearby and pretend like I was always walking that way just to cross paths with you!” You corrected stubbornly. Now that it was clear that the feelings were mutual, you wanted him to know the effort that you went through to get closer to him.

“I also started going past the bakery on my way home. It added an extra 5 minutes to my route, but it was worth it to see you working through the glass window.” He scratched the back of his neck shyly, mirroring your smile when your eyes brightened at hearing his confession.

“So… what now?” You questioned suddenly after a prolonged silence of both of you trying to stare at the other while simultaneously trying your best not to look obvious.

“Would you go out with me?” Sohee asked excitedly. “Oh shoot- I should’ve gotten flowers first. Wait here- I’ll be quick!” He stammered, rushing out of the room before you could stop him. He was gone only long enough for you to giggle in delight while you cleaned up the supplies you had laid out. Your witching skills had come in handy in the best of ways.

He was out of breath by the time he burst open the door again, but his eyes had never glimmered any brighter. He held a bouquet of pink and white roses, a little squished on one side from the rush he had been in.

“You know you didn’t have to go buy these…” You bit back a smile, taking the pretty flowers from his hands.

“My mom always said the best way to charm a lady was with flowers.” He panted and grinned at you cheekily when you shot him a look. You smiled as you sniffed the sweet scent of the roses. Sohee was about to say something else, but you pulled him into a tight hug before he could start, the unexpected gesture knocking all words he had into another dimension.

“I really like you, Sohee.” You whispered, your smile twinkling as you rested your head on his shoulder.

He took a second to get over the shock of you hugging him before he was wrapping his arms around your frame as well, mumbling back, “Me too.”

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien

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campbell-rose · 9 months

Text

Helluva Rewrite: Moxxie

A big thing with Moxxie was just me wanting him to not look like a butler. I don’t know what it is with Viv and men in suits, but I'm not a fan. To keep his vest from blending into his pants, I untucked a bit of his undershirt. I want each member of IMP to stand out visually from one another (because all imps literally look related to some degree lol) so I gave Moxxie green in his color palette to contrast the orangish red tone I gave his skin. I also think green eyes will help him stand out very nicely from the group. Instead of striped I put gold rings on his tail and gave him a couple rings on his fingers because greed and gold. Since Viv loves bowties, I let Mox keep his but made it droopy because I think it’s cuter. Originally, I was going to keep his coattails, but I feel like with the shape of his legs it just muddies his silhouette.

With Moxxie there isn’t much about his character I have to gripe about or want to change. He’s a skilled gunman with knowledge of the subject and history of guns. Cool, now for that, I’m working in his greed traits and decided that he outright hoards guns (since viv wants to claim imps hoard things). Moxxie has a vast collection and is always keeping them nice and spiffy.

Now one thing I don’t like about Moxxie is his insecurity. Moreso the fact that it’s constantly being played up, like in Unhappy Campers where he’s like a crotchety old woman going through menopause because his wife is more popular than him. At that point it’s just stupid for the sake of drama. Since I made Millie the insecure one, I’m going to play up Moxxie’s straight man status.

Moxxie is going to be the level headed cool sniper type I suppose. He’s not going to be as expression as Millie, the blue oni to her red in a sense. I think the comedy of that could be when something does make him lose his composure (I think I'll draw up a redone scene as an example) like Millie’s parents outright disliking him or Striker singing about how he sucks and should go fuck himself. I like the idea that because of his childhood as the son of an abusive mob boss father he’s learned to shove bad feelings down rather than express them outright. This doesn’t mean I want him to be a stone faced rock. No, I mostly just want him to express surface level exasperation and frustration with Blitzø’s antics (like his big “WHAT?” when Blitz mentions he hired Strikker)

So an example of this could be Striker’s song. After he tells Moxxie to go fuck himself, a close shot of Moxxie’s face shows it twitching. He adjusts his glasses, stands up, and excuses himself. (Millie recognizes that this is bad because she knows him and follows) But she loses him in Striker’s fangirl crowd. Moxxie will be visibly upset as he climbs the stairs before hearing Millie calling for him and regaining his composure – until he notices the glow coming from Striker’s room that catches his attention.

So I don’t want this Moxxie to be a straight-faced ass, just a more composed character.

Back to his insecurity real quick! Mozzie is a trained assassin but his is not physically strong enough to fight hand to hand. This is a weak spot for him because his father constantly shat all over him growing up and would literally smack him around and Moxxie was (in his own mind) too physically weak to stop it from happening.

As to how he met Blitzo... well in this I don’t want the bs jail in hell bit because there has been no justifiable ass pulls by Viv or the team. Idk I'm having trouble. Maybe they met through Millie? Like Moxxie meets Millie doing something and is like ‘holy shit I love this chick fuck you dad I'm out.’

Idk that’s what I'm going with I'll fix it later this took way too long to do and i'll still gotta do Blitzo and Stolas and maybe the other characters and then maybe rework season one idk i'll focus on just doing Blitzo and reworking my Loona again

#anti helluva boss #anti vivziepop #helluva boss critical #helluva boss redesign #helluva boss rewrite #helluva rewrite

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user9898657876655667 · 1 year

Text

HAUNTINGLY BEAUTIFUL - james patrick march x fem!reader

CW: mentions of killing & blood references, slight smut involved

SUMMARY: mr march has always been someone who truly cherishes the things he loves so very dearly. he may be that of a sinister being, but you are one of the few who’s able to see his potential and absolute beauty.

(this short fic is based on the song, salvatore, by; lana del rey. all rights go to her when specific lyrics are mentioned!!! i do not own any rights to her music at all!! if you haven’t listened to the song already, i advise you do before reading this small imagine. it would set the mood and make everything appear far more better!!)

You currently were in the arms of your lover, James Patrick March. The man who you’d finally confessed your love to after so many years. The same man you’d craved to be with.

All the lights in Miami begin to gleam

Ruby, blue and green, neon too

Everything looks better from above my king

Like aqua marine, ocean's blue

It had taken you some amount of time to reveal your true feelings to March. After all, he was a man of power. His spiffy suits and slicked back hair made the hotel creator’s image clean and significant. Though nothing could come between him and his one true passion; murder.

Ah ah ah ah

Cacciatore

La da da da da

Limousines

Ah ah ah ah

Ciao amore

La da da da da

Soft ice cream

That is, except for one thing.. you. The minute James saw you, he immediately knew he had to have you. He wanted you to stay trapped within the walls of the Cortez. With him, and him only.

All the lights are sparkling for you it seems

On the downtown scenes, shady blue

Beatboxing and rapping in the summer rain

Like a boss, he sang Jazz and Blues

From your soft velvety voice, to your long lashes and ruby-red lips, he adored you. The way each outfit you wore sculpted your body ever so perfectly when you decided to go and visit him, my, my. It made the notorious serial killer grovel on his knees. Which was something he thought would only occur whenever his past lover was around, but Mr March had now proven himself wrong.

Ah ah ah ah

Cacciatore

La da da da da

Limousines

Ah ah ah ah

Ciao amore

La da da da da

Soft ice cream

He suspected you may back away after hearing the amount of awful things he did in his fortress of murder, hidden away behind closed doors. But you did not care one bit. You felt devoted to him. You wanted to experience at least one serious interaction with James, whether it be him killing you, or claiming you as his.

The summer's hot

And I've been waiting for you all this time

I adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me?

Summer's hot but I've been cold without you

I was so wrong not to tell, I'm in regine, tangerine dreams

James liked the idea of keeping you forever. Even if he had to kill you himself to do so, he would. March’s desperation to have you was growing as time began to tick by. He had to bite his tongue whenever he saw you. All he wished for was you in his suite, as he lifted you in his arms into the bedroom. Ripping the exquisite clothing you had right off of your body, revealing everything you had to offer. A man’s desire. His desire.

Catch me if you can

Working on my tan

Salvatore

Dying by the hand

Of a foreign man

Happily

Calling out my name

In the summer rain

Ciao amore

Salvatore can wait

Now it's time to eat

Soft ice cream

Then came the day where you did indeed confess, and you will never forget the sadistic smile that crept onto his face.. it was haunting, yet.. beautiful..

Ah ah ah ah

Cacciatore

Ah ah ah ah

Limousines

Ah ah ah ah

Ciao amore

Ah ah ah ah

Soft ice cream

Now, you were truly his. Mr March’s bride and his beloved partner. Both of you would soon be unstoppable. Not even death could prevent the two of you from reigning over the Hotel Cortez. And NOTHING would EVER put an end to both James and yourself being together. When you allowed him to place a large diamond ring on your finger, there was no going back. You even went as far as to take your own life to be with the pure evil soul you’d fallen in love with, and were you happy about it? Most absolutely.

#american horror story #evan peters #james patrick march #james march x reader #james march #mr march #jpm x reader #fem reader #lana del rey #ahs fandom #ahs x reader #ahs imagine #quick fic #ahs hotel #hotel cortez #the countess #hotel #evan peters ahs

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just-late-roman-republic-things · 6 months

Note

Is there an argument that Sextus Pompey is one of the most underrated Roman generals? (well admiral technically)

[slams desk] He is the very definition of underrated! In fact, I think this calls for a Sextus Pompey Appreciation Post!

We first meet Sextus in Egypt while he helplessly watches from a boat as his father gets into another, smaller boat, then is stabbed in the back and decapitated.

After that Batman-esque origin story he joins the republican army, almost kills Caesar at Munda, and escapes to raise an army again in defiance of Caesar's dictatorship. This boy was fighting for the republic while Brutus was still getting his angst workouts in. Did I mention Sextus was only 22?

Army - ahem, I meant navy. Romans in general were shit at sailing, but our boy is shockingly good at it, and also very good at Not Getting Caught for several years while Caesar gets shanked and a four-sided civil war erupts in Italy.

We have Sextus to thank for Livia's family escaping the proscriptions! He gave sanctuary to them and many other refugees and republican sympathizers, especially after Philippi, and later got the proscriptions lifted so they could return home.

Sextus proceeds to kick Octavian's ass, sometimes through raids and destroying ships, but mostly through blocking Italy's food imports. Astonishingly, a lot of Romans side with Sextus and pressure Octavian into making a treaty with him, or else Octavian might end up like dear old Uncle Julius. Yep. Sextus came very close to overthrowing the future emperor with economics.

So what does the treaty look like? It looks like Sextus, Antony and Octavian standing awkwardly on wooden platforms a hundred feet apart on the ocean, because Sextus is NOT letting himself get sea-shanked like his dad was.

At the celebration party afterward Sextus' lieutenant asks "Do I shank them sir? While they're drunk and surrounded by our dudes?" And Sextus goes "Uggghhh why did you have to TELL me, you should've just killed them but now I'm honor-bound to say no."

Also the treaty lasts for like five minutes before Octavian and Sextus are fighting again. (Antony runs off to vibe with Cleopatra.)

Sextus goes ✨full theater kid ✨and starts calling himself the Son of Neptune, sacrificing horses to the sea, and wearing a spiffy blue cape. Oh, and he celebrates beating up Octavian with a commemorative coin. That's Scylla the sea monster on the right there. Metal.

Octavian continues to be an incredibly bad admiral, at one point being reduced to huddling in a cave and cursing out Neptune after a storm destroys his ships. He resorts to calling in Marcus Agrippa from Gaul.

Agrippa takes one look at this terrifyingly competent pirate/freedom fighter/Percy Jackson roleplayer, who can wreck ships faster than Agrippa can build them. So Agrippa has to build his fleet in a fucking lake that's supposedly the entrance to the Roman underworld and connect the lake to the sea, just to keep Sextus from wrecking his shit too early.

You know you're a badass when it takes an army from the gate of Hades itself to stop you.

Sextus Pompey and Marcus Agrippa have an EPIC showdown (and Sextus destroys Octavian's fleet again, just for fun). Agrippa wins because he's absurdly perfect at everything. Sextus yeets off to Asia Minor where one of Antony's lackeys executes him.

And you'd think that would be the end of it...but...

400 years later Emperor Julian writes a...fanfiction? in which Neptune is still mad at Octavian, and bullies him again, making this one of the longest-running jokes in Roman history.

Sextus Pompey was the last great leader claiming to defend the republic against the triumvirs, and he was incredibly resourceful, competent, and brave from a young age. His tragic backstory, flair for the dramatic, moments of honor and compassion, and the fact that he very nearly won mean he deserves way more attention than he gets.

#put him at the same table as ventidius and labienus and lucullus and sertorius #the underappreciated roman commanders club #sextus pompey #sextus pompey appreciation post #just roman asks #jlrrt essays

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powderblueblood · 1 month

Note

how would they handle a pregnancy scare?

TW pregnancy scare i guess WHOOPS it’s ANGSTY in here lmao

HAHA. well!

“did this take this long the first time we did it?”

oh, you mean the first time they did it when lacy bought nancy wheeler’s pregnancy test and they had to wait around in the freezing broken boys bathroom in the middle of midwinter to see if harrington had sired something?

“no,” lacy says, extracting her little finger from her mouth where she’s chewed it to mince, “time has slowed down to a glacial pace in order to punish me for my sins.”

eddie, sitting in the bathtub, attempts a grin. he’s not feeling too spiffy either. “getting locked out of wed?”

“coming off the fucking pill.”

how late is she? late enough to mention, late enough to worry. see, lacy’d been on the pill since they began this little world-axis-shifting dalliance of theirs so she and eddie had enjoyed the luxury of bareback, so to speak. she had put a lot of faith in that thing, but it so happened that she started getting these splitting migraines and low, low, low moods so her campus doctor had suggested that she come off the pill for a little bit. see if that changed anything. hormone imbalance and all that.

problem was, it was kind of hard to remember that she had come off it. those first couple of times, it was kind of an event, lacy making sliding that condom onto eddie almost ritualistic in a way that had him near to busting. but a time or two after that, it kinda… slipped their mind.

it happens. right? or is she stupid all of a sudden?

eddie’s a good boyfriend. drove her right to the drugstore, walked her right up to the counter so at least if the clerk gave her a dirty look, he was giving it to both of them.

but there’s just… something…

“you haven’t… changed your mind or anything?”

the last time they did this, eddie had asked her if she wanted kids. they hadn’t gotten together yet, but the tension between them was like a pot boiling over. spitting everywhere.

“i fully reserve the right to change my answer given the fact that we are eight-shitting-teen years old.”

but now she is twenty. her twenty first birthday looming, in fact.

eddie, doe eyed, watches lacy like he knows she’s got a knot in her chest, because she does. he watches her hands curl over her face, shoulders tense.

“not even…”

because a good girlfriend would say yes, right? a good girlfriend would be like, yes, of course, because i worship the ground you walk on, because i should drop all notions of my life without a second thought at the mere suggestion of a kid with you, because it would make you so happy. and i love you, so much. all i want is to make you happy. i’d eat the sun if that meant anything to you.

that’s what a good girlfriend would do, right? that’s how she would act. overjoyed. dreamy eyed. we’ll make it work, baby, you and me.

and there’ll always be the notion that we shackled each other to this town we purport to hate. and i’ll watch you avoid becoming your father and you’ll watch me become mine. and a little bit of my mother, too. and wayne will still hate me, even moreso for trapping you here. and in between, there’ll be this baby who didn’t ask for any of this at all.

“you can’t hate me for this,” lacy chokes. “i’m begging you.”

i was raised in resentment and i would never risk doing that to another child.

eddie feels sick. he hauls out of the bathtub to wrap his arms around her but his heart is hammering in his ears.

of course he wants this. and when he pictures a kid that theoretically has his eyes and her nose, he gets scared when he can’t really see her in those visions. others, sure. they’re clear as day. eddie knows what their wedding bands will look like, and what she’ll look like brushing her hand through her hair when she’s wearing it.

but he doesn’t see lacy glowing and barefoot, even though he’s tried.

“i don’t… lace…”

elizabeth munson was twenty when she had eddie. al was a little older. she’d snapped her life in half to uproot from memphis to hawkins, only to die six years after.

eddie really tries to make it not feel like a crusade to better his father’s wrongs, when he imagines it. you know?

“because i love you so much, i love you so much that i couldn’t take it,” lacy’s voice cracks in time with his heart, “if you hated me for this.”

a horrible thought flashes through eddie’s mind. would you do it if it meant i would never hate you?

“i love you,” is all he says into her hair, “i really, really love you.”

they stand on the cold tile of the bathroom for a long time. two people very much in love, and seemingly at odds.

eddie peers over lacy’s head at the watch on the counter.

“alright, sweetheart.” feels impersonal. he never calls her that. that’s for the outside world.

lacy picks up the stark white strip from the test tube, and her voice shakes.

“well. a lot of drama over… nothing. i’m sorry.”

eddie watches her shrink into herself, and would easily sock himself in the jaw if he thought it would do any good.

“hey!” his dazzling smile comes into her view, and she nearly buys it for a second. “forget about it, okay? who needs some fucking loser baby, right?”

but what eddie means, in that present moment, at twenty years old, is until next time.

and what lacy knows, in that present moment, at twenty years old, is there won’t be one.

#powder room talk #anonymous #edlacy #hai brainrot #e. munson by powder #l. doevski by powder #published by powder

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momo-t-daye · 1 year

Photo

“Uh, Professor, er, sir,” Harry stumbled over the seldom-used honorifics in his bafflement. “Uh, on your mouth…?”

“Lipstick, Potter,” Snape sneered, the expression all the more pronounced with the cosmetic assistance.

“Oh, uh, it’s, um, it’s black?” Harry hadn’t known lipstick came in anything other than his aunt’s subdued pinks or the vivid shades of red that Petunia considered sinful and salacious (and intolerably reminiscent of Lily to ever be permitted back into the precariously normal life of Number Four, Privet Drive).

“Very good, Potter,” Snape said sarcastically. “Twelve years old and you’ve learned your colors.”

That was pure nastiness and entirely unfair.

“I’m fifteen!” Harry protested, which earned him a merely sardonic eyebrow. “Almost fifteen,” he amended. “I’ll be fifteen on Monday.”

Harry longed to surpass Snape in sheer churlishness and considered pointing out that muggle men generally didn’t wear skirts. Certainly not in Little Whinging. Definitely not when Dudley and his gang were roaming the streets.

He’d seen plenty of oblivious wizards sporting spiffy new dresses as their muggle disguises at the Quidditch World Cup the previous summer (a lifetime ago, before Cedric was murdered and he hadn’t been able to stop it from happening). But there was something peculiarly well-tailored and suspiciously well-worn about the Potions Master’s garb that suggested less “disguise” and more “daily wear”. He found that his brain was oddly unwilling to acknowledge the existence of Snape’s psychedelic cardigan. His mind kept trying desperately to wallpaper something sensible over the bizarre image his eyes insisted on perceiving.

“…nice skirt,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” Snape drawled the false gratitude out with a smirk. “It has pockets. Dipshit and Dumbass there were too excited to get on the road this morning and didn’t give me any time to do laundry.”

“Am I ‘Dipshit’ or am I ‘Dumbass’?” Sirius whispered loudly, grin gone well past manic.

“I believe Severus called me a ‘dipshit’ among other things for forgetting to take my Wolfsbane last year,” Remus replied thoughtfully, “So, Sirius, that probably makes you the dumbass.”

“I’m more of a hot piece of ass, but okay,” Sirius said with a wink. “Hi, Harry!”

“Hi, Sirius,” Harry said weakly, glad for the excuse to sidle past Snape. “Uh, what are you doing here?” The Daily Prophet hadn’t said anything about Sirius being pardoned and news like that, while less of an urgent headline than Voldemort’s return, wouldn’t lurk about in the society pages or behind an advice column.

“Dumbledore told me to lie low at Lupin’s place,” Sirius beamed with an innocence so intense it could only be artificial.

“And, er, well, what with one thing and another, it really hadn’t seemed like a good time really to mention that I’d been, ah, evicted,” Lupin added, “…again.”

“Renting really seems like such a bother,” Sirius opined. “So I bought a house for Remus here.”

“Oh,” said Harry, who had witnessed Aunt Petunia compulsively twitching the curtains as she tried to discover how Mrs. Number Seven had eluded neighborly surveillance and, somehow, managed to sell her house to a person or persons unknown to the remaining residents of Privet Drive. “Isn’t that supposed to take a long time?”

“Building a home takes a lifetime,” Sirius said sagely. “Buying a house just takes money.”

Snape’s scornful snort brought Harry’s attention back to the least welcome visitor to Little Whinging.

“So, uh, why did you bring,” Harry gestured vaguely, unsure if the word ‘him’ could accurately encompass the snidest professor present, “Snape?” He’d rather noticed that Snape hadn’t lifted a finger to help Sirius and Lupin move any of the large boxes from the lorry into Number Seven.

“Severus knows how to drive,” Lupin explained gently. Sirius’ mouth opened, prepared to protest.

“Severus,” Lupin repeated, louder this time, “Has a valid muggle license to drive.” Sirius’ subsided.

“And I know how to hot-wire cars and lorries,” Severus added smoothly. “And,” Lupin echoed wearily, “ Severus knows how to ‘hot-wire’ muggle vehicles.”

“I’m learning to do that,” Sirius said helpfully, “I’m going to figure it out too. I’ve nearly got it.”

“Talk is cheap, Black,” Snape scoffed starting to stroll in the last direction Harry wanted him to go, “I’ll believe you when I see some tangible results.”

“Wait! Stop!” Harry wondered if he’d get in trouble for tackling a professor outside of Hogwarts. It would be worth it, to try to alter Snape’s trajectory towards the front door of Number Four. “Stop, stop, stop!”

For all Harry’s desperate scrambling, Snape maintained his lead.

“Please stop!” Harry begged as the professor hitched up his skirt slightly, “Use the bell! You don’t have to kick the door in!” Aunt Petunia was probably at the door, surely she’d spied them across the street at Number Seven.

Snape kicked the door, already unlatched in Petunia’s nosy anticipation, open.

Aunt Petunia let out a shrill little scream.

“Hello, Piss-Tuna,” said Severus Snape, far more gleeful than he’d been even when Harry and Ron were facing the threat of expulsion after flying a car into the Whomping Willow. “You look as awful as ever.”

Piss-Tuna, Harry thought as his world tilted on its axis, Snape, Professor Snape, just called my aunt Piss-Tuna. This can’t be happening.

“You—!” Her face was white, her eyes were wide, and Petunia Dursley, née Evans, practically growled in her outrage.

Harry found himself thinking that Brazil might be a very nice place to live. It was far away from Privet Drive, for a start. He wondered what it would take to get there.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Tuney?” Snape’s foot had blocked the door from closing. “I’m more than happy to have this confrontation on your front step if you’d prefer.”

“We, ah, brought some biscuits,” Lupin added. “Store bought. Assorted. With chocolate. Er, I’m, ah, we’re the new neighbors. So nice to meet you again.”

Petunia goggled at the lot of them.

She also stumbled back, which Snape seemed to take as an unspoken invitation. Harry found himself dragged along in the professor’s wake, with only Sirius’ hand on his shoulder to steady him in the swift tide of strangeness.

“I can’t believe your taste in interior decoration deteriorated into this level of disgusting kitsch and doilies, Tuna,” said the man who decorated with floating dead things in jars. Severus surveyed the photos on the wall, on the mantle, on the little side table. So many perfectly posed pictures of a happy family of three- mother, father, son- and a lock on the cupboard under the stairs. Narcissa had been absolutely right.

“Is that my jumper?” Harry jumped. Petunia’s voice was high and thin and quite peculiar.

“You’ve really done a terrible job of raising Potter,” said Snape, and Harry bristled. Of course Snape wanted to criticize him, Harry had been expecting the criticism, but he loathed the thought of his two biggest critics were now sharing notes and combining forces.

“Not only is he, like the majority of students, a careless menace in the laboratory, but I have also wasted entirely too much of my already limited time deciphering his atrocious penmanship to correct insipid essay after insipid essay only to see the same flawed reasonings repeated week after week.” It was news to Harry that he was supposed to read the sea of spidery red notes Snape deposited on every essay. It seemed rather unfair, given that Snape could fit five lines of text for every one line Harry wrote. The single “P”, or the occasional and welcome “A”, was more than sufficient in Harry’s view.

“That’s my jumper.” There was a touch of hysteria in Petunia’s tone now.

“He will be taking his O.W.L.s this year, his O-levels if you prefer,” Snape continued, demonstrating more confidence in Harry’s continued survival than Harry typically expected to hear from the Potions Master. “Unfortunately, his current record of scholastic mediocrity, his stubborn refusal to revise, and a peculiar incuriosity about magical theory does not bode well for his continued academic career.”

“You little bastard! That’s my goddamn jumper!” Petunia’s shriek derailed Snape’s momentum. The unexpected profanity from his aunt made Harry’s brain stutter to a halt.

“Tuna,” Snape frowned, “We’re not here to discuss my sartorial decisions and I will never take wardrobe critique from you. I only deigned to enter this suburban hellscape to discuss your horrendous failure to raise and parent Mr. Potter.”

“Biscuit, Harry?” Sirius offered, retrieving the tin from Remus.

“You stole my jumper!” Shockingly, Petunia’s epiphany failed to shatter glass. Yet.

“Didn’t,” sniffed Snape.

“I thought it was Lily who stole my jumper!”

“She did. I just hid it for her.”

“I bought that jumper myself! I’d saved up!”

“Yes, I know.”

“It was for an interview!”

“We wanted to spare you the humiliation of being seen in public wearing such a hideous thing. You even got that position, even if you didn’t keep it for very long.”

The biscuit was rather good, even without tea, and it was beginning to dawn on Harry that Snape and Aunt Petunia were more inclined to tear into one another than join forces against him. He felt oddly inclined to cheer for Professor Snape, despite the ranting about Harry’s scholastic shortcomings. Perhaps it was because Harry knew so little about his mother that every glimpse was a pearl he treasured.

“I want my jumper!” Did she learn that tone from her little Diddykins or had Dudley inherited that petulant demanding pitch from Petunia?

“And I want you to understand how your failure to nourish any academic inclinations Mr. Potter may have shown before the age of eleven may have rather dire consequences for futures beyond his own, but I fear we can’t all get what we want.” Remus handed Harry another biscuit before he could think to protest.

“Give me back my jumper!”

“Fine!” Snape finally snapped, fingers tearing at the buttons in wrathful haste. “Fine, here!”

Petunia caught the cardigan with her face and a squeak.

Severus Snape looked like a stranger again, in the ratty, oversized band shirt, hair disheveled from the jumper’s passage. Harry hadn’t seen the Dark Mark his professor had shoved under Minister Fudge’s nose in the Hospital Wing those few weeks ago, and he found himself oddly glad that the mark was concealed under a peculiar leather bracelet with metal studding. A wand holster, perhaps.

“Are you prepared to face your shortcomings now, Tuney?” That dangerously silky tone was entirely familiar, and Harry took another biscuit before he was told to go serve detention during summer vacation.

“It smells like Cokeworth,” Petunia’s complaint was bitter, for she dreaded the day her neighbors discovered the lingering taint of the Cokeworth streets sullying their Surrey security.

“Hey,” said Sirius, who had gone oddly still.

“I wasn’t going to take it to Hogwarts, was I?” Snape said. “It’s acrylic, you know that sort of stuff doesn’t hold up around magic.”

“Hey,” said Sirius. “Hey.” His face was a rictus of delight, as pleased as Petunia had been put out. “Snape. Isn’t that, isn’t that my shirt you’ve got on?”

“Oh, oh,” snarled Severus. “Not you too!”

#Severus Snape #Harry Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Petunia Dursley #Moving into Number Seven Privet Drive #Severus 100% wore the stolen sweater for the exact purpose of winding Tuney up #self-indulgent AU #My art #ficlet

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you-taste-likewhiskey · 6 months

Note

hi,

random question, what are your top five favorite regina looks in the entirety of ouat?

Oh my goodness where to begin?! I've done a similar list for Evil Queen looks so I'll list strictly Regina (Mayor) Mills looks. Other wise we'll be here for an eternity (because lord knows how good Regina looks in every dammed thing she puts on).

So let's begin at number 5. I simply cannot create a list of fave Regina outfits without paying tribute to season 3 blue blazer Neverland Regina. That silk blouse underneath, coupled with her "I'm so done with everyone's crap" attitude...*chefs kiss*

Next up at number 4 (while on the topic of silk blouses), we have Regina in a silk blouse with a little side boob coming for us 😏 I just love how little she tried to cover that up.

Next up at 3 is this spiffy little number she wore in season 6. Regina in any hint of red deserves a spot on this top 5 but I think this one takes the cake. I mean just look at how perfect she looks???

At number 2, we have Regina echoing Emma in this lovely yellow trench. Not to mention the way it matches her umbrella. And the fact that she wears this after Emma reveals she likes the colour...coincidence? I think not. This whole look just brings out the doe-eyed lil' bean that Regina truly is. I mean just look at how she looks at Emma here😭

And finally at number 1, we have what I consider the sexiest outfit Regina (mayor) has ever worn (please don't attack me I just love it so much). This dress made me the raging homosexual I am today. I saw her wearing this and immediately questioned my sexuality.

Also here are some bonus underrated looks 🤓

Now I'm SURE I'm missing some killer outfits because like I said, Regina could make my knees weak in quite literally anything she puts on, but these are some of my faves and the first ones that come to mind!!

Please add on to this list so we can honour the beauty of Regina Mills.

#i could go on #we could be here for ages #regina mills #once upon a time #reginamillsedit #swan queen #lana parrilla

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griffinkid · 4 months

Text

Have you ever looked at your favourite stuffed animal and thought, "wow, they'd win first place in a stuffed animal show"?

Now's your chance to make that dream a reality! Enter them as a contestant and they'll win a spiffy certificate and ribbon for their achievements!

The deadline for this show is Wednesday the 20th of December 2023, 6pm GMT. You may submit your entries by reblogging this post, or by messaging me directly (preferred)!

Nobody asked for it this time, I just felt like a nice Christmassy show, so hopefully at least 1.5 of you decides to join in

Since this show will end close to Christmas, the prizes will have a holiday theme. For extra credit, give your plushie friend a holiday theme (all holidays welcomed of course, not just Christmas)! It's not required, but you can do it just for fun ❤️

Check out previous winners, prizes and the FAQ on the website!

Max 2 entries per person

Would be nice if you were following me, not required

If you enter, please reblog the post to spread the word

All types of toys (including furby, doll, fandom etc) are permitted as long as it's kid-friendly

I prefer to get entries via PM because the notification makes me less likely to miss you, but if you're very shy you can put your entry in the reblogs instead

To enter, I'll need:

A picture of your stuffed animal

Their name and pronouns

A little bit about their personality (optional)

Please make sure you have your messages open/give me a way to contact you! The Office Sabertooth will send you a message when your entry is processed. This message contains the end date/time and where to pick up your prizes. I don't message prizes out individually anymore, so it's your responsibility to keep track of this!

Blogs mentioned in the banner below may not enter.

#plushie show #long post #tagging this so people see it #plushies #stuffies #toycore #kidcore #plushcore #plushblr #plushwave #build a bear #jellycat #might as well tag them too

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ouchthathurts · 10 months

Text

❝ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄? ❞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) ⋮ Fiend! Denji + Human! Gender Neutral! Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⋮ 3.6k

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 ⋮ One-Shot

𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭 ⋮ After stalking you for months Denji has fallen for you, unfortunately, Denji’s trauma comes into the conversation as the confession takes place.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⋮ Takes Place During CSM P2 | Spoilers for CSM P1 | FIRST POST TO TUMBLR SO PLEASE LEAVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITCISM (WRITTEN WHEN I WAS 17)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⋮ Writing contains mentions of talking of pass trauma such as grooming, stalking, and emotional/physical abuse.

Denji looked over the letter he was about to put in your locker, simple enough, there was nothing more he could so desire then to tell you how much he truly loved being around you. Even if it was just him stalking you and always being around you in the public as someone who was just an on-scene Devil Hunter. You had never took notice to him ever, in fact you were a high school student at this time which is where Denji would stalk you from.

Denji would just look over you at the school such as from rooftops, look down at you from above the school into the courtyard where you were continuing your normal human life, with your normal human friends, and nothing truly out of the ordinary. Denji felt the pangs of jealousy as he watched your life, from the walk to school to the moment you kicked off your shows at your door there was nothing truly that brought him more joy than being in your shoes.

Denji never meant to fall for you, as the months had passed, he had found that just staring at your life hadn’t come close to the more he played attention to you as a person. The young man studied the books you read, the people you chose to be around, your place in school, and even stealing your portable cassette player to listen to your favorite music. Denji felt so overjoyed by this discovery, often times just being there for you in ways you wouldn’t realize such as when you ‘lost’ things or a new book that would happen to be out that you talk about or even when he would get your favorite snacks and putting the in your shoe locker.

You took quick notice, he loved how attentive you were and how advanced your books were. Even if Denji didn’t know how to, he’d pick up the books he’d get you and look over them to try and help him on one of his biggest missions yet, confessing to you. Denji wrote the letter of his life, something that he admired from afar with immense joy as he looked for the words in the books you loved with an immense amount of joy and no other thought than giving you the joys he wanted in his life. Denji’s letter spoke of meeting you, and explained how he admired you from afar in the best love letter written in the world.

Daer, [L/N] [F/N].

You’ve probbaly seen this letter and you’re wondering who sent this–Honestly, it could be anyone who has sent you such a thing. Honestly, it could truly be ANYONE.

I hope you like this letter beacuse I dceorated it myself. Do you like this sort frilly stuff right? I made it reelly spiffy like those romance books you reed!I reellly, reelly, reelly, raelly hope this is your locker. I watch you around this locker with your friends so, I hope this is yours and not the other two’s. They’re not really as intiresting as you.

I like you a lot. I admyer the things you do like doing your work super early, very smart, your diliagnt delgient diilgent and very good looking!

I hope you can meet me at that tree behind the school–Y’know that big sakura tree? I saw you go to it when you read it during breaks and after cleaning time, I like to see you read under the tree as I like to watch you talk to it and your reactions to it.

I even wrote you a writing thing and got you a gift if you showed up!

I hope you can come to the tree this Friday and listen to me say it to your face hear me say it loud and proud. ⭐

You couldn’t recognize the hand writing from anyone in your class, it was messily put together, lots of misspelled words and you questioned if the person even went to your school. You couldn’t help but look at all the doodles such as a couple of stickmen figures of you, books, and hearts. Honestly, you wondered about this person, it was very put to detail and nonetheless it seemed they were definitely trying their hardest when making such a letter.

You decided that you’d go to see this person, to make sure their heart was in the right place when you met them that day and even more so, to see who they were as a person–What if they weren’t a person? A bit of fear ran down your back as you thought of it being a Devil from the poor handwriting, becoming even more self evident as the mentions of stalking that left you rereading the letter in a bit of confliction and yet, you made sure you showed up that Friday.

You held the letter close to your chest with a soft smile on your face and look of inquisition in your eyes as you were unprepared for what awaited you once you turned around. You looked behind you to be met by a blond boy you had never met before, in fact you had never ever seen such a person in your life. They didn’t even have the male uniform on so, you questioned further who this person could have possibly been.

Your face dropped a bit, good for you that he was still catching is breath as the boy you found to have interest in you was one who you had never seen–I guess that makes sense because he stalked you? Way to keep yourself hidden. You looked at the blond with a bit of confusion to your face as you wondered about what in the world this boy could ever thought about you. The young man gave you a smile, flashing his sharp teeth at you that immediately made your face began to show signs of fear at the fact this could’ve been some type of undercover Devil waiting to lure you and kill you.

You looked into his honey brown eyes with a tilt of your head before questioning him, “You don’t go to this school do you?” Denji was quick to look at you with a softened smile as he was more lost in your appearance than anything. You tilted your head the other way, a bit of frustration as you wondered about what he was going to say or do next, even more, what he was going to say to you when you were quick to hum as to get his attention. Denji rearranged his eyes to your eyes after looking at the features that lovingly cradled your face, in embarrassment and awe with his cheeks pink from the ogling of your appearance, “I…I don’t go to school.” You knew that much by the letter, honestly, you felt a bit awkward and dismayed.

Denji noticed your eyes began to waver, wondering about what he could possibly do to help you get comfortable with him before it came to him in seconds. "Not yet enrolled–!” Denji barked as he pulled out the book from behind him, “I got you something!” it was of a series you were reading at the moment, and it was a apart you were missing as every time it went on sale you were stuck in classes and with the school rule of not being able to have a part time job you relied on allowance that you already spent on the previous books.

Your eyes lit up, Denji taking notice to this as his eyes began to light up and showed off his pearly whites with such eagerness. “You kept reading the series and I noticed you were always missing a number–That’s kind of lame, right? I’d want someone to give me a book I’m missing!” You nodded at this as he handed you the book, “I mean, I don’t really read.” Denji was quick to correct himself, “I mean, like, I read now! Because you rad! Been teaching myself!” You could feel yourself smile as you placed his letter inside of the book and closed it.

You looked into the blond’s eyes, gratefulness as you felt nice with the gift and the way he talked about picking up reading for you made you feel a bit flattered. Denji was scrambling to get something out of his pocket, it was a crumpled piece of paper that left you with a bit of uncertainty, wondering about the contents before your thoughts were cut off by your answer. “I wrote this for you!” Denji exclaimed, looking at you with such a large smile as he began to clear his throat, you felt confliction nonetheless, you stood there and listened to him.

“I think about you often while I do stuff like bathing. I sometimes think about you washing my hair while I shower and when I do it I think about your hands instead of mine.”

You found yourself wincing a bit at the wording in your mind, it was very strong yet, you let him continue. Denji had been study his writing, overjoyed by the fact that he was the only one who could decipher it and he wouldn’t have someone try to come expose him for it, he pronounced words effortlessly and made sure to sound as suave as those guys in the books you read.

“I like to think about you when I’m dong work and how I hope to make this place safer for you especially, for the past few months I have also been studying my writing–It’s unique just like me! I really like the way you are so smart and do the stuff you do which pushes me to want to do just as great as you do.”

You felt a small smile curl up on your lips, a bit awkward at such a random comment and even more, you still found yourself admiring the young man before you. Denji looked at you, it found yourself getting giddy at a confession to you in the first place and with the way things were going you found yourself a bit flattered by everything.

“I really like staring at you do stuff like how you’re always bringing your journal to write in an dhow you immediately notice when something is wrong. I like to watch you read, in fact, I spent a whole day thinking about just sitting around with you for every moment doing nothing at all besides listening to you read because your voice is so relaxing–Your present is warm!”

You smiled at him, you lowered brow at him, ‘Presence?’ You didn’t want t correct him with how much he had said this far and you didn’t want to make him feel bad. You listened earnestly, a smile still planted on your face as you looked at Denji.

“I think about eating toast with jam on it with you everyday, going to school with you, admiring you during class, and even more when you’re with your friends. In fact, being around you makes me feel so nice and warm–I haven’t felt this warm in so long.”

You watched Denji’s eyebrows furrow at this, the young man feeling himself conflicted about the next few lines as he found this blur in the idea of becoming one with someone else after he had eaten Makima. It was a weird feeling, one that he knew was wrong and knew he needed to get over at this moment. Denji was quick to diffuse the situation, as he hoped he hadn’t made you jealous in his delusions, “They’re gone now after I ate them.” You flinched at this, ‘The point of no return?’ you questioned before hearing the young man’s laughter.

“I ate my sadness in food!” Denji applauded his save, you were quick to calm down at the realization but the words that fell out of his mouth still had you with feelings of confliction. Denji took quick notice, he was beginning to pick up on social cues better thanks to you and the books you were reading! Denji continued on with writing as a means to save his confession.

“I haven’t said that to anyone yet, y’know? Like, I’m sad and stuff and I think I’m not but I am y’know?” Denji wasn’t reading the paper anymore, he looked at you with his lovely bright colored honey brown eyes, once filled with energy bouncing of the walls had now began to soften with a look into your eyes and the soft look of your facial expressions had cradled him.

You nodded, even if you hadn’t gone through such trauma you were still very sympathetic with him and listened to him. “It’s like, when you’re living life and you’re thinking about stuff that happened and it kind of hits you at once? Like your first ever kiss that you had with that drunk woman then she vomited in your mouth and you ate it anyways?” You found yourself covering your mouth, trying to stop yourself from exhibiting any signs of being grossed out instead displaying shock to the young man.

“Himeno!” Denji commented, you felt yourself get queasy at this and you hoped for the best for him at this moment as you had grown to care for this young man’s well being, “Then there was Makima, she was someone I just let myself attach to because of feelings, or whatever. I loved her a lot.” You looked at Denji with a saddened look, “How old was she?” Denji’s response only made you feel worse for him, there was nothing you could and there was nothing you wanted to say as he opened up to you. “Older woman, like probably Himeno’s age, I wanted to be mindless to her and so, she killed all my friends-Except for Aki, I killed him…” You raised a brow at this.

You didn’t want to say anything, but you couldn’t hide the bewilderment on your face as you looked at the blond with dilated pupils. “That was all because I’m Chainsaw Man!” Denji shouted, he showed you the cord attached to his chest before quickly going back to the topic before, “It’s pretty cool to being Chainsaw Man except for the people that came with it-That was lame–But I became aware!”

You raised a brow at this, “How so?” Denji smiled at you, “Because I came to talk to you–And I’m taking charge! I’m responsible enough to save money for food whilst still supplying stuff for you!” You found yourself hurt by the gift now, wondering if he’s ever skipped meals just to get you your things. “Oh, you didn’t need to–” Denji scoffs at you, “No need! I wanted to do this! I love doing this for you! Because I like you and I want a life with you!”

You watched as Denji shoved the paper back in his pocket before he sighed, “There was more writing–I just thought it would send better without some stupid piece of paper blocking your face.” You nodded at this, continuing to stay silent as you listened to him. “I really like you, [F/N], and even more, I want to be apart of your life–Mine is a bit complex because I have this kid and I’m putting her through school.”

You didn’t say anything to this, no reaction either as you thought about what in the world was going on with this boy, you kept listening to him in admiration and peaked interest. “I want you to know I’ll be there for you, even if you don’t like me back, I’ll still be there for you to protect you. Not just as Chainsaw Man, but as Denji Hayakawa too!”

You didn’t honestly know what to say, from a traumatic story to the child he’s putting through school and then the fact he was Chainsaw Man–You were in utter shock at everything presented to you, other than that, you looked at Denji for a minute before looking down at the book in your hands and the letter that peeked out. You found yourself looking down at the book, wondering and questioning what you could possibly say in this moment to help get your point across to him.

You didn’t want to lie to him, and even more, you wanted to hear more about him. You felt terrible for him and you looked at him with joy as you found the words you wanted to say. “Denji…I think you’re great–I mean honestly, it’s a big thing for you to tell me all these things.” I looked at Denji, who continued to look eagerly at you with such large eyes filled with inspiration and hope.

It had been awhile since Denji’s been this excited since his appreciation for Nayuta had began growing. The hopeful eyes made your heart pound, it felt like you were almost entranced by this boy you had never met before and while you did have some interest in him there were still things that needed to be sorted.

“However, I think we need more time to get to know each other before I have these feelings for you…” I smiled at him, a warm one that tried to help convey to him how you felt, “Does that mean “No”?” You were disappointed your smile didn’t do much as you looked at Denji with soft eye, “Denji, it’s a not right now…Give me some type to get to know you–” Denji was quick to cut you off, “You know so much about me already!”

The blond argued, childishly and you immediately argued with him, “That’s your trauma–Your trauma isn’t the only thing about you, Denji.” The young man raised a brow at this, Denji had been truly becoming a husk of himself with the passing days with the realization of all he’s been through with his trauma taking the biggest toll on him, yet, there you were making him feel just as young as he was so long ago. You looked at him, a soft smile on your face as you tried to think of any way to get him to realize such. “You’re capable of being more so, and I hope in the future we can become close–”

Denji was quick to ask to you question, “I’ll do anything for you…Even kill some–" You found yourself gasping at this request, almost hurt by such a thing and quickly shut him down, “No!” Denji felt hurt by your change in tone, it felt like those moments with Makima where he would do all she had asked of him, just for her to acknowledge him and give him the physical affection he desired and craved yet still leaving him fleeting.

Denji was projecting, it was terrible for him at this moment with the realization that he would even do such a thing for someone he formed such an unhealthy relationship within those few months with someone who was unknowing of his watching. Denji knew this was wrong, your reaction said it all, and it made Denji felt this reprimand feel as if it was nothing but a blessing to his behavior as he quickly shut his mouth.

You were quick to notice him, so attentive to him, “Oh, Denji. I hope you can understand how absurd that was…” You commented, the blond nodded and sighed to himself before gaining the guts to look at the bottom half of your face. Denji still felt terrible, it felt like he was mumbling when it came out of his mouth, "I hope I can be better for you in the future.” You smiled at Denji, a smile that conveyed the warmness you felt for the young man as you found your hands traveling to his chin to pick his head up and look at you in the eyes,

Denji felt like melting before you, he looked into the eyes that were nothing more than the warm baths that he hoped to have with you as you washed his hair in a similar way to the love, he had so desired from such a young age, to let himself become childish and comfortable with you whilst you doted on him and kept him in check. Denji yearned for this for type of affection.

You smiled at him, bringing your other hand to his cheek while the other began to glide up his jaw, “You will get better, with or without me…” I explained looking deep into Denji’s eyes, “I hope, however, that it’s with me as well.” Denji looked at the warm expression, the way the sun setting had created the light around you as if you were an entity. “I want you to do and be better–To be better for the girl you’re putting through school and the future you want for yourself.”

You glowed without that sun; the darkest night couldn’t compete with the natural illumination that traveled around you when you smiled. Denji swooned to himself, groaning at how amazing you were in his eyes and the fact you were even saying these words to his face had brought him even more of an inspiration. The petals falling around the two of you were a sight for the world to be blessed with. Denji launched himself to you with his arms quickly wrapping around you tightly and bringing you into a hug.

“I swear, [L/N] [F/N], I will help myself and become better person!” You looked up at Denji after your head was pulled into his shoulder, you looked him into his eyes, “Promise?” Denji winked at you, “Promise!” You giggled at this, engulfing the young man into a hug with not knowing the impact this had on Denji.

That day, Denji swore to better himself in hopes for the day the two of you can be one…

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