And Namjoon With Tattoos Yea - Tumblr Posts
Jewel, I know your requests are closed but I desperately need to hear your thoughts on who in BTS would do this: https://www.tumblr.com/writing-prompt-s/739417828719034368/you-a-powerful-demoness-have-just-been-summoned
and why is it Namjoon (the potential for crack with this 148 IQ man who is also way more innocent than we think acc to one park jimin just takes me out)
i'm so sorry it took me so long to finish and post this but thank you so much for sending it bc i have been cackling about this scenario ever since.
the prompt: you, a powerful demoness, have just been summoned to earth. this man, this human, wants you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a few days so his parents will get off his back about it.
the gang summons a demon
pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: supernatural au; crack warnings: reader is a demon and engages in demon behavior, swearing, namjoon makes mention of not being straight, heteronormative parental expectations, jk learns about arcane things on tumblr (which is not an original idea; i read a fic ages ago where taekook are tumblr witches but i cannot find it, so credit to that author or whoever came up with it first), unedited so any mistakes are mine. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 2k
It’s been years since you’ve been to Earth—even longer since you’ve been to South Korea.
“I haven’t been here since 1910,” you say, staring at the gobsmacked man across from you. He’s tall, with tanned skin and a bleached buzz cut; a smattering of tattoos dotting his toned arms—whites and rich hues of blue, imitations of some kind of ceramic art, you think; a golden hoop through his nose; cheeks with dimples so deep you’re sure they’ll crater. “People here definitely didn’t look like you back then, so I’m going to assume we’re pretty far into the future.”
“It’s 2024,” he answers, seemingly still a little dazed. He’s staring at you with wide eyes, jaw dropped. Normally it’s nice to be looked at like that, with all the reverence and awe you deserve, but Earth is not your favorite place to be. Doesn’t even crack the top fifty, if you’re being honest. “Did you say 1910? As in the beginning of the—”
You sigh. “Uh-huh. Hey, if you wouldn’t mind hurrying this up, I’ve got things to do.” The man continues staring. Could be a trick of the light, but you think he’s turning paler by the second.
Minutes tick by. Nothing but silence.
“Are you even listening to me?” you snarl, quickly losing patience you were never given. “I said I’ve got shit to do. My schedule’s booked solid for the next eight centuries, so I really don’t have time to be dilly-dallying in mundane human affairs. Your problems are always so boring.”
More silence.
Which is irksome, sure, but what’s worse is this stupid fucking circle you’re trapped in. Drawn crudely on the floor of (seemingly) this human man’s actual apartment, which would’ve told you all you’d needed to know, if you’d taken ten seconds to take in your surroundings upon first being summoned. This place has got books stacked floor to ceiling in every available inch of space, but you’re certain this person is a fucking idiot.
“Hello?”
The man shakes his head. “Oh, sorry, I just—I’m Namjoon? Kim Namjoon.”
“I don’t care.”
“Right, right.” He sucks in a deep breath. “Well, you’re probably wondering why I summoned you here today”—you roll your eyes—“and, uh.” Namjoon scratches at the back of his neck, anxiety oozing from every pore on his body. Definitely paler. “I am too, to be honest.”
“You what—”
“I didn’t mean to!” Namjoon hurriedly adds, all of that anxiety shifting quickly into pure panic. “It’s just—it was a joke! Mostly! Jeongguk said it as a joke, because everything he says is a joke, and I should’ve known that, but—I don’t know! I’ve tried everything else, and the longer its gone on the more desperate I’ve become, and suddenly what Jeongguk said as a joke didn’t sound so much like a joke anymore! I’m sorry! I didn’t think it’d actually work!”
It takes your brain a minute to translate and decipher the useless slush that just came out of his mouth, but when it does… oh, when it does, you feel absolutely murderous. “You summoned me as a joke?”
Namjoon must see it, too. There’s no way you’re looking cool, calm, and collected right now, because you’ve seen the faces of others that have witnessed your wrath, and they were almost always on the brink of (if not outright) shitting their pants. This stupid, clueless human in front of you doesn’t appear to be faring much better.
So you continue, just to watch him squirm. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“Um,” comes his brilliant response. “Yes?”
“And who am I?”
He holds up his pointer finger and digs through the back pocket of his jeans. Pulls out a crumbled scrap of paper, nearly soiled from ass sweat and time, and his eyes squint as he tries to read it. “I—well, it’s probably not an accurate translation, you know, since—”
“What does that piece of parchment say, Kim Namjoon?”
“Nothing,” he lies. “I can’t read it anyway, so… a-haaa…”
Patience officially worn thin, you snap your fingers, delighting in the startled shriek that escapes him as the paper goes up in a plume of smoke. “I am going to give you one chance to be honest with me,” you explain slowly, leveling him with a look. “Who do you think I am, and why am I here?”
Namjoon pales further. Looks like he’s trying to melt right through the floor into a puddle of useless slush, and you’d be more than willing to speed up the process if it weren’t for this god forsaken demon trap.
“Can I—can I sit down for this?”
Kim Namjoon, you learn, has a friend named Jeon Jeongguk.
Jeon Jeongguk, you also come to learn, has learned magic from a website called Tumblr.
“There, uh. There are definitely blogs for that sort of thing,” Namjoon explains, tattooed fingers scratching at the back of his neck. He takes a very quick glance at you. “Clearly not very accurate ones.”
You hum. “That’s the only smart thing I’ve heard you say since I showed up in this shithole.”
Namjoon gawks. “Hey, my apartment isn’t a shithole! It’s the best I could afford, alright? There was just an article in The Business Times about how archaic of a system jeonse is—”
“Uh-huh. And this… website?”
Namjoon goes red. Coughs into his fist. “Oh, right, yeah. I’m gonna be honest with you—”
“I already said that—”
“—my parents are coming to visit from Ilsan in a few days and I need a girlfriend.”
You blink. Once, twice, three times. Long enough to replace the rug that had been pulled from under you, because you’re pretty sure you heard this human man allude to having summoned you so you can pretend to be his girlfriend.
All things considered, you’re impressed by how calm you are. This is not a trait most demons have, you especially, and it makes you nostalgic for the days you used to rip men apart limb by limb for less.
“Are you insane?” you ask simply.
“In my defense,” he explains around a wince, “Jeongguk said it was a love spell.”
“A love spell.” Namjoon nods. “And you wound up summoning a demon.”
“It… appears I may have done that, yes.”
“And you want a demon to meet your parents?”
“I mean… when in Rome, right?”
“I’ve committed at least four-hundred and sixty-seven separate atrocities there, so no, probably not when in Rome.”
Namjoon’s jaw drops. He tucks his knees closer to his chest. “Christ, that’s a lot. How did you have the time?”
“I’m immortal,” you deadpan.
“Right, right. Anyway, to answer your question: yes.”
Your eyes narrow. “How bad are your parents that you’d want me to meet them?”
“They’re fine, mostly. I just… am not what they expected in a son? Like, I have the hair and the tattoos and I dropped out of my engineering program in university to pursue art and poetry, so the least I could do is find a wife and settle down and give them grandchildren, but I don’t even know if I want to ever settle down. I’m also not… heterosexual? Entirely? Do you see that a lot—”
You sigh. “Misconception. Not to launch you into some kind of existential crisis, but the gods really don’t give a shit who you humans sleep with.”
“Gods? As in plural?” You snap your fingers. Namjoon’s fingers immediately go to his temples. “Damn, I have a really bad migraine all of a sudden.”
“Yeah, that was me.”
“What’d you do?”
“Made you forget something.”
“Oh. What’d I forget?” It takes a second. “Oh, right, yeah. Um. What was the last thing I said?”
“Your parents wanted you to be an engineer and have a ton of kids but you like art and also not-women, sometimes.”
He flushes again. “I—yes.”
You sigh, arms crossed over your chest. All you want to do is sit down, or open a window. This apartment smells far too strongly of patchouli. “Look, I haven’t been to this place in a long time, but surely you aren’t undesirable by your society’s standards.”
“Are you saying I’m attractive?”
You scowl. “No. I’m saying there had to have been easier ways of doing this, and also can you open a window?”
“It’s February.”
“That means nothing to me.”
“It’s really cold outside.”
“I’m literally from Hell. Go put on a sweater, then.”
With a roll of his eyes, Namjoon stands and moves to the window. Cracks it open a millimeter, just enough for the cold to seep in, before he’s stalking off toward—you’re assuming—his bedroom. You think he’s shoving a garment over his head when he calls out, “You know, you’re really fucking bossy for someone stuck in a trap.”
You vow to kill him as soon as you’re free.
It isn’t often you’re held hostage.
Usually you can spot a trick coming a thousand miles away, but since Namjoon hadn’t meant to summon you at all, you’d been caught unawares. Doomed to be stuck in a demon trap, just like he’d said, which meant you didn’t have a ton of bargaining power.
At least that’s what you’re telling yourself, because as you sit across from Namjoon’s parents at some fancy restaurant, you aren’t convinced he isn’t a crossroads demon himself.
“So,” his mother begins, turning her attention to you, “what do you do for work?”
Namjoon elbows you beneath the table, giving you a silent warning to stick to the script. You’re only here under threat of force—because Jeongguk had stopped by Namjoon’s apartment, saw you in the summoning circle, and nearly fainted before going back to Tumblr to find a binding spell.
Except that one wasn’t great, either, because it only bound you and Namjoon together for three days instead of forever. And, as penance for all the chaos you’ve sown across the universe, Namjoon’s parents’ visit fell within that time frame, so here you are.
Out to dinner. With humans.
You’re pretending to be someone’s girlfriend.
You’re in for the most embarrassing ribbing of your existence once you’re home.
“I work with idols,” you respond, as convincingly as possible, because Namjoon had thought it’d be really funny. Get it? he’d said. Like false idols? You hadn’t laughed. “It’s very secretive, of course, but—”
You don’t finish your thought, because Namjoon’s mother looks delighted: face lit up with mirth, smile blinding, eyes half-lidded under the weight of her happiness. “Oh, how exciting! Has he told you he used to do performances to old H.O.T songs? Namjoonie, what was that one song you liked—”
“Eomma, please—”
“Wasn’t it ‘Candy’?” Namjoon’s dad offers from behind his menu. It’s the first thing he’s said all evening.
Namjoon whimpers, foregoing all social decorum and lectures on posture to sink further in his chair.
You do not, under any circumstances, feel a hint of fondness.
(Which dissipates not even twenty-four hours later.
“The blog was deleted,” Jeongguk says, eyes wide as saucers. “I—the blog is gone, I don’t know how to—”
“What do you mean the blog is gone?” The poor kid is overcome with panic and fear, tries to stutter out a response that makes no sense to you at all through his sobs. “Jeon Jeongguk, what do you mean the blog is gone?”
“I—it’s—I had it bookmarked, I swear! Once the binding spell wore off I was gonna send it to Namjoon hyung so he could send you back, but the blog is gone so the post is gone, too. I don’t—what do I even search for—oh my god, please don’t kill me, I think I’m having a panic attack, I’m gonna—”
And then this human man vomits all over your feet. Namjoon sighs as he goes to fetch a bucket, and you think it’ll be a miracle if any of these people—yourself included—live to see the end of the week.)