elijangiloveyou

[elijangiloveyou]

what is it with blondes and getting beaten up by their unconscious (ex)boyfriends in this series

like make a club at this point

[elijangiloveyou]

johan x reader :3 for funsies

You wonder if you should chase him home... your boss probably won't like the fact you let your boyfriend loiter at the convenience store while you're working. Then again, you do remember the glare he gave your boss when the older man was going to reprimand you the other day...

At the back of your mind, you hope your part-time job will stick for more than a few months this time. Without Johan's intimidation, preferably.

"...Can you at least change into the uniform and pretend you work here?" You ask with a pacifying smile.

To your relief, Johan grunts before complying with your request, sauntering to the backroom to get a change of clothes. He is not the most personable one to have around, which is the reason behind his refusal to work here with you in the first place. Johan cannot fathom how you can stand on your feet all day and smile at the customers all the time.

For all his fault, however, at least, he goes out of his way to make your life easier whenever he can. You can find comfort in his care if nothing else.

As you daydream, a few customers enter the store. All male, some of them wear uniforms, but they're maybe a little bit older than you. "Welcome to [████]!" You greet them with a smile, raising your voice far louder than your normal one. In the beginning, it has been a strain for you to do that, but with practice, you've come to put on the customer service voice easily.

Some of them catch your eyes and you notice the telltale signs of interest gleaming in their eyes. You return their attention with an eye smile before diverting your attention away, not wanting to encourage anything unnecessary.

Supposedly, that's one of the reasons Johan doesn't enjoy these retail jobs. This reason is tailored for you, however. As it happens, you attract the attention of the other guys more often than not. You don't exactly know what it is that piques their interest... you never ask either, it'd probably be impolite to question...

"Hey."

You look up to see one of the guys have approached you. This one is taller than the rest. Athletic, you noted. His smile is friendly when he leans on the counter, "Do you go to school around here?"

"Hm?" You blink. "No."

You don't go to school at all if you have to be honest... but you don't owe a stranger that information.

"Ah, that explains why I've never seen you," he grins, "my name is Taesoo, and yours is—"

He glances down at the nametag on your shirt, but before the first syllable can escape his mouth, a familiar voice cuts in.

"None of your business."

In hindsight, the blue convenience store uniform deduces some of the intimidating points from Johan's overall appearance, but you have to admit, he has mastered the art of glaring. Maybe it's something about the perpetual frown he always has on his face. You can't tell.

The other boy flinches, but with his friends returning to the counter and backing him up, his confidence stabilizes again. "What are you, her boyfriend?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Johan crosses his arms, challenging the other boy to say something.

"...Whatever."

Thankfully, the situation diffuses without further complications. You breathe out a sigh of relief as you take the products his friends brought to the counter. As you check out their purchase, Johan maintains his glaring battle with the other boy until he's all the way out of your sight with the rest of his friends.

You jab at his sight once they leave, looking up at him with a pout when he glares down at you. "Don't offend the customers," you remind him gently, "it's bad performance to talk back."

"I don't even work here," he grumbles.

"If you're wearing the uniform then you are," you narrow your eyes to read his name tag, "shape up, Haneul."

The corner of his mouth twitches, "Fine, if I'm here I might as well help," he scratches the back of his head, "I'll go count inventory or something..."

You brighten up visibly, "If you do well, I'll speak to the manager about getting you a job here!"

"Pass."

Ah, well. It was worth a try.

[elijangiloveyou]

why is ptj posting guniel on his main????

[elijangiloveyou]

Johan Seong

"can you give me a haircut like you used to?" i fucking cried

[elijangiloveyou]

As a rule of thumb, don't reblog donation posts or people asking for donations unless they've been vetted and reblogged by Palestinian bloggers. We usually go to lengths to verify this shit because we know scammers have been faking to get people to send them money, using the urgency of our genocide as bait.

It's disgusting this is what we're dealing with, but people are losing money because of some truly evil people out there.

Accounts don't just randomly spring up on tumblr without gofundmes while asking for someone to help them create a campaign. Fuck out of here with that shit.

[elijangiloveyou]

Lookism Guys: I'm disappointed in you

G/N. (Jakey, Sammy, Goo, Gun, Vin, Ryuhei, DG, Johan, Vasco)

You're not pissed off. You're much worse, disappointed.

Hands on your hips, finger dangerously close to wagging and lecturing them.

His intimidating presence does nothing to deter how you feel-

Jake's face drops and his eyes fall to the ground.

Whether he thinks he did anything wrong is one thing, but disappointing you is more than enough for him to feel bad.

He bows, bending at the waist a full 90 degrees and then some, and asks for your forgiveness. Face sincere and of utmost seriousness no matter how petty the crime.

Samuel scoffs and leaves. He doesn't need this.

But he tosses and turns that night, daddy and mommy issues playing up. The need for approval and validation from someone he respects gnaws at him, and he doesn't sleep a wink.

The next day he returns to you, bags under his eyes, pretending to be unaffected by your previous disagreement yet trying to get back into your good graces with expensive gifts.

"Disappointed?" Goo echoes, blinking owlishly, as if he couldn't fathom that he could be disappointing to anyone.

He whines and pouts, and is close to throwing a tantrum. Obviously your words having an effect on him.

In the end he does mutter an apology though you doubt the sincerity, especially if the look in his eyes are anything to go by.

Gun ignores you though you see the defiant twitch in his jaw from your words.

He doesn't care, why should he.

Except you catch him staring at you the rest of the day or week or until whenever your ire ebbs away. There's a strange awkwardness to his being, like he doesn't know how he should act around you.

The apology doesn't come if he thinks it's undeserved and unneeded, but he also doesn't want to see that look in your eyes again.

Vin scoffs, pretends he doesn't care. Calls you a nag, a wet blanket, all sorts of frustrating names.

Yet the guilt eats away at him. Your eyes, the playful expression you usually wear is now just replaced with disappointment.

He tries to involve Mary to worm his way back into your good books, she tells him to piss off and eventually he comes to you, tail between his legs and a poorly formed apology (likely as a rap).

Ryuhei's eyes are suspiciously wet. You think he's sniffling, the tip of his nose turned pink and he's trying to keep a brave face but god, he feels like a complete failure.

He drops to his knees and immediately offers to commit seppuku. When you roll your eyes and tell him to stop being ridiculous, he says he will do anything to make this right. That he would rather die than ever disappoint you again.

DG, usually ruled by logic but too often bratty and arrogant, considers whether this is a hill worth dying on. It's not.

Considers whether it warrants an apology, and it does. But does he deliver? Not always. Lets you simmer until he presents you with a grand gesture and a winning K-Pop smile he reserves for award shows.

His charm works on you less than he'd like, but more than you'd prefer.

Johan looks as if he's been slapped, before turning on his heels and leaving.

It takes him a surprisingly short amount of time to come back, feeling contrite. He doesn't say sorry but the unspoken apology runs round and round his mind.

Instead he drifts to your side constantly like a shadow, trying to catch your eye, seek out some of your warmth and hoping for your forgiveness.

Regardless of what it is you're disappointed with, Vasco Tabasco thinks you are the best. A literal angel descended to Earth that has graced his life.

So if you're disappointed then whatever he is doing must be wrong and is worth apologising for.

He does just that. Offers to make up for it however you see fit. Completely heartfelt even if he doesn't know entirely why.

[elijangiloveyou]

Guys... i think i'm going to have to change my blog to a webtoon blog instead of just ptj universe... WHICH IS GREAT. BECAUSE THEN I CAN POST ABOUT WINDBREAKER AND HOW IT IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE... (BTW I haven't read lookism in a while, so when I read it I will probably do a whole rant about it.)

[elijangiloveyou]

Part 3? It would be fun seeing Jayjo realize your love for him but it's too late😤😌 I really love your stories I really hope you make a part three because when I tell you Jay is an idiot for not noticing

Your wish, I fulfill it. This is for you Anon <;3. [Windbreaker One-Shot; part three of never the One; jay jo x afab reader; season four spoiler; especially chapter 454; Death; Shelly is not with the crew; still in England; Angst; One side love? (Maybe); Thank you for all the support! Enjoy! @queenbubu]

Everything was a mess, and you knew it, Dom knew it, and even TJ knew it. It was a complete disaster. Firstly, Vinny had betrayed you all, driving a knife deep into your hearts, and dismissing every moment you had spent together as nothing but trash. Jay's bike lay in ruins, shattered into countless uncountable pieces. And now, you found yourselves in Japan, surrounded by the Kazuma gang, watching Jay and Dom racing against Kazuma.

Oh, and let's not forget Crew Cavalry, because, why not? As if this mess couldn't use a love triangle to make things even more complicated. It was excruciating, watching Noah lean toward Jay, the two of them whispering about something. It was agonizing to see Noah's gaze linger on Jay for longer than it should, especially because Jay reciprocated the look.

It felt like a punch to the face, as if a knife were twisting in your heart, mercilessly mocking your unrequited love for Jay. It was so painful that it felt as if your heart were throbbing like a physical wound. It became pitiful and painful to keep asking the same question over and over again.

But why couldn't it be you? Why couldn't it be you who captured his attention, heard his voice, felt his love? Why? Please, why?

Mia, Shelly, and now Noah. Mia, the sweet girl; Shelly, England's angel; and now Noah, the breath of fresh air. Mia, Shelly, Noah. Mia, Shelly, Noah.

Not you.

Probably never you.

You would hope that the pain would numb over time, that it would somehow become easier to bear, less… foolish. But instead, it intensified, because with every fleeting moment, you could feel him growing more distant. Far from your reach, and you never had the courage to chase the faint outlines of his face.

You were like a destitute girl, watching others receive lavish gifts while you stood in the rain with nothing. You were the overlooked older sister of the princess, never mentioned because you weren't special, you were a nobody.

You weren't deemed good enough to assist in the race or even when one of Kazuma's goons threw a punch at Jay. You were just the quiet, seemingly useless person on the sidelines. Not even a damsel in distress, just there.

But Jay wasn't. Jay was not useless. Jay was perfect in your eyes. Jay was not going to lose; he would triumph. He was flawless. You didn't care about what others said, the rumors about Jay, his uncle, or the crew. You knew Jay, even though he might not know you the way you wished he would. You knew Jay so well that it made you wince when you saw him crash against the unforgiving sidewalk.

"He will win," you declared without a hint of uncertainty. TJ looked at you in surprise. "But—"

"Jay will win. Jay always wins, even when they think he'll lose." You shot a glare at TJ. "Get out of here. There's no room for lightweights." Your words were sharp, perhaps foolish, because the reason you were all here was that he had lost against Vinny.

But Jay never lost.

He just didn't. Because this match was more than just a race; it was a contest against himself, against Kazuma, Vinny, and Owen. It was a race against every former opponent. This race? He would win.

When I first met Jay, I didn't fall in love. It wasn't love at first sight, not like in the books, TV, or games. He was just another classmate, sitting in the front row, with his books spread out on the table, already diving into the exam material for the next school year. He was a nerd, plain and easy. Nothing more.

But, he was more.

I realized it not even a month later.

It happened when I saw him sitting on a bench, watching other students running around, playing with a ball. His eyes almost seemed to beg to be a part of that scene, to join in the fun and games.

That was the day I fell in love.

We didn't exchange a word, we didn't even look at each other. But the way he longed to be a part of a seemingly silly and straightforward game left me flustered. It was the most genuine expression I had ever seen on him, on anyone.

The next day, I pleaded with the teacher to let me sit in the front because it was too hard to concentrate in the back.

There was no sound that reached your ears, no scream of euphoria had left your throat like it should have. Even when TJ was jumping up and down in happiness after the words left the Kazuma Members parten lips. "K-Kaneshiro...Lost." But you stayed quiet, eyes fixed on Jay, watching him with wide eyes.

something was wrong, Something was wrong.

His body trembled, the strain and exhaustion of the race finally catching up with him. He seemed to fight against the urge to let go. As if he could feel your eyes on him he look up, and it made you gasp. His head was bloody, veins in his eyes red and the moon like eyes blur at the edges, like a photograph fading into obscurity.

Jay gasped for air, his throat closing, but there was nothing but resistance. And you made a shaky step in his direction, hands shaking, unsure that if you touch him he would grumble down.

"J-Jay-?"

In that fleeting moment, he realized his body had betrayed him, and his world descended into numbness. The screams of the crowd's shock and disbelief faded into an eerie silence, But you never have been so clear to him.

Where you always so beautiful? he wonders dizzy. Why are you looking at him so worried? No one had ever looked at him so worried, so shaken about his wellbeing, no one.

Not Mia, Not Shelly.

But you did.

Suddenly, Jay's grip on the handlebars failed him. His fingers, once clenched in determination, opened like fragile petals surrendering to a gust of wind. The bike began to wobble, and he tumbled from it.

"JAY!" You screamed in shock, catching his body before it could fall into the ground.

"Jay!" You exclaimed, your voice laced with a mixture of panic and distress. Gently, you cradled his limp body, desperately trying to keep your composure. His head lolled against your shoulder, blood marring his features, and his moonlit eyes had lost their luster. He wasn't breathing.

"[Name]! What's happening?!" You heard Dom scream from behind you, but you couldn't care about anything right now except for Jay.

With a rush of adrenaline and fear, you carefully laid him on the ground, checking for a pulse. Nothing. Panic threatened to overwhelm you, but you fought it back, knowing you needed to act quickly. "He isn't breathing!" You screamed in fear, not daring to look away to see Dom's, TJ's, or anyone else's reaction. What if you looked away, and Jay faded away too? What if you thought too much, and he died right there and then?

The crowd reluctantly parted as Noah forced her way through, her eyes locked on Jay's lifeless form. She pushed TJ and Dom aside, her voice sharp and urgent. "Move it, idiots! Did he reach the red zone? I think his heart went into shock because of hyperventilation!"

Noah's words jolted everyone into action. TJ quickly looked at you as you desperately searched for a pulse, your fingers trembling as you tried to find a heartbeat. Dom was on his knees, still shaken, watching as you attempted to revive Jay. You faintly heard Momoko calling for an Oxygen Respirator, but there was no time to find one.

"You-You can't go—!" Your trembling hands pressed against Jay's lifeless chest. Each compression felt like raindrops, rhythmic and persistent, attempting to rouse the dormant beat within him. The rain fell around you, its soft patter forming a somber symphony to accompany this impromptu ballet of hope and despair. It was as if you were reading from a tragic fairy tale, a story you never wanted to be part of.

You desired his love, not his death. You wanted Jay, but not like this, not in this lifeless state.

"Come on, Jay," you whispered in a choked voice, your lips forming the words like a desperate prayer. "Don't leave us here in this downpour, drowning in our fears and regrets."

With each compression, you pushed deeper, the weight of your hopes bearing down on the storm within his chest, urging a response from his lifeless heart. Raindrops mingled with your tears as they slid down your face, mixing with the blood on Jay's cheek.

"Think about Shelly," you continued, your voice carrying desperation, pain, fear, and an overwhelming longing. "Think about her, damn it! You told me you love her! You wanted to win her back, didn't you? Think about her!"

He didn't move, didn't respond, didn't react to Shelly's name the way he had for weeks, perhaps even months. And you had never wished for him to react to anything the way you did now.

"If you can't fight for her, then fight for me!" you implored, feeling the rain mingling with your tears. "You mean everything to me! Can't you see it? I need you to be awake! I need you to breathe! Take a damn breath!"

Amid the desperate turmoil of your attempts to bring him back to life, you paused for a fleeting moment. There was a glimmer of hope. Jay's eyelids fluttered ever so faintly, almost imperceptibly. But you noticed.

You had always seen Jay.

Even when he turned his back on you, even when he looked at Mia's sweet smile or Shelly's mint green eyes, you had always seen him.

You leaned down, your trembling lips seeking his, parting to give him every breath you had ever taken. It wasn't the way you had ever wished to kiss him. It was a desperate, passionate, and life-affirming kiss, an urgent plea to bring him back from the brink.

Your lips met his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The taste of his lips was intoxicating, a mixture of rain, sweat, and something uniquely Jay. You had often fantasized about the taste of his lips, but never in circumstances as dire as this.

As you kissed him, you whispered something against his lips, your words an unspoken promise of love and hope. "Jay," you murmured, your voice a breathy sigh, "I love you, okay? I love you so fucking much that I could have killed myself when I saw you loving Mia and Shelly. And I don't care if you ever love me back...but please...breath..."

You could feel the raindrops and tears mingling on your cheeks, the world around you fading as you focused solely on the life you were fighting to save.

"I love you, Jay," you whispered against his lips between compressions, the words carrying the weight of your feelings, your hopes, and your dreams. "You can't leave me here alone. Please, come back to me."

The seconds felt like an eternity, each one stretching as you fought for him. And then, something changed. Beneath your hands, you felt a faint movement, a subtle rise and fall of his chest. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there—a sign that he was fighting his way back to you.

Your heart soared with a mixture of relief and hope as you pressed harder, willing him to breathe, to return to you. "That's it, Jay," you encouraged, tears streaming down your face, blending with the rain. "Come on, fight. Breathe."

You continued the compressions, every muscle in your body devoted to bringing him back. And then, a miraculous gasp filled the air, the sweet sound of life being reclaimed. Jay was breathing.

He took another ragged breath, his eyes fluttering open. The clarity returned to his gaze, and for a moment, he looked at you as if seeing you for the first time. His lips moved weakly, forming your name in a whispered exhale.

"[Name]..."

"Hey..." you sobbed, your voice shaking with the remnants of fear and despair. "Hey, Jay..."

His gaze fixed on you, and it felt as if the world had returned to its rightful place. Jay's lips quivered as he tried to speak, to reassure you that he was indeed back.

Weakly, Jay raised his hand, his fingertips trembling as he brushed away a tear from your cheek. Concern flickered in his eyes as he whispered, voice strained and raspy, "Why... why are you crying?"

You managed a choked laugh, a mix of joy and relief bubbling up within you. "I'm not crying Idiot," you lied, tears of happiness streaming down your face. "It's just the rain."

"You always...have been a liar about your feelings..." He said raspy, finger tip brushing the tears away. Did you always had this look on your face? Like you have...everything right with you?

"I am...I am pretty liar right? B-But I am your liar..."

"Mine..." Jay whispered before allowing sleep to take over his body, knowing that it was you who was with him.

And to be honest.

He would rather be yours, than Mia's, Shelly's or Noah's.

I need to do part four because I have a really sweet idea.

[elijangiloveyou]

ptj you sick sick man (Spoiler Warning!)

i will always miss them

[elijangiloveyou]

Doomed by the narrative

[elijangiloveyou]

gonna create moodboards because im sad

[elijangiloveyou]

How I feel after reading chapter 498

Taejin Cheon slander is welcome on this blog

[elijangiloveyou]

taejin cheon is the most disgusting, vile little thing to ever roam this earth. I hope he gets beat up, discarded and thrown away like a worthless piece of trash. I hope vin gets his revenge, I hope he mangles up taejins body for everyone to see.

[elijangiloveyou]

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 1 | Part 2

The customers can usually be separated into 3 categories.

Drunks, students, and weirdos.

Unfortunately for you, lately the weirdos have turned into regulars. But fortunately the weirdos aren't so weird.

The one that made it a habit to check in on you, with the scars and the cheesy wink wasn't so bad. Jack, was it? You can't remember and it's been too long for you to ask. You awkwardly address him as 'you' and avoid any situation where you need to use his name.

He likes to ask how you are, tell a few jokes. Spirit undeterred even when you look at him with a blank face because bless his soul, he's not funny at all but at least he tries and he's a lot less weird than first impression.

He hangs around at odd times, then again you do only work at odd times. Telling you stories about this and that. Something about Big Deal, something about a guy called Sinu and something about another guy called Samuel.

It's difficult to keep track. It's like he wants to talk but he's cryptic and god, it's 4am who can blame you if your eyes are glazing over.

John, or is it Jerry, is waffling again. He seems to always be talking about Samuel. Who he apparently misses and wonders where it's gone wrong and hang on, he's never been explicit but you just had to know.

When he takes a breath to munch on a cookie, you ask, "Hold on, is Samuel your ex?"

Wait no his name is Jason, definitely Jason- freezes mid-chew, "Why would you say that? He's my friend!"

Joshua sprays crumbs all over you but you note how he doesn't say no.

(You think you see this Samuel one early morning. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him before and man, he really looks like shit.

Looks like the breakup is getting to him too.

Poor Samuel and Poor Jim.)

.

.

But sometimes weirdos are just weirdos. 

It's ok. It comes with the territory so long as they're not in the habit of hurling abuse or whatever, you can deal with it.

In recent memory, there's only been two people that you have had to almost chase out with a broomstick.

You should have known they would be weirdos when one of them walks in in surprisingly teeny tiny purple camo shorts. Not that you're a pearl clutcher, but you're worried that one wrong move and he could be dangling out.

Besides. Purple. Camo. Shorts. Those words should never follow one after the other, and you repress a shudder at this guy's hideous dress sense when he comes up to you.

You thought the other one was alright, at least there's no hideous purple camo shorts in sight and his hair is nice (huh, this style must be popular, you’ve seen a lot of guys with this hair)-

But then he opens his mouth and asks for snakes and you think it's karma for judging camo-guy for his appearance when his friend is equally odd.

"We usually keep the snakes next to the ramen," you deadpan and the two men actually go to seek out the supposed snake (meat or pet purposes?) only to return moments later, empty-handed and looking confused.

"I think the snake is all sold out," Non-camo guy says as camo-guy glances around as if you might have hidden your snake stock elsewhere.

They must have thought you were stupid as you stood there opening and closing your mouth like a fish (or maybe a snake, do snake do these things), because come on, how are you even supposed to formulate a response to that?

Then you look at their eyes and also notice them looking snakey and surmise it must be some weird fetish thing. Pretending to be snakes and eating snakes and having pet snakes.

You want no part of this and tell them to get out.

.

.

"I'm Baek Hangyeol," a new face says, pointing to his ID badge pinned to the white coat. 

"Doctor Baek Hangyeol." He stresses Doctor and Hangyeol and you wonder if he is waiting for a round of applause.

You don't say anything but you do notice he looks like a teenager and what idiot would let a teenager operate on them. (Drunk, student, weirdo. He could be all three.) Doctor Baek Hangyeol must be bluffing.

You decide not to call him on his bullshit. 

"Cool," is all you respond with because you don't want another complaint for being too mouthy. You are half tempted to tell him you're not a doctor, that you just work here but that seemed kinda redundant so you keep your mouth shut.

"Do you believe in true beauty?" he asks when you finish bagging up his goods (a plain water with added minerals, a bottle of multivitamins and a protein shake) and you think what sort of question is that.

You give a halfhearted shrug and say "Sure" and he hands his business card over.

"If you're ever considering it," he tells you with a wild smile. After he has left you look down at the lettering, eyes zeroing in on ‘Plastic Surgery’.

Excuse me?! What is he trying to say?

You thought he was a weirdo but now he has firmly shifted over to asshole. You regret not telling him to go fuck himself while you had the chance. The complaint would 100% be worth it. Zero regrets.

On your break, you burn the card and feel a small sense of satisfaction.

.

.

A tall blonde guy with a creepy vibe (hold on, have you seen him before, he seems familiar. Then again, creepy blonde guys seem to be quite common around here-) walks in with the most billowing coat you have ever seen.

The entrance is kinda cool but the actual coat is kinda tragic with the cheesy red lettering and you wonder if you can pull it off any better than him.

You're still wondering about his coat when he's paying you, and hang on you have definitely seen him before because he says arigatou and hands over yen and you tell him no. Won only.

The idea of the coat, which has evolved into you fantasising about having a full blown cape, quickly loses its charm however, when the blonde gets caught in the automatic doors and you have to wrestle them open to free him.

Afterwards, you ask if he's ok, if he is harmed and can’t resist asking if the coat is ok too. You really don't want a lawsuit on your watch especially when the malfunctioning doors are not your fault.

Your kindness is repaid by him telling you he's not interested (what the fuck) and that his heart will not stray (again, what the fuck).

.

.

You accidentally eavesdrop on a couple of students lamenting about missing out on school work. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop ok, the aisles are tight and cramped, it’s a small space. 

You peek over, and the one with big ears (seriously, they are huge) is telling the one with his back to you (goodness, his back is huge too) that school is important and he’s got notes the other one can use. 

It’s sweet, you think. School is important and it’s good they recognise that. Nice of them to help each other out too.

When they both come to pay (holy shit, that’s a fuckton of chocolate milk), you’re surprised to find Big Ear’s friend, Big Back, looks anywhere between late 20s and early 40s but it’s never too late to catch up on education, you suppose.

You spend the rest of your shift feeling motivated.

.

.

“Going camping?” you ask the guy with the sandy blonde hair, chuckling nervously and ringing his items through. 

Either he’s going camping or he’s gonna kill and hide a dead body in the forest.

He’s pretty stoic, only giving you a curt nod. You can’t help but probe him a bit more. You’ve got a feeling that if or when the dead body turns up, you want to at least clear your conscience that you’ve tried your best so you make some more idle small talk.

You mention how you haven’t been camping for ages, not since you nearly burned your tent down and singed your hair after you tried to cook some marshmallows over a fire that turned out to be more of a raging bonfire (and might have awoken your pyromaniac streak, but you keep that to yourself).

The blonde guy actually pipes up and says “Master Taesoo would never do that.” 

You almost apologise out of principle due to how earnest he sounds, then he mentions something about how good this Master Taesoo is at catching and cooking snake and you wonder what the fuck is up with people and the snake obsession.

Either way, it doesn’t sound like someone is getting murdered. Only a snake (poor snake) so at least you can sleep easy later that day.

.

.

“Oh hi DG,” you say, “Sorry about your cryptocurrency falling through. Diegocoin was it?”

He blinks at you a few times in surprise and heavens above. What’s that saying, fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you? This guy has fooled you exactly no times with his shitty disguises and his effort has substantially dwindled too. 

He has only put his hood up and you did think you might get mugged at one point-

It’s an empty store, for crying out loud. Who comes into an empty store in the asscrack of night with their hood up, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

Then you notice the pink hair and shifty glance and duh.

“Is it the-?” he asks, putting his hood down and signalling to his hair.

“Yeah, it’s the-” you signal to your own head of hair. “Dude you really need to dye it if you’re going for subtle.” You pause, consider something, “Hold on.”

You walk over to the beauty aisle and grab the black hair dye.

“On the house,” you tell DG because this guy really has no self awareness.

.

.

“What do you mean no?”

“No." Your boyfriend peers down at you, arms crossed and at the end of his patience with you.

You open your mouth to argue- 

“No. You know nothing about Taekwondo. How can you work here?”

You look around helplessly at the studio. He’s not exactly wrong but you’re sick of dealing with the weirdos and the snakes and the creepy blondes. “But your dad-”

“I don’t care what that stupid old man says,”

“Taehoon!” Hansu scolds from the other side of the room, and Hansu's class of toddlers all whirl their head around to stare.

“I can learn?” you offer and Taehoon raises one skeptical brow.

“So you’re going to be a student?” You nod enthusiastically, “And we’re going to pay you for that?”

Oh. Damn. 

He’s got you there.

[elijangiloveyou]

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse: Part 2

Part 1 here. G/N. You still work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. Some bizarre characters return.

Your first day on the job, your boss had told you to greet everyone that comes through the door in a cheery voice and with a customer service smile. All you could think was fuck that.

He told you it was so people could approach you for help, as if your uniform wasn't a huge flashing sign, and so potential shoplifters would be deterred. Again you think, fuck that, because at the first whiff of any danger you're going to go hide somewhere secure and out of sight. There ain't no way you're risking your life for a minimum wage part time job.

Except now you're on your own and sure it comes with a little bit of danger and wariness but you don't have to and don't plan on greeting any people again.

So you thought.

.

.

You spot him a fucking mile away. DG strides through the doors and you're not sure to ignore him completely or to say anything.

It's like he wants you to acknowledge him from the furtive glances he keeps giving you but something about his shifty behaviour makes you keep your mouth shut.

Heavens, hasn't this guy ever heard of subtle. He's in an all white get up once again, hat on, mask on and the most eye-catching blinging Chanel necklace known to man. You think you might go blind if you stare too much at it.

So does he want attention or not?

"Hi," he says, standing in front of the counter. He's empty handed.

You want to say 'Hi DG, going for discreet tonight huh?' or 'Sorry your last album sale sucked' or 'I heard they're cancelling you for bad mouthing BTS'. None of them feel right. You settle on "Welcome. How can I help?"

He asks if you recognise him this time and from the way your eyes bug out to say obviously, he then proceeds to ask how.

You pause because you don't know whether this guy is serious or whether there's a hidden camera somewhere.

After what feels like ten minutes, but in reality is probably ten seconds, you gesture at him. At everything. His hair, his white outfit, his necklace. It’s not exactly like he’s going to blend in with the crowd, is it?

He gives you a nod and leaves.

You watch him exit and proceed to climb into the flashiest car you have ever seen, parked right in front and across three (one, two, THREE!) handicap bays.

You think he's most definitely an attention seeking narcissist.

.

.

The guy that bleeds all over your floor comes in again.

You know it's him because he apologises for bleeding all over your floor and that he scared you so much you called the police. In all honesty, you completely forgot about it but even the mere mention of that pisses you off.

"It's fine," you tell him even though it's not, not really, but at least this time he's not bleeding and he has apologised twice already so as long as he's not gonna be weird, you'll accept his apology.

Except he does turn out to be a weirdo because he gives you a grin and you think he looks pretty cute even with his lip and nose scar, then he makes it weird with a wink and you think what even is this, who winks at people anymore.

He must have mistaken your cringe for encouragement though, as he continues to ask if you need any help with your shift and he can call the boys to help you out tonight as an apology for the other week.

You're not sure if this is a pick up line or if it's a threat. Either way, you decide it's the latter as you make up your mind that he must be a psychopath because only a psychopath would wink at strangers.

You tell him no. He doesn't seem deterred and tells you his name is Jake. Your first thought is to cover the name badge pinned to your chest but he's too quick. He says your name, and that he hopes to see you again.

You give him a nod and hope he leaves.

.

.

This oddball in sunglasses is unbearably smug as he slides his ID over to you.

You check out the date of birth and it's fine.

"It checks out," you give his ID back and ask him to pay for his cigarettes.

"Don't you have anything else to say?"

You frown at him because what does he want you to say? Like oh I knew you were a Capricorn (or is it Aries or Cancer. You don't know, you don't really know your signs). Or does he want you to comment that it's a flattering picture of him on the card because in all honesty, it's not. 

Still, he obviously expects something because he's standing there not doing anything.

"We take cash, card or you can pay through your phone."

That isn't what he's looking for. He tenses up, and you think he rolls his eyes at you but he's got sunglasses on-

Oh. This black eyed bastard. Does he expect an apology for the last time? Well you're not apologising for shit, you're just doing your job. It doesn't matter if he's of age. Rules are rules. No ID, no sale.

You stare at him instead with your polite customer service smile that actually means leave me alone. He stares back.

You stare. He stares back.

You stare - and you think that you must look like an idiot just standing there with a vacant smile but it's worth it in the end because the guy sighs, pays for his cigarettes and leaves.

Good. You hope he chokes on the smoke.

When your temper has cooled, you also feel a pang of sympathy as you wonder what sort of hard life he has had to look like that at 20. Poor guy, he really should quit smoking.

.

.

You're sitting outside on the curb on your break. It's technically loitering, your manager told you the first time he saw you and you consider hitting him because not only do you have to stand under terribly unflattering lights and deal with the goddamn general public for hours - now you can't even sit outside and breathe some fresh air?

Somehow you manage not to, which means you never got arrested for assault and that's pretty good, you suppose. It's nice to not be arrested.

Anyway, he's not here now, and he's not here most shifts so you loiter to your heart's content. You make sure to loiter extra hard tonight.

"What about this? So much better than fucking Duke Pyeon, right?" Someone comes up to you with music blaring out of tinny speakers. You consider sprinting back and locking yourself in the store. It's 4am and nothing good comes from speaking to strangers at 4am who like to blare shitty music.

Except he's not a stranger because you recognise the music style. It's so bad that you know that there is no way two different people on Earth would come up with the same sound. In fact, it actually gives you such a visceral reaction that you look for anything close by to jam in your ears.

There's nothing and you want to cry. For a brief moment you consider bashing your head into the ground.

You hold back, contemplate saying it's fine except you can't bring yourself to lie when it’s so clearly not. It’s not fine at all. You think it might be what the military or covert agencies play to torture people.

You don't look at him, keeping your eyes glued to anywhere but his face and mumble your break is over and rush back in.

He doesn't follow you and you give a brief thanks to whatever great overlord is looking over you and protecting your sense of hearing. 

You wonder if that guy is actually part of an elaborate plan from your boss as punishment for loitering, or if he somehow knew you took an extra seven minutes on your break yesterday and he’s now taking extra precautions so you’re not stealing any more company time.

.

.

The hair dye guy is back, this time buying another colour.

You recognise him from the H on his forehead and you know that he has unsuccessfully dyed his hair because if his hair looked like that last time then there's no way you would have even noticed the H.

It's awful. Blotchy and patchy and you're certain that you don't stock that colour. How on earth...

He tells you he's studying to be a hairdresser.

You never used to think hair could feel pain, but you distinctly hear millions of tiny screams from your own head when it realised this butcher might one day get his hands on innocent people's locks.

.

.

Just when you're on your way home, one foot out the door, you hear someone call you.

"It's me, Y/N!"

Maybe the voice should be familiar but you don't place it at all. You look at the guy towering in front of you with a blank face.

"Daniel." he says, as if that should jog your memory.

Who?? You say nothing.

"Daniel Park." You look him up and down and think what the fuck, this isn't right.

"Daniel. Park." he stresses as if you're the insane one and it's perfectly acceptable for apparently some guy you haven't seen for a year to say hi but look completely different and sound completely different.

You're not an idiot. You know puberty is a thing but jesus christ. It can't be him. Even the bone structure is completely different.

"Ok." you say because you're still not sure if this guy is Daniel or whether he's just crazy. You're 99% sure it's the latter and keep one hand in your pocket, ready to attack with pepper spray.

Although if this is Daniel Park, you wonder how good the plastic surgery technology is these days because you wouldn't mind adding an extra inch or two to your height.

"I'm just in the middle of working out," he says, "in a junkyard." he adds and you wonder what is happening in the world. This guy is definitely insane.

You're a second away from pulling out the spray but then he tells you he's gotta go or else he's going to get beat up (Again. What the fuck.). He says it's good to see you and you tell him likewise because that's the correct thing to say.

You hope you never see this crazy person again but most importantly you think about resigning because this store just seems like a magnet for freaks.

Maybe you can get a job at your boyfriend's Taekwondo studio. Surely the fact you know nothing about Taekwondo wouldn't be an issue.

[elijangiloveyou]

Fem!reader Isekai in Lookism ?

Anon, so sorry I'm answering this exactly 3 months later. You're my last request from May and I was soooo close to deleting it because I have had exactly zero ideas. Then I got partly inspired by @honeyhotteok fic here and now I'm running on less than 3hrs sleep in work and it's your fault. Oh yeah, and I've completely twisted the ask as well. It's not even close. So all that wait was for nothing 🙇🏻‍♀️

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 2

There's something wrong with people your age these days.

Everyone seems to be either in a gang or up to some shady shit. Seriously what is going on. Is this all a big joke that only you aren't in on?

Just the other day you swear you saw a group of guys in boiler suits punch through some walls across the street. Like what the fuck? What did the wall ever do to you? And then someone apparently called Tabasco starts chanting something about Burn Knuckles and oh my fucking god it's 11pm please shut up.

Oh course you never said that, you still have some sense of self preservation.

And how does anyone even have the time for all this. Between school and this part time job, you barely have enough hours to sleep.

You miss Daniel, the coworker who you haven't seen for a good year but used to gossip into the early morning with. He always seemed a bit nervous and fidgety when you voiced your concerns and observations, but you just assumed he was a nervous and fidgety kinda guy.

There would have been some fun stories to share. Instead now you work the graveyard shift on your own.

.

.

Case in point, the guy standing in front of you looks like one bad conversation away from a mental breakdown.

And really you're not in the habit of checking out customers but he cuts a striking figure. Every exposed inch of skin besides his face inked, and (you silently ask for his forgiveness for the objectification) the biggest chest you have ever seen. What even is this guy eating? What is this guy injecting? Lifting?

The question is almost out of your mouth but then you see the look in his eyes and slam your lips shut.

Nevermind. You ring his purchases through and tell him to have a good night.

.

.

You're restocking the shelves when you notice a guy with a scar across his lip and nose, dripping blood from god knows where all over your freshly mopped floor.

Which is alarming in itself but come on man. Look at the floors. You're making it so fucking gross.

He notices you watching him, gives you an apologetic look and says he'll take care of it.

He makes a quick call and in comes 26 guys, one after the other and they line up in front of him.

You know it's exactly 26 because you counted all 26. And you've also watched all 26 pairs of dirty shoes trample over your previously nice clean floor.

The blood drippy guy asks politely for the mop and bucket and you think this must be some sort of prank because why the hell is this even necessary. 26 guys to share your one solitary mop and bucket and to clean a goddamn floor that you managed in 10 minutes.

"Get out." He blinks at you, taken aback by your tone. "Or I'm calling the police."

.

.

"You can bring your pups in!" You call out to the emo teen lurking outside.

Health and safety be damned because look how fucking cute these dogs are!

He hesitates but then the rain grows heavier and all three rush in.

You miss the suspicious glance he gives you, too fixated on how adorable the dogs are. You don't even mind their wet fur or muddy paws because look at these little babies!

And huh, this guy must really love them too with his, you squint, God? Dog? hoodie on. D'aww that's so stinking sweet.

.

.

Damnit, you knew these two would be trouble the moment they stepped foot into your store.

The tall blonde just gives off a distinct creepy vibe and the shorter one has his entire eyebrows shaved off.

Shaved. Off.

You couldn't help but stare when you put their purchases through and noticed some regrowth and stubble. Is this a trend you missed out on? Either way you're glad because there's no way you're shaving off your own eyebrows.

They converse in Japanese, not even saying a word to you. No thanks or anything, which is fine you suppose. But then they pay you in fucking yen.

They're out the door by the time you see the cash and fuck. Your boss is going to go apeshit when he finds out.

.

.

"What do you think, sweetheart?"

A new blonde guy addresses you tonight and for crying out loud, you just want a quiet shift.

What do you think of his white suit? With the garish LV logos? That it's tacky as fuck. That anyone with any sort of taste would never ever wear that. You keep your actual thoughts to yourself and instead just say it's fine.

That does nothing to subdue the blonde. He does stop talking to you though, and just mutters bitterly under his breath. You catch the words blind and tasteless.

His partner smirks at your response.

And isn't that a whole other kettle of fish because it's currently 2am and you're indoors and who the hell wears sunglasses right now. You think he's a douche of the highest calibre.

The smirk is wiped from his face when he asks for cigarettes and you ask for ID. He doesn't have it on him.

"No can do. No ID, no sale."

He leans aggressively into your space, and reveals his eyes peering over his sunglasses.

My god, what is up with this duo? One with the tacky suit, and this one with the ugly black contact lenses.

You don't budge and the guy is dragged out by the blonde cackling.

Ugh. That laugh gives you a headache for the rest of your shift.

.

.

You really wish customers would stop involving you in their conversation.

This one, who looks exactly like how you would imagine a SoundCloud rapper that has their mother following them and no one else, asks you to listen to his music.

He insists that he's good as the blonde girl rolls her eyes.

You listen to about 10 seconds and make up your mind.

He's wrong. He's very wrong. You want to suggest he gets checked out at the doctor because clearly his ears aren't working properly.

Instead, you mention you like Duke Pyeon, he's more your taste. Has he heard of him? It's the wrong thing to say though because this guy looks angrier than you've ever seen anyone.

"Don't start Vin, I've seen you listening to his music." The girl scoffs.

'Vin' shouts in indignation and storms off with his friend trailing closely behind.

.

.

"Can I help?" You ask with your customer service voice and customer service smile.

He has been standing in front of the hair dyes for a good ten minutes as his friend looks increasingly bored and you can't blame him.

"No thanks, I'm just browsing," he responds and you tell him you'll be just over there if he needs anything.

You kill some time playing on your phone, look up, and both of them are still in the exact same spot.

The one with the H on his neck looks about ready to tear his hair out.

"Come on bro, just pick one!"

"No Warren, this is important. I need it to suit my new aesthetics."

You shrug and return back to your kitty kat restaurant game.

.

.

"Cool glasses," you tell the guy walking around the store and he looks affronted at first before realising you're being sincere and gives you a small smile instead.

You wonder if you can pull off orange tinted glasses too or whether you'd just look like an idiot. It's probably the latter you decide when you ring up his energy drinks.

"I'm a boxer," he offers, as if you're judging the amount of caffeine he's going to slam down.

"Ok?"

"I need it for my training."

"Sure."

You've seen weirder purchases and weirder combinations. The people coming in looking frantic and buying a single plunger or pack of toilet paper never fails to make you chuckle.

To be honest the amount he's buying is a bit nuts, and you wonder if he's going to drink it all in one go. You probably wouldn't sleep for a year if it was you.

"Enjoy your training," you say, heaving and handing over the bag of 19 cans.

.

.

A mute blonde gestures at you

You try to use some sign language, but he looks at you as if you're crazy. At least you think he does but you can't see his eyes.

Somehow you're able to decipher he's lost his dogs. Four. Golden retrievers. And he asks if you have seen them.

(Huh. Do you have telepathy? Do you have the gift?)

You tell him no and he sprints out.

You spend the rest of your shift trying to move things with your newly discovered psychic powers.

Spoiler: you have zero powers. Zilch.

.

.

You think you might be having a stroke.

Because on what planet did this K-pop idol think the disguise would work. Cap and mask on but tufts of pink hair poking out and dressed completely in white.

It's like he's asking for attention and for people to ooh and aah over who that could be.

As he leaves, you shout that you can't wait for his next album. He turns around in complete shock that you recognised him, as if you solved the world's hardest puzzle.

It's a good job that DG has such a pretty face because what an idiot.

.

.

You hear two voices mention the words Daniel Park and your ears perk up, wondering if it's about your old colleague.

Nah. You're just being silly. It's not an uncommon name at all and too much of a coincidence.

"I haven't seen Daniel in ages! Have you heard from him, Zoe?"

"No," you see her friend shake her head from the corner of your eye.

The brown haired girl tilts her head in thought, "I wonder how Zack is doing too. I haven't seen him in so long."

"Ohhh~ you miss him!"

"O-of course I do! He's a friend!" She blushes bright red and you chuckle to yourself.

'Friend', sure.

For the rest of the shift, you reminisce about how you used to tiptoe around your feelings with your boyfriend, Taehoon, too.

[elijangiloveyou]

are u ok kid?