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kazanovah · 3 years

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Pairings: Bonten trio x f!reader

Warnings: mature themes 18+

Synopsis: after having her life ruined by the military she served for, reader is out on a vengeance mission to seek justice for herself. She’s full of dark impulses, grief and just overall a bit of a stubborn dumbass.

MDNI18+

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"Fuck, everyone get down!" Wantanabe shrieked, having been caught off guard by your sudden intrusion.

You were so quick to empty a few rounds into two men closest to you, not even bothering to make sure the Bonten men were free from the cross fire. When you had barged in you barked out your kill command to Sarge and Lina, and they were quick to begin tearing the throats of out two men who were screaming for dear life.

Is that what I had sounded like when I begged for them to stop?

No, stop that. Do NOT let your emotions get the better of you. You’ve waited way too long for this.

"Fuck." Wantanabe said in distress, looking around at the scene before him and he decided in making a break for the door while the dogs were busy killing the last two of his men and you smirked before raising your gun and firing two shots into his lower back, watching with a sadistic grin on your face when he cried out in pain.

It's my turn, to torture you, you thought as you stepped over your dogs who were busying themselves with the two men who were faintly squirming as disgusting garbles babbled out of their mouths - their final breaths.

"W-who are you?" Wantanabe asked, his voice shaking with fear as you heavily walked across the dirty concrete floor. You could see him still attempting to crawl away from you, so when you were close enough you brought one foot up before harshly slamming it down onto his back, making sure to dig the heel of your combat boot into one of the bullet wounds, making him scream loudly.

"What do you want from me!? Do you know who we are!? The entire m-military will be after you!" He shouted, his words mixing with screams the harder you pressed down on his wounds.

"Oh really? I didn't think they accepted dishonourable discharges back into their ranks. But what do I know, right, Wantanabe?" You said, bending down slightly as you spoke, and you spat his name like it was poison on your tongue.

You could feel him stiffen beneath you, his breath hitching in his throat as he heard your voice. You could see him slowly looking over his shoulder with shaky, jerky movements, before his eyes landed on your own.

"Y-you... S-Saito?" He said in disbelief, the surname of your late husband making a stinging pain radiate trough your chest, followed by an immense amount of anger, and you swiftly brought you foot off his back, only to kick him harshly in the ribs.

"The one and fucking only." You said cockily, laughing when you heard his pained whimpers.

"H-how did- I - I thought you were in witness protection." He grumbled out, making you kick him over onto his back, rubbing dirt into his wounds.

"That's what I told General Nakamura to put on the reports. You really think that I would give up and just take what you've all done to me?" You asked in mock disbelief, laughing when you saw a shiver run through his body.

"I'm sad, Wantanabe. You really think that I, your lieutenant commander, wouldn't be able to come back from that? Why do you think that I was the one chosen over you?" You were adding insult to his injury, and you could see the anger behind his beady black eyes.

"What was it you always said? 'I'd rather die than listen to the commands of a measly broad.'." You said, reciting his words to a tee.

"I-I will always live by that." He said, getting bold with you, and you had to bring the back of your hand to your mouth to stifle a giggle.

"My my, you really havent changed." You mused, squatting down in front of him. You swung the sling holding the Ak so that it was now resting on your back, and you reached into the pocket of your pants, pulling out a butterfly knife.

"Fitting that you'll be dying by that as well." You said, before taking the knife and plunging it into his thigh, laughing maniacally when you heard his ear piercing scream.

You weren't a sadist, not in the slightest. Yet you knew that Wantanabe had to pay for what he, and his other man had done to you and Ren. The other four had quick deaths, for the most part anyways. So as you lifted your knife to drive it into his body again, he began to spill what you thought was absolute nonsense between his teeth.

"S-Saito! Th-there's someone big - bigger than us th-that are pulling the strings wait - FUCK!" He shouted again as you craved a long, jagged line across his abdomen.

There, now we match.

"H-he's still alive!" He shouted as you went to drive the knife into his chest, making you halt with the tip just barely pressed against the thin material of his dress shirt

"Wh-who's still alive?" You asked, your mind racing with the possibilities. You quickly looked around you to see none other than Ran Haitani standing above you with a broken pipe, and before he could bring it down on top of you, you had rolled out of the way just in time.

The sickening crunch that the pipe made against Wantanabe's face was something you knew you we're never going to forget, and you were quick to look up and see Ran falling forward slightly, his half conscious body was having a hard time staying up right.

Did this mother fucker really just try to kill me?

No… he just took away the ONLY thing that would have given me peace in this world.

Before you could do anything you felt someone grab your neck from behind. You were quick to slam your head backwards into the persons face, making them groan loudly before their hands slumped to their sides and you broke free from their clutches.

Standing up on your feet you looked behind you to see Sanzu unconscious on the floor yet again. When you looked for your dogs, you saw that they were no where to be found and you whistled loudly in hopes that they would come.

Rindou Haitani was still knocked unconscious, or maybe he was dead, who knows with the amount of blood seeping out of the wound in his head. Sanzu you had rendered unconscious as well, and Ran was breathing heavily while clutching his side like a wounded animal, staring up at you with his droopy, watchful eyes.

Even in a disheveled state like this, he’s still an unfairly handsome man, you thought, wandering over to him and squatting down just as you heard the small pitter patter of your dogs running back into the warehouse.

“Who are you?” Ran croaked out, a deathly glare painted on his soft features and you had to give him credit for being so brave until the bitter end.

I’m gonna fucking end him for stealing the one thing I had to motivate me. Without it, I’m just as bad as Wantanabe and the rest. The desire to kill had been justified and broiled down to the five men here in the warehouse, but now… the insatiable feelings have returned.

“None of your concern, Mr.Haitani.” You said, reaching down and boldly pushing the disheveled purple locks from his sweaty forehead. You could see the gears turning in his head as he looked you over,before his eyes flitted behind to his brother.

You wanted to scream at him, to curse him out and call him every single name under the sun until you were out of breath. You wanted to cry, to bury your face into your hands and weep like an infant, but most importantly you had wanted him to look at you - to pay attention to you and you only, while you took his life from him.

So why couldn’t you?

“F-fuck. Rin?” He called out to his brother, though the younger Haitani could simply not answer. “RINDOU!?”

His yell had startled you, you hadn’t expected somebody so injured to be able to muster up that much energy. You could see his eyes become the faintest hint of glossy due to the moons pale light reflecting through the half broken windows, and you couldn’t help but think about how you managed to let your adrenaline fuel you to find your husbands burned body.

In a sense, you may or may not have saw something inside of the older Haitani that reminded you of yourself, and you told yourself that it had been the reason why you were quick to reach under your bullet proof vest, rip off a large chunk of your shirt, and wander over to the unconscious male while his brother watched.

“H-hey. No, nonono. Don’t touch him!” Ran shouted again, groaning in pain when the pain in his side throbbed. You could hear him struggling to get up, but with the snap of your fingers you heard your dogs growling, making sure the male stayed in place while you knelt down and rolled Rindou onto his back.

Shit, his heads bleeding quite a bit. You thought, reaching down and lifting his head into your lap. And his hairs really soft, who would have thought?

“Don’t kill him - kill me instead. Please.” Ran begged, his voice cracking slightly and you couldn’t help but look over Rindou’s body to see a single tear rolling down his cheek.

I never would have thought a womanizer like him, who’s so tough and malicious on the outside, would be so soft and vulnerable on the inside when it came to his brother.

“He- he’s all I have. I-I can’t watch him die.” He pleaded, and you sighed.

“I’m not going to kill him.” You said, your voice calm and clear, and you could feel Ran’s doubtful glare burning into your head as you quickly wrapped the thin material of your shirt around Rindou’s head tightly, stopping more blood from flowing out onto the dirty floor.

Just as you stood up from the ground, you could hear a fleet of cars approaching, and you knew that your time was up. You were confused on as to who could have called the police, but when you looked up and only saw black SUV’s, you also saw Ran putting a small black object into his pocket

That bastard had us on a call the whole time? Fucking hell.

Without hesitation you ran as fat as you could through the building, hearing the worrisome shouts of the Bonten men who had found their barely alive comrades. You heard Mikey shouting for someone to check the building, but at that point you had already busted out the back door and into the clear, warm summer night.

With your dogs in tow, you ran three blocks until you spotted your truck, and you wasted no time immensely jumping over the hood to get to the drivers side. As you climbed into the front seat, Sarge and Lina had climbed into the bed of the truck and you quickly sped off through the streets of Tokyo, making sure to keep checking your rear view mirror incase you were being followed.

Once you had made it home, you made sure to ditch your truck in the garage where it couldn’t be seen from the outside world, and you shuffled your way inside. You hadn’t realized it, but you had begun to cry on the drive home and the feelings only intensified when you spotted the small shrine you had dedicated to your husband.

You had thought you were going to be getting a good nights sleep for the first time in three years, but it seems that luck would not be on your side tonight. You tossed and turned in your bed, your mind running rampant as you went over the events that happened tonight.

You knew that you had failed your mission. All you needed to do was put a bullet into Wantanabe and everything you had been feeling, everything you’ve been repressing would have finally come to an end.

And now, you think it never will come to an end.

So, you rolled over on your side and stared blankly at the wall until the room began to fill with sunlight. The stained glass piece on one of your windows turned the walls a deep, amethyst colour and you could have sworn it was just your mind playing tricks on you, as you fell asleep thinking about the amethyst opals that had bored into your very soul that night.

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wh6res · 3 years

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UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic.

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane."

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears.

"bitch," you mutter under your breath.

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again.

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?"

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway.

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?"

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him.

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath.

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement.

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year.

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her.

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living.

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing."

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done.

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way.

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement.

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears.

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend.

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word.

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel.

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode.

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information.

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics.

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve.

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too.

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?"

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind.

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head.

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest.

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!"

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys.

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history."

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said.

"do you really want to know why?"

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart.

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss.

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone.

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment.

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day.

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor.

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down.

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud.

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand.

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't…

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper.

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused.

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going.

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back.

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video.

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers.

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples.

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration.

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin.

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day.

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder.

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp.

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time.

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside.

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home.

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off.

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung.

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him.

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with.

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it... but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you.

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob.

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face.

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

#hmu if i missed a warning #yandere doyoung #yandere kpop #yandere nct #yandere nct 127 #tw swearing #tw manipulation #tw violence #tw knife

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iammtheluckyone · 3 years

Text

andreil/aftg quotes as taylor swift lyrics:

"You are a mess," Andrew said against Neil's lips. "What else is new?"

i'm a mess but i'm the mess that you wanted - dancing with our hands tied

"He didn't want to think about this,didn't want to feel this,so he thought about the Foxes instead. He clung tight to the memory of their unhesitating friendship and their smiles "

and when i got into the accident,the sight that flashed before me was your face - coney island

"Nathaniel,it has been so long."

Neil's fear was hot and thick in his chest. He could barely breathe around it. He prayed his expression didn't give him away even as he knew it was too late. "My name is Neil."

it's been a long time and seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain - closure

Andrew pointed at his mouth as he spoke. "The next time someone comes for you,stand down and let me deal with it. Do you understand?"

"If it means losing you,then no,"

Neil said.

and i hope i never lose you,hope it never ends - cornelia street

He traced Andrew's key into his skin with a bandaged finger.

"Neil Abram Josten," Neil murmured,and it felt like waking up from a bad dream.

long story short it was a bad time,long story short i survived - long story short

"Andrew, they want to take me away from here. They want to enroll me in the Witness Protection Program so my father's people can't find me. I don't want—" he started, but that wasn't fair. "If you tell me to leave, I'll go." He didn't say it would kill him, but he didn't have to.

how's one to know,i'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time,so tell me to run,or dare to sit and watch what we'll become - ivy

Neil asked, "What would it take?"

Andrew didn't have to think about it. "Show me your scars."

wait for the signal and i'll meet you after dark,show me the places where the others gave you scars - willow

Andrew was waiting for him on the rooftop,usually with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle at his knee. The nights were still cool enough to warrant jackets but Andrew's body heat burned most of the chill away.

is this the end of all the endings?my broken bones are mending with all these nights we're spending,up on the roof with a school girl crush,drinking beer out of plastic cups - king of my heart

He'd hit the end of his rope before he wanted to and he hadn't accomplished everything he'd hoped to this year, but he'd done more with his life than he'd ever thought possible. That had to be enough. He traced the outline of a key into his bloody, burnt palm with a shaky finger, closed his eyes, and wished Neil Josten goodbye.

back when we were still changing for the better wanting was enough for me it was enough to live for the hope of it all -august

"I'm asking you to help us," Neil said. "Will you?" Andrew considered it a moment. "Not for free." "Anything," Neil promised.

and you know damn well for you i would ruin myself a million little times. - illicit affairs

It took Neil three tries to find his voice. "You never said anything." "Why should I have?" Andrew lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Nothing will come of it." "Nothing," Neil echoed. "I am self-destructive, not stupid," Andrew said. "I know better."

and then it fades into the gray of my day-old tea cause it could never be - gold rush

"You are a pipe dream," Andrew said. "Go inside and leave me alone."

i can't dare to dream about you anymore - gold rush

"What are you afraid of?"

"Heights."

i don't like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush - gold rush

"I'm fine," Neil said. "For the record, I don't believe you," Matt said. Neil lifted one shoulder in a tired shrug. "You probably shouldn't believe anything I say."

said i'm fine but it wasn't true,i don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you - cruel summer

Better than that bright future was what he already had: a court that would always be home, a family who'd never give up on him, and Andrew, who for once hadn't wasted their time denying that this thing between them might actually mean something to both of them. Neil hadn't even noticed the silence at first, too distracted by his dizzying thoughts. Now he couldn't help but smile and pull Andrew in. This was everything he wanted, everything he needed, and Neil was never letting go.

long story short i survived,now i'm all about you. - long story short <3

#aftg #all for the game #taylor swift #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #lyrics #tfc #the foxes #the foxhole court #andreil!!!!!!!#AHHH #i am a firm believer that long story short and cruel summer are andreil songs #gold rush is also an andrew minyard song #i rest my case #the king's men #the raven king

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yarbz · 4 years

Text

cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

#na jaemin imagines #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #na jaemin scénarios #na jaemin fluff #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct #nct dream #nct2020 #kpop imagines #kpop scénarios #kpop fluff #kpop #nct smut #kpop smut

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kaysayshey · 3 years

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lunch break || s. aizawa

Kay's Notes: Hey, y'all. I think this might be my first time ever posting my writing on Tumblr, so bare with me. I've been using mobile exclusively, and let's just say that my theme is going to be a work in progress. If there is anything you as a reader would like me to change in either tagging or formatting, please let me know! I'm always open to comments, suggestions, critiques, whatever. This work is edited from an OC x Aizawa fanfic that I am working on. I'll be writing more reader insert type works in the upcoming months, as I now have an embarrassingly long list of them.

Summary: Aizawa and Y/N decided to meet up for lunch. That sounds simple enough, right? Ha, wrong. Lunch for two turns into lunch for one.

Warnings: AFAB reader, NSFW, minors DNI. Non-established relationship, oral (f! receiving), praise, slightly insecure reader near the end. Reader is a hero and has a quirk, but it is not defined.

The hellions were too much. Administering the written portion of the final exam had Shouta questioning his choice in career path, if he was being frank. How some of his students had passed the entrance examinations was beyond him at this point, and the thought of grading them sent a chill through his body despite the day's heat.

Despite the impending horror that was Kaminari Denki's handwriting and subsequent answers, Aizawa had a small smile on his face as he made his way to Y/N's apartment. Their last encounter had him yearning for more, anything to learn more about the angel that had graced his presence.

How could he even describe it? She had been nothing like his expectations, instead defying them one by one. Snarky in the best ways, quick-witted enough to leave him holding back chortles. Powerful enough to keep almost any other hero on their toes. Gorgeous, too gorgeous. And she had admitted feelings to him? What was there left to say? He felt honored to be attempting, well, whatever it was they were calling their relationship. Kisses and lingering touches be damned.

"Meet me for lunch after the finals? I'd be more than happy to cook for you at my place."

And meet Y/N for lunch he would.

She had left her door unlocked, obviously expecting him. But when Shouta made his way through the foyer of her apartment, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen. What happened to lunch?

“Oh, Shouta…”

There was no chance in hell. He had to keep every muscle in his body taut so as not to sprint to her bedroom, the stiffening of his member almost instant. It took all of his willpower to casually make his way to her room, the door wide open.

That little minx. She was laid out on her bed completely bare, hair splayed beautifully beneath her. Her back arched as she rubbed slow circles over her clit, slick all the way down to her mid-thigh. Another breathy gasp escaped her; her eyes squeezed shut as she moaned out his name once more.

He couldn’t help himself from slowly making his way to the edge of her bed, unraveling his capture weapon as he walked. “Kitten, is this all for me?”

Y/N's eyes shot open immediately. Those incredible breasts were on display for him, finally. Her thighs clenched together over her hand, blocking him from viewing anymore of her dripping folds.

“I – I thought you’d be later,” she gasped, snaking her free arm over her chest.

“I’m glad I’m not.” The words came out in a murmur as he pulled his top off in one fluid motion, dark eyes taking in every inch of her form. Achingly slowly, he kneeled onto the bed, one hand creeping up her side, relishing in the soft skin beneath his fingertips. He moved to grasp her chin in his hands, forcing her to meet his lust-blown gaze. He gently pressed a kiss to her lips, sighing when she responded so eagerly.

“Who knew I’d be having you for lunch, angel?” At his question, Y/N moaned, the very phrase sending goosebumps all over her body. The slightest heave of her breathing sent her chest up closer to him, and God be damned if he wasn’t desperate to pull every part of it between his lips.

“Sho-Shouta, please,” she stammered, her head rolling to one side of the pillow. He took that as an invitation to press his lips to her neck, nipping lightly at her skin, groaning at the sound of her voice. God, this was too much. He was suckling at her skin like a man starved, ravenous for her crying out for him. But he knew better than to push too far. He’d make her beg for it. Not just today, but for as long as he could get away with it. Until she couldn’t go a single day without pleading for him to fill her completely, to give in to her wanton need for them to become one.

“Easy, kitten. I’ll take care of you.” Shouta’s voice was low and gravelly as he moved further down her skin, lips endlessly exploring every part of her flesh. He stopped at her collarbone; another suckle that had her bucking her hips, leaving a lovely bruise in his wake. To her sternum, lazily licking between her breasts. Y/N heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair and subsequently whining when he wouldn’t move. A soft tug to his locks made him smirk, eyes flashing up, mesmerized by the expression on her face. Her eyes were half-lidded and those pouty lips were plump and parted. He could only imagine how it would feel to watch as her lips wrapped around his cock, to have those beautiful eyes staring up at him from where she was settled on her knees.

Finally, he allowed himself to wrap his lips around one perky nipple, giving it a quick suck before leisurely stroking it with his tongue. Shouta slid a hand down to gently push her thighs apart, anxious to feel her heat for himself. God, she was overwhelmingly wet. How could he keep himself from smiling when he knew he was turning her on so well? As he languidly continued to work his tongue around her breast, he inched a finger to her folds, chuckling softly when she arched at the touch.

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you?” Shouta whispered the words, pleased when she gasped out as he rubbed a soft circle over her clit, the lightest touch to keep her on edge.

“Ba-baby, please,” she groaned, releasing her vice-like grip on his hair when he moved from her side to kneel at the edge of the bed. It was followed by a squeak as he pulled her by the hips to meet him, keeping her thighs spread for him to enjoy. The hums she emitted were low, interrupted by soft whispers, his name a prayer between her lips. But in Shouta’s eyes, her body was a temple, and he was here to worship it, eager to finally have a taste of heaven.

His tempo was torture, agonizingly slow. The up and down of his thumb over her clit kept her rolling her hips, wordlessly begging him for more.

And when she looked down, the smirk he gave her was brash, an arrogance she would never have expected to see on Shouta’s usually stoic face. But the moment he gave her one long, achingly slow lick from her entrance to her clit, she learned why he was so cocky. He knew that he was going to leave her breathless. He repeated the movement for what felt like forever, leaving Y/N running her hands through his hair once more. Those easy strokes evolved into Shouta focusing his attention to her clit, lapping at it greedily.

Shouta couldn’t get enough of her. The taste of her, the feeling of her hands keeping him exactly where she wanted him. The way she would moan out softly, following it up with a whine when his licks turned into soft sucks. He fervently slipped a finger inside of her, curving it as he slowly pumped.

“More, more, please.” Her mewls were desperate, and he chuckled against her folds, obliging her. The movements were deliberate, his pace steady as he continued to thrust into her, reaching the spot that made her groan. Looking up again, he was mesmerized by the carnal desire in her eyes, by the way she deliciously rolled her hips against him. And as much as he yearned to just take her then and there, Shouta kept his focus on her pleasure. He gradually increased the pace of his thrusts, continuing to suck on her swollen nub.

Her walls started clenching, and Y/N’s breathing grew more labored with every minute.

“Shouta, wait, I'm going to -” Her words were strangled in her throat, and he had no problem ignoring them. He wouldn’t wait. Not when she was writhing from his touch, from the way he devoured her. No, he wouldn’t stop, not when she was on the edge. This was what he had been aching for. Shouta added a third slender finger into her folds, groaning as she started to flutter around him. Her hands were gripping the bed sheets like she was afraid they’d fly away, and the movement of her hips was erratic.

He held one of her thighs down with his free hand and thrust into her furiously, knowing just how close she was.

“Oh my God, Shouta, I -”

“Come for me, angel.”

Her walls spasmed around his fingers, and those luscious hips lifted off of the bed, furiously writhing against his hand. Y/N’s moans were the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Shouta watched in awe as she came, keeping his pace consistent until she begged, pleaded for him to slow down, no more, please, Shouta.

Y/N shuddered on the bed, her legs finally closing together when Shouta laid himself next to her, gingerly running his hands through her hair. Gentle kisses against her cheeks, her neck, her forehead. God, she was sacred in his eyes. Those brilliant eyes fluttered open, and a radiant smile graced her lips.

“You’re absolutely divine, Y/N,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her skin was damp to the touch, but he wanted to feel it all the same.

“You can’t say things like that, Shouta. A girl just might believe it.” The words were light, but they held a hint of sorrow behind them. As if she didn’t think he’d ever mean it. He took her chin in one of his hands once more, begging her to meet his eyes. And she did, albeit it begrudgingly.

“Y/N, you are an angel on Earth, and I will make you believe it, whether you like it or not.” A devoted kiss to her lips. He’d remind her every single day until it was ingrained in her – she was incredible.

#kaysayshey #mha #bnha #bnha aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x female reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #hi i'm super anxious to post this #please let me know how you like it!#anywho #stream butter for clear skin #oh god why am i like this

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professorsnape394 · 3 years

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The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Eighteen: Faith

A/N: This is the Eighteenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-18 can also be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below or send me a message if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 4199

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

The rapping of knuckles against the old oak door echoed throughout the potions master's office. Breaking through the thick silence that had engulfed the room, a wave of anxiety washed over Severus Snape.

"Can I not go one day without you bothering me, Miss Dumbledore." Snape complained, trying to hide slight crack of nervousness in his voice.

"Sadly, Severus, it is not your beloved Miss Dumbledore." A thick Bulgarian accent announced.

Admittedly disappointed by the unveiling of his visitor, Severus lowered himself back down into his chair, not willing to make an effort for anyone but his apprentice.

"Why are you here, Igor. You should have learned your lesson by now to leave me alone." He said, rubbing his eyes back into focus and running a hand through his hair lazily.

"I have something you'll want to hear." Karkaroff divulged mysteriously, plopping himself down on the chair across from the professor.

"I do not imagine anything you have to say is of any interest to me."

"Then lucky for you Snape, I won't be the one talking."

Unbothered by the man's deliberate awkwardness, Severus allowed him to ramble on, too exhausted to argue with him.

With a flick of his wand and a small puff off smoke, the space between the two men began to whirl and spin, slowly forming a picture-like image in the air, the scene beginning to unfold. Revealing a staff room full of unusually dressed professors, the focus turned to a small cluster of teachers gathered in the centre of the room. Recognising both Igor Karkaroff and Aria Dumbledore sitting side by side on the old couch, Snape grew suspicious of the man's intentions.

"Why are you showing me this?" Severus asked, unsure of whether he wanted to see what was about to happen.

"Just listen." The Durmstrang headmaster hissed.

"How do I feel about Snape?" Aria wondered, the scene enclosing in on her.

"He's... curious. He has the capacity for love and friendship just like the rest of us, yet he chooses to be mean-spirited."

"I don't want to hear this." Snape declared, turning his eyes away from the woman.

"You must." Igor demanded.

"...he can be mean and arrogant and cruel. And despite it all I try my best to show him kindness, but where does that get me? He calls me out in front of practically the whole school? That was so fucking humiliating, and I'm just supposed to forgive him? I think it's safe to say I'd live a happy life if I were to never see that man again."

Severus felt his heart drop in his chest, unable to process what he had just heard. Slowly a sharp ringing in his ears grew louder and louder, deafening him to the scene before him, as well as the reality in which he existed. He refused to believe the woman he cared so much about, the woman who had demanded to be his friend, had lied about everything. Did she truly hate him beneath her annoyingly cheerful demeanour, was it all a façade?

He wanted to insist Karkaroff had fabricated the whole thing, but he knew exactly what spell he had cast, there was no way he could have faked it.

A deep rage grew within the man, an anger he had not felt in a number of decades. Severus Snape prided himself on having a monotone disposition, void of all emotion. But that familiar feeling of being betrayed by someone he trusted brought forward a plethora of pent up emotions, namely anger and frustration.

A wide, devilish grin spread across Karkaroff's face, satisfied by his colleague's reaction.

"You see now what she is truly like, Severus. You see now that she was playing you all along. That girl pretends to be your friend to keep her job, not because she likes you." Igor laughed maliciously. "You and I both know what is coming, and when it does, Dumbledore is prepared to replace you. Even he knows where your true loyalties lie. Do not be fooled into thinking the Dumbledore's are your friends. They use you for their own advantage, but the second you are no longer useful, or you become a threat to them, you'll be taken down by any means necessary."

"You're lying." Snape tried to convince himself, refusing to meet the professors gaze. "You're scared of what he will do to you if he returns. You need an alliance with someone on the inside."

"He has returned, you must feel it just as I do." The ex-deatheater practically screamed.

"I will not be manipulated by you Igor. This changes nothing, the girl was nothing but a distraction."

"We both know that isn't true." He sniggered, attempting once last time to convince Snape. "Do you know what she said to me, the last time I was in this office? She told me she could never be with a man like you, she told me your actions were unforgivable. I can prove that as well if you don't believe me."

"Get out, Igor. Just leave." Severus exhaled, starting to pace slowly behind his desk. He knew Karkaroff was trying to manipulate him, he was not stupid enough to fall for that. But proof does not lie, and the facts remain. Everything he was saying true, there was no denying it.

With a short bow, Igor danced out of the room. Completely satisfied with the havoc he'd reeked. He'd successfully toyed with what little emotions the great dungeon bat had left. And who's to say what can happen when Severus Snape's feelings get hurt?

Hoot. Hoot.

The bird bleated as it swooped through the open window.

"Another letter for the pile?" Aria sighed to herself. "Will he ever stop?"

Whoo.

It purred in response.

The witch couldn't help but laugh at the coincidence.

"You know exactly who." She giggled, plucking the envelope from the creatures beak, and throwing it on the ever growing pile.

"I just wish he would give me some time to think, you know?" She asked turning back to the barn owl, only to witness it taking off, disappearing into the distance.

Look at me. I'm talking to a bird. She thought with a roll of her eyes. I need to get some sleep.

Catching a glimpse of herself reflection of the window, Aria decided she needed to freshen herself up with a little pamper time, finishing the day off with a very long and well deserved nap.

Dumping almost a whole bottle of bubble bath into the tub, topping with springs of lavender and dried chamomile, Aria plunged herself deep into the warm water.

Relaxing for approximately 2.5 seconds, the woman flew out of the bath, her naked body sopping with bubbles, dripping puddles of water as she explored her quarters impatiently.

"Why can I never find any of my books when I need them most!" She groaned, shivering from the sudden change in temperature as goose bumps formed all over her arms and legs.

Letting out a single yelp of excitement, Aria grabbed the first book she laid eyes on and dived back into her tub.

"Pride and Prejudice, of course." She mumbled, thinking back to that night Severus visited her quarters.

As she read and her mind wandered, Aria found herself making unconscious comparisons between the infamous, brooding Mr. Darcy, and her stern, yet lovable Potions mentor, Severus Snape. They were both mildly rude and arrogant, determined to never show their true emotions, but deep down it was quite possible that they loved more fiercely than anyone ever could.

Elizabeth Bennet enchanted Darcy mind, body and soul. If only there were someone brave enough to do the same to Professor Snape. Aria thought, as she allowed herself to drift off to sleep in the water.

Hours later a thunderously loud 'Bang' frightened Aria awake.

Although not positively sure of how much later it was, she could be certain a decent sleep was had given the icy temperature of the water.

Aria allowed herself a moment to come to, bracing herself against the cold, her was body aching from the ceramic constraints of the tub.

A series of bangs came this time, chapping very loudly on her chamber door. Who ever it was was clearly extremely impatient, forcing her to hurry herself up.

Wrapping herself in nothing but a white cotton towel, the witch slid her way through her rooms to the door. Clearly she wasn't even awake enough to remember where she was, and that answering her door half naked wasn't exactly professional.

Bang. Bang. BANG.

The knocks reverberated through her body, sending shivers down her spine.

Gingerly she opened the door, revealing a more than pissed off Severus Snape.

"Severus." She yawned. "What's wrong?"

"Don't act dumb with me, girl. I am not falling for this act any longer." He snapped.

"What act, Severus? Why are you here?"

"Just tell me why?" He seethed. "Why did go to so much trouble trying to convince me to be your friend, only to confess to Karkaroff, as well as the rest of the Hogwarts staff, your true feelings. Why couldn't you just leave me alone."

"Severus listen, I think we need to talk about this in private. Please come in."

"So you can try and seduce me again? I don't think so. Jesus, look at the state of you, are you really that desperate to entice me? What's next, showing up to dinner completely naked? You really are just as I thought." The potions master growled, his pitch back eyes looking her up and down.

"Severus stop" Aria begged. "I thought we had moved past all this."

"So did I. But considering you have deemed me as "unforgivable" then there doesn't appear to be much point in trying to redeem myself, does there?"

"But you're only going to make everything worse. Let me explain myself, please."

"There is nothing to explain, I shall be putting in a formal request for the headmaster to employ a separate tutor for your apprenticeship in the morning, so you never have to see me again."

The professor stormed off, just as quickly as he had arrived, achieving exactly what he had come to do; humiliate Aria Dumbledore.

Desperate to apologise for her cruel words, Aria made to follow Severus to his classroom.

Forgetting her attire, or rather lack of, she was soon reminded of it when a crowd of Slytherin students erupted in a fit laughter with its fair share of cat-calls and whistles. Clearly they had emerged from their common room to investigate the noise, but stayed for the show of the two arguing potions professors.

"Nice legs, Miss." One of the older boys called, sending a wink in her direction.

Shit. She mumbled under her breath, rushing back to her quarters to change.

Hair still dripping wet, Aria shoved it into a bun on top of her head and pulled on some shorts and an oversized t-shirt, before hunting down the potions master.

"Severus, open the door." She called, upon initially finding it to be locked.

He didn't even bother to reply.

Fine. She thought. I'll do it myself.

"Alohomora." The lock burst apart, allowing the door to slowly creep open, revealing a dishevelled and distressed professor sitting at his desk.

"Severus, please." She whispered softly, realising he had clearly come down from his short outburst of rage.

"Get out." He commanded, though he didn't make any effort to remove his head from his hands.

"Let's talk about this." The woman pleaded, pulling a chair up next to the man. "Let me explain everything."

Snape stirred from his position the closer she came, until finally he was able to look her in the eye.

"Go on." He droned. His eyes red and blood shot, whether it was from lack of sleep or tears was unclear.

"You know more than anyone that Karkaroff cannot be trusted-"

"Don't try and lie to me, Miss Dumbledore. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes." Snape snapped.

"Will you let me finish. I'm not lying to you, Severus." Aria promised. "I said what I said because I didn't want them to know the truth, Karkaroff especially. I don't know what his problem is but I know he's up to something and it involves you. You really think I'd answer any question he asked me truthfully. You're my friend, Severus, I care about you, and that man is a snake for trying to turn us against each other."

"Why should I believe you. I've barely known you a few months, I've known Igor decades."

"That is precisely why you should believe me. He's not your friend, Severus. If he was he'd be able to see the real you; the man behind the mask." She urged, begging for his trust.

Reaching out her hand to take his, Aria stroked a thumb over the cold and calloused hand of her friend.

"And who might that be?" Severus questioned in return, feeling slightly nervous under her touch, but not enough to want to pull away.

"A man." She stated simply. "Not a beast, as you and many others may presume. A good, and decent man. Perhaps he's a even a little bit scared, of what I'm not entirely sure yet. But I will find out one day, if you'll allow me, that is. Let me be your friend, Severus. Let me see what you hide from everyone else. And I promise, I'll be there for you when it matters most."

Her sweet soft tones encapsulated Severus. He had become so lost in her words and her touch that without realising he found himself falling for her speech wholeheartedly. He even risked settling his remaining hand upon hers, clasping her delicate fist between his palms.

"Well then I suppose an apology is in order. I believe I may have acted rather rash and unprofessional."

"There's really no need. You reacted just as you should have to the things you heard. I would have done the same thing in your circumstance." Aria admitted, removing her hand from his, as she made to stand up. "Though there is one thing you could do to make it up to me." She suggested.

"Dare I even ask?" Severus joked.

"I want to know what Karkaroff's after. Tell me how you know him. Why does he care so much about your life?"

Snape practically laughed in response.

"We may be friends now, Miss Dumbledore, but I'm afraid that information is rather personal. And I am not convinced we are quite at that stage in our friendship, just yet."

"I respect that." She shrugged, knowing he wasn't about to give in that easily. "I suppose that just means we'll have to get to know each other a bit more." She smiled almost ear to ear at the prospect.

"What do you have planned for your lesson today, Professor Dumbledore?" Severus queried, finally using the woman's rightful professional title.

"Ooooh 'Professor' now, am I?" She smirked, sashaying in front of her co-worker, balancing a handful of potion ingredients in her arms.

"I suppose that is your given title after all, I might as well start using it."

"Hmmm I'm not sure. I think it make's me sound too much like my grandfather. I'm not sure I could pull of the beard quite as well, what do you think?" She giggled, holding her long hair in front of her chin, imitating the old wizard playfully before clumsily dropping another dozen bottles on the table.

Severus tried his hardest to conceal his smile, busying himself with paper work, but however hard he tried he could not hide it from Aria. Every so often she managed to catch him off guard, with a silly joke, or a quick witted comment, in those rare times he allowed himself a glimmer of emotion she always managed to notice. Most of the time Severus found himself smiling at the woman for no reason other than she was simply smiling too.

Finally turning her attention away from the potions master, Aria finished setting up her table full of small bottles and vials.

"We're going to play a game." She announced cheerfully spinning on her heel.

"A game?" Severus asked, unable to stop himself turning his nose up at her idea.

"Yes. It's like a test, but more fun." She persuaded, sensing his judgement.

"And what, might I ask, is wrong with a traditional test." He queried bitterly.

"The students need motivation, Severus. The word 'test' makes people nervous. With nervousness comes panic, and with panic comes mistakes. Fear is not an accurate motivator, however competition is. The students will be less inclined to make mistakes, if they are rewarded for their efforts." The apprentice hypothesised.

"And this reward is?"

"I haven't decided yet."

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes, but allowed her to do her thing uninterrupted.

Since their little 'heart to heart' that night in Snape's office the two professors were finding working with each other a lot more amiable. Severus had given Aria a little more free reign with her portion of the lessons, which in turn, allowed her to respect Severus' strict theoretical practices without causing too many interruptions. The pair had almost started to enjoy working together.

Student by student the class trickled in, each of them intrigued by the new set up of the class room.

"Everyone please take your seats, do not touch the table at the front of the room, class will begin momentarily." Miss Dumbledore announced.

A moment of panic set in as Aria scrambled around Snape's desk, looking for her list of possible potions. This may not have been her first time teaching solo, but it was, however, her opportunity to prove her practices are successful in front of her mentor, Severus Snape. The man in question could see the fear in her eyes, and that she was desperate to impress.

"Here." He mouthed, handing her the piece of parchment. "Relax."

Brushing fingers, as she took the parchment from him, Aria grinned.

"Thank you." She whispered, once again turning to face the class, now with a little more confidence.

"Now today, as you may have guessed, we are going to do something a little different. Professor Snape and I have chosen to take this opportunity to allow you, our promising young N.E.W.Ts students, to show off your skill set to the best of your ability's. On this table in front of me you will find a select variety of potions ingredients that correspond to a number of potions all very much within your capability, your task is to complete one of these potions within the allotted time, at the end of which, a winner will be selected by us."

"What do we win then, professor?" One eager student asked.

"A potion of their choice." She declared, impulsively.

A murmer of chatter instantly broke out among the class, intrigued at the prospect of winning such a thing.

"That all sounds very exciting, Miss Dumbledore." Snape cut in, unwilling to take a backseat quite so easily. "However, sadly as an apprentice professor you are not permitted to take anything from my stores to use so frivolously. The prize will have to be decided at a later time."

Unsurprisingly the students weren't too pleased with Snape's intervention causing for a series of disappointed groans and heckles.

"Then I shall make it myself." Aria concluded.

Another bout of cheers erupted.

"Collect your ingredients, light up your cauldrons, your time starts now!"

Immediately the students jumped from their seats, swarming the table to get what they needed. The professors moved away from the crowd, giving the class a moment to get started.

"Miss Dumbledore, this is not a wise decision." Severus spoke in hushed tones. "I understand entirely the prize of a potion chosen by you, but to give them a choice could be extremely dangerous, think of the chaos that will ensue."

"How about you have a little faith in them for once. Trust that they will make the right decision."

Looking down on the woman, Severus couldn't help but trust she would be right.

"I have faith in you. Not in them." He made clear.

Severus made to walk away, leaving Aria to relish in her small victory, until he was suddenly pulled back by the young woman's hand in his. Not saying a word, Aria Dumbledore gave him an appreciative squeeze, before releasing him back to his desk.

The first hour of the classes passed by effortlessly, the students worked quietly and Severus found no reason to complain. All in all, Aria was quite pleased with how her lesson was going.

That was until...

"Oh shiiiiit."

"Language Mr. Lawrence." Severus warned, briefly looking up from his marking.

"Right, sorry sir. But what the fuck am I supposed to do when this thing starts bubbling like crazy." He freaked out, completely ignoring the potions master's warning.

"What?" Aria gasped, only just becoming aware of the situation.

"Yeah like this thing looks likes 'bout to blow, to be honest with you." The seventh year Hufflepuff boy informed nonchalantly.

"Step away from that cauldron students, quickly!" Aria ordered, ushering them to the sides of the classroom. "You were attempting a wit-sharpening potion, is that correct?"

"Yup."

"I'm afraid there's no saving it now, Mr. Lawrence, the best we can hope for is that it does not turn to acid and burn through bench."

"Out of my way." Severus huffed impatiently, forcing his way through the crowd of students that had formed around the cauldron.

"Pass me that root of ginger" Snape demanded, positioning himself in front of the ever growing cauldron of bubbling green liquid. Aria obeyed hastily, as the professor performed what she could only describe as a miracle on this horrifying concoction. "Some more newt spleens." He requested, holding out a hand expectantly, while the other gripped onto his wand, casting an enchantment over the potion.

The potions master continued adding a bit of this and a dash of that to the potion, all ingredients Aria Dumbledore would never have considered to associate with this particular brew. Jars of herbs, spices and animal parts were passed through the classroom in order to reach Professor Snape who continuously stirred the potion, muttering all sorts of charms and spells.

However skilled Aria had assumed she was at the art of potion making, it was made clear to her that she was no match for Severus' skills, brewing potions was second nature to him now. Within minutes he had achieved what Aria Dumbledore had deemed impossible, and thus the potion was brought back to it's natural state.

"Severus..." The apprentice gawped. "That was amazing."

"That was nothing." He replied curtly, removing himself from the scene. "Everybody back to work, this is not an excuse to slack off."

Still in awe at the pure artistry she had witnessed, Aria trotted sheepishly back to the front of the class.

Blissfully unaware of the pure talent they had just seen, the students continued on with their work. The Hufflepuff boy did not even have the decency to thank his professor for salvaging the mess he called a potion, let alone be grateful he never received a detention, or deduction of house points.

"What are you staring at, Miss Dumbledore, is there no better way you can spend your time?"

"I'm sorry Severus, but that display was just... brilliant." She beamed.

"Like I said, it was nothing. It comes with the job, I refuse to have any of those delinquents burn through my entire store cupboard because they cannot brew a simple potion, a year below their level no less."

"Well, at least we know who definitely won't be winning anyway." Aria giggled.

"The most we can hope for from that boy is that he manages to finish his potion, god knows he'll need it."

Playfully slapping Snape on the arm for his cheek, the witch perched herself on the edge of the professor's desk, attempting a quick sketch on a scrap piece of parchment, while the students begun to finish off their potions.

"Professor Snape, the winner?" Aria asked, turning to her colleague for a verdict once all of the potions had been completed.

"You want me to choose?" Severus replied, skeptical of her offer.

"Of course. I don't think it would be fair of me to do it, considering I've been giving all of them tips this lesson."

"Very well." He droned, stepping forth to analyse the contents of the cauldrons.

"This one." He announced, pointing a single finger to the cauldron of a young Slytherin witch. "Given that it was the only potion brewed to complete perfection, there is no other possible candidate. I suggest the rest of you get studying before your N.E.W.T's exams, at the rate you lot are going, none of you besides Miss Johnstone here is likely to pass." Snape scolded.

"Well then, congratulations Miss Johnstone, you are the winner of a potion of your choice. See me after lessons tomorrow and let me know your decision."

The girl practically beamed with pride, expecting nothing less than first place.

"Class dismissed."

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

White Lies (Pt. 13 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.7 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Change Of Heart

“You and Daniel were in a relationship that ended sometime before we met,” Keanu says, gathering his stuff as you do the same, both starting to take the baggage to the living room. “He is Mrs. Davis' son, and I guess she didn't like much when you two broke apart.”

“And where is this Daniel now? I'd like to meet him if he's part of my past.” You stop by the door, as Keanu checks on his phone for the car he just called.

But he puts his phone away, eyes on you. “Daniel passed away a week before your accident.”

“Oh...” You whisper, looking down. “So that's why Lucia got so sad when I said we weren't considering the name.”

“Yeah.”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his weird expression, you step forward and tiptoe, placing a kiss on his lips. “Let's go home, babe.”

•••

Going back home happened without any incidents. But the next days were filled with medical appointments. You assure him you're fine, but Keanu seems to be in an urge to make sure you're completely fine. You try not to complain about it, but things get weird when you notice a strange expression on his face. For too many times to count you caught him looking like he was just about to say something, but for some reason, he gives up. It makes you confront him a couple of times, but he assures you he's just worried as the pregnancy goes on.

Some weeks go by, and you're getting impatient to find out the baby's sex. On your many ultrasounds, they're always on a position that makes it impossible to see it. But you're hopeful for today, and, as you lie on the bed with Keanu, your back against his chest, you take in the soft morning light.

Keanu has an arm around her waist, a hand caressing her belly. Her bare back keeps his body warm, and despite the constant feeling that time is running short, he places kisses on her neck.

He was supposed to tell her the truth weeks ago, the moment they got back from Miami, but he just couldn't. This went too far, he went too far. In every possible aspect. Keanu didn't only fell for her, but he was intimate with (Y/N) too many times to count, and that makes him feel more guilt than anything else.

Her second trimester is just about to end, and now, he's caught in between. Again, for the millionth time, Keanu is caught in between two feelings. His love and his morals.

In his defense, Keanu did try to break the news several times. The words, the destructive, dangerous words were at the tip of his tongue, ready to desolate his life. But they got stuck, and he was too weak at the thought of losing her. Of losing the baby that he loves so much. It doesn't matter how many times he reminds himself the kid isn't his, he's failing to get this fact to grow roots in his heart. Keanu loves the child as if it's his own.

Guilt threatens to devour him entirely sometimes, but right now, in this moment, happiness suppresses everything else. This is his personal paradise, with her, the baby, healthily growing inside her.

Keanu always wanted a family. Settle down, take less and smaller roles. But nobody ever made him feel like he could. Of all the women he dated, nobody ever made him feel like he would give up everything. He thought he knew what love was, and he thought it wasn't as strong as people say... But now, life proved him wrong. This is love, a wrecking ball that came and destroyed his walls, his heart, his wrong perceptions. If only it happened some other way. If he wasn't caught up in this web of lies.

Dr. Harris wasn't happy to know he was sleeping with her. (Y/N) told her, of course, and even though it was in her usual shy and reserved way, the psychologist got the meaning behind the words. And she confronted him, very harshly, and Keanu could do nothing but listen and agree. Because this is wrong. This is the worst kind of betrayal.

(Y/N) moves a little, breathing deeply as she wakes up. A hand finds his, pulling it to her chest, placing a soft kiss on his fingers. “Morning.” She whispers, voice still clouded by sleep. She's used to it now, Keanu is always awake first.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He replies, fingers caressing her chin. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, but I miss lying on my stomach.” She complains, turning around and snuggling into his chest. “What time is it? We have an ultrasound.”

“I know. And we should probably start getting ready.”

“Alright.” (Y/N) mutters, but doesn't give any signs she'll move anytime soon.

But he knows what today is all about, and it will certainly make her excited. “Hopefully we'll finally find out if this little one is Sophie or Liam.”

“Yes!” Immediately, she pushes herself up, an arm sustaining her weight as she looks down at Keanu. And he tries not to stare at her nude figure, even though this is silly compared to everything they're done. Still, he thinks he should at least try. “The baby must be in a good position today. I can't wait anymore.” With that, she's up, smiling as she makes her way to the bathroom.

And Keanu is left behind on the bed, surrounded by his bad decisions. Maybe this is the right time. Maybe, being this happy, she won't hate him so much.

With a lump in his throat, he goes on with his routine, until they're almost ready to go. Keanu waits by the bedroom door frame as she fixes her hair, the bathroom door half open. This is way too sudden, but if he doesn't do that now, if he waits any longer, he'll never be ready. He'll never be brave or strong enough to do this. He took too long already. Now, he can only hope, pray, that this will somehow end up the way he wants.

That he won't lose her.

The moment he sees (Y/N) walking out of the bathroom, Keanu gives a step forward, arms crossed, heart beating so fast it threatens to jump off his chest. The words are at the top of his tongue when his eyes take in her posture. (Y/N) holds the skirt of her blue dress up, all the way to the top of her thigh with one hand, and on the other, there's blood. Bright and red, staining her fingers and the palm of her hand. His eyes turn to her face, blank, scared as she looks at him.

Without thinking too much, his mind on the verge of collapsing, he forces himself to move, quickly making his way over her.

You hate the smell of the soap they have here. You hate this hospital and what it means when you're brought here. It's only far worse now. You're still trying not to burst into tears, trying not to break down again. There's no pain, so that's good. And no more bleeding, which is even better. The feeling you got when you found blood on your underwear was the worst thing in the world. For a moment, a desperate moment, you thought you were going to lose the baby. You wanted to yell, but you didn't have it in you.

If it wasn't for Keanu, you don't know what you'd do.

Now, still walking terribly slow out of nervousness, you leave the hospital bathroom, finding Keanu seated on the edge of your bed, already looking at you.

“Hi, beautiful.” He says, and you remember this was one of the first things he said to you. “Come and lie down. Why did you put the dress on again?”

“Because it's clean and I don't want to stay here.” Instead of doing as he said, you stand before him, your forehead on his chest. “I thought I was going to lose our baby.” Your voice cracks as some tears roll down, arms around his midsection.

“I already spoke to the doctor.” Immediately, you pull away, just enough to look into his eyes. “He assured me you're both alright.”

“Are you sure, Ke?” You plead, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I almost lost my mind.”

“He wants you to rest and that's all. He–” He's cut short by the door being open, and you see Dr. Wright and your obstetrician.

“First of all, you must know the baby is alright.” Dr. Williams says as she comes closer, a tablet on her hands. “Sometimes, such discharges happen, mostly as you progress from the second to the third trimester.” She kindly smiles. “Everything you two need to do is keep up the good job. Make sure to rest, eat healthily, and exercise. But I'll recommend you to lie down for the rest of the day, ok?”

“Ok.” You quickly agree.

“It would be good to avoid surprises. The bad ones at least.” Dr. Wright adds, oddly staring at Keanu. But that's normal, he still needs to look after you, so some things are directed to him. “But we have good news today, right, Dr. Williams?”

“Yes.” From under the tablet, she takes a picture from the ultrasound and hands over to you. “The baby was in a good position and we already know the sex.”

“Oh my God.” You exclaim, smiling for the first time since the incident. “What is it?”

Dr. Williams smiles, exchanging a glance with Dr. Wright. “Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, you'll be having a baby boy.”

“It's Liam!” You yell, throwing your arms around Keanu again. “I was right!”

“You were right.” He agrees, a second before you kiss him, not minding the audience.

“Well, you're free to go home. And call me if you need anything.” Dr. Wright says and the obstetrician agrees before they both leave.

At least something good happened today. You'll finally be able to paint the blank white walls of the baby's bedroom, and buy what you still need.

“I was right.” You repeat, smirking at Keanu. “But we can try again and maybe it'll be a girl. I mean, if we ever spoke about having more than one kid.” Blushing a little, you bite your lip. There are still a lot of things you need to be updated on, and you still get a little sad when it happens.

“I'd love to have more kids if that's what you want, sweetheart,” Keanu says and you smile, kissing him again. “But now let's go home. You need to lie down for the day.”

“Can we stop and buy the paint for Liam's room? We already know the color so it'll only take a minute.” You know you have to rest, but you can't help but feel excited for finally being able to finish off the baby's bedroom. “Please? I'll stay in the car.”

Keanu gives you a look because sometimes you don't always do as you said you would. “Fine, but you won't be painting anything. I can do it myself.”

Nodding, you watch as he takes your bag and guides you out of the hospital room you hate so much. Hopefully, there will be a day you won't have to keep coming here, not because of some incident and not for any appointments.

You did wait in the car this time, and as much as you wanted to hit the mall and buy everything blue and green, Keanu forces you to give up the idea and head straight home. And when you get there, you have his undivided attention. He doesn't only make an incredible lunch, and an incredible dinner, he gives your legs a massage, and it takes a lot of effort to just lie down instead of jumping on him. But this is peaceful, slow, and sweet.

In the weeks that follow, nothing bad happens. You feel great, but you also heavier. Liam is growing fast, and you can't wait any longer to meet him. And neither can Keanu. He gets even more protective with time if that's even possible. And after you almost slipped in the shower, you're not even allowed to shower by yourself. Of course you pretend you're annoyed, but the truth is that you love it.

Despite feeling uncomfortable during this period, Keanu makes everything perfect. There are still no signs you'll get the memories back, and that's a fact now, but you'll follow your psychologist's advice. And Laura's advice, since they're pretty much the same. Living in the past will only get in the way of what's happening now. You have an amazing husband, who loves you deeply, and a child on the way. The present is wonderful, and you won't let anything ruin it.

You're around week 37 now, marking it on the calendar on the fridge door, a hand on your back as you make your way to the kitchen table. Keanu is still upstairs, and you take this chance to pour some honey on your plate. You're still eating the awkward combination when he comes to the kitchen, and you try not to let him see. But Keanu sees everything, and when he takes his place across from you, you feel his eyes burning.

“What?” You innocently ask, shrugging your shoulders.

“Are you eating bacon with honey?”

Biting your lip, you raise an eyebrow at him. “I happen to love honey. And bacon. So it makes sense.” He giggles and you kick his leg under the table. “Don't mess with the pregnant lady.” Warning him, you push the plate away. “I'm done anyway. I'll move to the couch if you don't mind, my back really hurts.”

“Sure. I'll join you in a bit.”

“Ok.” Dragging yourself to the living room, you lie down, hands on your swollen belly. You're almost drifting off to sleep when you feel Keanu sitting down, lifting your legs so he can move closer, caressing your thighs. “Ke, I'm huge.” You complain, eyes on the bump.

“You're beautiful.” Bending down, he places a kiss on your exposed belly, since you have the shirt pulled up. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.” Pouting a little, you try to hold back the giggle when you see his eyebrow raised.

“I would love to show how beautiful I think you are, but Dr. Williams told us to give it a little break.”

“Don't even remind me.” You never complained about anything with your obstetrician, but when she told you and Keanu should probably avoid sleeping together, you had to speak up. Even though your cheeks were burning. But in the end, you did comply. And you wouldn't have much of a choice anyway, since Keanu does everything the doctors say. “I heard your phone beeping. Everything alright in Arch?”

“Yes. That was just Lucia.” He says, obviously a little annoyed. “She just moved here. She's renting an apartment not so far away.”

“What the hell.” Sighing, you roll your eyes. This woman won't leave you alone, it doesn't matter what you say. “Why is she doing that? Isn't it obvious we don't want her around?” A couple of weeks ago she showed up again, and another argument happened. Keanu had to kick her out because the recommendations were that you shouldn't be put under any kind of stress.

“She loves you and the baby. That's why she wants to be around.” You don't get it. Keanu doesn't like her either, so why does he still speak like this?

“I know you can't stand her, you don't have to fake it with me.”

“But this isn't about me, sweetheart, it's about you and the people who were in your life before.”

The kindness in his voice makes you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You're amazing, did you know that?” Placing kisses on his face, you smile. “I love you. I'm worried to death and I'm trying not to get anxious with the labor, but you're making everything perfect. You're the best husband I could ever have.”

“I'm just trying to be the husband you deserve.” With a hand caressing your cheek, Keanu kisses you full on the lips, and you take no time before kissing him back. You don't know what you'd do without him, but luckily, you won't ever have to find out.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick #john wick x reader

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valberryy · 4 years

Text

efficacy. — zhongli

hi!! this started out as an oc fic, but i thought i'd convert it to a reader insert!! i tried to change some of the more "explicit" oc info, so hopefully it's fine now!

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injury/death, contemplations of/vaguely attempted murder, slight swearing. if these topics are sensitive to you, i'd recommend clicking away.

[Name]'s life would be nothing without order. They found a certain comfort in routines—working at the bookshop with Jifang in the afternoons, working for their less-than-legal clients once night fell. There was an odd kind of safety they found in it, in completed contracts and crossed-out bounties on a board: as they wiped the blood off their blade at sunrise, they found themself glad they no longer lived at the whims of ice, and snow, and migrating deer.

Tonight was odd, though.

A dagger twirled deftly between their fingers, and [Name] raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the informant sitting before them. A mask and hood alike obscured his face, and he seemed almost to hesitate slightly beneath their burning gaze—a newbie, then, or a fool.

"So?" they asked, their voice like a whip-crack in the silence. "Don't waste my time."

"Apologies," he said, and [Name] had to resist the urge to scoff. At another raised eyebrow the informant dug through his things and passed them an envelope.

Gingerly, they tore it open. "...Wangsheng?" they muttered to themself, before glancing back up. "I trust you have the right compensation?"

A stiff, "Of course," was their only response.

The knife between [Name]'s fingers stilled, before it became embedded in the cheap wood next to their now-client's head.

They stood, gave an almost-mocking flourish of a bow, and walked off without another word.

ii.

[Name] did not glance up from the shelf they were restocking when the footsteps of another customer coming up the stairs came into earshot, only saying a gruff, "Welcome," as they grew closer.

Their only response was a content hum, and they resisted the urge to sigh in relief that this particular patron wasn't a chatterbox.

The minutes trickled by in comfortable silence, as the man—for he was a man, [Name] learned, as soon as they looked up and towards his direction—browsed through their selection. The only sounds to be heard were the blowing of the breeze and the idle chatter of people walking past.

"What a fine collection you have," he said, and turned to face the counter they were seated behind. At the sight of his face they were thrust back into two nights ago—an unpleasant evening in a dingy old house, an envelope in one hand and a cheap knife in the other.

Not now, they thought to themself. Not now, when the blood can seep into the floorboards. The smell will hang for days.

"Thank you," they elected to say in reply. "...Will you be buying?"

He nodded, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Indeed. The entire stock, actually."

[Name] faltered. "The entire…?" They coughed into a fist, regaining their composure and leaning forward on the counter. "That's going to cost you, sir."

They could almost see the excited sparkles around him as he opened his mouth to speak again, and whatever thoughts they had on how elegant and refined he seemed were thrown out to sea.

"Yes, of course," he began, "there truly is no treasure greater than knowledge, after all—there is a subtle nuance to the art to capturing a moment in time so vividly using just words alone…"

As he continued to ramble, [Name] rested their chin on their palm. The daggers concealed beneath their clothes were cool and heavy on their skin—a constant reminder, a subtle threat.

When his voice trailed off they gave a small, polite smile, standing upright again. "If you have the Mora, there should be nothing stopping you, sir."

The faraway, almost dreamy look in his eyes grew lucid at the mention of Mora. "Ah, of course. Mora," he said, and started patting his pockets searching for his wallet.

When neither of them heard the telltale clinking of coins, they glanced at each other almost exasperatedly.

"My deepest apologies—"

"...No, it's okay—"

The knife still burned against their skin, but they brushed it aside for a moment to grab an unwrapped copy of a book under the desk. They held it out to him, their face blank but the faintest, faintest hints of amusement dancing in their eyes.

He was…interesting. Dead men can rarely boast as much.

"Take it," they said, simply.

His eyes seemed to widen in pleasant surprise. "Are you certain?" he asked, and at [Name]'s casual shrug in the affirmative he gingerly took it from their hands.

"Thank you kindly," he said, raising the package in the air and inspecting it. "I'll have to repay you, for this."

They looked at him again, and thought of the envelope from the other night, thought of how they could almost feel his pulse as their fingers brushed just seconds prior.

"I'll hold you to it, then, sir," they elected to say.

Not now, not now, not now.

iii.

On his lips played a gentle smile that [Name] couldn't help but to distrust.

"There's a restaurant I believe you'd like," he had said. "Allow me to treat you for lunch, as thanks."

Their head had thus begun to swim with backup plans and what-ifs. Did he know? Was this some elaborate ruse to poison them? Surely not, right? They had been so careful up until now, too…

They blinked away their initial surprise and canted their head to the side. "Where?"

At that he went off onto another tangent, just as long as the ramble he had gone on a few days prior. [Name] found themself zoning out, glancing at where they knew his jugular was beneath his collar—or perhaps poison during their impromptu outing would fare better?

No, they scolded themself, there would be witnesses at a restaurant.

"...Don't worry, of course, I'll be sure to bring the Mora this time around," he said with a velvety laugh, and [Name] suddenly found themself back in the present.

They leaned forward on the bookstore counter, an eyebrow raised. "I don't even know your name, Mister Philanthropist."

Another smile graced his features, then—apologetic this time, and he outstretched a hand for them to shake. "My apologies," he said. "I am Zhongli, consultant for Wangsheng Funeral Parlor."

Gingerly, they took his hand in turn. They could feel the rhythmic beat-beat-beat of his pulse under their fingers.

Soon, they thought.

"Call me [Name]," they said, and forced themself to smile.

A few days later, it just so happened that both of their schedules were free.

"Would you still be willing to indulge me?" Zhongli asked—he had been visiting more often lately, and it just so happened that many of his visits happened to be on the days [Name] was there, as well. Jifang seemed curious, and honestly they were as well—did he enjoy their company? Was there something about their short, curt responses that didn't turn him away?

Or maybe he was planning something, too?

Nevertheless, despite their raging paranoia, it wasn't like they were in much of a position to complain. Jifang seemed content at their new, distinguished guest, and [Name] took it as an opportunity to learn more about him for the time being.

"...If you so wish," they said, plucking the book he was holding out of his hands to wrap it for him.

"Only if you do, my friend." Damn him and his deflection. "But it is my firm belief that the generous receive what is due to them, in time."

They hummed idly as they thumbed through the book he had chosen—something or other about the natural beauty of Inazuma—and then glanced back up at him.

And that was how they found themself here, they supposed.

Their table was relatively silent compared to some others, but it was by no means uncomfortable or awkward. With the idle chatter of other people and the clear sky above as a backdrop, the two dined in comforting silence—only the clinking of ceramic against each other to be heard, and to [Name]'s surprise, no traces of poison to be found whatsoever.

As the sun began to dip down the horizon, and all their food had been finished and the bill paid, the two found themselves taking a stroll down by the docks. Zhongli's gaze was trained ahead, while [Name]'s flitted about cautiously.

"Forgive me if I'm prying, however…" he began, "...But you're not a native, are you, my friend?"

A jolt, then, a bolt of white-hot fear running through their limbs. Did he know? Did they give themself away?

"I'm not," they said. "I was born abroad."

A satisfied hum was their response, and when they turned to glance at him, they found the smallest of smiles on his face.

"It's getting late," Zhongli said. "Thank you for today. I'd like to do this again, with you."

[Name] took pause at that. They thought once again of the envelope hidden under their drawers, and the knives hidden under their clothes.

They thought about the way Zhongli rambled on about whatever tale it was the storyteller across the street had spun—how "that indeed is one interpretation of it, but in the original text, the author actually meant to imply that…"

There was a pang of what almost felt like guilt in their chest, at that.

"...And I, you," they said, finally, "...my friend."

iv.

Perhaps stumbling into your supposed assassination target's home half-bloody with an arrow sticking out of your side was not the brightest idea, but in [Name]'s defense were two things: first of all, they had no fucking clue it was Zhongli's in the first place, and secondly, they couldn't exactly keep running from their angry former client with an arrow sticking out of their side.

And thus whatever levels of discretion they normally would have had were thrown out the window as they climbed into Zhongli's in the dead of night, and probably knocked something over in the process (if the new bruises were anything to go by).

(To be fair, they had been calling each other friends for a while now. Is this what friends did? [Name] couldn't be sure—their shady friends weren't exactly the best examples, after all.)

They had just sat up and groaned in pain when Zhongli came in, alarmed first at the noise and then at their sorry state.

"...Sorry," they muttered through gritted teeth. "Thought the place was empty—ow, shit! I can—I can do it mysel—"

"Nonsense," he said, his voice and hands firmer than they had noticed before. "...I still haven't repaid you for your favour to me, after all."

They stopped for a moment, at that. "...I thought the lunch was repayment?"

Somehow, Zhongli found it in himself to laugh, albeit tensely. From where they were sitting, they could see his face a lot more clearly than they had before—the tenseness in his brow, the flecks of gold in his amber irises, the way his nose crinkled at the density of the smell of blood.

"No," he replied, "that was a thank you."

They hummed, before hissing in pain again. "Pull the other way; the arrowhead went in at an angle—"

"Ah, yes, my mistake…"

[Name] continued, "I suppose this is your repayment, then?"

They only barely hid their surprise when he shook his head again.

"I'm doing this because I want to, [Name]."

(Somehow, they liked their name better when hearing it from him. Was it the timbre of his voice? Was it the appeal of hearing your name from a man who was supposed to be long-dead?)

"...I see."

As he sealed the last of the bandages and allowed them to adjust their clothes, he helped them over to what they assumed was a guest room, of sorts. He helped them to take a seat on shaky legs, and placed a firm, almost comforting hand on their shoulder.

"Promise me you'll be more careful, my friend."

They glanced away, their face oddly warm. Wasn't blood loss supposed to do the opposite? "I can't guarantee that, Zhongli."

He followed their gaze over to the floor, and then glanced back at them. "If not that, then I'd at least ask you to…rely on me more," he said, and something about the sincerity in his voice struck them as odd.

They almost wanted to burn that envelope in their drawers when they went home.

[Name] glanced back up at him, forcing themself to face his questioning gaze.

"...I'll try."

But only for you.

+1.

In [Name]'s life, there exists a line they do not dare themself to cross. On one side stands sweet Jifang from the bookshop, the tenacious Traveller and their friends, and the ghosts of their loved ones from Inazuma; and on the other stands themself and their other shadowy benefactors.

The first to tread the line between the two was Zhongli—who, despite the bounty on his head, still managed to maneuvre his way into them somehow being able to call him their friend.

Honestly. The Seven damn him and his stupid charisma, and his stupid voice, and his stupid encyclopedic knowledge of silk flowers.

When [Name] woke up, they were not in their home.

Through their shock they failed to register the bandages wound around their torso, and bit back a yelp of pain as the wound threatened to reopen. In the dark they could see their overwear folded neatly on the bed next to them, and Zhongli asleep, slumped over in a chair.

Suddenly, they were acutely aware of the old bone knife under their clothes—their only souvenir from home, unstained by blood for years, and years, and years.

Would Zhongli be its first, then?

Quietly they stood and dug through their folded clothes until they felt it—the uneven blade, the worn-down grooves near the hilt. They skulked their way over to where he slept, and tried to ignore how painfully peaceful his slow, even breaths were.

His eyes fluttered open just as they pressed the blade to his throat. He seemed too calm, though, not even a twitch of his hands or a hitch in his breath to give away any surprise at all. All he did was place a loose grip on their wrist—a stark contrast to their white-knuckled, shaking hand—and ask,

"What are you doing, [Name]?"

They grit their teeth. "...I'm sorry," they said, "but I have a contract to complete."

Something in Zhongli's eyes softened at that. This was his domain, they realised—contracts, and contingencies, and wordplay.

His grip on their wrist tightened, ever so slightly, and he traced his free hand over their clenched jaw. "But so do we," he replied. "I've still never paid you back, after all."

There was a pause, then—a long, pregnant silence.

"May I kiss you?" Zhongli asked, his voice like a whip-crack in the space between them. [Name] said nothing, but the crease between their brows deepened further.

The dagger embedding itself into the floor and the soft, firm press of their lips against his was enough of an answer.

#genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact oneshot #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli x reader #too many thoughts!!!!! not enough braincells #i ammm just . barking #hoo #bee writes

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hannie-dul-set · 4 years

Text

when jaehyun said he was picking you up to go somewhere, you didn't exactly expect to be found in the middle of nowhere. trees were lining the field from a faraway distance and the tall grasses sunk from underneath you. the two of you were leaning against the side of his car on top of a hill on god knows where with no one else but the stars, the moon, and the both of you.

"drinking wine straight out of the bottle— aren't you a classy man?"

a laugh reverberated from jaehyun's throat and he looked at you under the solace of the inky night sky. "let me have my moments, miss y/n."

you sat beside him on the grassy clearing, lightly playing with one of his hands and you looked up to him, only to see downcast drenching his pretty features. letting go of his hand, you sighed and sat up straight, stirring confusion from the male.

"alright, mr. jung," you narrowed your eyes at him. "what's going on in your head? why are you being all sad?"

he let out a huff of air, lips upturned into a semi-forced smile as he gently took your hand back into his, lacing his fingers into yours. "is it that obvious?"

"you're transparent, jaehyun."

sighing, he adjusted his position and took another swig at the hard drink. "you know how overboard some girls may get around me, right?"

"i've witnessed first hand during your party," you laugh, remembering how panicked he looked during that time. "it was a pitiful sight."

"it wasn't pitiful."

the words left like a soft whine from his lips and you continued to tease him, saying that he looked like a small mouse (ironic, considering his stature) being fought over by a group of wild cats, much to his displeasure.

"anyways," he coughed out, a light wash of pink dousing his cheeks, both from your previous joking and the slight chill of the night's wind. "there's this one girl named seonha— i've never told you about her— and, uh, i wouldn't say she's obsessed with me, but—"

"she's obsessed with you?"

you finished, quirking your brow at him and he hesitantly nodded. "yes, you can say that."

"hm," you hummed. "why, what'd she do?"

"a lot of things," he sighed. "her family is closely knitted with mine so i'd met here during one of their charity auctions. since then, she wouldn't stop following me around— in my office building, when i'm out with mark and johnny. hell, even when i'm out of the country."

jaehyun's exasperation ran through his voice as he continued to tell you about the girl.

"she'd even stir up dating rumors about us two which is messed up all on its own. you could argue that at least there's only one of them bothering me, but it's like selling off a few floods for one gigantic storm," the now empty wine bottle was long forgotten on the ground. jaehyun went on with his rant, raking his free hand into his hair. "johnny and mark had told me to file a restraining order, but that wouldn't do anything considering their family's influence, so i have no choice but to deal with her."

the light chirping of crickets amplified the depth of the evening. you guessed it was already around ten, maybe even later than that. it crossed your mind for a short moment that you had work tomorrow, but that thought quickly diminished into thin air.

"has she still been bothering you lately? i don't think i noticed her around you before," you asked, moving your head away to look at him. his hair was in a slight mess and he was slightly tinged pink. yet underneath the glow of the moonlight, he was still as tantalizing as the nighttime sky.

"she's been on a trip to italy these past few months," he softly replied, gazing down at you like your very own moon. "but she's also been texting me nonstop so that's something."

"well, at least she's not here right now."

"about that," jaehyun enunciated. "she's coming back here in a week."

you went silent and jaehyun could feel his heartbeat slowly but surely rising. were you upset that he'd just told you now? did knowing about seonha bother you? it's not easy for jaehyun to read people's emotions— he'd always been lacking with that category. the longer your silence, the tighter his chest got.

"will you be okay?"

like a sudden breath of warmth, your voice pierced through him and suddenly he can breathe again.

"do i have to protect you like last time?"

the teasing tone in your voice relieved him but at the same time it caused him to glare at you, feigning fake offense and you laughed at him. at least he knew you're not upset.

"i'll be fine, you don't have to worry," he said, giving you a smile of assurance. you detached your hand from his and decided to scoot closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder and he naturally found his arm around your waist. "but, enough about that— how was your day, miss y/n?"

"you don't wanna hear about my day. it's as boring as it could get," you reasoned, letting out a small yawn afterwards.

"i do want to hear," he pressed. "i don't mind if it's boring or not. i like listening to you speak."

he caught you off guard with that, to say the least, and you quickly snapped your head to face him. your mind concluded that it was a fatal mistake to do that since now your faces are mere centimeters apart, noses nearly touching. the cold air that was once biting at your skin was suddenly deemed nonexistent due to the sudden rising of the heat.

"a—alright," you stammered, diverting your attention to the sky instead. "if you fall asleep listening, then don't say i didn't warn you, jaehyun."

and so you went on about your day. starting from how you almost got late to your first job because jungwoo and donghyuck thought it was a good idea to barge into your house at four in the morning for a sudden non-sleepover sleepover. then you told him about the adorably gigantic dog you spotted while you were headed for lunch. and now you were talking about one annoying customer you had earlier in the bakery.

"there were five other people in line after her, but apparently getting her blueberry muffin to exactly a hundred-ninety degrees fahrenheit was much more important," you groaned, dropping your head back against the steel of the car. "and of course, i went and reheated one damned muffin just so she would stop complaining."

jaehyun swore he was listening to you. he was attentive— very attentive, and paid the utmost attention to any changes on your features— the way brows bunched up whenever you stop to think for a moment, the way your cheeks were slightly flushed and how you tried to hide it with your hair, the way your lips enunciated each vowel and each consonant and—

fucking hell, your lips.

halfway through your muffin story, his ears were suddenly muffled, his surroundings were a blur, and all he could think about was how your lips would feel against his.

"hyuck always tells me that i'm a bit of a pushover sometimes, and i'm starting to think he's right."

he could hear his heart ringing against his ears. you paused for a moment, sinking your teeth over the plush of your lip in the midst of thought and jaehyun felt like he was being driven into a dangerous corner.

"do you think i'm a pushover, jae?" your head jolted to face jaehyun and his breath was suddenly caught inside his throat along with the sudden thoughts of you overlapping with more thoughts of you, bringing his mind to a combustible state of disarray. "jaehyun? you alright there?"

"oh— um, sorry," he coughed out. "i got a bit distracted, uh, what— what were you saying?"

his fluster was not only demonstrated by the cracks in his voice, but also by the way his cheeks were flaring scarlet and how he refused to look at you.

"distracted by what exactly?" you questioned.

jaehyun was a smart man. having graduated earlier than his peers and landing such a respectable spot in the company at a young age, you'd think he'd be articulate in every situation thrown at him, but somehow he found himself tripping over his own words."will— will i sound stupid if i say i got distracted by you?"

oh my god.

"no no," you laughed, your heart suddenly caged inside an untamed whirlwind. you gently moved your left hand over his face, making him look into you. giddiness tugged at your cheeks, releasing an uncontrollable smile. "it's not stupid at all."

a simultaneous burst of dizzying bliss ruptured between the both of you— coming in the form of the identical beams on both of your faces, staring into each others' eyes as if the moon wasn't the brightest thing in the night.

and somehow, under the spectacle of a million stars,

you kissed.

it hadn't dawned on you that you'd waited for this moment to happen until it actually did. soft lips brushing against yours, rousing an unspeakable rush of heat. it was gentle at first— like the light tremors on the sea until the waves suddenly crashed onto you. his parted lips incessant against yours, leaving you in a buzz and on the brink of gasping for air.

until you felt him stop, abruptly pulling away from you with guilt ridden eyes.

"jae? is everything alright?"

"y/n, i— i'm sorry."

in the midst of your shared kiss, jaehyun realized something. and he couldn't bear the thought of it.

he had realized that he was in love with you.

so, so in love with you.

"i can't— i can't do this to you, y/n."

you felt a lump in your throat and you stared at him, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. was there something wrong— did you do something wrong? everything felt normal until now, everything felt right. but as you looked at him with tears threatening to spill, you'd thought that maybe none of this was right in the first place.

and maybe jaehyun had realized that, too.

"oh," you sucked in a breath, avoiding eye contact with him, and stumbled to get up from the ground. "right, of course. it— it would be damaging to your reputation if you're with me."

the icy breath of the air hit your face once you managed to stand up, the cold flooding your senses once more. "we both know that this wouldn't work out," you gazed down at him, only to see the glass stained heaviness in his eyes and you nearly broke down. turning your back at him, you swallowed, closing your eyes for a brief moment before choking out,

"i— i should go—"

"y/n, i love you."

you froze. everything froze.

"my reputation, my image— god, all of those disappear when i'm with you," jaehyun's trembling voice seeped into every corner of your mind, restricting the air from coming into your lungs. "i'm… i'm not an expert when it comes to this but there is no denying that i am in love with you, y/n."

slowly, you went back to face him. jaehyun stood there, bearing his heart to you. the wind brushing against his hair as he looked at you with mist in glazing over his eyes. it was hard to not just run into his arms, telling him that you were also stupidly in love with him, but you held your words back, waiting for him to finish.

"but... with my job and everything," he stutters out. "i—i won't be able to dedicate all of my time to you, i won't be able to take care of you like i should, i—

i can't make you happy, y/n"

"but you already do."

there was a strong gust, breathing against your skin. you felt your heart drop to your knees, a constricting grasp replacing it in your chest as you felt the tears well up even more like a dam itching to break.

"do you think i don't know that? yes, i know you're busy— i know you have a shit ton of responsibilities to the point where you'd probably suffocate from them, and—and i know that sometimes finding time to have a single fucking conversation with you is sometimes impossible," your breath hitched, nearly choking over your own words but you went on. "but that has never stopped you from making me feel happy, jae. because even a single second spent with you can make make me happier than the rest of my life combined, so don't ever say that you can't make me happy because for fuck's sake— jung jaehyun,

i'm at my happiest when i'm with you."

silence flooded. your breathing was scattered after all the things that you said, chest rising and falling in a repeated rhythm. jaehyun says nothing, only looking at you with an unidentifiable glimmer of heaviness in his face as he slowly walked towards you, closing in the space between you until it was practically insignificant. you could hear his heart beating.

he brings your face into his hands, not even realizing that you were crying until he gently wipes away the tears streaming down your cheeks. you look into him, his eyes pooling with oceans and oceans of emotions.

"i'm at my happiest when i'm with you, too."

a second kiss was shared that night— with a million stars watching over you.

gold painted canvas

the classic rich boy and poor girl love story but with less prejudice and more happiness

28 // make you happy

a/n: woah it took nearly 30 parts but at least it happened ;)) this took three days of utter procrastination but i hope you liked it jhhxjsjsjs

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scum-belina · 3 years

Note

Can I ask you what made you want kids? I'm not trying to be rude, just curious because you were like the only girl I followed who was staunchly of the child-free opinion and I really related to that and so was (selfishly) kind of dissappointed when you said you changed your mind lol. I'm the only girl in my family and friend group who doesn't want kids also so I just feel very isolated.

It's kind of hard to explain. All last year I was reflecting and dealing with A LOT of past trauma and things that were at the time very painful too. I was brutally honest with myself about myself and others. I prayed for healing, conviction, guidance, etc. and received all of it and then some. But i was still struggling with severe distress and discontentment bc I did not know what I wanted for my life, just what I DIDN'T want. I had what I thought was my dream life in my head, but it still never felt "right" but I clung to it desperately bc I needed SOMETHING to try and hope towards.

I finally, through gritted teeth, prayed that if their were any desires in my heart that weren't best for me, for them to be replaced with what IS best for me, and what my soul has always really wanted. The result? the next day I didn't want half the things I had been obsessing over and clinging onto for years. I suddenly just wanted to love, support, and nurture a family of my own.

This happened so gently to me I didn't even feel shocked by it, although I should have been bc ever since I was a toddler I found babies and kids annoying and often even repulsive. The idea of motherhood was utterly abhorrent to me until my mind changed last year somewhere in Autumn.

I suddenly had so much more clarity and I realized I found motherhood and kids abhorrent bc of all the absolutely abhorrent examples of motherhood I grew up around. Most of all my own mom messed me up most bc she WAS a nurturing, protective mom...but to a fault. Very quickly as a child she AND my dad became codependent on me to where I felt like I was their parent more than their child. It made me feel like I had already had kids and well I fucking resented them for that bc they were shit kids lmao.

Also I realized all the moms my age who are still so immature and name all their kids shit like "Naighleighy" Garagewort" or "Traxtyyn" and post 90 pics of their kid a day while somehow still neglecting them and screaming at them all day is NOT how moms are supposed to be. I feel like witnessing and experiencing all these poor examples of parenting and failed relationships and marriages have taught me what NOT to do now.

Now I want all the more to be wise and patient for the right man for me (if he even exists bc I am a WEIRD bitch idk how anyone could sincerely fall in love with me) marry, and have a family together. I'd be more than happy being a housewife or stay at home mom. I wouldn't be lazy by any means bc when I'm active, working, creating, and teaching I am thriving. Again, I just want to love, nurture, and support. Also entertain bc I love making people laugh more than anything.

I am no tradwife or whatever else cringe shit ppl are labeling themselves with these days. I'm just a woman who has finally begun to heal and realize what she wants for her life. I'm more confident and stable in my self-worth, body, identity, sexuality, than I ever thought I would be. Some joke it's just their "biological clock" that gives them baby fever, but it's not the case with me. This happened after some major wounds in my life healed. I want a family and to give them all the love I have.

Also I still find lots of babies and kids gross and annoying bc lbr here a lot of them just ARE. especially with all the idiots who still behave like they’re 15 out here having kids. I would love and like my kids but other ppls would still get on my nerves if they're just screaming booger goblins lol. Not that it’s the kids fault for acting that way. It’s the parents’ 100%

But please don't let me changing my mind get you down or make you not wanting kids any less a valid choice for you! You're your own person and it's up to you what you want in life. Parenthood is NOT for everyone. Don't let anyone shame you or pressure you about not having or having kids. That is something so major and so personal it's none of their business!

This post is embarrassingly long anon I'm so sorry. I hope it made some sense at least I still feel like I'm not explaining my change of heart in the most coherent way.

#and who knows I may not even have any if there's no man for me out there #which is one of the few insecurities/worries that still plagues my mind sometimes ngl #tw long post #listen...my life is too messed up I can't keep it short im too complex im a baumkuchen my layers don't stop

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yeongwvnhi · 4 years

Text

You and I on top of it all

This one is quite the brutal piece of work so proceed with caution and be mindful of the warnings. Do tell me if I missed something possibly triggering.

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Pairing - Oneus Hyung line (only one makes it) x fem reader

Genre - Angst, Suspense, Suggestive, Horror, Gore

Warnings - murder, violence, blood, weapons, language, death, injuries, guns, shooting, graphic descriptions of murder and violence, romanticizing these themes for the plot

Taglist - @twancingyunhoe @runaway-fics @bearseokie @kingleedo @malzenn

Word count - 3k

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It was 11pm and you were hurrying down the street to get back home. You weren't planning on being outside when it started. Last year still left you shaking in your boots, but this year you will turn the table and stop being afraid.

What exactly is it?

It is the purge. The day every crime is made legal and services like police, firefighters or paramedics aren't available.

Originally you were planning on just hiding out somewhere safe until the 12 hours were over but not this year. This time you wanted to let loose, go absolutely crazy and see where the night will take you. Maybe you'll find a companion or more? Maybe you'll die, who knows?

Back on topic.. Why were you even out this late? Simple. You bought some nice weapons for tonight. What were those weapons? An array of knives, a bat with spikes and even a damn katana. This time you wouldn't hold back.

A guy came your way and immediately changed course after seeing your array of weapons. This was exactly what you wanted people to do. Fear you, be scared for their life and just run as far away as they could from you.

Eyeing the clock above your TV in the living room while taking off your shoes, you realize that it's barely 11:20pm. The fun would have to wait.

With a shrug you move into your bedroom to put on tonight's outfit. You were going crazy tonight and no one would hold you back, not even your damn clothes.

You have carefully picked out your clothes a few days ago just for tonight. All black to blend into the night, your casual tight fitting jeans and shirt and your newly bought jacket. There you would store all the knives since it had a lot of pockets.

The sound of a notification from your phone made you stop examining yourself in your mirror and with an eye roll you go to check.

Hwanwoong: Hey Y/N, I know that you will be partaking in tonight's purge… I hope you won't die so I can see you again soon..

Your best friend has always been worried about you and everything that could happen.

You: I will be just fine, Woong, don't worry. You better be safe tho or I will kill you.

After you sent your reply, you didn't bother to check if he answered. You wouldn't be taking your phone with you tonight. Everything else besides your weapons will be staying in your apartment tonight… besides your keys, you decided to give them to your friendly neighbor since he would be waiting out the event tonight.

Once again your eyes find the clock and a small smile slowly crawls onto your lips. 11:30pm. Soon the fun would begin and you just couldn't wait to finally get your sweet, sweet revenge.

You secure your sword around your back with the holster and then take your baseball bat. These spikes were so sharp and you couldn't wait to see the damage they would cause.

The weight of your jacket slowly increased the more knives you put into the pockets and you were so full of adrenalin, to find the person who took everything from you.

11:45pm, the crazed smile slowly made its way back onto your lips. Just a little while.

You got up and put your also black leather boots on, tired of waiting for the chaos to unfold.

With the baseball bat in one hand and your keys in the other you exit your apartment. You lock the door and go to knock on your neighbor's door.

The man opens the door and you give him a less crazy smile upon seeing the fear in his eyes. "Hey Keonhee, don't worry i just came here to drop off my keys!" You say and hold up said object.

The taller guy visibly relaxes and smiles back at you. "You scared me there, Y/N"

"Sorry~" you chuckle and put your keys into his outstretched palm. "Please be safe, yeah?"

Keonhee chuckles nervously and nods. "You too"

"Oh I will" you reply, "I'm going to go now. I'll see you tomorrow at 12"

He closes the door and you hear several locks clicking shut behind it, one after another.

You swing the bat up and rest it on your shoulder, mindful of the spikes, and walk down the street. It was awfully quiet now and your gaze meets the giant digital clock on a huge building.

11:53pm

"Hey!" Someone calls after you and you halt in your steps. "Where are you heading to?"

You turn around and look at the guy. Tall, black hair and also full black attire. "Why would you wanna know? But I suppose you already know the answer judging from your choice of clothing"

He walks closer and you now fully see his features. He looks too good to be true. The black turtleneck sweater isn't helping your thoughts either. "You're right" he replies with a sinister smirk. "I'm also going to fuck up someone's life"

You immediately felt drawn to him, he looked just as crazed as you right now.

But that didn't mean you'd stay here any longer to chat away, no. It was almost time and you wanted to get your hands dirty.

So you give the guy an almost too nice looking smile and turn back around.

"Hey, where are you going?" He asks and you hear his fast paced footsteps approach you. "Don't just leave a conversation like that"

You chuckle and start swinging your bat around. "I don't really care about conversations right now, pretty boy"

The Guy scoffs, but you see his smirk in your peripheral vision. "So… are you out for someone special tonight? Or do you just want to blow off some steam?"

"Does it really matter?" You question in return and meet his eyes for a second. "Also, who even are you?"

"I'm Youngjo" He replies and shoots you a grin, this time less sinister. "And I guess it does? I could help you out"

He did have a point, maybe he would actually be of help. "Fine" you nod. "Someone-"

A loud alarm shakes the silence of the city, the purge has started.

The two of you immediately look at each other with an excited expression. "Fuck it, let's spill some blood" he says and grabs you by the wrist, dragging you right into the chaos of people running around left and right.

You manage to escape his grip and fasten your pace to match his.

"Out of my way!" Someone yells and you see a guy running straight at you.

No way you're having that shit tonight. "Fuck off!" You spit back and swing your baseball bat right at the guy's head.

Pretty much to his horror because he can't stop and runs straight into your death trap. His skull smashes against your spiky weapon and you feel his blood splattering onto your face.

Youngjo has stopped running the moment he heard you spitting back at that guy and witnessed the gory scene. He felt his heart skip a beat and met your eyes, both of you dazed.

"That felt so fucking good" You murmur and Youngjo nods eagerly. For that moment the two of you completely blended out the chaos around you.

Until there were gunshots, that's when you reacted and pulled him into an alleyway, hiding behind the wall to not get shot.

Youngjo cornered you against the wall, one hand beside your head for balance. He had his gaze fixated on your side profile while you were checking where the gunshots were coming from.

"Hey" The tall guy mumbles and your attention belongs to him this instant. "I never thought I'd think that watching a girl smashing a guy's head in would be this hot"

You click your tongue and roll your eyes, but can't help the smirk that appears slowly. "You're crazy"

Youngjo's head falls down and he breathes out a chuckle before looking you dead in the eye. "It would be boring if I wasn't, wouldn't it, sweetheart?"

You can't deny the tingling feeling you felt in your stomach at that and your free hand went up to the back of his neck. "Shut up"

"Make me"

"What the fuck are you doing?" A new voice interrupts the two of you. "Wait- Hyung?"

You turn to look at the guy, annoyance written all over your face for having interrupted the moment. "I fucking hate you for this"

The guy chuckles nervously and Youngjo leans away to stand at a normal distance. "Why are you here, Seoho? And where is Geonhak?"

"You didn't just ask me that" he retorts and holds up a bloody machete. "Obviously I'm out for blood tonight"

A shiver runs down your spine, the vibes that guy gives off are insane. Quite literally.

"Oh" Youngjo's mouth forms an o-shape. "I see. But now where is Geonhak?"

"Ah! Right" Seoho piques up and nods his head in the left direction. "He started chasing some weirdo who was about to get a bit too comfy with this girl"

"Still the nice guy even during a time like this, huh?" Youngjo laughs. "Anyway, we should continue our little fun game now, shouldn't we?"

You grin and pick up your bat. "We should just go as a group, covering more people n shit"

"What's your name?" Seoho asks you out of the blue, nodding at your suggestion.

"Oh, I'm Y/N" You reply before making your way out of the alley and onto the street. "And I see a group of people right up front"

"Let's spill some blood then, shall we?" Youngjo smirks.

The two guys follow you and you hear one of them clinking blades together.

"Hey you!" You shout and the group of four, three guys and a girl, look at you. "Wanna die?!"

"What are you gonna do, little girl?" One of the guys shouts back and you halt in your steps.

With a dark chuckle, you open your jacket and pull out a knife. "I'll fucking kill you" is your only response as you throw the knife at him. It connects with his thigh, making him scream in pain and fall to the ground.

"You have good aim, doll" Youngjo mumbles while passing by you. "Now I'll finish him"

"Leave some fun for me too!" Seoho whines and just runs at the group of people, slicing the girls throat with his machete with ease.

Her blood pours out of the massive gash and you hear her gurgling on the liquid.

One of the two unharmed guys squares up against Youngjo, but he's at a disadvantage in height.

Youngjo makes quick work of the guy, pulling out a knife from a pocket on his pants and stabbing him in the chest. He pushes the guy away from him and he collapses on the corpse of the girl.

The fourth guy must've ran away so it's only the injured man on the ground and your little group.

"Finish him! Finish him c'mon!" Seoho jumps around and you look at Youngjo, but he just nods towards the guy. Your sign to kill him.

"Too bad that you will die now, huh?" You say and lunge the bat right into his face, killing him right on the spot. "Bastard" You spit and pull out your knife from his thigh and put it back where you took it from.

"Jesus christ" Seoho murmurs and you look at him. "That was fucking hot"

You shake off the remains of the guy's brain from your bat. "Shut up" you hiss, slightly flustered. "We should find your friend instead"

"Right" Youngjo agrees. "Let's go"

He leads the way with Seoho and you following behind.

"So… are you out for someone special tonight?" Seoho asks and looks at you through his sharp eyes. "You look tense, darling"

"I probably won't find him anyways, I'm tense because I don't know if I will die tonight" You give him your answer and hold your bat just a little bit tighter. "So I'm going to use that as my fuel to create as much chaos as I can"

"I see~" He chirps and focuses back on Youngjo who's still leading the way.

After a bit more walking, the two guys spot their friend sitting next to a wall, gun in hand and blood on his hands and face.

"Geonhak, what the fuck happened" Youngjo asks him straight away and kneels in front of him.

"I killed that asshole, but I also accidently shot the girl. They're both dead" he mumbles, but a satisfied grin forms on his lips. "Now she won't suffer anymore"

"Hey get up, we gotta create more chaos!" Seoho urges and you exhale a breathy laugh.

"I think there are a lot of people in the inner city. It's getting louder the closer we get" You say and nod in the vague direction. "Let's go guys"

"Ooohh sure~" Seoho immediately agrees and Youngjo also looks pleased with your suggestion.

"Oh you guys brought a companion?" Geonhak asks and stands up. "What's your name pretty girl?"

You shake the hair out of your face and scoff at the compliment. "I'm Y/N. Now let's go!"

"I know a shortcut" Seoho exclaims. "It's just-"

"No! Your shortcuts are dangerous as fuck!" Youngjo rejects his suggestion.

"C'mon let's just go this way" you tell Seoho. "We can take your shortcut on our way back, alright?"

"Fine" He grumbles in response.

Your group quickly gets to the big commotion in the inner city and you just decide to let hell break loose.

Geonhak starts shooting whoever comes into focus, Youngjo aimlessly stabs people in his way and Seoho attacks everything in his way.

"Let's dance little lady" some weirdo says and faces you, pipe in his hand. "Got ya!" He yells and strikes at you.

You dodge in the last moment, swinging your spiky bat at the dude's face, making him stumble back in surprise. "You got a mean one there, hun. Would be a shame if it went out of your hands, right?"

"Shut up asshole" you hiss and and take another swing at him, this time grazing his arm with a spike and making it bleed.

"That hurt you stupid bitch" he spits with venom. "I'll end you"

"Good luck" you huff and take a step back.

"What-" before he can finish his sentence, you hear a gunshot and blood splattering everywhere.

"Nice shot Geonhak!" You shout and give the man a thumb up. "Saved my ass"

After that little exchange you quickly go on and just smash in people heads left and right.

One was a tough nut though.

"You've got some nerves, little girl" a tall man smirks after he smacked the bat out of your hands and a good distance away from you. "Attacking others from behind. Tch"

"Stop talking, bastard" you growl and pull out your katana, glad you took it with you. "I'll kill you"

"Try to~" he laughs and throws a punch, but you step aside at the last second.

"Go to hell!" You yell and swing your blade at him, slicing his cheek and leaving him in shock.

"You'll pay for that you damn bitch"

After that, a painful shout came from behind you and you heard Geonhak calling out Youngjo's name.

"Shit-" you go to turn around and leave this fucker behind, but he kicks away your legs and you fall to the ground.

"Fuck you" you huff in pain, the katana luckily still in your hand. That's when you see your three companions.

Geonhak has Youngjo's head in his lap and repeatedly smacks his cheeks to get him to wake up.

But he won't.

He's dead.

"Oh noo~ Did your friend die? What a shame" the man mocks and laughs.

You clench your hand around the handle of the katana and roll onto your back and thrust the blade right into his torso.

"What-" He coughs in shock before falling to the floor backwards.

You just stand up and run towards the guys now, falling to your knees next to Youngjo's lifeless body in Geonhak's lap.

"Who did this?" You ask, emotionless, eyes void of anything but rage.

"I did" Geonhak mumbles, hanging his head. "I wanted to shoot the fucker you were fighting, but Hyung caught the bullet"

You remain silent, but you see Seoho behind Geonhak going rigid. "You… killed Youngjo Hyung…?"

"It was an accide-"

Geonhak couldn't finish his sentence. Seoho slit his throat right there and the green haired man's blood splattered your already dirty face even more.

But you weren't fazed. You couldn't help him anymore anyways.

That's when you noticed just how quiet everything suddenly was, so you looked around and saw corpses upon corpses.

"When did this happen?" You ask and look at Seoho, his blank stare not bothering you at all as you stand up.

"I killed the last person before I saw you guys here" He answers and you step away from the two men on the ground, dead and bleeding out.

You heard Seoho walking up next to you. "So this is it? We go home after this and try to get our lives back together?"

"Not necessarily" he says, "we can stay together"

"What do you mean?"

"People who kill together, stay together" he explains and smiles. He actually looks cute and for a second you forgot that he's a serial killer.

But so are you.

"That sounds nice" you smile back.

"So now it's you and I on top of it all" He whispers and pulls you in close by the waist. "You're mine"

Your hands wander up to his shoulders and you move closer. "Only yours" you mumble against his lips and he closes the gap, greedily moving his mouth against yours. His grip on your waist tightens and pulls you impossibly closer.

You'll never forget this day.

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