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cinnaminsvga · 9 months ago

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Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits.

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country.

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend.

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly.

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank).

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored.

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that.

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was.

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment.

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage.

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction.

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!”

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?”

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks.

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding.

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone.

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still.

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him.

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident.

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way.

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture.

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you.

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you.

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”?

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot.

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly.

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute.

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night.

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically.

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying.

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason.

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding.

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly.

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face.

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you.

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text.

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time.

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy.

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense.

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him.

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement.

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him.

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same.

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray.

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him.

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream.

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name?

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers.

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform.

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?”

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful.

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything.

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight.

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom.

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through.

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do?

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought.

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift.

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance.

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage.

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology.

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years.

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug.

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache.

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor.

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well.

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers.

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten.

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him.

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him.

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick.

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses.

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer.

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you.

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears.

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant.

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder.

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back.

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought.

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster.

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one.

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook.

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind.

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you.

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs.

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again.

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out.

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you.

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent.

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix.

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it.

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow.

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles.

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter.

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope.

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that.

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears.

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer.

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too.

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers.

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare.

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind.

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class.

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel.

But you do know, the universe responds.

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond?

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing.

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation.

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat.

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance?

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air.

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you.

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door.

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

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twstedstoryshop · 9 months ago

Text

FINALLY, I return properly. Kind of. Reason I've been away for so long was because of insane convention season and also had this bad boy in the works. This is one of two commissions done for a friend. Hope you all can enjoy yourselves for the crumbs I produce. -SK

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, violence, depressed s/o, and mentions of toxic past relationships.

Your New Boyfriends Runs Into Your Ex

While Rook Hunt was one of many to find camaraderie in a den of villains, that didn’t mean chivalry was dead to him. Certainly not him.

Under his keen gaze, he knew that when a certain topic was broached, you would shy away instantly. Paled knuckles, a panicked gaze, and your bottom lip near to splitting open by how badly you chewed down.

It was like he was seeing a rabbit or deer caught in a trap, frantic with no escape. Though his heart had been trained to a perfect steel and not feel for his quarry, when he sees that look in your eyes, all defenses fall away.

The topic? Well, the worries of what the future held for you. Moreso in far off days. Would you continue to have your friends by your side? Would someone ever cherish you? Have a deeper connection?

For Rook, it was a no-brainer because of course! Who else was more worthy of adoration and praise than his dear petite grâce? As he would declare this in all his usual grandeur, a small smile would form on your lips, but that happiness never reached your eyes.

Doubt clouded that sweet gaze of yours. In its own way, seeing such clear eyes be veiled by sadness was heartachingly beautiful. Yet it was a beautiful scene Rook couldn’t bear to behold for too long.

When it came to keeping track of you, Rook was extra considerate. If one can call it that… In his mind, he kept careful track of those you interacted with. He watched your mannerisms, your dialogue, anything amiss he would file it away. But for the longest time, it didn’t seem like an outside force was troubling you.

For a moment, Rook considered that whatever wounded your heart was a scar from a distant past he had yet to uncover. What he didn’t expect was said wound abruptly appearing on a normal day.

From a vantage point, perhaps from a second story window or among the trees that dotted the campus, Rook had caught sight of you stone-still on your walk. Before you, an NRC student he couldn’t recall. He didn’t really have time to register the man when Rook had just attention all on you.

Your wide, hollow eyes. Your chest rising and falling rapidly. How you froze so perfectly under the gaze of this man. It was a scene Rook was all too familiar with. Prey terrified beyond its own mind to run, to hide, or even fight.

Your rational mind couldn’t comprehend what your ex was even saying to you as panic held you in its overbearing clutch. The world grew dizzying and just when you felt like your heart would give out, right then and there, a broad arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Ah, there you are, ma petite grâce. I was looking all over for you. You made me a bit worried, you know!”

It was hard to look up at him as Rook’s hat was tipped just enough for the shadows to mask his features. But your ex needed only one glance for the role of prey to be forced on him. Green eyes with a gaze so sharp, so precise like a notched arrow perfectly aligned to fire, bored right into him.

It didn’t take much time before the ex backpedaled away with his tail between his legs, now only leaving you with Rook.

Rook would face you, gripping your forearms firmly. His expression, soft though. He called out for you, trying his best to snap you from your daze. When you finally realized it was him now before you, your body moved on its own before you could think. A heaviness made you fall against his chest. You shivered, maybe tears and sobs escaping you.

Rook held you so close against him. Like he was cradling a sculpture of the most delicate porcelain. As if one scratch or knock would crumble you into fine dust.

A single hand held the back of your head protectively, letting you weep as much as you wanted against his shirt. His chin nestled along your hair. You would be so blissfully unaware of Rook’s gaze. A complicated stare into space as his mind swam with many thoughts.

Rook always found beauty in the oddest of places. Yet for the first time, there was something Rook found utterly detestable. A vile image that was a blot in his picturesque vision and that was your ex, the source of your pain. But from that ugliness, he did find a most exquisite sensation. A drive to hunt. An unyielding need to protect you.

While he couldn’t spring into action earlier, his quarry was marked. A hunter is patient and he can wait as long as he needs to for one slip-up, one more attempt to dare get near you, and Rook would be sure to let loose a vicious arrow.

There is a tension between you and Floyd on certain days. While most times, it would be all fun and games, just him and his little Shrimpy. But Floyd wasn’t blind to the weight you carried.

It would irritate him on a dime when you obviously had thoughts clouding your mind. So much so that you fidget anxiously or not even pay attention to him. His sharp voice would call over the din of thoughts and you’d see the eel practically inches away from your face.

His dual colored eyes glared at you and a slight frown pulled at his lips. “Geez, what the hell is goin’ on with you!?” He doesn’t mean to be so crass, but to see his Shrimpy unsettled, it frustrated him.

Moreso that he can’t exactly pinpoint what was going on with you, that he can’t just squeeze it to a pulp and boom, no more problems!

He knew you had your walls and such walls took time to lower to let him in. Floyd had the patience as a waiting moray eel, but if he had the proactiveness to actually act upon his patience? That’s a whole other story. When it came to you, he just wanted to see you happy and unbothered. All reasoning would flutter out the window.

It may or may not have taken a lot of squeezing and thinly veiled threats to your friends for them to fess up information you couldn’t bear to unload on Floyd. A common name would be passed around, an ex from your past. Just the thought that someone else had their hands on you nearly made Floyd break bones if not for the pitiful yelps of your friends to release them in time.

Questions whirled in that skull of his. Why have you never brought this up to him? What did this ex do to you that made you shy away from him? Where was this scumbag now? All of these worries would bleed into his daily life and if it weren’t for Jade and Azul to straighten him out, he would have been throwing tantrums left and right.

It wasn’t until one day that all his frustrations would come to a boiling point into a final, satisfying crescendo. At least for him.

Work was to be done at Mostro Lounge. Floyd was on duty to be a waiter along with yourself. Both of you have opted to be in an awkward silence in your relationship and it was evident by how you both avoided one another, unsure of how to really talk about your issues.

Floyd had taken an order from a particular student, one he could easily sniff out as a rude bastard by his mannerisms and his tones. But if Floyd’s temper got the better of him, he’d never hear the end of it from Azul. He would hand off the order to you to at least serve drinks.

Everything seemed normal until suddenly a glass shattered. All eyes shifted to you who shivered in place. The tray rattled in your hands and below you a cascade of broken glass.

“Y-you…” “The fuck…? What the hell are you doing here!? And look at what you did to my drink! You’re still incompetent as ever, tch!”

You wanted to cry, scream, run away. You felt so ashamed, being treated like garbage again from an ex you swore you’d never let walk all over you again. But at the height of stress, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up for yourself. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic…

That is until a sing-song, nonchalant voice slid right up behind you. “Ahhhh, what a shame. I apologize on the behalf of our lil waiter here. They’re just nervous is all. Here~ Why don’t I make it up to ya? I can serve ya a drink right here, right now. On the house~” “Finally, some decent fucking service…”

You looked up at Floyd and saw that dangerous glint in his eyes. How his pupils honed on the poor fool as his smile widened so tightly across his face. He reached for a spare glass that was left on the table, presented it with a flourish to your ex, and coyly said, “Readyyyy~? Watch carefully.”

Then, his hand flew so quick to grab a clump of your ex’s hair and slammed it squarely on the glass. The crunch of glass, your scream, and the screech of chairs being pushed back as patrons jumped.

“GYAHAHA, YOU LIKE IT!? IT’S MOSTRO LOUNGE’S OWN PERSONAL RED. Ahhhh, but the red comin’ from you? Pfft, it ain’t worth the shit under my shoe…” Your ex could barely register what was even being said to him from the glass embedded in his face and blood gushing from his nose and broken lips.

Hands covered your mouth in terror as you could barely register what was happening. From panicked students screaming to Azul and Jade holding Floyd back from beating the poor ex to a pulp. All you could really register was the horrifying satisfaction deep in your chest, seeing the one who hurt you so much battered under the hand of someone who protected you…

Leona has his own ways of caring but most of the time, if you cannot read between the lines, it may come off as uncaring.

He does care, but don’t expect a coddling man rushing to be your knight when you are feeling sorry for yourself. The last thing he wants to do is pity you as he knows all too well the humiliation of being pitied.

Instead he observes, he watches, he’s keen to everything you do that isn’t a part of your daily life. In sly ways, he tries to break your moments of dissociating. He calls your name sharply to snap you out of your funk and gives you a menial task.

Telling you to maybe preen his mane, join Ruggie on an errand, what have you. It’s better to keep yourself occupied than whatever is plaguing your mindscape.

Sometimes, he will even abruptly lean against you, his weight toppling the both of you over. Even if you protest under him, he will insist he’s really tired and just wants something warm beside him to help him sleep. In truth, it’s just another way to stop your self-deprecating thoughts.

Though he will speak up in annoyance if your depressed thoughts start to bleed into your relationship. It will sting, but he means well. He tells you gruffly that he’s not in the mood to lay next to baggage. He wants only his partner, dammit.

You may argue, you may not, it depends on how you react but at the end of it, one way or another, you’re going to have to face him and this problem that hangs over you.

If you take time before approaching him or spill everything in one go, he will wait patiently and listen. But cowardice by running away he won’t accept and would want answers promptly.

One way or another, the truth has to come from you and you explain the thoughts that coil around you like a petulant serpent. A name and face that digs into your chest horribly. Your ex and the ways he has hurt you in many ways.

Leona listens stoically, letting you share your story before acknowledging and commending the strength it took for you to finally admit this. He knows all too well the pains of the past, he shares in your frustrations. But the past stays in the past for a reason.

Now it’s you and him now. You define yourselves here in the present. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’d like to see them try.

Who would have known that such a time would come so soon when one day, someone had the gall to start harassing you right in the Savanaclaw dorm.

That same face that always lingered around you like a ghost was here right now in the flesh, taunting you at the edges of the Spelldrive field. Your ex sneered at you, wondering what the hell you were doing around here during his practice hours. Had the nerve to accuse you of stalking him despite your split.

Your anger boiled your blood, your face flushed. Your nerves alighted with a burning fury that made the dorm’s dry heat pale in comparison. But your body did not respond to you. Your throat froze despite wanting to curse and yell out at your ex.

What neither you expected though while your mouth gasped for something, anything to throw at this scumbag, was a lion’s roar peeling across the field. A shadow loomed over your ex and both of you looked up to a silhouette blocking the sun and a pair of piercing green eyes.

Astride his broom, Leona stared squarely at the ex. “For a minute, I thought I heard annoying squawks from a mangy vulture, but now I just see a whelp. Having the nerve to approach my partner…”

Without missing a beat, Leona lowered himself to the ground and sauntered right over to your ex. Your ex tried to stand his ground but anyone could tell he was practically shaking in his spot.

“So.... What were you two talking about?” It was such a simple question. So trivial. But the way Leona spoke each word, it was like a pair of hungry jaws were ready to snap behind every syllable. He dared for your ex to slip up.

“N-nothing… Nothing at all… I was l-leaving…” “Hooo?” Leona’s tail whipped behind him in amusement. “So you just waltzed up to my partner and gawked at them? Nothing left your useless, flapping gums? I can hardly believe that.”

Leona’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hand and for a quick second, you swore you saw wind and dust particles gather between his finger tips. The air felt still and you heard your ex gulp audibly from a dry throat. Then, a sudden calmness.

“But if you were just about to leave, then by all means, scurry along. I hate people wasting my time.”

To which your ex immediately did, turning on his heel, so close to make a run for it. Then, like a giant paw slamming atop a helpless mouse, Leona’s hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“A warning since I’m feeling so generous today… Don’t ever let me catch you near them again. Ya hear me? Or else, I’ll make you a nice addition to the scenery. We could always add more sand and bones.” Leona cracked a toothy smirk with darkness in his eyes. His fangs glinted in the sun and it was then you truly realized the fierce lion you had taken in as your boyfriend.

#scrawlingquill #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rook hunt x reader #floyd leech x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland y/n #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #twsited wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #twst reader insert #twisted wonderland reader insert #long post #long reads

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theprettyarachnid · 1 year ago

Note

JJK characters and their reaction to a sensitive, innocent and easily flustered s/o🌹

a/n: yes <3 also i was on a roll with this one and i’m proud of myself

also sorry for the depression fest lately, my bad yall

warnings: the more you scroll the more nsfw it gets

characters: itadori, megumi, inumaki, yuuta, gojo, suguru, nanami, sukuna (some characters aged up)

itadori

🕷️ he thinks it’s really cute how flustered you get over the simplest of things

🕷️ he’ll hold your hand and he catches a glimpse of the tips of your ears turning a little red

🕷️ yuji once made a dirty joke while hanging out with you, megumi, and nobara and while the other two were rolling their eyes or saying their piece about the joke, he noticed you having this confused look on your face

🕷️ almost like you were a stranger within an inside joke

🕷️ he took note of it and will occasionally say things that are dirty when it’s just the two of you only to watch it fly over your head

🕷️ yuji doesn’t really lose his temper but you did something reckless on a mission once and he got really upset

🕷️ he couldn’t stop himself from yelling at you out of concern and fear but when you started crying he stopped

🕷️ he immediately gave you hug while you kept apologizing only to hear him shush you

🕷️ he was upset with himself for the rest of the day and a little more

🕷️ he cuddled with you for hours even when you told him you had something to do

🕷️ “just a few more minutes, you’re warm and i don’t want you to go”

megumi

🕷️ you can say whatever you want, i think megumi gets a little flustered at times as well

🕷️ in the beginning of the relationship, nobara and yuji would be snickering in the background as megumi tried to make a move

🕷️ your sensitivity can sometimes be a problem because megumi is naturally stand-offish and can sometimes come off as kind of mean

🕷️ especially because we know he can be kind of bad at comforting people but he’s gotten better at it because of you

🕷️ he likes to tuck your hair behind your ear because he likes seeing your lips thin out while you shyly look down

🕷️ not huge displays of affection in public but even when you two are alone and you kiss both of you end up having coloured cheeks when you pull away

inumaki

🕷️ if he’s feeling like it, he makes you flustered on purpose just for your reaction

🕷️ as well as he’s not one to be ashamed of showing his affection so throughout the day he holds your hand, kisses your cheek, twirls your hair when he’s bored

🕷️ but he finds it funny when he shows big displays of affection watching you try to run off before everyone starts staring but he catches your hand so you can’t leave

🕷️ “tuna!”

🕷️ when you two are alone he’s noticed that you’ve become a little less embarrassed when it’s just the two of you

🕷️ movie night with the gang

🕷️ everyone has turns picking out the movie so panda or gojo (on the rare occasion he joins) might put on a scary movie

🕷️ you’ll cover your eyes at certain parts of the movie but be peaking out a little because you’re too interested

🕷️ he pulls the cringey yawn over the shoulder thing even though he doesn’t have to and he knows it’s cringe

yuuta

🕷️ also finds it cute but goes easy on you even though he could do a lot worse

🕷️ occasionally pokes fun at you but gives you a quick kiss so you know he’s joking and you don’t have to get upset about it

🕷️ sometimes he can’t help himself and puts his hand a little lower than usual or will gently squeeze your waist

🕷️ can be overprotective during missions

🕷️ when he leaves for missions, he gives you multiple pairs of sweatshirts, t-shirts, etc for you to wear and even when people ask “is that yuuta’s” and you get embarrassed you still keep it on

🕷️ yuuta can’t help himself when he gets back, as soon as he sees you he picks you up bridal style and spins you around while kissing you

🕷️ by the time you’ve stopped spinning, you’re out of breath, dizzy, and grinning like an idiot

gojo

🕷️ RELENTLESS

🕷️ consider getting a restraining order

🕷️ like sometimes it can be cute like he’ll call you beautiful but other times he gives you a quick smack on the ass or squeezes your boobs when no one’s around

🕷️ you yell at him at times especially if it was in public and really embarrassing with red cheeks

🕷️ and as a sensitive person myself, probably a little tears in the eyes

🕷️ he feels really bad when you yell at him and hugs you for however long he feels necessary

🕷️ for some reason he really likes seeing you in his shades and randomly will put them on you

🕷️ it doesn’t really make you flustered, you actually find it kind of funny at times

🕷️ even when his eyes are covered, you can feel him staring at you and when his eyes are uncovered it’s in adoration

🕷️ gojo just thinks you’re so pretty and he can’t keep his eyes off you

🕷️ he finds it funny how suggestive jokes go right over your head so he’s more direct when it comes to you

🕷️ he whispers something in your ear occasionally and bites the tip of your ear watching your eyes widen and your face getting red

🕷️ he wiggles his eyebrows whenever he says some promiscuous which makes you make your mouth agape as you just turn your head away

suguru

🕷️ finds it amusing

🕷️ isn’t as relentless but occasionally will intentionally do something here and there

🕷️ when he’s talking to one of his disciples and you’re with him, he slyly moves his hand down to your ass gently squeezing it

🕷️ the disciple usually looks confused when they notice you hide your face while staring at the floor

🕷️ likes to sneak up on you and will give you a kiss behind your ear and feel the blood rush up your neck and onto your face

🕷️ gently cups your cheek and compliments you a little too loudly so people will hear

🕷️ he likes how innocent you are because the less you know the more he can expose you to

🕷️ is really gentle with you so you don’t get upset

🕷️ death penalty to anyone who makes you upset, the more upset you are the more miserable the death is

🕷️ he doesn’t let you know though, the last thing he wants is to see who he really is when it comes to others

nanami

🕷️ noticed it the first time he leaned over you to see what you were doing

🕷️ it was only out of curiosity of what you were doing but he thought it was cute seeing how flustered he made you

🕷️ notices how you keep stealing glances at him when he loosens his tie which shows a bit of his collarbone

🕷️ “you know, you don’t have to be embarrassed around me dear.”

🕷️ even with his statement though, you still would

🕷️ occasionally asks you to loosen his tie for him and watches as you look at the floor quietly giving an “okay” before walking over

🕷️ he takes this opportunity to wrap his arms around you and give you a kiss to the forehead

🕷️ he gives you a small smile when you look up before gently kissing you again on the lips enjoying how your hands tremble a little as you still loosen his tie

🕷️ if he raises his voice out of frustration and sees you curl into yourself while looking at the floor, he makes sure to take a breath and apologize

🕷️ it’s a very rare occurrence but it still happens

��️ likes when you sit on his lap while he works because he likes how close you are to him and how you stammer a little bit whenever he talks to you

sukuna

🕷️ oh god

🕷️ not to be cringe but you’re literally in the lions den

🕷️ sometimes literally if you’re in his domain

🕷️ sukuna always makes a point for you to look him in the eyes whenever he talks to you, no matter what he’s saying

🕷️ if you look away from embarrassment, he grabs your chin to make you look at him and sometimes even makes you repeat how he wants you to look at him when he’s talking to you

🕷️ “what did i say about keeping eye contact? say it so i know you understand.”

🕷️ occasionally gives you a break if he’s feeling nice but will still do things to get a reaction

🕷️ you sit on his lap on his throne, one of his arms wrapped around your waist and the other on your thigh

🕷️ a little too high up your thigh most of the time

🕷️ lifts your chin up before he kisses you

🕷️ he doesn’t care if one of his servants comes to him about something and he’s doing whatever to you just to hear you stumble with your words while nervously playing with your hands

🕷️ loves fucking you especially in his true form because he has more arms, two of them holding each of your wrists while another one is slung over his shoulder and being extended just a little too far

🕷️ to make it even worse he makes you beg most of the time and watches your tears run down your face

🕷️ isn’t exactly the nicest person, i mean he’s the king of curses, so he says a lot of insensitive things

🕷️ he rolls his eyes and tells you to stop crying which usually only makes it worse so eventually he gives some weird half-assed kind of an apology so you’ll stop crying

🕷️ he doesn’t say “i’m sorry” but pulls you closer so your head is against his chest while he plays with your hair and that’s usually the closest you get to an apology

2K notes · View notes

miss-hyoko · 2 years ago

Text

Privileged One

Character(s): Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus

Summary: What if you were his childhood friend?

Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff, platonic but can be read as romantic, reader is NOT Yuu, a bit depressing for the character's part (not too serious)

Note: I initially plan to make you two a normal pair of childhood friends, but my stupid brain is acting up midway and makes it seems like he has a one-sided crush on you. I still hope you enjoy, though (⁠っ⁠.⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠っ

1. Riddle Rosehearts

Most of the Heartslabyul students are jealous of you. You are the only person who can (accidentally) break the rules of the Queen of Hearts and then get away with only a light scolding from the Housewarden.

There had once been a student who dared to say that Riddle played favorites on you, but then the red tyrant got angry and they ended up getting collared for a whole week. The punishment actually could have lasted much longer, but you who heard the news took pity on the student and asked Riddle to release him. That student is now a living example of what can happen to people who dare to comment on how Riddle treats you. Now, almost everyone knows how important you are to Riddle.

Every time you come to visit Heartslabyul, the students there will automatically lead you to Riddle without paying attention to your reason for visiting. You find it a little amusing, the way their faces light up whenever they see you before trying to get you to Riddle as quickly as possible, it's as if they have found a savior who can save them from a calamity called Riddle Rosehearts. You can't blame them, they became like that after noticing that every time Riddle's with you, he will be a bit lenient in giving punishment to the rulebreaker because his attention is too preoccupied on you.

When an Unbirthday Party was being held, you would definitely be invited and there's a special seat that has been arranged just for you, which is right beside Riddle's own seat. There's an unwritten rule that says the first slice of cake belongs to the Housewarden. But, since the cake belonged to Riddle now and that rule wasn't exactly written down on paper, then there's no harm in letting you have the first bite, right? In his defense, Riddle claimed that he didn't break the unwritten rule. The first slice of cake was indeed his, he just let you have the first bite.

If you have trouble understanding a certain subject, fret not because you have Riddle to tutor you. Once school was over, you two would have a study session in Riddle's room. Accompanied by tea and Trey's handmade cakes, Riddle will teach you with the patience he has never shown to anyone but you. Every time you answer correctly a question he gives, Riddle will give you a spoonful of Strawberry Pie from his plate. And if you answered wrong, Riddle will explain it again from the beginning until you fully understand it. This pattern will continue to repeat until finally all the questions are answered or the strawberry pie on his plate runs out.

Amidst his busy life as Heartslabyul's Housewarden, Riddle would always try to spend more time with you. Like; accompanying you to walk to school, talking briefly with you when you two pass each other in the hallway, having lunch together in the cafeteria, and when school is over, he'll wait for you so both of you can go back together to Heartslabyul and have a private tea party.

Whenever he's feeling stressed and exhausted, somehow you always show up at the right time and give him the comfort he's looking for. The two of you would spend time together in his room, with Riddle resting his head on your thighs while your fingers trace the soft strands of his hair. Accompanied by your gentle hum, Riddle then decided to rest for a bit together with his childhood friend before continuing his work later.

2. Leona Kingscholar

Rather than calling yourself Leona's childhood friend, you actually feel more like his personal assistant, considering how much work you have been doing for that lazy lion.

Together with Ruggie, you two were entrusted by the teachers to bring Leona back to class every time he skips class. But knowing Ruggie, he will surely let you handle it all while he himself returns to class to study (he would rather not waste his school fees, okay?). Left all alone, now start your journey, trying to find Leona. You already know where Leona is, but first you need to go to the cafeteria to buy some meat which you plan to use as an 'offering' so (hopefully) he will go back to class with you.

Every time you pick Leona up from his napping place, usually there will be two possible endings. The first one was that he will accept your 'offerings' and go back to class with you, although begrudgingly and full of complaints all the way to the class, then continue his nap in class, which makes you heave a long, weary sigh. While the other one is, he pulls you to accompany him to take a nap together, where you will be his pillow and also his partner in crime considering now you also skip the class together with him.

Even though he never shows it, Leona secretly loves watching you bustle around doing things for him. From cleaning his room, cooking for him, doing his laundry, and other menial work. Ruggie would do all that work for his money, meanwhile, you do all of that out of concern for your lazy childhood friend. It makes Leona feel as if you put him in as your priority that's more important than anything else, it makes Leona feel smug.

Every beastman in school knows better than to pick a fight with you. Never mind fighting, they shouldn't even talk rudely to you. If they dared to do so, then they should be prepared to face Leona's wrath. In Leona's mind, you who are his childhood friend are a part of him. Offending you means offending Leona as well, and Leona won't take it well.

But no matter how your patient is, sometimes you can also get annoyed with Leona's endless laziness. So, you will wake the lion up from his sleep and tell him to do his own business himself. And since it's Leona, of course he refuses and will try to go back to sleep, but you're not going to let him have that peaceful sleep until he finished all his works. The two of you then will start squabbling about it for a bit while the other Savanaclaw students will stare at you in amazement, for you're the only daring one to scold their lazy of a Housewarden. If it were anyone else, their Housewarden would probably kick that person away the moment they disturbed his sleep.

In your eyes, Leona is no different from an overgrown cat. Whenever Leona's mood gets worse, he will look for you and take you to his room to accompany him to sleep. You didn't try to cheer him up, you knew all Leona needed now was just your company, so you started telling him about your daily life and other interesting things you encountered today. And whether you realize it or not, Leona never sleeps even though his eyes are closed. He listens to all your stories in silence without missing a word. For him, your voice is far more effective in calming his nerve than sleeping.

3. Azul Ashengrotto

In the Mostro Lounge, there is one special table that no one is allowed to sit on, no matter how much they are willing to pay for it. If someone tries to occupy it by force, then they would come face to face with one of the Leech brothers and be banned from entering Mostro Lounge again. That table was specially prepared by Azul just for you, his most beloved childhood friend. Every time you visit Mostro Lounge, Azul will drop anything he's currently doing just to greet you personally and help you order your favorite menu.

Contrary to what people think, Azul doesn't give you free food just because you're his childhood friend. You still have to pay for your meal, but Azul doesn't mind giving you a little discount. And when I say he gives you a little discount, it means he will give you several discount coupons that you can stack with other discount coupons with a maximum of 100%. But in exchange for the coupon he gave you, you have to keep this nice thing a secret from the other customers. Because truth to be told, Mostro Lounge doesn't accept stacking discounts, but since you're his childhood friend, Azul doesn't mind making a little exception for you.

At school, you were always seen together with the three infamous Octavinalle's students or at least one of them, mainly Azul. Because of that, there are rumors going around saying that you are also involved in some kind of shady business alongside the three. You aren't concerned with the rumours, but Azul does. He would send the twins to find the person who spread the rumor and teach them a lesson or two about how one should not just jump to conclusions without any real evidence. People can talk shit about him and he couldn't care less. But talk shit about you, and Azul will take it personally.

Every time Mostro Lounge wants to add a new menu, Azul will call you to be the taster. If he sees you enjoying the new menu, then that same night the menu will already be on the Mostro Lounge menu list.

Since you're Azul's childhood friend, it's not surprising that you're also good friends with the Leech brothers. Together with Jade and Floyd, you three have fun teasing Azul. But different from the Leech brothers, who will be given additional work if Azul manages to get angry, you will only end up with a long scolding from the businessman.

Even so, you still feel a little guilty for making Azul angry. You know Azul usually has a fair amount of patience, but if he gets angry, it means the jokes you three makes have gone a bit too far. Hence, you volunteered to help out at the Mostro Lounge. Azul is a little touched by your sentiments. You have always been very caring and concerned with his feelings, ever since childhood. Well, that side of you is the main reason why you're Azul's favorite person.

But as a businessman, who is Azul to turn down the chance you're giving him? Since you asked for it yourself, then he won't be lenient in giving you orders. This resulted in you ending up in the VIP room, sitting on one of the soft sofas, cookies and tea served on the table in front of you, while Azul sits at his desk and goes through his documents. Azul has indeed given you one task, which is to sit quietly and accompany him to work until the closing time.

Azul is the type of person who is full of preparation and planning. It made him feel secure, knowing that he was ready to take on anything. But if something goes wrong and out of his expectations, Azul will become very frustrated and all he wants is nothing but to crawl back into his octopus pot. It was times like these that the twins would turn Azul over to you. Their childhood experiences have taught them that once Azul entered his octopus pot, only you can persuade him to come out. You won't blatantly coax Azul out because the first time you do it, Azul actually hides deeper into his octopus pot. So to solve this problem, you're going to sit outside his octopus pot for a few moments without speaking a word, giving him alone time while still reminding Azul that you're there for him. After a long enough silence, you will start talking about random things to completely turn his attention to you and forget his frustration. For a while, you will continue to talk alone, but you keep telling stories until finally, Azul starts responding to your words one by one. Azul realizes that all the topics you choose to talk about are completely useless, but oddly enough, he doesn't mind hearing all your ramblings at all. When he is finally back to normal, he will pop himself out of his octopus pot and act as if nothing happened. But the next time you visit the Mostro Lounge, Azul will treat you to a free meal as his token of gratitude.

4. Kalim Al-Asim

Even though you are not a servant of the Asim family like Jamil, but you still insist on taking care of Kalim because he is a sunshine boy who must be protected at all cost.

Usually, people will see you hanging out together with Kalim, with or without Jamil. You are the only person Jamil trusts to look after Kalim when he is too busy doing other things.

Kalim loves to tell you numerous things, from the big news he heard from Cater in club-meeting to the little things like how sleepy he was during Professor Trein's class. You always listen attentively to him, while occasionally giving a response as a sign that you pay attention to his story.

Kalim also likes to gift you random objects he found at shop. He said they reminded him of you, so he reflexively bought them and wanted to give them to you. Because of his habit, Jamil often scolds him and constantly tries to remind him not to buy things spontaneously. But did Kalim stop? No.

Everyone knows Kalim likes to throw parties, but when it comes to you, Kalim hopes to always throw a party for you if Jamil doesn't forbid it. Did you get a good grade on Professor Crewel's pop quiz? It's time to party! Did you get coach Vargas' praise for doing a zigzag flight? It's party time! Are you sad because your favorite novel character died? A party will make you feel better!

Look, Jamil is grateful that you often accompany Kalim so that he can focus more with another work, but can you stop agreeing to all of Kalim's requests?! What do you mean you can't say no to him?! What do you mean his twinkling eyes look so mesmerizing that you forgot to say no?! Great Sevens, please give Jamil's more patience to face your and Kalim's stupidity.

Kalim is the epitome of the sun itself, he is always optimistic and cheerful. But that doesn't mean his life is always smooth, sometimes Kalim can also feel down. If that's the case, Kalim will usually sneak out of the dorm using his magic carpet and then go to your place to invite you to join him. Flying his magic carpet and spending time with you is Kalim's best way to relieve stress.

5. Vil Schoenheit

Initially, little Vil didn't want to be your friend because he thought you were ugly (you're not, it's just Vil's standards that's too high). But the little you have been fascinated by his ethereal beauty, so you constantly try to pester him. Being a child, you can only praise Vil's beauty with a limited vocabulary. Like how clear his eyes are, how pink his lips are, how beautiful his hairstyle is, how melodious his voice is, and other little things you like about Vil. No one has ever praised him like that, so little Vil accepted you as his friend on the condition that you have to constantly compliment him, honestly and sincerely.

And that's what you've been doing until now. But even as a grown up, you still prefer to compliment Vil's beauty with straightforward words because you think it sounds more sincere than long poetic words. Vil says it's a stupid thought, but deep down he'd rather you keep praising him like that because your simple compliments are always better to hear than empty flattery people give to him to curry his favor.

As a result of having Vil as your childhood friend, your beauty standards have been greatly affected. When other people compliment someone as handsome/pretty, you can only awkwardly nod your head, even though in your heart you are trying to find which part of that person is handsome/beautiful. They didn't even have a thousandth of the charisma that Vil had! How can people call him handsome/beautiful? Do they have a problem with their eyes? (No, it's just your standards that's been raised very high by Vil).

Every time Vil becomes a model for a brand, usually he will share the products he got with you. And if the film he's starring in is coming out soon, he will invite you to attend the film premiere together.

You are Vil's first and number one fan, while Vil is your personal stylist and makeup artist. Every outfit and makeup that you will wear must pass through Vil's strict selection. He won't force you to look perfect like him, but he will make sure you look outstanding in any style of fashion that you choose.

With other people, Vil has this Untouchable Queen aura who is difficult to approach. But with you, he's just Vil, an ordinary young man with extraordinary ambitions. When both of your schedules are free, you and Vil will meet in his room to do beauty treatments together while exchanging stories. Vil tells you about what's going on in the entertainment world, while you tell him about the stupidity that some NRC students did when Vil was away.

Vil has one big secret that he doesn't even tell you. And that secret is the fact that you are his emotional support that always cheers him up whenever he feels down. When he gets frustrated every time he gets a villain role, you always stand for the character he plays instead of the main character. When people started to leave him for Neige, you still chose him. When you have seen all the bad sides that he has always buried, you remain by his side. For Vil, you are the most beautiful thing the world has ever given him.

6. Idia Shroud

Apart from Ortho, you are the only person who can freely enter Idia's room as you please. But before entering, please don't forget to knock on his door in the rhythmical order that you two have agreed beforehand, so he knows that it's you outside and not the normies that he constantly tries to avoid.

Just like Leona's childhood friend, you're also entrusted by the teachers to bring him to class. Together with Ortho, the two of you will spend nearly half an hour persuading Idia to attend the class. Faced with your and Ortho's pitiful faces, what else can Idia do but to man up and do the shit? At least, that's what he said to himself. When he just come out of his room, his anxiety gets the better of him and he will immediately scurried back to his room. In the end, you managed to bring Idia to class, but it's not the person himself and rather his floating tablet.

It is common knowledge among students that Ignihyde has a private Wi-Fi network with excellent signal. So, whenever you have homework to do, or you simply want to play online games, you will come to Idia's room and borrow their dorm's Wi-Fi. In exchange for giving you Wi-Fi, Idia will 'borrow' your hand to do his game's gacha. Apparently, you have this 'golden hand' that every gamer would kill for. The card with the highest rarity will come home in just one pull or the first ten pulls every time you gacha.

The limited time event just started a few minutes ago, but thanks to your 'golden hand', you immediately get the SSR event character, whose spawn rate is less than 1%, in just one pull. He will immediately jump around while squealing like a child, and then subconsciously hug you while thanking you many times. After that, he immediately posted the gacha's result online and starts being salty to other players who have to hit the pity system just to get it.

You spend more time in Idia's room than your own. His room just has everything, okay? Cool air conditioning, smooth internet network, comfortable bed, and various kinds of snacks. Every time you visit Idia's room, you will usually fall asleep in his bed listening to the sound of keyboard typing that's created when he plays his games or programming stuff that you can't really understand. Of course, Idia initially is a bit unhappy with that habit of yours since he only has one bed. But when he sees you sleeping so soundly in his bed, Idia can only sigh and decided to sleep somewhere else, maybe in his chair or just straight up lay himself on the floor. He'll be kind just for this time, the next time you fall sleep in his bed, Idia swears he will really kick you out of the bed (he lied, he still lets you hog his bed while he himself sleeps on the floor).

You may not know, but Idia is the envy of every gamer in his online circles. He often shows off Ortho and you to other gamers, saying how lucky he was to have a younger brother who is very considerate and also a childhood friend who has a 'golden hand'. How many introverts can have the same thing as he does? ALMOST NO ONE, SUCKERS!

When Idia's anxiety becomes worse and he starts being pessimistic about all aspects of life, Ortho will immediately go to you and take you to his brother. You both will find him huddled under the blanket on his bed. He asked you and Ortho to just go and leave him alone. But you two know better than to leave. So, you and Ortho will sit on the edge of his bed and start trying to coax him out, telling him about all the good things this world has. It would take a while for him to calm down, but that was better than letting him sink deeper into dejection.

7. Malleus Draconia

Becoming a childhood friend of Malleus means accepting Lilia as your father figure. And accepting Lilia as your father figure means being prepared to be chased down by Lilia who wants to hear you call him father.

You are the first friend Malleus has ever had, so he tries very hard to maintain your friendship. Something caught your interest? Next time you meet Malleus, he'll give it to you as a present. Are you having trouble learning magic? Worry not, Malleus will help you master your magic. Are you amazed by his status as a prince? Hmm, maybe Malleus could ask his grandmother to adopt you? (His grandmother also likes you, but she can't adopt her potential grandchild-in-law just anyone)

You've once tried to stay away from him because some people say you don't deserve to be a friend of Malleus, the crown prince of the Briar Valley. As a result, Malleus's mood became so bad that it threw the palace into a turmoil. His mood finally returned to normal when the two of you were reunited again. After that incident, Malleus became quite protective of you. Someone spoke badly of you? Malleus will meet him personally to have a 'friendly' discussion. Someone wants to pick a fight with you? The next second, they all suddenly fell to the ground for no apparent reason.

You and Malleus are basically one package deal. NRC students will often see the two of you walking around the school hand in hand like two little children, you talk to him and he listens to you. Those who saw that sight dared to swear by the name of the Great Sevens, Malleus had this very rare gentle smile graced his handsome face when he's looking at you.

Malleus loves spending time with you, even if all you both do is just sit quietly under a tree listening to the sound of birds singing in the distance. When the soft breeze starts to blow, you start to get sleepy and unknowingly end up falling asleep leaning on Malleus. Seeing your peaceful sleep expression, Malleus couldn't help but gently trace your face using his finger. He just wanted to make sure that all of this was real and you're not an illusion his mind created.

Having a Malleus as your childhood friend makes you get free bodyguards. For the starters, Malleus himself is quite protective of you because of what happened in the early days of your friendship. And because Malleus is practically glued to you, his two retainers, Sebek and Silver, will also stick to you for the sake of guarding Malleus. Then, there's Lilia, who doesn't want to miss the fun, so he will always appear suddenly and join your group of four. It's kind of complicated, but at least now you have four free strong bodyguards.

Even though he looks young, Malleus has actually lived quite long. Therefore, he's quite mature despite having a seemingly teenager's body. There are only two things that can affect his mature mind, namely anything related to you and not being invited to an event, usually it's the letter one because he always makes sure nothing bad happens to you. When he starts to sulk because he wasn't invited to an event, Lilia will call you to cheer Malleus up. As soon as he saw you, Malleus was practically beaming with excitement. You don't need to bother coaxing him, just doing any activities together with him like walking in the park, eating ice cream, taking care of Roaring Drago, or trying new things is enough to make Malleus entirely forget his sadness from earlier.

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transmutationisms · 1 year ago

Note

I have always been wary of the psychiatric industry, but its only very recently that i started to read anti-psychiatric works. Your blog is the first time i saw that the "chemical imbalances causing mental illness" is a myth, and honestly its something im having a hard time wrapping my head around.

Is it that mood regulation struggles, labelled as a mental illnesses, has more to do with outside factors instead of the person "just being that way"? Is it therefore unlikely for someone to have struggles with mood regulation if they cant identify any external causes that would cause them to be, for example, extremely agoraphobic or to have anger management issues? Im asking this for myself mainly, cause i always had intense agoraphobia no matter how i often go outside my home (in fact it was worse when i was a teen and i was outside the house in even more back then). I cant think of any reason for me to be like this than chemical imbalances in my brain.

the specific 'chemical imbalance' myth i was talking about in this post is the idea that depression is caused by low serotonin, and that therefore SSRIs—serotonin re-uptake inhibitors, ie drugs that cause a higher level of serotonin in the brain—ought to cure or at least ameliorate depression. this conjecture is belied by the fact that SSRIs don't, at a population level, reliably perform better than placebo.

although a neurobiological cause of 'mental illness' has long been the holy grail of psychiatry, the serotonin imbalance myth is far from the only hypothesis that psychiatrists and neuroscientists have proposed. so, a critique of the serotonin myth is not synonymous with, or generalisable to, a critique of every neurobiological mechanism purported to explain psychiatric diagnoses. you may be interested to know, though, that genomics and neuroscience have not identified a biological cause of any psychiatric diagnosis (p. 851).

all human experiences are biologically instantiated, including in the brain and wider nervous system. we are embodied beings. however, it is a leap to assume that such instantiation is automatically equivalent to a causal explanation or disease etiology. in other words, to deny that psychiatric diagnoses are known to be biologically caused does not mean we deny that thoughts and thought patterns express in the physical matter of neuroanatomy. this is a major philosophical sticking point to keep in mind whenever you're looking at something like, eg, a study that purports to show 'brain differences' in those assigned a certain psychiatric diagnosis. another thing to consider is whether these papers are plagued with methodological issues or financial conflicts of interest.

i can't possibly tell you why you exhibit agoraphobia. however, when i talk about social, economic, and environmental factors that may contribute to the patterns of behaviour labelled as 'mental illness', i'm talking about much more than the individual choice to leave your house. since phobias are 'anxiety disorders', i might start by probing into questions like: is the world you live in safe? do you perceive it as safe? do you or your community face existential threats that may confront you more obviously when you go outside? are you nervous around other people, and if so, might that be connected to fears (well-founded or not) about interpersonal violence and harm? do you think any of these anxieties may be connected to the hostility and inaccessible design of the social environment and economic conditions?

human behaviour and thought varies. some of those variations may be totally benign; others may be helpful or harmful to the person living with them. it would be weird if every single one of the 8 billion people on earth experienced precisely the same amount of anxiety about any situation, no? all of this is to say: yeah, it's entirely possible you have been, for one reason or another (genetic, neuroanatomical, social, &c) predisposed to experience high, even debilitating levels of anxiety when leaving your home. most human characteristics develop from a tangle of social, environmental, material causes—ie, from a combination of 'nature' and 'nurture'. what doesn't follow, though, is the claim that there is therefore a discrete, 'diseased' element of your brain or brain functioning that can simply be cured or eliminated through psychiatric intervention.

it is a critical point of anti-psychiatry to challenge psychiatric and neuroscientific claims to neurobiological determinism where psychiatric diagnoses are concerned. this is for many reasons, including: a) that these claims have not been demonstrated to actually be true [see above]; b) that they rob pathologised people of agency and self-determination [see: you're too sick to know you're sick, and the doctor will fix you now]; c) that they are often pushed by pharmaceutical companies with financial interests, or grant-funded researchers with... financial interests; d) that they are politically seductive in various eugenic, hereditarian discourses that seek to eliminate the biologically 'unfit' element from society.

#psychiatry

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liveontelevision · 9 months ago

Text

Redemption | Lucifer x Reader

This is mostly fluff and angst so far, but there's a chance i'll write a part 2 with some possibly smuttier stuff goin on 🥴

Heads up, Lucifer's a god damn mess in this one. Love to see my boy suffer, though.

♡♡♡

"Sure, whatever. You got the job." Lucifer let's out an exhausted sigh, pushing himself away from his desk and immediately pulling a stack of papers into his hands before beginning to walk off.

You lift up your finger as if to add something to this one-sided conversation, but nothing seems to come out. You shake your head and pull away from the same desk, where you were seated across from the king of Hell.

"O-Oh! Thank you, Your Highness! I'll be here first thing Monday morning!"

"Yeah, listen, I only hired someone because Lillith says I need to lighten my workload, but I can't trust some random sinner... and I got a whole system going, soo - " he responded to you as he took paperwork and filed it away, not at all engaged in conversation.

"Just be here and look busy at your desk. It's the cushiest job ever. If you're lucky, you'll get some calls and schedule some appointments." He waved his hand, silently dismissing you from his office.

"Ah.. well, i'll still be here if you ever need assistance, Sir! Right.. Monday, i'll be here! Thank you - " You stammered out some enthusiastic words before quickly walking towards the door and letting yourself out. Lucifer never stepped away from his work, letting you uncomfortably leave without a word.

The weekend goes quickly, and yet your first week working as Lucifer's assistant goes by slowly. He meant what he said. You simply sat at the desk right outside his office and managed to take one call the entire week. It was spam. You really couldn't complain much, though. You sat there and doodled, or read a book, or kept yourself busy with some other meaningless task and got paid well for it.

Very Well.

You thought that working at a job like this for even a single year would leave you with enough money to live comfortably in Hell, which was saying something. Lillith occasionally came by to ask how the king was, but you were given scripted answers by Lucifer for almost all her questions. You'd say things that made it sound like you were taking on as much work as possible, giving the Queen some sort of satisfaction with your employment.

Your relationship with Lucifer was distant for the first few years you knew him. But, about 5 years into this job, you actually felt well versed in your work. After he trusted you with at least filing things away, you became very familiar with his documents. So, when Lillith suddenly disappeared and Lucifer fell into a depression, you adjusted quickly to pick up anything he couldn't handle. He was frustrated that you were taking initiative but softened at the sight of how well you managed to get everything done.

As his mentality began to improve, he'd take on some paperwork that you would do, finally giving you a chance to breathe. No wonder Lillith insisted on getting him help. He had quite the workload.

After things were settled a bit more, it became easier to try and chat with him. You had brought him a pot of tea at some point, which quickly became a routine after you saw how much he appreciated it. Then as time went on, you'd bring two cups with you, sharing his free time.

You became closer during Lillith's absence, being the only person who saw him on the daily. You'd been there for his angry fits when something especially frustrating would occur. Or when work became too much, it led to a vulnerable display of misery that you had to be careful around.

On a certain day, you finally commented on Lucifer's depressed state. He was quick to open up to you, being too exhausted to consider the repercussions of sharing such intimate thoughts. That was the night you learned that Lillith had just disappeared. She left a note that instructed him to take care of Charlie, but there was no indication of her returning. He was such a kind soul, it twisted your heart seeing him suffer this much.

After that, things started to become more casual between the two of you. You'd handle his work with ease, and he appreciated you more than you'd ever know. Such a hard worker sticking by his side through all of it, it filled his head with a cluster of thoughts that he never had time to entertain. You were pleased to be able to call him a friend after all this time.

It's been 7 years since Lillith disappeared, and things had settled into a routine. You would do your work, ask him questions if needed, and spend your break time drinking tea and discussing personal projects or what your life was like. The few joyful stories you had would almost bring him to tears, considering he never was able to see what free will did for humans on Earth after all this time.

One morning, you heard him taking a phone call before a chipper Lucifer kicking open his office doors. You jumped, the wind blowing some papers away from in front of you.

"Damn it!" You huffed, quick to lean down to collect the mess he made.

"Clear my schedule for the rest of the day, sweatheart! My daughter wants to see me!" He spoke with pride, adjusting his bowtie and taking a deep breath to attempt to ease his nerves.

"Hey, that's great! I'll cancel your meetings. I'm glad to see that you two are finally getting in touch again." You smiled sincerely as you stood in front of him. You towered over him by just a few inches. You gave a quick swipe off his shoulders, clearinv some barely noticeable dust from his coat. He was quick to step away, not expecting the sudden touch. That was definitely something you picked up on; that he didn't really understand how to react to touch after Lillith left.

"Y-Yes, very good. I'll be getting ready if you need me." He stammered out, sending you awkward finger guns before making his way down the hall. You always loved seeing him flustered.

As you tried to get work done, you really couldn't keep your mind straight. You finally put some paperwork down after re-reading the same sentence over and over, realizing you weren't getting anywhere. You let out a huff and made your way to Lucifer's room.

He'd let you into his bedroom a handful of times over the years to pack his bags for trips that would take a few days or to bring him tea. There were a few times where you'd let yourself in, like taking care of him when he would get sick - no matter how much he insisted he didnt need the care - or if you felt he could benefit from talking something out.

You knocked lightly, but not getting a response for a while, you peaked your head inside carefully. He was pacing his room, multiple suits hanging in front of him on a rack and clothes piling up on the floors.

"Oh geez.. Lucifer, can I come in?" You asked out loud, your head already peaking in.

"Fuck! Ooh, sure! Yup! One.. Second..." You tried not to watch him portal away the mess, pushing random items inside before quickly snapping it away. He leaned on his desk, trying to seem unphased as you stepped inside. "Aaand what can i do for you, my dear?" He spoke as if he hadn't been a fumbling mess for the past half hour, but you could tell almost immediately.

"I just - I wanted to tell you how proud I am. I know you've had a rough couple of.. centuries... but I also know how much Charlie means to you, so I'm glad you're finally getting to see her work. I'm sure she looks up to you, no matter what you think of yourself." You looked away, shyly rubbing your arm for some sort of comfort, hoping that you weren't overstepping any boundaries. You weren't exactly looking in his direction when you spoke, so you didn't expect a sudden hand to take yours, running a thumb across your knuckles gently. You immediately perked up.

"Thank you.. You always know just what to say to calm me down, huh?" He sent you a sweet smile. It was clear that he was struggling to keep tears from welling in his eyes, the sentiment just too much for him to handle. He let out a quick sigh before giving your hand a small squeeze and letting it drop. Your eyes widened, and your face turned red. This was a big step. Even after all these years, he rarely made any physical contact with you.

"So! I guess now that you're here, I might need some help with - uh.. suits! W-What to wear.." He picked up on your flustered expression and was quick to change the topic. Snapping his fingers, he let the previous portal reappear. Clothes, accessories, and a full rack of suits fell out like a closet door that had burst open. You both stood in silence for a moment before you broke it with a snort, covering your smile immediately.

As soon as he returned, Lucifer immediately updated you on how the visit went. It was a long vent about some obnoxious red-headed demon, Charlie's clearly angelic girlfriend, and the sudden fear of having to contact Heaven and schedule the meeting.

"I've got it, sir. You know they seem to tolerate me more than you for some reason." You grin wickedly, flipping your hair to display confidence. He let out a soft chuckle and gave you a quick pat on the shoulder before heading back to his room.

It took all your strength not to follow him.

A few months had passed, and you had to pick up some more work than usual due to Lucifer being busy with the construction of the hotel that had been demolished. After it was completely done, you noticed that the building had an apple shaped tower. You confronted the king before he nervously admitted to moving into the hotel to be closer to Charlie.

"Oh! That's.. yeah, that's great, sir! I should be fine here, i've been handling it pretty well so far, right? I'll be fine." Your final statement was more for yourself than him.

"What? You're not joining me? I still have an office, and even if it's a bit smaller, i still expect you to come work for me. There's plenty of rooms, too, if you want to stay nearby. But, hey - if you'd rather stay here then - "

"No! I'll go to the hotel!" You quickly blurted out, seeing a sly grin across his face. Oh, he totally did that on purpose. You let out a groan and rolled your eyes, trying to conceal the light blush creeping across your face.

So, that was that. You were quick to settle into the hotel, meeting and bonding with the staff easily. Lucifer had told you so much about them that you could nearly recognize them through their appearance alone. Charlie was the easiest. She had plenty of pictures in the castle and looked just like her father. Once you had settled into your room that was just a few yards away from Lucifers office, you heard a quick knock. You opened the door to Charlie's bright face.

"Hi! I hope you're settling in okay! I don't know how much my dad's told you about my project, but.. if you're interested - " She holds out a pamphlet, Redemption written across the top of it. " - you're totally welcome to join us!"

You take it with a smile before shutting your door again. You skimmed through it, getting the jist. It made you think of your parents. You hadn't seen them down here, luckily, so you wondered if they'd be in Heaven. You never had the best relationship, but they were family at the end of the day. Maybe it was something to consider.

The work environment was changing. Lucifer handled more hands on tasks, so you saw him less than before. You helped with anything Charlie or Lucifer needed, but still mainly stayed at your desk to finish some routine work. In your free time, you attended exercises and hung around with the other guests. You really only interacted with Lucifer for the past decade, so getting out and talking to others was a nice change.

Every so often, you'd get a chance to chat with Lucifer. When you entered the office in the morning and saw him working at his desk, you quickly whipped up some tea at the heated pad that was added to the office for this exact reason. You took any chance you could catch up with him. Placing the cups on his desk and filling them both, he almost jumped, clearly invested in this letter he was reading.

"Thank you.. how've you been doing? I know we don't get much tea time anymore - " he childishly clinks your cups together before taking a sip, " - but.. just been busy... Sorry." He said softly, his smile slightly drooping as he spoke.

You quickly swallow your tea to reassure him," Mm! Don't be sorry, I knew things would be different here, I don't mind! And besides, Charlie's been keeping me busy with the whole redemption thing. It's kinda fun, everyone here is really sweet." You spoke, going into detail about some of the exercises that went on and how they would play out. His smile never really picked up, he would simply nod and continued to sip his tea as you went on.

"Well - Glad you're having.. fun... I suppose." He glanced at a calendar sitting on his desk for just a moment, before letting out a shaky breath.

"Your highness? Is everything okay?" You immediately noticed his dismissive attitude, before placing your empty cup on his desk.

"It's Lucifer, remember? You've known me too long to keep calling me your highness." He cringed at the title, making quotation marks as he said it. He stood from his seat with a stretch. You had little room between the two of you when he stood up, making you stumble back a bit. He patted your shoulder, a gesture that became comforting throughout the recent months. His hand lingered a bit longer than usual. He stepped away, leaving the office to do some kind of task you weren't paying attention to.

"O-Okay..! I'll see you around then, Lucifer!" You nearly shouted his name, hoping he'd hear it even though he was down the hall at this point. He heard it. And boy, did he regret telling you to do that. He covered his red face as he turned the corner out of your view.

A few weeks had passed, and you really didnt see Lucifer around at all. Every time you went into the office, he seemed to just be heading out. Maybe it was just bad luck. But you went on with your routine, even without seeing him as much as you'd like.

With the stress of not seeing Lucifer and a particularly rough day, you struggled to walk to your room. Fumbling in your pocket for your room key, you caught a glimpse of the devil himself leaving his office.

"Lucifer!"

You called out, almost sounding relieved. He shot his eyes up to look at you, sending you a nervous smile and a little wave. You stumbled over yourself a bit to catch up to him, stopping him where he stands.

"How have things been going? You wouldn't happen to have time for some tea, would you? I'd love to get some updates!" Even with a drained social battery, you wanted nothing more than to be in his presence right now.

"O-Oh! U-Uh.. sure, i'll get it started, I have some time.." he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, turning back towards the office.

"Great! I'll be there in a second, okay?" You cheerfully went back to your room, not noticing his nervous expressions as he spoke to you.

You took a few minutes to change into some comfortable clothes. Sure, you looked great in business casual, but nothing could beat a cropped t-shirt and pair of sweat pants that bagged loosely around your hips. Lucifer's seen you this way a few times. sometimes, late night projects needed to be worked on and he would always insist that you work in something comfortable, knowing it would take a while to finish.

So you had no issue when you reentered the office, shutting the door behind you.

He desperately tried to keep his eyes away from your mid drift, looking back towards the boiling water on the heated pad in front of him. His vest was undone and his coat was hung up nearby. He had rolled his sleeves up, and stood at the counter with his hands placed on his hips. You took in his appearance, feeling a bit better that he wasnt completely put together either.

"So? How's.. how's your day been?" He asked in a hushed voice, keeping his face completely out of view.

"It's been kind of a rough day, actually.. Charlie needed some help with some new residents, so I had to give a few tours. Which i don't mind of course, but fuck does that take more energy than i have. And some of the demons were looking at me funny, so I had to get out of their fast. Angel hid me in the library for hours! It was fine, though. Besides, it was fun to hang out with him. Oh, and Charlie says i'm making good process, too! That was a good pick-me-up." You said your last sentence with pride, puffing out your chest a bit.

"Fuck!"

You quickly drop your eyes to see Lucifer hunched over, clutching his hand with a hiss. You see the tea pot boiling over and quickly rush over to unplug the heated pad.

"Lucifer, be careful, geez! Is this why i make tea all the time? Can't handle it?" You teased, taking a towel to clean up the small amount of hot water sitting on the counter. Finally seeing the damage, you see a burn forming along the palm of his hand. You look at him for a moment, hovering your hand just over his wrist. He nods to you then looks away, letting you take a soft grasp onto his wrist amd leading it over to the accompanying sink just a few feet away. You held his hand under the faucet, letting a slow stream of cold water run over his hand. He flinches at the sensation, but immediately relaxes once he realizes how much of a relief it was.

"Are you okay?" You asked softly, leaning against the counter with your head cocked to the side. "Maybe it's just because you've been so busy, but i feel like something.. happened. Do you wanna talk to me?" You offered your help, but made it clear that he didnt need to open up if he wasnt ready. It was one of the boundaries you respected that he appreciated so much.

"It's- yeah. I'm fine. Things are going well, right? We have residents, Charlie's getting some good progress apparently, and Heaven's finally keeping us updated on the redeemed souls.. so, it's all good! Just needs a little elbow grease to keep this ship running, right? Nothin' the king of hell can't handle." He spoke smugly.

"Sure! It's great that the hotel's doing well. But I asked how you're doing." You clarified for him, crossing your arms across your chest. He groaned, placing his weight on his elbow on the counter and leaning forward, his hand still shifting under the running water.

"I-I'm.. it's..." he stammered and struggled to piece together his thoughts." It's... been almost 15 years. Since I hired you. Did you know that? Even after Lillith left, you still stuck around and took care of me.. I'm such a mess, why do you still take care of me..?" He mumbled his words, as if he never really wanted you to hear them.

"I guess it has been, huh? Best decision of my life, really. I mean you pay me way too much, but.. I also got to make a friend, too. I'll be here for you no matter what, Lucifer. You're not a mess, you're doing great." You smiled at him, shifting your position to place a hand on his shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath, leaning his head towards your hand. His cheek brushed against the top of your hand, in a sort of caressing motion. You pulled away, out of shock, your hands enclosed in front of your chest. He looked up to see your eyes wide open and your body suddenly tense. He opened his mouth, as if to apologize, but stops to think for a moment instead.

He keeps his eye contact, taking a hold of your hand again, and pressing a small kiss on your knuckles, before leaving it in front of his lips. You felt his breath against your hand as he finally gets the courage to speak.

"You'll be here no matter what, huh? So.. If i were to ask you to... stay - I mean you don't have to say yes, but.. hypothetically... if i asked..." he spoke slowly, like he was still searching for the words as he said them out loud.

You melted at his sudden affection, your knuckles tingling from the sensation of his lips and breath against your hand. It was only after he spoke, you pulled your hand away from him carefully.

"What..? You mean like... stay in Hell? I don't - Lucifer, i'm confused. I've been working with Charlie for almost six months, you know? What's going on?" You sounded almost frightened, and it sent a pang to Lucifer's heart. He turned the sink off, beginning to rub the water off his hand. He hissed, the friction just causing more irration. Your instinct to aid him took over. You took the towel in one hand and his burned hand in the other, lightly dabbing the towel against the tender skin.

"Well, i said it was hypothetical, didnt I? What.. what would you say? Would you stay?" You paused with your hand holding his wrist, looking dwon at the calmed burn.

"Hypothetically? I don't.. I don't know, Lucifer.. I know Charlie could always use extra hands, and... you'd have to hire someone else, which would be a hassle - " he cringed at the thought of hiring someone else once it was said outloud.

"Exactly! See? You get it! I - We need as much help as we can get for the hotel, so.. maybe try to stick around. You've been too useful to keep doing this silly exercises, don't you think?" He was panicking. You could hear him desperately trying to come up with any excuse under the sun, but it still caused you to tense up. Your body curled into itself and you stepped back a bit, looking at him with such a purplexed expression that even he didnt understand what he was saying.

"Lucifer, I know your work is important and I know how much you want to support Charlie, but.. she said i'm doing it. That I might have a chance to go up to Heaven! Isn't that the whole point of being here? Isn't that what you want?"

His eye twitched at your words and he was quick to change his temper.

"No! It's not! That's not why you're here..! You're here, because I need you - need you to keep working for me! You're here because I brought you here. You know, the last redeemed soul was only here for six months, too! You could disappear at any second!" His voice sounded stern, but it was clear his intentions dripped of desperation. It still hurt you nonetheless.

"I'm sorry, but what the fuck?? I'm doing all the activities and making friends here, I thought you'd be happy about that! I've supported you through so much and even though you're acting this way, i always will! I thought you'd do the same!" You began to pace the office, your breath hitching a bit as you spoke. You tried your hardest not to let the tears in your eyes well up. Not wanting to let Lucifer see you in this state, you began to leave the office, quickly opening the door.

"No! Wait! I can't - I-I don't know how to - " He still struggled to get a coherent sentence out as you turned to face him one last time.

"Sir - "

" I told you not to call me that..!" He clenched his fists at the term.

"No. I can't do this while you're acting like this. I'll give you some space, let you figure out.. whatever's going on with you, then... we can talk. But if you decide that this is all you have to say, then I'll be continuing my work with you and Charlie, as usual. Goodnight, Sir."

You couldn't help but let your voice crack as you spoke. The idea of just moving past this sudden outburst hurt, but you knew that sometimes he just needed that space. And you hated to admit that you could use the space as well. You were supposed to be the calm and collected assistant, right? You were his anchor for a lot of the struggles he'd seen throughout the years and he confided so much in you.

What the fuck was his problem?

---

A few hours had passed, it gave both of you time to calm down from the heated discussion. Lucifer found himself right in front of your room, still without the strength to knock on your door. He took a deep breath in and held it in his chest before finally reaching foward. Before he even got the chance, the door swung open, smacking the air from his lungs. You both make sudden eye contact with eachother before Lucifer was hunched over coughing out the wind that was just knocked out of him. You cover your smile with your hand, pulling away from the door to open it fully.

"I guess you really are a mess, Lucifer.. what do you need?" You couldn't help but giggle when he lost his composure like this, it lightened your mood for a moment.

"Ahha.. you know me so well. I-I want to talk to you, you deserve an apology.." His voice was quiet, but you knew it was sincere. You stepped to the side, allowing him to enter your room.

"Okay, just - let me get through this, alright?" He took in a deep breath and spoke quickly,

"I don't understand why you want to go to Heaven. I told you about it in the past, you know how awful they are.. the rules and the limitations, fuck! They've done nothing but hurt me and fuck up everything going on down here. You couldve died you know! If you werent working for me and were just wandering the streets, you couldve been killed in any of those exterminations! I can't lose you! I-I - " you immediately noticed him losing his train of thought, and take a soft grip on his wrist in an attempt to ground him.

"I think my parents are up there, sir- Lucifer.."

He stops where he's at and looks towards you, before walking backwards and plopping down at the bench in front of your vanity.

"I-I didn't know. I never thought about-"

" - why i'd want to be redeemed? This isn't about wanting to leave you, I just.. i didnt realize this was an option, you know? That i might get to see them, again.."

Just for your own comfort, you shifted your grasp from his wrist to his hand, running your thumb across his palm lightly. The motion made him shiver slightly, still a bit sensitive from the burn.

"I didn't know you'd want to see them, i'm sorry.. you don't really talk about them much, so i thought..."

"No, you're right I didn't really have a good relationship with them, but it'd be nice to know theyre happy still, right? That all that time they spent working to keep me in school was worth it.. don't i owe them that?" He took a moment to process your words, his fingers slowly curling around your hand.

"I mean, you don't owe them anything, really. I have to ask, when's the last time you did something.. for yourself? You've been working for me for years and even here, it sounds like you're.. Ah, I'm sorry, i don't know what i'm saying - ". He always struggled with reading emotions, but even he could tell that that his words struck a nerve.

He looked away, dreading the silence that followed. What he wasn't expecting was the small hic and sniffles that suddenly came from your direction. He almost panicked, his eyes darting around the room for anything that seemed like a solution. He quickly stood up and hesitantly reached towards your face, just lightly brushing the tears that had streaked down your reddened cheeks.

"I-I don't know... I don't need much and I'm happy doing whatever you need me to, usually, so - I'll just keep doing that, okay? I-I'll stay.."

He groans and cringes at your words, before lifting your head to meet his eyes, his hands softly cupping your cheeks as he continued to wipe the tears still falling from your eyes.

"If you want to go to Heaven, I can't stop you. I-I won't stop you. But I also want you to.. be happy. I'm sorry about earlier, I never wanted to make any of this harder for you. You've done so much for me, sweetheart, I was scared of losing.. you... But I can handle myself, I promise. I mean, i'm a 10,000 year old demon with more power than I know what to do with. I'll be okay." He spoke sweetly, finally managing to let out a coherent thought. You melted into his touch, placing your hands overtop of his. Your eyes fluttered shut, allowing the last few tears to drip down.

"I know. I mean, sometimes I don't - sometimes it feels good to be able to help you so much - but I know you'll be fine." Your voice had a hint of hesitation. It was a relief to get some sort of resolve out of this conversation, but deep down, it felt as if you were deemed worthless. After all these years, he's saying he'd he fine if you went on to pursue other things, but why does that hurt?

"You asked when.. when was the last time I did something for myself. Honestly, I feel selfish. I feel like I've spent all this time taking care of you, because I like... feeling needed. I like that you ask me what to wear when you're nervous, or that you let me handle some of your more obnoxious clients just so you don't have to, I- I love it, actually. I love - being with you." You didn't realize you let out a mild confession, until you looked back to Lucifer to see his incredibly nervous expression. He was holding his breath, eyes impossibly wide as he bites his lower lip to prevent a quiver. He finally gulped before looking away and rocking back and forth on his heels.

"W-Well then! Self care at its finest, am I right? Ahha.. that's great how selfish you are! Self-selfless! Very selfless actually, I.. I really appreciate that you enjoy being around - enjoy my company..!" You watch him whip his hands behind his back, defaulting to the nervous mess he usually became when racked with a stressful situation.

"Oh! Lucifer, I'm sorry, that was a lot, I don't want you to feel like you have to - " A red clawed finger quickly hits your lips, and you see him with a lovely flustered expression. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, finger still uncomfortably pressed to your mouth.

"Can I- would you let me just- Fuck.. can I do something?" He blurted out. He was always so easy to read, but you prayed you weren't misunderstanding when you took a hold of his hand and pressed a small kiss to the tip of his finger that had lingered over your lips until now. He let's out a nervous chuckle and you hear an audible gulp as he moves his hands back to your cheeks, pulling your face down slightly to be able to meet his gaze. You can feel his heavy breath against your lips, suddenly realizing how close he actually was. In a quick motion, you pressed another small kiss onto his lips. You felt his hands jump at the sudden interaction, and tried your hardest to keep a smile from creeping on your face.

He let out a quick breath before planting a shaky kiss onto your lips, lingering for a moment longer this time. It still wasn't a lengthy kiss, but it was more than he could manage before stepping away for a moment, overwhelmed by your presence. This finally gave you a good look at him, a bright pink flush covered his face, and a small sheen from the lipgloss you forgot you were wearing appeared on his lips.

"You're so pretty, Lucifer." You spoke boldly, a suddern surge of confidence hitting you, just seeing him in this state.

"Can we keep going..?" You asked softly, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. He pulls at his collar, attempting to let any cool air hit his heated skin to try and calm him down. It's been a long time for him, sure, but considering the previous discussion, hearing you say you loved being around him, was enough to give him the confidence to nod along and sit next to you. You took a hold of his cheek and turned his head to face yours.

"I'll only do what you're comfortable with okay? We can stop whenever you need to." Your voice was sweet, your thumb beginning to run across his bottom lip as you spoke. He struggled to keep his eyes open, melting into your touch, and propped his hand on your arm to keep himself upright. He nodded slowly, finally letting his eyes droop close as you bring him into another kiss. You were definitely more confident than he was in this moment, or maybe it was just repressed excitement for an opportunity like this to happen. With your thumb still holding his bottom lip slightly ajar, you kissed along the each corner of his mouth before leaving an open mouthed kiss right on his lips. You pulled your hand away to place it gently on his leg as you pull yourself closer.

Finally pulling away to catch your breath, you look at Lucifer, who's still holding his eyes tightly shut. Each move you made, made him jump.

"Lucifer, Hey, open up." You laugh as you speak, brushing a few strands of golden hair away from his eyes. "Are you okay? Do you need a break?" His eyes finally shot open hearing your words. The thought of stopping must have startled him. You feel his lips crash against yours, a stark contrast to the gentleness you were giving him moments ago. He shifts to sit on his knees on your bed, keeping himself close to you by propping his hands on either side of your legs. You let out a surprised yelp, quick to catch up with his sloppy kiss. It became more tender as time went on, plus taking the lead again made it a bit easier to control his nervous movements.

His hands moved up to sit on your thighs, mostly to make himself more comfortable at this mildly awkward position. But it still gave you butterflies to feel his hands on you.

You pulled away yet again, taking a moment to breathe and to simply look at his expression. His eyes were watery, possibly from the emotional stress of the past few days, possibly from his excitement alone. You pressed your hand against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your palm. He tightened his grip on your thighs, as if you could disapear at any moment. And it scared him to consider that a possibility. Your mind finally caught up to the problem at hand, seeing him in this state and considering the heated conversation from before.

You pull him in one final time, a deep kiss that seemed to melt his nerves away. Then, you simply brought him into a tight embrace, your hands wrapping around his shoulders and gripping at his vest. For some reason, this startled him more than any of your previous interactions. He was hesitant at first, but still shifted to comfortably wrap his arms around your waist and pull you impossibly closer.

"This is a big decision, Lucifer. I have alot to think about, and it isnt really your fault, but this definitely doesn't make things easier.." you muffled your words into the crook of his neck letting out a shakey breath. He could feel your chest shake a bit due to your close proximity.

"I know, I'm sorry. I might have gotta a little carried away there." He responded. The position the two of you were in let his words pass dangerously close to your ear. You shutter slightly, unconciously leaning into the sensation.

"I'll make sure this is what I want, okay? I promise."

He nods, which you felt in the form of his hair brushing against the side of your face. Lucifer let his head fall down onto your shoulder, taking in the moment while it lasted.

Because, who knows how long this could last?

♡♡♡

FUCK this was angsty my bad. I had this prompt in my notes for days and I still honestly don't know how to properly end it, but i'll make a part 2 eventually.

Accidentally put a lot of personal insecurities in this one 🙃

Hope you enjoyed :)

P.S I have been getting your requests and i'll start them up soon! Just had to finish this one up first!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer morningstar #hazbin fics #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin lucifer

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kiyo-cant-write · 1 month ago

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leona kingscholar arguing w/ a male s/o ✧･ﾟ

I felt like we needed something on this blog with Leona <3

If you see typos, pretend they're not there. I'm writing this instead of letting the mental illness get me (because the admin's having depression atm!). How do I feel better? Ruin Leona's life xD

Summary: [Name] is the s/o of Leona Kingscholar, and what an interesting time that is. Leona is by no means perfect, but he loves [Name], truly. Sometimes, though... The two argue. And it can get heated.

TW/CW: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst

Notes: established relationship, he/him pronouns for the reader, the reader could be cis or trans, the reader is described to be tall/muscular and human with no specified class year, the reader is not explicitly Yuu/Prefect but could be

Guest Stars: Ruggie Bucchi (mentioned, discussed)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is not the ideal lover by any means. He needs time.

He is abrasive, rough, and opinionated. He is so stubborn that he will hold a grudge against his partner in a fight.

With a female/femme enby partner, this might be a bit less harsh, but Leona starts out seeing his male s/o as a rival in addition to a partner, sparking arguments early on.

[Name] has to keep up with Leona's moods and his anger.

Leona can be a very tiring partner to have at times.

However, there are advantages to being another man in Leona's life. Leona will not pull punches around his s/o.

He is direct with him and says what is on his mind, even mean things.

However, this can help as it puts things out in the open.

Leona tends to use his s/o like a body pillow (and feel less bad about it as due to their similar size, he isn't crushing them).

Buuut he also thinks that he can push around his male s/o more.

He tends to be rougher with them in every sense of the word.

He isn't even trying to be violent, Leona just doesn't think to control his strength around another guy, thinking he can handle it.

Leona grumbles constantly that his s/o is annoying but he doesn't mean it. He says a lot of things to his s/o that he doesn't mean.

He is still coping with his traditional upbringing as a royal.

Leona is learning how to treat his boyfriend.

[Name] has not yet met Leona's family because Leona refuses to introduce them to anyone. It was by chance that they met Cheka,

Leona doesn't know how his sister-in-law and Falena would react.

Cheka likes [Name] and considers him "Ojitan #2"!!

Leona says he is annoyed about it, maybe he is, but he's also somewhat warmed by the thought of them being close.

It's a little too mushy for him to accept at this point, though.

He never apologizes for his bitchyness with words.

For Leona, it's an act of service or a gift (albeit given a bit carelessly) that serves to be his apology to [Name].

"Ugh. Leona? Leona," [Name] tried before using more energy to increase his volume, "Le-o-na!"

He was out of breath from checking several of Leona's usual spots and not very happy about the current circumstances. And where was Leona meant to be? Class. Where was he now? Not class.

Leona's eyes opened when [Name] called out to him, looking up to see the human's tall frame towering over him from the angle. His eyes said it all, [Name] was annoyed. Great. Leona was about to get an earful from his boyfriend to top it all off.

"Huh? What do you want now, [Nickname]?"

Leona glared at the younger boy from his place amongst the foliage of the botanical garden. Honestly, he just wanted to sleep. He didn't want to be bothered with classes, [Name] be damned.

"Don't [Nickname] me right now. I was checking on you, "[Name] said, a certain level of irritation seeping through, "You have class this period, right?"

He groaned at the mention of class. It was a chore to go. He would much rather be in the garden or somewhere else, sleeping away from all the noise. But few let him enjoy it between Ruggie, [Name], and one time Jack.

"No, not going. Why don't you get back to your own class, huh?"

Honestly, Leona had a point. Or he would have if it hadn't been a teacher who sent [Name] on a Leona Hunt. Professor Trein was annoyed, and that wasn't good for any student. He had asked [Name] to step out of his class with Professor Crewel to find Leona.

[Name] thought to himself, at that moment, that it was a bit odd the teachers singled him out. Still, it made sense given the lack of a Vice Housewarden for Savanaclaw.

"Leona, you need to focus or you'll repeat another year."

[Name] was sure that Leona didn't want that either. Or did he? It was hard to say. Leona didn't like campus, he said it all the time, but he was also dreading his return to the palace... If he was being truthful, [Name] didn't know what Leona wanted anymore.

It was a bit stressful sometimes, sad at others.

"What are you? Ruggie?" Leona snapped, ears twitching in annoyance as he spoke, "Worry about yourself, [Name]."

Ruggie is a what? How dehumanizing...

But he ignored it. [Name] didn't have the time. Onto the next.

"No, but Ruggie did tell me about the risk of being held back," [Name] admitted awkwardly but with no less frustration than earlier, "Can you just go sleep in class? Your professors are asking me to get you now."

He wasn't even sure what he was arguing anymore. He didn't want to be his boyfriend's parent, but here he was, feeling that way. He knew Leona would just sleep wherever he was, so it wasn't like it was a big ask to send him to a classroom... Was it?

[Name] just wanted Leona to succeed. It was painful to see someone he had grown to love ruining his reputation amongst the faculty and students alike. It wore on [Name]'s mind as it continued.

"You don't get to tell me what to do," Leona said, voice rising slightly, tail flicking in annoyance he now failed to conceal.

"Then who will?" [Name] asked, "Our professors don't even want to deal with you so they sent me to do it!"

When Leona didn't say anything, [Name] took a step closer, testing his limits and ignoring the voice in his head telling him to just back off like he always did and leave it for another day. He didn't want to. he couldn't let Leona do this to himself anymore, not again. Maybe he would listen...

"Leona, I don't know what else to do other than chase after you," [Name] told him, "I want to help, I do... But I can't say anything else. Or do anything either. I'm doing all I can and it's not working."

Leona remained silent.

"What do I do now?" [Name] asked him, voice coming out with just a slight tremble to it as if he was at his breaking point and he was.

"Leave?" Leona said as if it was the obvious answer, "Just go."

"What?" [Name] managed to ask, "What did you... Leona?"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Leave, [Name]. I told you not to get involved with me," Leona told him in a drawl that dripped with indifference, exasperation even.

"Leona, you can't be serious—"

[Name] didn't get to finish his sentence.

"I am, don't test my patience."

[Name] wasn't sure if he was offended or not.

Leona wasn't listening at all. Did he hear any of this?

"Leona, I'm your partner, can't you listen to what I have to say?"

As Leona ignored him,[Name] felt a bit desperate.

How could he fix this? What would it take?

"I said," Leona's voice cut like a blade, "Leave. Now, [Last Name]."

"I..."

But a moment later, [Name] fell silent, fists clenched at his sides for a moment before the tension released. He exhaled. Like that, it was over.

"Fine. Be that way. I was just... trying to help."

Leona's brows furrowed as he looked away, not wanting to see the other man walk away from him. He shouldn't have said that. He should've kept quiet. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? Now they were going to be all upset at him tomorrow. They'd scold him again, act like his mother, just about.

What happened next was somewhat Leona's own fault in the end. And there he was wallowing in self-pity, refusing to acknowledge the truth of the matter even as he felt the ramifications of his actions.

It was [Name]'s own fault, Leona would remind himself the next day when [Name] didn't meet him for lunch and Ruggie gave him the most bewildered look he had seen on the hyena's face in a while. He should have known not to get involved in Leona's business. Stupid.

It's his fault, Leona would repeat for the next couple of days, refusing to comment when Ruggie asked him again, "Where's [Name]?" Leona didn't care, or he wished he didn't. Those thoughts pounding in his skull didn't mean anything. Not a bit.

He was lying to himself. He missed [Name]. Leona wanted to be able to listen to him talk about things, ask him for little favors, and keep him close. Leona wanted to feel the closeness that they had had...

But he wasn't ready to be wrong.

Would he ever be ready to see past his own ego?

Imagine the rest for yourself~

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

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bluee08 · 2 years ago

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Astro observations 《3》

Disclaimer : Not an astrologer, take it with a grain of salt, only for fun.

🫧 Asteroid Orma in 8th house might be the people to leave an impression of being hella reserved in a mysterious way. Like they might tell you a story and you will always feel like there is something more to it.

🪩 Mars in 3rd house people often say something offending without meaning to and regret the very next second. Trust me it's not their fault, they wanted to say something else and ended up saying something totally unexpected. They also feel guilty about it for days and feel sad that they might have come off rude for no reason.

🫧 Neptune conjuct ascendant, they are the real chameleons. They can mold themselves as per the situation demands. Ngl it comes handy sometimes. Like I remember when I was in 6th grade I was caught into a very serious matter but I pretended as if nothing happened and flew away. When the other guys rattled me out to the teacher, she said It's impossible that I was involved and that she doesn't believe them. She didn't hear a single word against me. Lol no, I wasn't her favorite student or something. It's just that I had maintained a certain reputation among different sect of people as per my own convenience. Call it manipulation if you want, if that doesn't explain the planet itself.

🪩 Pluto trine Lilith, it's not always sexuality that comes to the mind when we hear about these folk. Lilith here is aware that pluto is her benefactor. But it takes time for her to feel comfortable in her own domain. She is powerful here and knows what she wants. Definitely won't take anyone's bullshit. Her transformation can be scary and ruthless if someone tries to pin her down.

🫧 Jupiter sextile Pluto have a deep interest in forbidden things. Learning things that often people consider taboo is their thrill. They may or may not share the knowledge but they are always resourceful about topics relatated to dark themes of life. Feel free to discuss anything with them, they won't judge you infact they will help you inhance your own boundaries. You will be surprised how normal they'll sound while talking about things that might trigger other people even if they have gone through the same.

🪩 The one guy I had a Aphrodite-Eros synastry with made me feel like...idk strange. I was on a constant pedestal. I cared a lot about him. His Eros conjucted my Aphrodite and I looked out for him a lot. There was a thick sexual tension but also comfort. He also made me get a taste of jealousy. Which I don't usually feel. I used to constantly compare myself with the girls he used to interact with. We were not dating but I just couldn't help but feel insecure. Not because of him....idk why I was acting like that when I knew I was pretty enough.

🫧 Mars opposite Venus people get sudden mood swings from doing absolutely nothing to doing everything in next one hour. Oh and they'll do it again if it ain't asthetically pleasing to the eye.

🪩 Sun sextile Saturn, trust me they do know how to control themselves and take things with a grain of salt. Their ego is well maintained and not fragile unlike others. Very understanding and real mature people.

🫧 Sun sextile/trine Moon are the most compassionate and intuned with their selves. They know themselves better than anyone else. Also they always know exactly what they are feeling at any given time. Even if they are depressed at some point they won't give up easily.

🪩 Neptune negatively aspecting Saturn, dreaming big is easy, isn't it? But when you start implanting those dreams in real life your dreams remain dreams only. Don't worry though. It's a lesson. Don't give up, try harder. Dream as big as you want but at the end of the day remember to open your eyes and start afresh with new motivation. And please don't listen to those who tell you to quit it down. Your dreams are not weird or impossible or too much. Those people are just jealous because of how big your ambitions are and how far you are willing to go for it. Don't restrict your imagination for someone else. Believe yourself, you can do it!

🫧 Pluto in 10th house solar return chart can indicate a huge change in academic life or anywhere you are working at. For better or worse you better take precautions before hand. I am having it this year with mars in 3rd house and trust me from an above average student my grades are becoming poor. If I were to describe my graph I can see it coming downhill like a water slide which is creating quite an impression on my parents as well as my teachers. Note the sarcasm.

🪩 Saturn in 7th house could indicate having no interest in relationships at first or people being afraid to ask you out but when you grow up, settle well, you find yourself looking for your better half, resulting in either meeting them late or doing an arrange marriage.

🫧 Saturn opposite ascendant are the people who often get told that they look unapproachable on first glance. Kind of the 'out of league' vibe surrounds them. Which is not always true but I have noticed people do think twice before approaching them. These sweeties are also damn soft on the inside but for only those who do dare to talk to them. They rarely take the initiative themselves. But come ask help from them and they will risk their lives for you.

🪩 Mercury aspecting chiron could indicate healing your wounds by diving into the world of books. You might like to read or write journals when you are feeling down. There might be a small diary or pages that you have written when you were at your lowest. Its also possible that you start writing a novel or something to help you voice out your pain through written words.

🫧 Sun conjuct asteroid Medusa. Damn! You could have curly hair or hairs that are a lot wavy, thick and voluminated. Highly blessed in hair department. Many people might have praised you or complimented on your hair from a very young age. This could also indiacte a lot of body hair. From top to bottom you have body hair and trust me its not a bad thing. Its a blessing of being powerful, embrace it. It's just a hunch but some may have complimented you on that too.

🪩 Mars in 3rd house can't watch porn without audio or no communication during the deed. They always want to hear the sounds, no, they NeeD to hear the sounds raw! Only visuals is boring for them just as adding some weird music to the video. No, its not creating the mood, its ruining my experience, pls stop it.

🫧 You don't wanna hear someone moan who has their personal planets conjucting asteroid Sirene. Trust me you will get addicted. Its insane and I am not bluffing. Their voice may or may not be as addictive in general but in bed? Or when they want to take something from you? You will be trapped even before you blink. It's dangerous.

🪩 What's with Taurus Mars and Laziness? So much potential and still they study few hours before exam, complete assignments few minutes before submission and still have the audacity to say they will easily pass. Like bro if that's how you pass then I can't imagine how you will top....

🫧 Moon in 4th house people are highly invested in family matters. Family comes first to them and then the rest. The kind of people to tolerate an unhappy married life for the sake of their kids because they can't see their family being split apart.

🪩 Mars aspecting Pluto. It doesn't matter if it is positively aspected or negatively aspected, there is a lot of pent up frustration and anger issues underneath this placement. If provoked or underdeveloped could result in a very sudden and violent rage from this person. Better to leave them alone in such situations.

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aheathen-conceivably · 4 months ago

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🎶 Ain't gunna run on lovin', gotta keep moving, never gunna slow down 🎶

From the moment he walked in the door Josephine knew that the man who sat at the bar that night was different. His eyes held none of the worry or desperation of the other patrons, and he moved with a sense of fluid determination that told Jo he knew exactly why he was there.

As he ordered her finest whiskey, she caught sight of the gold rings on his fingers, each carefully embossed with a different emblem or inlaid with diamonds. Glittering amongst them were nails unmarked by the dirt of hard physical labor of nearly every other man in the bar, although the lines on his hands told her that hadn’t always been the case. She set the glass down in front of him and he held her gaze for a moment before turning back to Antoine, sipping his drink slowly and appreciatively.

After a few songs his glass ran dry, and once Jo had poured him another, he looked straight at her, addressing her more directly than most men ever did, “Who’s that playing? He’s new or something, isn’t he? Definitely not from here or I’d remember that face.”

The light glittered on his rings and Jo steadied her voice, “His name is Antoine Duplanchier, all the way from New Orleans. Trained under the piano greats down there, even heard a rumor he played with the Louis Armstrong back in his day.”

The man swirled the whiskey in his glass as his voice took on a bit of a mocking tone, “Why’s he playing guitar, then?”

Without missing a beat Jo smiled, “Well, sir, get me a piano and we can find out.”

He gave her an approving glance, a tinge of humor in his eyes telling Jo that she had judged his character correctly, “And what are you paying him here?”

Jo brought her hand to her hip and looked him square in the eye, “Now it wouldn’t be very prudent of me to discuss money with a strange man, would it?”

He let out a hearty laugh and a voice rang out behind them. “Father! When did you get here? You’re meant to be gone another week!”

He jumped to his feet, leaving his whiskey behind as he rushed to where Val stood. “Yázhí! Look at this place! You’ve done fine work, little one! I finished the opening in Gallup sooner than expected, so I wanted to see how things were running here. Swimmingly, it seems.”

A sort of innocent excitement crossed Valcita’s face as she pulled away from his hug. It was so different from her usual expression that it made Jo smile. She didn’t seem to catch it as she gestured over to the bar where Jo stood, “That’s in part thanks to Josephine here, father. She’s come along quite nicely.

“We’ve met, Yázhí. She was telling me about your guitarist. Antoine, yes?” He left his eyes trained on Jo, looking for confirmation that everything she said had been true. As soon as she nodded her head yes, he gave her a pleased grin and turned back to his daughter. “I must say, it’s a smart move. Adds a certain atmosphere that’s missing at the other roadhouses. Lifts some of the depression you can’t seem to escape these days, even on the route.”

His next words came quickly, as though he had already made the decision even before asking Jo who was on the stage. “Say, Miss Josephine, you ever considered going out on the road? I’ll double whatever Valcita here has offered you.”

“Father!”

He looked at her shocked expression and brushed it off with a laugh, “Well you must lure a snake out of its hole somehow. Besides, the roadhouse numbers are promising. More and more Okies on that route need somewhere to stop, something to drink. Then anybody with a lick of money has been sold Route 66 like it’s some sort of promise land. I’ve got more white people in cadillacs stopping at the courts than I thought possible. Competition will catch on soon though, so we’ve gotta differentiate ourselves now. So what do you say, Miss Josephine, a few weeks, just a tour of our places in New Mexico? Maybe a few in Arizona.”

For the briefest of moments, the victorious smile vanished from Josephine’s red lips. She looked toward Antoine, who’s consistent playing and dazed eyes told her that he knew none of what was transpiring at the bar right in front of him. She knew that she should speak to him before saying another word, to formulate some sort of plan with him, Gio, and Zelda; but this didn’t seem like the sort of man who’s patience you tested, and the loan on their farmhouse matured in a little over a month.

She rounded the bar, eyes angled straight at the man whose offer promised to save and ruin their lives in a single handshake. She reached out toward him first, ignoring both Val and Antoine in her periphery. “I’d say you’ve got a deal, Mr. Grove. But I want half up front, both for him and me as his manager.”

The sparkle in his eyes matched the gold of his rings and he stuck out his hand out to meet hers, “Only because I like you, Miss Josephine.”

#1934 #sims 4 historical #ts4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #1930s #hosa grove #Valcita grove #Josephine Duplanchier #Antoine Duplanchier

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miley1442111 · 6 months ago

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(part 7) choices on the court- a.donaldson

----------------------------

a/n: this is kind of a bad and i hate it but i need to post it to make the next part make sense so sorry that it's awful the next part is actually good i promise :) i'm posting them together but like... it just makes sense in my head ok sorry :)

summary: the confrontation where you find out about a few things. (dw there are more parts after this :))

pairing: art donaldson x reader, patrick zweig x reader

warnings: angst, feelings of disappointment and depression, hurt, cheating, sexual content, etc. +

PART 7 of 12

----------------------------

Art felt like his world had been crashing down around him for months even though he was getting what he wanted. He had Tashi (despite their break-up that lasted a week), he was going pro, and he had all the deals and things he wanted. But he didn't have you. He felt like a lonely idiot, and he lost a lot of enjoyment for things. Tennis was a job, not a passion. Seeing you on the courts, watching you work was the highlight of his days, thank god he had the Nike deal.

But it nagged at him. You were fucking Patrick. You were fucking Patrick even though he'd know about his infidelity and not told you, just like Art hadn't. What was so special about Patrick?

----------------------------

You stood on the court, Art on the other side.

“You’re fucking Patrick?” He tried to keep his tone even, but he knew he failed by the way you served the ball.

“Why do you care? You got Tashi, you got what you wanted,” you hit the ball back and forth with so much strength Art narrowly hit it back.

"I never said I have anything I want," He hit the ball back.

"So what do you want? Two girls at the same time?" you scoffed. "Just admit that you're contented with your life and move on, it's fine Art, I'm happy for you and Tashi just like you should be happy for me and Patrick."

"So you and Patrick are a 'thing' now?" Art missed the ball, then served it back to you with a ridiculous amount of force. The tension on the court was aplpable, certain words being punctuated by the slap of the ball against your rackets. You were both angry. Though, he had no right to be. He'd cheated on you. He's the asshole.

"Yeah, we are," you shrugged. "Just like you and Tashi are a thing."

“I don’t want Tashi! I never wanted Tashi!” He shouted back, dropping his racket and ultimately ending the game. “I wanted- I want you.”

“Then why did you fuck her?” you asked mockingly, laughing in his face. “Oh yeah, because you’re a fucking asshole who never cared about me!”

“I care about you!” He shouted back. “I care about you enough to tell you that Patrick isn’t good for you!”

“And how would you know that? At least he doesn’t cheat on me!”

“It’s not like he’s completely innocent either,” he scoffed. “He watched. He watched me fuck Tashi.”

Your heart broke for a third time. How could you be so stupid.

“What?” you asked, lowering your voice. You noticed Patrick out of the corner of your eye and Tashi entering from the other entrance. “Is that true? You three all knew and none of you told me?!”

There was silence on the court.

“Fucking answer me!” you screamed.

“Yeah. No one told you,” Tashi answered.

“Great. Y’know, keep me out of your weird fucking threesome bullshit from now on, please? It really shouldn’t be that fucking hard, considering you all seemingly hate each other. Just keep your heads out of your cocks, alright?” You shouted storming off the court.

There was a silence over the court for a few moments.

Then;

“Fuck you!” Art screamed.

“Oh fuck me? Fuck you!” Patrick laughed. “You broke her heart, all I did was break her fucking hymen!”

“Fuck both of you! You’re both assholes!” Tashi shouted from the bleachers.

The boys looked at each other. “Fuck us?” they said in unison.

“You’re the one who pitted us against each other for your attention, then made our careers about you,” Patrick commented.

“ Tashi, you’ve been awful to her. You tried to sabotage her biggest match,” Art mentioned.

“Fuck you,” they said in unison once again.

----------------------------

Three months later…

“Hey,” You smiled, feeling giddy from the copious amounts of alcohol you’d consumed.

“Hey,” Art smiled back, just as drunk as you.

You’d gone back to your dorm. You’d kissed him. It felt good.

“I’m so sorry-” he tried to apologise for well… everything. But all you wanted was to have sex and pass out.

“Shush!” You hushed him and giggled, pulling off your t-shirt and bra. Art’s eyes widened, then he smirked. His lips latched onto yours as you undressed yourselves and landed on his bed. You laid back as Art took his time kissing you. Your lips, your face, your neck, your chest, your stomach, all the way down to your core.

“Art,” you moaned. “Please.”

The haziness of the alcohol was getting to him and he was beginning to feel much too tired, but he’d be damned if he let another chance with you pass him by. “What do you want, baby?”

“You,” you moaned breathlessly. “You.”

A sense of pride blossomed in Art's chest. You wanted him. You were with him. Here, he wasn't second best to Patrick, nor was he controlled by Tashi. He was with you. His dream girl. "You have me, baby."

----------------------------

You’d felt so stupid when Art wasn’t there in the morning. Why did you trust him? Why did he do that?

Why, why why?

You two didn’t talk again. Well, not until about eleven years later.

----------------------------

art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

people who asked to be tagged :)

@fkaams

@emily-b

@yourmommycallsmemommy

@hrtsj1m

@januarycolor

#art challengers #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art challenge #art donaldson #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #zendaya #tashi duncan

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soapymansuds · 7 months ago

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Eternity and Counting

(Pt2. Also pretty short but I'm kinda just handling introductory stuff, so bear with me. Uploads will be made every Tuesday for as long as I have stuff to upload. Thank you for your support, hope you enjoy!!)

Pt1

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad.

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.

When did it get so bright? I'd swear I was staring into the face of the sun if it weren't for the gentle breeze that sways my hair. I open my eyes just barely, blinking away the glare of my surroundings. I'm acutely aware of several voices around me, one of which is more familiar than I'd like. How could it not have worked? It's impossible. I was certain that those herbs would take me out. And so was everybody else, because even if I hadn't done my research, Barbatos kept them locked in a special cabinet for ingredients never to be used while I was in the castle. I had to have died.

As the world around me slowly blinks into view, I'm greeted by a terrifying sight. Simeon sits crouched before me, worry and fear marring his perfect skin. His voice is muffled and foggy as he speaks, but slowly I recognize his question.

"What have you done?"

It's soft. Gentle. Like when my mother used to ask after I had made a small, albeit amusing, mess. I consider for a moment how to answer him. I want to ask him what he thinks I've done, but the sarcasm feels like it'd be more painful now than it usually would. So instead I take my moment of consideration to look around. I've been to the celestial realm before, but this feels different. Suddenly, I find my answer. A pair of answers really, fluttering against my back.

"I failed... Again..." I whisper, staring at my hands, and soon the tears falling onto them. "Fuck me, you'd think killing yourself would be harder to mess up." Something maniacal in me laughs. It's hard to say if I'm laughing at my joke or myself. Maybe it's both.

When I look up, Simeon's face has shot from worry to deep, deep concern. He's quick to pull out his phone, but I'm quicker to bat it out of his hand.

"You can't. You can't tell them." I mumble, not breaking eye contact. "It's bad enough you have to know, Luke will find out I'm sure. But they can't..."

"MC, they deserve to know! Do you know how worried they are right now? You've been dead a whole month!" He's nearly yelling, but his expression doesn't change much. It's hard to tell if he's angry or confused. Maybe he's both.

"They deserve to move on Simeon. You all do, I'm just sorry I've managed to fuck up your opportunity to do it. They got their letters, they know why I did it. So do you. It would be unfair of me to put them through all of that, give them an opportunity to live without me dragging them down, just to turn around a month later and force myself back into their lives because I didn't have to forethought to consider I could have been reborn an Angel!" It's not that I hadn't considered it. I had just assumed suicide knocked you off the divine rebirth roster. Guess I should have checked.

Simeon looks prepared to say something back but is quickly cut off by another voice.

"So this is the great MC I've heard so much about." He chuckles, stepping out from behind Simeon. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, though I do wish it was under better circumstances." his head tilts as if he's considering the whole ordeal. "I'm certain Lucifer would be ecstatic to hear the news, but if you insist on secrecy, that can be arranged."

"Michael I-" Simeon begins but stops quickly, fixing his tone and face to seem more proffesional. "Are you certain? Their absence has caused such a stir in the Devildom." He looks back at me like he's expecting that to change my mind more than Michael's.

"The Devildom can handle its own turmoil. We owe our loyalties to the angels of the Celestial realm. And if our new angel here wishes to hide their presence from Lord Diavolo himself, then I'll do what I can. For now, at the very least. And if you ever change your mind, I can help you then as well." He nods, holding a hand out to help me to my feet. I take it cautiously, finding a new balance in my stance with the additional weight on my back. I never expected these to be so heavy. And getting a better look at them now, they're huge. Rivaling Lucifer's, in span at least.

"If you'd like, I have a private garden. You may spend your days there for as long as you want." He grins, something strangely knowing in his eyes.

(Thank you for visiting my silly little stories. Like I said, uploads should be pretty consistent, but if you'd like a friendly reminder, comment to be added to the tag list!)

-Your friend, The Author

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #mammon x reader #obey me angst #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon

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rainbow-sunshine-unicorn · 1 month ago

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"While what Violet said was through a haze of grief and trauma, what Anthony heard, at a very vulnerable moment, was that his mother would rather die for her husband than live for her children. And it’s very hard to not take that sort of thing personally."

YES YES EXACTLY like I have all the empathy in the world for Violet as a mom with postpartum depression and just a depressed person in general when Edmund died but at the same time you just told your oldest flat out you have no reason to live for WHEN YOU HAVE EIGHT FUCKING KIDS AND ONE RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. She just told her son they aren't her air and there is NOTHING left for her in this realm like... that SCARS A PERSON.

dont get me wrong I still enjoy Violet as a character no one is all good all bad but... I would assume that even if Anthony and Violet's relationship becomes less fraught Idk if he would ever get over that no matter how fulfilling his life is now

I think it’s super interesting how Violet is a very loving mother who obviously wants the world for her children yet is a flawed parent in many ways. It shows you that flawed mothers are not necessarily just those who are like Portia but also those like Violet, who are “good” people.

Not that I think Portia and Violet are the exact same, but it’s an interesting juxtaposition, because you may think that both of them are on opposite ends of the parenting spectrum but the closer you look, the more you see, that both of their actions are motivated by wanting to do what’s best for their children and that it is this that lies at the core of a lot of their bigger mistakes as mothers.

Also, I think that her relationship with Anthony was fundamentally changed by him witnessing her raw grief. Though I think the other children, besides Gregory, Hyacinth and perhaps Francesca, were aware of her grief and absence from their lives, and it impacted them in different ways, for example, Daphne singing to Eloise over Violet’s cries, none of them truly felt the weight of it like Anthony. And I think this altered the relationship not only from Anthony’s perspective but from Violet’s perspective.

This character study perfectly articulates exactly what I mean. It summarises Anthony’s character and motivations in such a succinct way, I believe everyone should watch it!!

But throughout season 1, we see her treat him as though he’s Edmund’s replacement falling short rather than her son while simultaneously wanting him to treat her like an authority figure. She demands he arrange something for Daphne with a friend like his father would have, then later, berates him to renege when she considers Simon a better match. Yes Anthony does many things wrong, but he is navigating it from a very lonely place of extreme pressure and absolutely no one to turn to for guidance.

She waffles like this throughout season 2 as well, like insisting that she knows what he wants deep down while also accusing him of thrusting his responsibility upon his siblings, which is simply not true, considering Colin doesn’t even seem to understand the importance of balancing accounts. It’s only in the very last episode of season 2 that she seems to realise how much she has hurt Anthony but even then she apologises for the hurting him while she was grieving and not the way she has treated him subsequently.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t think Anthony will ever go back to being Violet’s oldest child rather than the half limbo state that they are in where he’s the head of the household and she’s his mother but also part of his household. And this is not because of a lack of love on either of their parts or because they are too different. Which is the tragedy of their relationship.

Anyways this is already too long, but Anthony’s last experience of unconditional parental love was when his father died, because the moment he did, in certain ways, he lost that from his mother.

I truly believe that the next time he experiences such unconditional love and affection is from Kate, who sees him at his worst, witnesses him make every mistake and still equally matches his feelings, his love and devotion and desire.

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thatanimeramenchick · 9 months ago

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Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Pt. 3/Finale

This is the finale. Ya’ll are not talking me into another one.

Word count: 4,313

Part One - Part Two

---

You had a lot of time to think before you saw Vox again.

Your little spat had kept him from visiting you for about a week and a half, which was fine by you. He was often so busy he only visited you every other day or so even before your blowout. It would have been more than fine by you if you weren’t completely alone that entire time, having nothing to do but live with your depressing thoughts. Thoughts that always led you back to the same dark place at the end of the day.

Despair.

In your heart, you knew there was nothing you could do to get out of the situation. Kick and scream as you would you weren’t leaving. It was only going to be a matter of time before all of his patience evaporated, and he really lost it with you. And while a part of you wanted to hold out that he would give up or die before then, the logical part of your mind knew he would snap way before that happened. You didn’t even want to know what he would do to you then. If you came to some kind of arrangement you could tell yourself you had at least agreed to things on a surface level, even if it had been something you didn’t want to do. So, your mind had been whirling like crazy, trying to come up with a plan of some kind of a proposal that would make you feel like you had at least a little control.

Besides, you had been locked up in here for what, four month? You had turned it over and over and over in your mind. While it was true you might have to wait a small eternity before you found a way out of his arms, it was going to take just as long to get out of here even without the contract. At least with one you’d be able to leave regularly and try to work something out.

By the time he had finally decided to grace you with his presence again, you had worked out a shoddy idea of how you want this to go.

This would be fine. He had accepted your apology well enough, seeming to take a certain pleasure in your partially feigned shame and timidity. You had even managed to wrap your arms around him for a few seconds as you asked for forgiveness. While his initial reaction was to look at you with some surprise, his face has soon changed to one of self-satisfied indulgence, and he had caressed your head with a patronizing touch. How could he remain angry at you when he cared so much for you and you were clearly so sorry for your behavior?

Now that you were actually sitting beside him though, you weren’t sure you actually wanted to go through with the rest of your plan. He was on his phone, no doubt checking something for work. You bounced your legs, crossed at the knee, working up the courage to say what you wanted to.

You cleared your throat.

“Vox? I-I wanted to ask you a question,” you said.

He looked up from his phone.

“If it’s all right, I would like to go out to dinner,” you said, “In an actual restaurant.”

“And I would let you out, why?” he asked.

This was going to be the hard part, forcing yourself to actually say the words.

“If you let me out of here for a little while, I-I’d give you something you want,” you said, “Something you’ve wanted for a while.”

You sucked in a hurried breath, suppressing the urge to shudder.

“It could even be a formal deal,” you said, words rushed together now that you had worked up the courage to say them, “If you take me out for the evening, dinner and a hotel, I’ll let you do whatever you want with me afterwards. I’ll even consider the contract.”

You made yourself look him in the eyes, your body stiff. You forced yourself to smile at him, but with how strained it felt, you didn’t doubt that Vox could see how fake it was. There was only so much you could fake about actually wanting this. Despite your obvious discomfort though, Vox’s looked at you thoughtfully, as if actually considering the proposal.

“Why not just sign the contract now?” he asked, “If you’re serious about being cooperative why hold it out?”

“I want to be sure it’s something I actually want to agree to,” you said, “L-like a test run.”

He smirked, “So you’re saying you want to take the car for a ride before buying it?”

You avert your gaze, feeling your face heat up.

“S-sure, yeah,” you said, “I mean, it only makes sense that I see what it’s like before I commit permanently.”

He was quiet for a minute before a satisfied looked crossed his face.

“All right. What the hell, why not? Let’s make it official then. We agree that, if I take you out to dinner in a real restaurant and then to a hotel, let’s say on Saturday, you’ll do whatever I want that night?” he asked, holding out his hand.

You listened. It was obvious to you that he was using carefully planned out words, as Overlord’s often did in their deals and contracts, making sure that it was clear on both ends what would be expected and fulfilled. A part of you also wanted to make sure he didn’t slip anything in there that would trap you in over your head even more, which was a common tactic with demons.

“… Except make another deal or contract,” you said.

“Except make another deal or contract.”

You supposed that this was as good as it was gonna get. You took his hand hesitantly.

It hurt. It felt like a shock of static had gone through you, a little painful but more annoying than anything. Over as soon as it started. Blue light had near blinded you for a second before dissipating as well. You felt a small tug on your chest somewhere deep inside, probably in your soul somewhere. Not too apparent, but it had been there nonetheless. You rubbed your arms a bit, the lingering spark cooling.

“I trust you’re not going to do anything stupid like trying to run off,” Vox said.

“Do I look like a moron to you?” you said, the words out more resentful than you intended.

“Of course not. But you and I both know you’ve been a bit out of sorts lately,” he said, “Acting irrationally.”

“Couldn’t imagine why,” you said sarcastically

You feel your face contort in fear as the last word hangs in the air and Vox raises an eyebrow at you. Shit. He stares at you blankly for a minute taking a strand of hair in his claws, causing you to flinch. He smirks at that.

“Hmph, well, I suppose you just need some stress relief,” he said, “Which I’ll be more than happy to assist you with very, very soon.”

---

You were filled with apprehension the night of the outing. Your stomach turned as you sat in the restaurant, so stressed from your situation that you had a headache. At least, that’s what you told yourself it was, as the alternative reason was much more unpleasant. Part of you wondered if your nerves were a wreck from your confinement. You hadn’t been out around people in forever. Even if it was a relatively short time period, it was clear that being isolated for so long was having an affect on your mental durability in public. Everything just felt like it was too much. The loud noises of the city and bright lights in the restaurant unnerved you. You just wanted to take a remote and turn down the intensity of the room.

You supposed alcohol made a good substitute for that.

You started pouring yourself another cup, some of the wine spilling onto the table as you overfilled it. Before you could pick it up though, Vox took it.

“Hey, give that back,” you said, unable to grasp it as he held it out of your reach.

“F/N, you’re going to pass out at this rate,” Vox said.

“S-so?” you said.

“So I don’t want to drag a half dead woman around town for people to gawk at,” he said.

You tense as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him.

“And… I would prefer it if you actually were awake when we spend time together tonight,” he said.

Well, clearly Vox wasn’t as stupid as you’d been hoping. He never was. You had partially been downing alcohol like it was water in the hopes that you’d be so out of it that whatever gross fantasies he fulfilled with you would be lost in a hazy blur. You didn’t want to remember it when you woke up in the morning.

“… of course,” you said.

“Why don’t you eat some more?” he said, “Try to clear your mind.”

You didn’t really want to though. You liked shrimp, but something about this dish was making you feel nauseous. You weren’t sure if it had gone bad or if you just weren’t in the mood stomach anything knowing what was going through his head. Not wanting to irritate him though, you picked at the dish a little. Damn it, you had done this to have one more night of imagined partial freedom, and you couldn’t even do that. Pathetic.

“I don’t feel well,” you whined, “It’s too loud in here. And the light is hurting my eyes. Can’t someone turn it down?”

“You’re so needy, dearest,” Vox said, but he called your waitress over.

“Dim the lights for us,” he said.

The waitress looked a little nervous.

“What do you not know how to turn down a light?” he asked.

“No! I do! It’ll just be a second!” she said.

She brought over a spare chair and stood on it, trying to reach the light. One of her large horns twisted in the glass beads, getting tangle.

“I know what I’m doing! I promise,” she said, looking panicked.

You weren’t so sure about that as she lost her footing and she swung off the chair, kicking her feet erratically through the air. Not wanting to get smacked in the face you ducked. You wondered if the alcohol had knocked you out and this was just some weird hangover dream.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Vox yelled.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I just-!”

Before she could finish, the chandelier could no longer take her weight and fell onto the table and floor, shattering into a million pieces, wire torn and dragged out from the ceiling. The electric charge in them was still quite strong though, some of them sparking with a life of their own, twisting and sputtering.

“What the fUuuuUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkk-k-k-k?”

Before Vox could move out of the way the wire had made contact with one of the openings on the back of his head, sending him shocking and jolting. His face flew through a hundred different images, colors flying across it as static burst from his head. His entire body jolted as it overflowed with electricity.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” the waitress shrieked.

“I-I… c-c-c-ca-a-an’t…” Vox tried to speak, his entire head buzzing at the overload of electricity before he slumped over, knocked out. His screen was all black. As he went out, he fell forward and the wire disconnected. The sparking and burning had stopped, but there was a foul smell in the air, like something was burning.

You watched as your waitress started to panic.

“Oh, shit, shit, shit,” she said, “I’m so, so sorry! L-let me get my boss! We’ll fix this!”

Several other wait staff had walked over, and even some other customers turned their heads at the commotion. This was going to look really bad on the restaurant if they didn’t do something. At some point, you saw the waitress hurrying back, her boss with her. As they neared, more people crowded around the scene.

“Are you ok, ma’am? Are you hurt at all?” a waiter asked, helping you stand and move away from the wires and glass.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled.

It had all happened so fast you barely had time to mentally catch up to what was happening. The waiter walked you over to a nearby empty table, sitting you down.

“Why don’t you just wait here?” he said.

“O-ok, sure…” you said.

You stared at the scene of panicked people for a minute, brain fuzzy, before standing up. No one even glanced in your direction as you started to wander towards the entrance of the building. It wasn’t like people knew who you were or cared, and everyone had seen what had happened. They were all too worried about Hell’s biggest media manager to notice you.

I’m not running away. Of course not. It’s not like there’s anywhere to go anyway.

But your body was telling a different story as it pushed passed the waitstaff to the door. You walked out of the building, shaking a little from your inebriated state. You could do this though. You could walk a straight line. Right, you could do this. It’s not like you were running away. No, you weren’t that stupid. Just taking a little walk. Just one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right- Escape. Escape. Now’s your chance. Find a place with no cameras. Don’t let him catch you. Don’t let him find you. Don’t-

Hurk.

No, no, no. This wasn’t the time to get sick. But either you were too stressed or that shrimp really must have gone bad, because there was no holding back what wanted to come out. Before you knew it, you were bent over the public trash can vomiting up the little you had been eating and the fountain of wine you had been drinking.

“You all right, dear?” you heard someone saying

I’m puking over an outdoor trash bin, genius, what do you think?

You hurled for a few more seconds before pausing, coughing a little. You took a deep breath before looking up woozily at the concerned face who was looking down at you. And you really had to look up, not only because you were still learning over the trash can, but because of how tall the person was that you had been talking you. Once you laid eyes on him, you would have gasped if your throat didn’t burn with acid.

“A-Alastor?” you managed to choke out.

“The one and only, darling,” he said, “Glad to know my reputation proceeds me.”

He was taller than you had imagined, and his face disconcerting. While you had seen pictures and drawings, they had not been able to quite capture the eerie cheerfulness that his smile held, so large against his thin frame. A suppressed chill ran through your body at the knowledge that you were talking to your boss’s proclaimed “nemesis.”

“W-what are you doing here?” you said.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

“N-no! Sorry, I just… I’ve never seen you in person,” you said, “I never thought I’d… Well, my boss h-hates you.”

While he continues to smile, you can tell by his eyes that he isn’t too impressed by your state. You probably smelled and looked as gross as you felt, half-drunk and wobbly.

“Does he now?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” you continued, “You know him. The big ass TV demon with the red glowey eyes?”

“Oh, so you’re Vox’s then?” he said.

“No!” you said, a bit too forcefully, “I’m not Vox’s! I’m not anyone’s! I don’t want to be anyone’s.”

He tilts his head a bit.

“Is that so?” he said.

“Yeah, n-not yet at least, not ‘till t-tomorrow,” you murmur, waving your hand in front of your face, “Right now, there’s no contract though. S-so I’m… I’m not anybody’s. Least of all his.”

His eyes soften a bit at that, though there is still a coldness in them that is unmistakable.

“Well then,” he said, after a short silence, “I suppose I should leave you to get back to your evening. Word of advice though, elder to younger, don’t do anything that will lead to any permanent consequences you aren’t willing to fulfill.”

Like I haven’t considered that, asshole. I would literally rather sign a contract with anyone else.

…

Wait a minute. You look at him as he starts to turn away.

“W-wait! Mr. Alastor, sir,” you said, “I have to ask you something.”

The idea was solidifying as he turned to look at you.

“If I sold my soul to someone, no one else could have it, right?” you say, hurriedly, near silent.

“Your soul would no longer be yours, so no. Only the owner could sell it to another person,” he said, looking at you thoughtfully, “But that’s not usually something that people have to worry about.”

That damn smile on his face was really creeping you out. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea sitting in the back of your half drunk mind. But you know what? You didn’t really care. What choice did you have? You were in hell for crying out loud, every path seemed to lead to some kind of shit. But if you weren’t going to get what you wanted, neither was your unrequited admirer. This was Vox’s biggest enemy, right? Nothing would upset him more than knowing that not only would you never belong to him, but you belonged to the man he hated more than anything else.

That was more than enough reason for you.

“I want to sell you my soul,” you said.

He cocked his head thoughtfully.

“You must be in a desperate pinch to want that,” he said, “And what would you like in exchange, my dear?”

You hadn’t even really thought of that. Your only thought at the moment had been to make yourself inaccessible to Vox, and your mind was still kind of hazy. It only made sense you get something out of it though. Something decent. Through the fog, an idea crept into your mind.

“I… I want you to make it where I can’t show up on screens, like you,” you said, “I want to be impossible to capture on film.”

As you said the words you held out your hand.

“We have a deal,” he said.

And with that he clamped onto your hand with his own, the room glowing green with magic. While it pulsed with energy, it was nothing like what you had felt when you had made the deal with Vox. It was a warm flurry that filled you from head to toe. You could feel the sensation of something tightening around your chest, much tighter than when you had made your earlier deal. It crept all the way into your neck before you felt like you were going to choke it was so tight before finally disappearing. A part of you thought you were going to throw up again.

“You going to be all right there?” he asked.

“Y-yeah, I’m f-fine,” you manage, hands on your knees for a second.

Apparently that was a lie, as you literally spill your guts onto the pavement.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Alastor said.

You cough again, straightening. You felt a bit better after that one.

“S-sorry,” you mutter.

“No need to apologize, dearest,” he said, “Now, since we have come to an agreement, I think we should discuss some things.”

“Well, I’m not really-”

“F/N?”

You froze as you heard your name being called. You turned to see Vox walking down the stairs, his face back on. A chill ran through you. That was fast. Someone must have reached into his head and turned a switch to reset him. He looked a bit dazed still, but not enough to be too impaired by it.

“There you are,” he said, “I thought I was going to have to start looking through every camera in this city to find you. What did I tell you... about…”

He glared when he saw who was standing next to you.

“Get the hell away from my employee,” he said, immediately aggressive at the sight of his rival.

Alastor looked at Vox, his eyes holding amusement and his grin turning more mischievous.

“Hm… no, I don’t think so,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Vox said.

“I’m afraid she belongs to me now,” Alastor said.

“I’m sorry, she what?!” Vox’s voice cracking with static.

“Your employee – or should I says ex-employee – has made a binding deal with an Overlord, which means in exchange for a service I provided, she has given me h-”

“I know what a demonic deal is, dickwad!” he yelled.

“Well then, the situation should be perfectly clear to you,” Alastor said. You had no idea how he was able to remain so calm when it was so obvious that Vox was on the verge of exploding, perhaps literally. As severity of the situation dawned on him, he turned his burning, furious eyes on you.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vox said, “Of all the assholes in hell you choose to bind yourself to other than me, you pick this one?!”

You don’t say anything to him. For a second you look directly at him and tremble at the amount of terrifying wrath you see emanating from his body. Another feeling stirs in your chest though. A sick satisfaction at the fact that he is so upset. After all the control he had deprived you of for the last few months, it felt right to finally put him in a situation where he had zero control over things.

“We already made a deal! You can’t just sell your soul to him!” he yelled.

“Well, apparently, the deal wasn’t strong enough to chain her to you in any way considering she was able to sell her soul to me at all,” said Alastor, “And I don’t know what deals you’ve made previously with her, but if she has failed to fulfill any of them, as the owner of her soul I have the right to forfeit them. If you’d like to discuss what it is she was supposed to give you, perhaps we can work something out. Unless you failed to uphold your end of the bargain?”

He look flustered, but before he could really say anything you murmured, “Y-you only upheld half the bargain. S-so I don’t have anything I owe you.”

Confusion clouded his eyes for a brief second before he seemed to realize what you were talking about.

“Are you really trying to play the damn exact wording game with me?” he said, storming towards you, “You selfish little conniving bitch!”

You yelped as he grabbed your arm, his claws digging into your flesh to the point where you could feel skin beginning to break. Small splurts of blood formed on your flesh. His face was so livid though that you had a feeling that this was the least of your concerns.

“You better enjoy this while it last, because once I’m done with Alastor, I am going to hang his sorry excuse of a deer carcass on my office wall,” he said between gritted teeth, “And you are going to be begging to go back to the previous arrangement we discussed when I finally get my hands on y-”

He stops speaking as a black tentacle smacks him in the face, almost sending him off of his feet.

“That’s quite ungentlemanly of you, Vox,” Alastor said, “Treating a lady like that. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t touch what’s mine.”

Vox had a hand up on his screen, a large crack on the right side of his screen. It reached all the way down from the top down to where his cheek would have been. A small piece of glass was hanging by a wire.

“What the f-?! Ugh!” Vox yelled, “You are going to regret that! Both of you!”

He backed down though. As mad as he was, you both knew it was a losing battle if he tried to fight Alastor one on one right now. One hand trying to hold up the falling piece, he turned to walk away, grumbling under his breath. As he left your line of vision, you leaned against the wall, rubbing your eyes. You even felt yourself tear up a little involuntarily. You had truly thought there wasn’t going to be a way out of this.

“T-Thank y-you,” you said. If you weren’t scared crapless of this guy, you would have gotten on your knees and kissed his feet right there.

“There’s truly no need to thank me for anything,” Alastor said, “You are mine now. It’s in both of our interests that I protect you.”

Not really listening to what he was saying, you nod. It was awkwardly quiet for a minute or two as you wiped at your face, trying to get a hold of yourself. Damn it, you were wasted. Finally you felt like you could talk again.

“I-I guess, I’d better hit the road,” you say.

Though to be honest, you don’t even know where that is at the moment, considering you don’t have any money or job or anything really. Before you can walk off though, Alastor places a hand on your shoulder.

“And where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“Oh, um… well, I wasn’t- I don’t have to go if you’d rather I didn’t,” you said.

“I should hope not,” he said, “Besides, I’ve already been thinking. There’s a lot of work I have that you can do.”

Well, shit.

I really hope I don’t come to regret this.

#yandere vox #yandere x reader #vox #hazbin hotel

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