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bruisedboys · 3 days ago

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knives out — namgyu x reader

summary! nam-gyu notices your nerves before hide and seek, and he offers to help you out. you don’t expect to actually enjoy what follows.

warnings! canon violence, weapons + blood, death, drugs. namgyu is lowkey manipulative and reader is very much compliant in the killing of other players

author’s note! hii okay so this is definitely darker than anything I’ve written before, it’s nothing crazy but just putting it out there! on the other hand, if ur reading this as a namgyu stan ur most likely a sick and twisted individual (affectionate) like me so.. warnings r probably irrelevant <3

fem!reader, 4.3k words back to navigation

You stare down at the knife in your palm. The blade glints in the light, and your hand shakes minutely. You feel sick to your stomach at the prospect of using the weapon. You’ve never actually killed anyone. You don’t know if you can do it. Before the games, you’d never even seen anyone die.

You glance around the room. There’s not much time left before the game starts. From where you’re sitting against the wall, you can watch as several players switch vests with each other for a better chance at surviving. You’ve already considered switching to blue — however, the idea of running from someone with a knife scares you more than holding the knife yourself.

As you scan the room, your eyes land on Nam-gyu. He holds the knife casually, strutting around the room and studying the players wearing blue vests with greedy eyes, as if he’s picking out his targets. The knife looks comfortable in his hand, like it belongs there.

You’ve been on Nam-gyu’s team for the majority of the games, and you’ve grown to trust him, at least more than you trust any of the other players here. He’s your friend, and sure, he’s a bit of an oddball, but you like him.

Still, the sight of him holding the knife so confidently creeps you out a bit.

Before you can look away, Nam-gyu spots you staring. He raises his eyebrows at you, and you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his mouth. He saunters over to you, twirling the knife in his hand as he approaches.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Nam-gyu says. He studies you with those dark, curious eyes of his, then squats so he can be at eye level with you. His mannerisms remind you of Thanos, who Nam-gyu’s taken to impersonating since he died. “You feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, lying through your teeth. You don’t want him to think you’re weak. You’re worried he won’t see you as valuable anymore if he knows how scared you are.

Nam-gyu eyes the knife in your hand. He takes his time dragging his eyes back up to your face. His heavy gaze makes it feel like he’s x-raying you.

“You sure you know what to do with that?” He asks, pointing his knife at yours.

You squeeze the handle of the knife to stop your hand from trembling, holding the blade flat to your chest, defensive.

“Yes,” you bite back.

Namgyu raises his eyebrows and leans back a bit. “Really? You’re not scared to use it, are you?”

You are, actually. You’re terrified. You’re strong, but you’re not really a fighter. You’re not even sure if you’ll be able to pin someone down long enough to use the knife on them. The thought of what will happen to you if you fail to kill someone fills you with a sickening sense of dread.

At your silence, Namgyu softens a little, leaning forward. As he moves, you spot Thanos’s chain glinting around his neck.

“Are you scared?” He murmurs in a low voice. His tone is odd — it’s somehow dangerous and soft at the same time. It stirs a feeling in your gut that you can’t explain.

You want to lie and tell him to leave you alone, but you hesitate. You know Nam-gyu cares about you in his own strange way. During lights out last night, a fight broke out. Nam-gyu had protected you from any harm. He hadn’t had to do much — you were on the attacker's side, and nobody on the other team paid you much mind — but the fact that he’d done anything at all meant something to you.

In a place like this, and with most of the rest of your team dead, he could’ve easily gotten away with leaving you for the sharks.

You find yourself nodding, though admitting your fear is the last thing you want to do.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’ve never killed anyone, Nam-gyu.”

Nam-gyu frowns thoughtfully. “Hmm. Well, I have,” he says, pointing the tip of his blade at his chest. “I killed Se-mi. You saw, didn’t you?”

You nod stiffly. Last night during the fight, he confronted Se-mi. You hadn’t seen much, but you’d heard her screams. You secretly hate that he did it — not that you were very friendly with Se-mi, but it was so unnecessary. You don’t dare voice your opinion.

Nam-gyu nods, satisfied. “I know what I’m doing, Y/N,” he drawls, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Do you want me to help you?”

You frown. “Help me?”

Nam-gyu nods, “In the game,” he says. “We can team up. That way we can work together, cover more ground. What do you think?”

You study Nam-gyu. He’s clearly not very stable, and the chain around his neck is just more evidence of the fact. You don’t know if he’s taken any of the pills yet, but you know he has been.

Though you know he cares about you, or at least cares enough to not kill you like he did Se-mi, you’re still not quite sure you can fully trust him.

But, what choice do you have? You’ll be useless on your own. You’ll die if you don’t kill anyone before the timer runs out. Nam-gyu’s strong, and he’s right — as awful as it is, he knows what he’s doing.

Nam-gyu sits and watches you. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart flutter in your chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re scared of him, or if he makes you nervous for another reason entirely.

You find yourself nodding. “Alright,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

At least you know there’s no chance of him hurting you — the guards have made it clear that the red team is forbidden from harming each other.

Namgyu’s lips stretch into a grin, and he points his knife at you, bouncing it in his palm.

“I knew you were a good girl,” he says, waving his knife at you approvingly. He straightens up, and sticks his hand out to you. “C’mon. The game’s starting soon.”

You take Nam-gyu’s hand and he pulls you to your feet, grinning all over his face. Around the room, players are making their last minute decisions. You consider, just for a second, switching to blue. But then you meet Nam-gyu’s dark eyes. And you realise, even if you did switch to blue, you’re not entirely sure that Nam-gyu wouldn’t come looking for you.

You’re better off sticking with red.

–

A child’s voice sings over the speaks.

“Hide, hide, it’s time to play, don’t let your clothes give you away.”

Nam-gyu feels as if he’s buzzing with energy. Oddly, he feels excited. He’s not sure if it’s the lasting effects of Thanos’s pills, or just the fact that he’s seen so much horror that nothing can phase him anymore, but he doesn’t feel a lick of fear.

On the contrary, you look terrified. You’re staring up at the timer as it counts down. It seems slower than ever to Nam-gyu, who just wants to get in there and get it over with.

He nudges you with his shoulder. “Hey. Are you alright?”

You turn to look at him. He’ll give it to you — you do quite a good job at pretending you’re not as scared as you feel. But Nam-gyu’s an expert in fear. He knows all the tells. He’s seen them in himself.

He watches your hand gripping the knife so hard your knuckles have gone pale. Yeah, he thinks. She’s terrified.

“I’m fine,” you say in a steady voice, sticking your chin out a bit.

Nam-gyu grins. You’re hot when you get like this. All defensive, like you think he can’t tell what you’re really thinking. You should know better.

“I was just asking,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever, Nam-gyu.”

Nam-gyu grins. He likes the way you say his name, how it rolls off your tongue like that when you’re annoyed, dripping with mirth. You both turn back to watch the clock again. Only one minute left now.

“Hide, hide, it’s time to play, don’t let your hair give you away.”

Nam-gyu’s heart thumps in anticipation. He watches you watch the timer, and, if he looks closely enough, he can see the confidence in your pretty eyes fade away with every passing second.

He’s not sure why you pretend — he doesn’t care that you’re scared. If you think it’ll make him like you less, you're dead wrong. If anything, he likes you better when you’re vulnerable. It gives him an excuse to protect you, just like he did last night.

With thirty seconds left on the clock, and your confidence clearly starting to wane, Nam-gyu leans in close.

He bends a bit so his mouth is near your ear.

“You don’t have to be scared, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

To his pleasure, Nam-gyu notices goosebumps erupt on the skin below your ear, and you visibly shiver at his proximity. He leans in closer, pressing his hand to the small of your back, pressing his fingertips to the dip in your waist.

“I’ll look after you,” he whispers, letting his lips brush the very tip of your ear. He can practically feel the heat radiating off your body.

Nam-gyu pulls away, gone as quickly as he’d come. You twist to look at him as he does, meeting his eyes.

“You mean that?” You ask quietly.

Nam-gyu scoffs. “Of course!” He exclaims, making you jump at his sudden outburst. He points at you with his knife. “What kind of man would I be if I let a pretty girl like you die on my watch?”

A high pitched beep blares from the speakers, alerting you both that the timer has reached zero. The singing stops abruptly, and a familiar voice sounds over the speakers.

“Red team, please enter the arena.”

Nam-gyu’s heart skips a beat. He grips his knife tighter. The red players start to move forward, entering the arena through the keyhole-shaped opening in the wall.

“Are you ready?” He asks you.

You nod, though Nam-gyu‘s eyes flicker to your hand — your fingers are trembling minutely. Nam-gyu huffs, and takes your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. You glance down at your joint hands, wary.

“Stop worrying,” Nam-gyu says impatiently, giving your hand a squeeze. “You’re gonna be fine. Let’s go.”

And with that, Nam-gyu strides forward, following the man in front of him through the keyhole and tugging you with him, your hand laced with his.

—

You follow Nam-gyu and the rest of the red team through the doors and into a room with a blue roof. Bright yellow stars adorn the blue background, and the whole room is bathed in cool blue light.

Several hallways split off from the main area, separated by grey brick walls. The tops of the walls are painted blue, too. You notice some hallways contain stone staircases going up or down, and you wonder just how many different hallways there will be in this place.

Nam-gyu’s still holding your hand, your shoulder brushing his as you move further into the room. The guards who’d let you in leave, pulling the doors closed behind them.

A child’s voice rings out over the speakers, “Ready or not, here I come!”

The timer on the far wall, set to thirty minutes, beeps once, and then instantly starts to countdown.

A panicked sort of murmur ripples through the group, and the red players start to separate off into the different hallways. Your heart thrums in your chest and you glance at Nam-gyu. He seems unfazed, not even a hint of fear in his eyes.

“We should get going,” you say.

You steal your hand away and detach yourself from him to peer down one of the hallways closest to you. It doesn’t go for very long before it splits off again, and you imagine it just keeps going like that forever.

You turn back to Nam-gyu. He’s fiddling with the chain around his neck, tugging it out from under his shirt. He pulls out the silver cross and cradles it in his palm.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching him as he opens up the cross.

Nam-gyu takes out one of the pills and pops it into his mouth.

“It’s, uh… just a little something to boost my confidence and strength,” he says, shrugging as he chews on the pill. “Do you want one?”

He holds the cross out to you. There’s only three or four pills left — you’re not sure what he’s planning to do once they’re all gone.

You shake your head. “No.”

Nam-gyu raises his eyebrows, “Are you sure? It’ll help your nerves, sweetheart.”

For a moment, you’re tempted. Could the pills really calm your nerves? You could sure use a nerve killer right now. But then you remember how Thanos had acted every time he’d taken one of the pills. He was confident, sure, but his confidence could’ve got him killed several times.

You’d rather keep your nerves if it means being clear headed.

“No,” you say again. “I’m okay.”

Nam-gyu shrugs, then flips the cross shut and tucks it back into his shirt.

“Your choice, pretty. You can beg me for one later, if you want,” he says, winking at you before gesturing down a random hallway with his knife, “Come on, follow me. Let's go kill half of humanity!”

—

Your feet thunder against the dirt floor as you run, following closely behind Nam-gyu. His movements are erratic, and he’s fast — you’re not sure if that’s an effect of the pills or not, though his gleeful, manic laughter definitely is.

It bounces off the walls as he chases a player from the blue team. You follow hot on Nam-gyu’s heels, desperate not to lose him in this maze of an arena. It’s taken you a good five minutes to even find a blue player, what with all the twists and turns you’ve encountered. Once you found him, he took off running, and it’s taking all the energy you’ve got to keep up with Nam-gyu as he chases him.

You and Nam-gyu round a corner to find the path splits into two. The blue player you’d been chasing is nowhere to be seen.

“I’ll take this one,” you say, pointing down the hallway closest to you.

Nam-gyu hesitates. He’s breathing hard, his chest heaving. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’ll scream if I find him.”

You take off down the hallway before Nam-gyu can protest. It curves around a corner, then another, and then you spot the blue player at the end of the hallway, disappearing through a green door.

“Found him!” You shout over your shoulder, sprinting hard so as not to lose track of the man you’re pursuing.

You don’t have time to check if Nam-gyu’s heard you. You reach the door and throw it open. To your surprise, the man stands with his back against the colourful wall, trembling. You glance around — there’s no way out. You’ve cornered him.

The man puts up two trembling hands. “Please,” he begs. “Don’t kill me.”

You set your jaw. You don’t dare tell him you’re about as scared as he is. If you can pretend for long enough, Nam-gyu will find you, and you’ll let him finish the job.

You hold out your knife and step over the threshold. “Don’t make this difficult,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady.

The man eyes the knife in your hand, the blade glowing in the pale light. You know what he’s thinking, because you’re thinking the exact same thing. He’s bigger than you, and he could overpower you, even with your advantage. He could take the knife from you and use it himself.

He could kill you.

As soon as the thought hits you, you grit your teeth and lunge at him. No time like the present, you think bitterly, and swing your knife at him in a wide arc.

Unfortunately, he must’ve seen it coming, because he brings his hand up and slams it hard into your forearm. You cry out, your grip going loose on your knife. It clatters across the floor, landing in the corner of the small room.

Your heartbeat turns frantic. The man pushes past you and lunges for your weapon. You lunge for the knife as well, but you’re too slow — he gets there first. He whirls on you, knife in hand, and pounces, knocking you onto your back.

The man pins you down with his knees on either side of your hips. He uses both hands to grip the knife and brings it down towards your throat.

Frantic, your hands shoot out to grab both his forearms, using all your strength to push back, stopping him from sinking the knife into your throat.

“Nam-gyu!” You scream out, directing your voice out the open door, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. “Nam-gyu!”

Your opponent grunts with effort as he pushes the knife lower. You hold him off as best you can, but soon, you feel the steel tip of the knife ghosting against the hollow of your throat.

Sweat drips down your brow. Your throat feels suddenly constricted, and you wonder if this man’s face is going to be the last thing you see before you die.

Just when you think you can’t hold on any longer, a figure appears and rams their fist into your opponent's side. The man cries out, releasing both you and your knife as he falls to the side, clutching his ribs.

You sit up, gasping, to find Nam-gyu standing over the man, knife in hand, its blade stained red with your opponent’s blood. The man on the floor groans, clutching his wound.

“Nam-gyu,” you say, pressing your hand to your throat. It still feels constricted, but your fingers come away free of blood. You could cry with relief.

You watch as Nam-gyu kicks the man in the side, right in the spot where he’s just stabbed him. He groans, rolling onto his front.

Nam-gyu glances at you.

“Hey,” he says casually, nodding at you. There’s a dangerous look on his eyes that you can’t quite read. He looks mad, almost crazed. Though his eyes soften as he asks, “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “No,” you say, timid.

“Good.”

Nam-gyu drops his gaze to the groaning man on the floor, and his eyes turn cold again. He chuckles cruelly at the man’s pain, then kicks him so he’s lying on his back.

The man tries to make a run for it, scrambling up onto his hands in a panic, but Nam-gyu is too quick for him. He pins him down just like you were a moment ago, knees on either side of the blue man’s torso. He uses his hands to hold the man’s forearms down.

“Thought you could get away with killing her, huh?” Nam-gyu growls. The man struggles, whimpering now, but Nam-gyu’s grip stays firm. “Not on my watch. You try that again and I’ll kill you. Oh, wait a minute. I was already going to!”

Nam-gyu bursts into high pitched laughter, throwing his head back gleefully.

The man struggles, his face contorted in fury and fear alike. “You—”

Quick as a flash, Nam-gyu shoots his hand out and covers the man’s mouth, bringing his knee up to pin the man’s forearm down.

“Shhh,” Nam-gyu tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The man just whimpers in response, unable to move or even speak. You can see the realization in his eyes. He’s going to die, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Nam-gyu meets your eyes over his shoulder

“Come on,” he says, and it’s alarming how much softer his voice gets when he addresses you. The stark contrast should disturb you, but it only makes your stomach flutter a bit. Nam-gyu gestures with his head for you to join him. “Come help me finish the job.”

You retrieve your knife off the floor and stumble forward, standing hesitantly at the man’s side. Nam-gyu nods for you to kneel.

“Kneel down, sweetheart,” he says. “We can do it together, it’ll be easier.”

You obey, dropping to your knees, feeling a bit like you’re stuck in a trance.

“Hold his arm for me?” Nam-gyu asks.

You do as he indicates, pinning down the man’s arm with your knees so Nam-gyu can free up his knife hand. He flicks his hair back out of his face with his free hand, then meets your eyes.

“You ready?”

You swallow. You don’t dare to look at the man you’re about to kill. If you meet his eyes, you’re afraid you’ll chicken out.

You nod. “Okay.”

Nam-gyu grins at you. Keeping a firm hold on his captive’s mouth, Nam-gyu brings his knife to hover over the man’s chest, the tip brushing his blue vest. You follow, directing your own knife at his chest in the same way.

“On three,” Nam-gyu says firmly. “Ready?”

Despite yourself, you glance at the man. His eyes are panicked, his forehead shining with sweat. He seems to plead with you with his eyes. Your heart stutters, but you just ignore it and grit your teeth. You don’t have a choice.

“Ready,” you nod.

Nam-gyu tightens his grip on his knife. “One. Two. Three.”

You hold your breath, slam your eyes shut, and drive the knife down with both hands, pushing as hard as you can. Warm blood splatters all over your face, and the man struggles desperately in your and Nam-gyu’s joint grip.

“Push harder,” Nam-gyu commands, and you obey, driving the knife deeper, your heart a riot in your chest.

After a few moments, the man stops struggling. His body goes limp. You peel your eyes open, heart slamming against your ribcage.

The man is dead. A patch of red blood colours his vest purple, the colour creeping out slowly as you watch. Nam-gyu rips his knife free of the dead man’s chest. You do the same, feeling somehow horrified and exhilarated simultaneously.

Your blade is coated in blood. There are flecks of it splattered all over your hand and both your sleeves, and when you look at Nam-gyu, it’s speckled all over his face.

He grins at you, all Cheshire-cat like.

“Good job, pretty,” he says. “You did so well.”

You swallow hard. Your veins pump with an energy that you can’t quite explain. Your heart thuds with adrenaline, and oddly, you don’t feel scared anymore. The sight of Nam-gyu, who’s just helped you commit murder, should disturb you. But something about the way he looks covered in blood, his hair messy and his chest heaving, makes you feel exhilarated.

“Thanks,” you manage through heavy breaths. You push your hair out of your face, your skin sticky with sweat and blood. “Do you think we passed?”

Nam-gyu frowns. “I don’t know.” He glances down at the dead body, two matching knife wounds mutilating its chest, and he shrugs. “We did only kill half a guy each.”

“You think we have to kill someone else to pass?” You ask, though you already know the answer. And it doesn’t horrify you nearly as much as it should.

Nam-gyu nods. “Seems like it.”

He gets up with a grunt, stepping over the body, then holds his hand out to you. You take it, letting him pull you to your feet. You find you don’t mind much the idea of taking out another player, especially with Nam-gyu’s help. You’re sure you’ll be able to find another of the blue team quickly, and with the two of you combined, it should be easy to take them out. Then you can finally get out of here, you and Nam-gyu both.

You brush yourself off and use your vest to wipe your knife clean.

“You sure he didn’t hurt you?” Nam-gyu asks darkly, watching you closely.

You shake your head. “He didn’t get the chance, you came just on time. Thank you for saving me.”

Nam-gyu just looks at you for a moment. Then he reaches out, taking your jaw in his hand. He thumbs the corner of your mouth, dragging the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. His touch makes you shiver.

“You’ve got blood all over your face,” he says in way of explanation, pulling his hand away to show you his thumb smeared with blood.

Oddly, you miss his touch as soon as it’s gone. “So do you,” you say.

Nam-gyu shrugs, then brings the pad of his thumb to his mouth, licking it clean.

“Makes you look hot,” he muses, giving you a quick once over.

His gaze and his words make your skin buzz with desire, worse when he moves forward, stepping into your space. His proximity has your heart catching in your throat. He looms over you, freckles of blood painting his pale skin, his dark hair falling into his face, and his eyes boring into yours with so much intensity you’re surprised you don’t buckle at the knees.

“Don’t go running off like that again, alright?” He murmurs in a low voice. He brings a hand to cup your face again, pushing the tips of his fingers to the space below your ear. “Stay close to me from now on.”

You nod, feeling dazed. He’s so close he could kiss you, and by the look on his face, you’re half convinced he will.

“Okay,” you say, breathless.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, dragging his thumb across the apple of your cheek, and you wonder if he knows the extent of the effect he has on you. He must. You can see it in his smirk.

“You ready to go kill someone else?” He asks.

You nod. You’re not scared anymore. The fear has dispersed, leaving only a fluttering of nerves in your chest. Though, they’ve got nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with Nam-gyu.

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed ᡣ𐭩

#reblogging this bc it feels like some of my best work and it is NOT getting the recognition it deserves #where is nam gyu nation … are u all dead or what

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bruisedboys · 3 days ago

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I fear I’m still desperately in love with kang daeho like I want him so bad

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bruisedboys · 4 days ago

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nanami definitely loves to manhandle you. at first it was instinct—just practical. moving you out of the way during missions, catching your wrist when you’re about to do something dumb, steadying you with a firm hand on your lower back. it’s just efficient, he told himself. just muscle memory from years of combat.

but then he started noticing things.

like how you always go a little quiet when he effortlessly lifts you off the couch to make room. how your breath catches when he grabs your waist and pulls you back against him without warning. how you don’t complain when he hooks an arm around your legs and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. in fact… you giggle. every single time.

and now? oh, he’s shameless with it.

pressing his palm to the back of your neck to guide you through crowds. pulling you into his lap without asking. adjusting your posture by nudging your thighs apart, or pushing between your shoulder blades with two fingers until you sit straight like he wants. he picks you up when you’re being bratty. pins you down when you’re squirming too much. drags you closer just because you’re sitting too far away.

he doesn’t say anything about it, but there’s always that little satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth whenever you melt into his hands. because he knows you like it. and the fact that you trust him enough to let him move you around like that?

yeah. it does something to him.

“you could’ve just asked, y’know,” you tease one day, after he catches you sneaking cookies before dinner and literally hoists you over his shoulder like you’re being arrested.

“i could have,” he agrees calmly, walking off with you dangling upside down, “but don’t you like this better?”

and god, the way you squeal when he slaps your ass once for good measure— he’s never going to stop.

#obsessed with this I need him

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bruisedboys · 4 days ago

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my stomach hurts so bad

#actually feel like someone’s stabbing my stomach from the inside #before u ask yes I’m on my period #sorry I can’t stop using reaction pictures they’re so funny #it’s my newest bit

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bruisedboys · 5 days ago

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I want to show my hair to u guys so bad 😕😕

guys I did the thing (got bangs)

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bruisedboys · 5 days ago

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guys I did the thing (got bangs)

#I think I love it #emphasis on think #no I’m kidding it looks good hehe

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bruisedboys · 5 days ago

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I’m getting it cut today….

guys okay so I really need a haircut bc my hair is so boring rn.. I want to keep most of my length bc I’ve been growing it out for ages and I love having long hair, but I want to do something interesting because I’m so bored with my appearance atm </3 what do we think about bangs + layers … for context I have dark brown wavy hair, pretty similar in texture/length to jenna’s in the third pic

I’ve had curtain bangs before but I think I’d prefer actual bangs cos they’re sm cuter (even though they’re probably harder to style). I have had real bangs before but I was like 14 and the hairdresser cut them weird <//3 anyways what do we think!

#wish me luck!!!!!#I’m so nervous for some reason </3 #like I’ve been thinking about it all week and now I’m doubting myself #whatever guys yolo am I right

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bruisedboys · 5 days ago

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guy who is stuck in a timeloop but is too socially anxious to bring it up to anybody or change their routine just in case it turns out they're mistaken. like yeah you're pretty sure that it's been november 3rd for two weeks now but idk maybe that's the depression talking. it's fine.

#me I fear

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bruisedboys · 5 days ago

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(guy who literally has easy access to painkillers voice) ough,,, everything aches,,, ouch, if only,,, there was something i could do to stop this,,,,,, guess ill just put up with it,,,,

#me and my headache against the world

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bruisedboys · 6 days ago

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fighting chance — kang daeho

daeho helps shy!you feel a little less alone in the games. (set in s2 so no spoilers for s3)

part 1 | part 2

note: hii um I wrote this in one sitting so if it’s bad.. that’s why lol. also! I’d love any requests you have for this pairing, I’m obsessed with them already hehe

kang daeho x shy!fem!reader, fluff + hurt comfort, 1.6k words

Your hands wont stop shaking.

You squeeze them together to stop the trembling, trying not to show how horribly frightened you are. The chaos that was the aftermath of the first game has worn off. You should have calmed down by now, as has every other player in the room, but you can’t seem to stop shaking. Especially now that the vote has been settled, and the majority has voted to stay for another game.

You’re stuck here, at least until the next game is over.

You glance down at the red X velcroed to your chest. You’re certain you made the right decision — no matter how much you need the money, and you really do need it, you weren’t willing to risk your life again. Though you suppose your vote doesn’t matter much now, anyway.

The line moves forward and you follow the man in front of you, staring at his back to avoid eye contact with the other players around you. The masked guards are giving out food, and while you’d prefer to hide in between the bunks somewhere, your stomach aches with hunger.

You can’t stand being around this many people at once. You’re terribly shy at the best of times.

“Are you feeling okay, miss?”

You jump, whipping around. Someone’s tapped you on the shoulder from the line next to yours. It’s Player 388 — a tall man with longer hair, stands right next to you in his line. You remember his face — during Red Light, Green Light, you’d been standing near him and he’d grabbed you, letting you duck behind him and use his body as a shield. You would’ve thanked him, you should’ve, but you’ve been far too shaken up since then.

He looks concerned. You don’t like the earnestness in his gaze, it makes you all sorts of nervous. You nod vigorously, if only to get him to stop looking at you like that.

“I’m okay,” you manage, though your feeble voice suggests otherwise.

Player 388 frowns. “Are you sure? Are you feeling unwell?”

You must be pale in the face, or maybe you look like you’re about to throw up. You sure feel like it. You shake your head. “No, I’m—“

Someone behind you clears their throat and shoves you forward a little. You stumble, and look up to realise you’ve reached the front of the line. You’re face to face with a masked guard.

He holds out your food without a word.

“Sorry,” you mumble to the woman behind you who’d pushed you.

You don’t notice Player 388’s gaze lingering on you as you quickly take your food and book it out of there, your face hot and your heart thudding. If the death games aren’t enough, you’re sure your nerves are going to kill you one day.

You make your way to the back of the room, to a small nook between the beds where you’d been hiding before you lined up for your food. Only, your spot’s been taken by a trio of older men who don’t look like they want to be disturbed. One of them raises a brow at you, eyeing you up and down.

You suppose you look quite weak, with your trembling hands, your food clutched to your chest. You’re surprised your knees haven’t started to tremble.

You mumble an apology and turn on your heel, searching for another spot to hide yourself away. There aren’t many left. You’d been one of the last to get your food, too frightened to emerge from your hiding spot until you knew it was absolutely safe. Most of the bunks are full now, and the players have started to group together, most likely forming alliances. You, on the other hand, are very much alone.

You’re considering doing something absurd like sliding under one of the bunks to hide, when you spot Player 388. He’s settling in the corner of the room, but he’s looking right back at you, something like concern etched into his face. You’re about to look away when he lifts an arm and waves you over.

Should you go? You don’t know if you can trust him — you’re pretty certain you saw him vote blue. Still, he’s the only person who’s been kind to you in this place so far. The only person who’s spared you even a glance.

Your feet make your decision for you. You’re moving before you can stop yourself. You cross the room to where he’s sitting, climbing a few metal steps to get to his bunk, your knees knocking together as you climb.

Player 388 smiles at you as you approach.

“You want to eat with me?” He asks. He shuffles over and pats the spot next to him. “Come, sit.”

You pause. What if he tries to hurt you? Or trick you? Well, you’re here already, aren’t you? And he’s been nice to you so far. You sit down before you can change your mind, pulling your legs in so as not to take up too much space.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, ducking your head. Embarrassment warms your face.

Player 388 shrugs good-naturedly and starts to eat. Your knee bounces uncontrollably, but you ignore it, desperate to look anything but weak. You open your container of food, pulling back the lid to reveal a small meal of rice, sausage, greens, and fried egg.

You blink. For some reason, and despite your hunger, the sight of it makes your stomach turn. It looks like the lunchboxes you used to eat as a kid, something your mother would’ve made you. She’s gone now, and you suddenly miss her very much. Your heart starts to climb up your throat. What are you doing here? You’re going to die in this place, surrounded by strangers. Your last moments will be spent with people you don’t even know.

You start to panic, your heart thud thud thudding it’s way up to your throat. You press your palm to your chest in a poor attempt to calm yourself. Your hands are shaking again, you notice absentmindedly.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Player 388 puts his food down and reaches out, moving to take your wrist in his hand.

His fingers brush your skin and you jolt away instinctively, clutching your hand to your chest. 388 looks worried, his brow furrowed, his eyes doe-like as they bore into yours, but he puts his hands up as if in surrender.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says slowly. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you, I swear.”

You nod. “I…I’m sorry. I know you won’t.”

Do you, though? You’re honestly not sure. You lower your hand, rubbing at your thigh roughly with your palm.

“I’m… jumpy,” you explain poorly.

Player 388 nods. “It’s okay.” He says again, soft.

He reaches for you again, and this time you don’t jerk away. He slides his hand over your bouncing knee firmly, the pressure of his hand stopping your anxious tic. His hand is warm through your trackpants.

He smiles, and the look in his eyes is so kind it almost makes you cry. “What’s your name?”

You blink away the beginnings of tears. You won’t cry, not now.

“Y/N,” you manage.

Something about the way he looks at you is calming your nerves in mere seconds. You suppose it’s not very smart to let your guard down in a place like this, but he seems so sweet. Besides, if you’re going to die soon anyway, what does it matter? He might as well know your name.

“Y/N,” 388 repeats, like he’s testing it out. Then he nods firmly, satisfied. “It’s pretty. Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Daeho, Kang Daeho.”

He removes his hand from your knee and holds it out for you to shake. You take his hand in yours for a moment, his palm warm and calloused, yours embarrassing clammy.

Despite this, Daeho smiles at you, tilting his head to the side like a puppy.

“I won’t hurt you, okay?” He says reassuringly, and you find yourself believing him. How could you not, when he says it like that?

Daeho lets go of your hand, and takes up his food again.

“Are you going to eat?” He asks you, glancing at your untouched food. “You’ll feel better if you do.”

You wonder to yourself if he’s only being nice so he can take advantage of you later. You decide you don’t really care.

“Yes,” you nod, picking up your spoon.

You scoop up a spoonful of rice. Your hands aren’t trembling anymore, though your heart is still a riot. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re scared, or because the handsome man sitting at your side is being so sweet to you.

You manage to spoon the rice into your mouth and swallow it without throwing up, and Daeho’s right, you do feel better, even after only one spoonful. You manage a few more, and then Daeho opens your water bottle for you, and after a few sips you feel infinitely better.

Daeho watches you carefully out of the corner of his eye while you eat. When you’re halfway through your food, you turn to him.

“Thank you, Daeho,” you say shyly. “And for, um, protecting me in the first game, as well.”

Daeho grins, graciously ignoring your stuttering. He’s got a pretty smile.

“No problem, Y/N,” he says.

You watch as he takes a swig of water. He’s oddly charming in the way he moves and speaks, and you can’t help staring a bit.

“Stay close to me from now on, okay?” He adds, setting his water bottle down. “I’ll look after you.”

You nod, turning back to your food. It’s not long before you and Daeho notice the men just behind you discussing what the next game will be, and one of them mentions dalgona.

Daeho perks up at this, and practically jumps to join their conversation, tugging you with him to listen in. You realise, with a rush of hope, that the man who’d mentioned dalgona is Player 456. He’s apparently done this before, and he’s the reason most of you made it through the first game.

Between Player 456, who seems to know what he’s doing, and Daeho, who really does seem intent on looking after you, you realise you might just have a fighting chance in these games after all.

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated as always x

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bruisedboys · 6 days ago

Text

your cute coworker clark overhears your conversation with lois, and takes it upon himself to get you some of your favourite things. requested here !

clark kent x fem!reader, 1k words (not proofread oops)

Clark likes watching you.

Not in a creepy way, mind you. It’s just, you’re really pretty, and he likes the way you talk with your hands, and how you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re concentrating. You’re always wearing the loveliest outfits, soft cardigans and pretty jewellery, and your hair is such a nice colour, and not to mention, your desk is situated right near the window, so for an hour or two a day, your features are bathed in golden sunlight, and you look even more like an angel than usual.

He supposes it is a bit creepy of him. But it’s not like he can help it. You’re totally mesmerising. Besides, his own desk is all the way on the other side of the room — it shouldn’t be humanly possible for him to see all the details of you so clearly, but he’s Superman. He can see and hear everything you do, even from this far away. He’s glad for it, too, otherwise you’d have called out his staring problem months ago.

“Sunflowers are too yellow,” you’re saying to Lois, passionate in your discussion about flowers and which kind is the best to receive. Clark’s been listening in, for research purposes. “And roses are too red.”

Lois laughs, “You can get roses in other colours, you know.”

“I know,” you say defensively, sticking your chin out at her. “But I’ve only ever gotten red. They’re so boring.”

“Well, what flowers do you like?” Lois asks, sounding amused, and Clark perks up.

“Hmm,” you tap your chin thoughtfully. Then, after a moment of thought, “I like lilies. The pink ones are so pretty.”

That’s how Clark ends up late to work the next day, a big bouquet of pink and white lilies clutched in his hand, their stalks strangled in his nervous grip. The cellophane crinkles against his suit as he weaves through bustling colleagues towards his desk. In his other hand is a brown paper bag, still warm, smelling of sugar and almonds.

Clark’s surprised, and a bit alarmed, to find you already standing at his desk, poring over your notebook. His heart suddenly picks up speed, and he considers turning tail and running the other way, but you look up as he approaches. Too late.

“Oh, Clark, you’re here. I just wanted to ask you about—“ You stop short as your gaze lands on the flowers cradled to his chest. You raise a brow, “Who’s the lucky girl?”

Clark feels suddenly really nervous. He wishes he could wipe his sweaty palms on his suit jacket, but his hands are full. He swallows.

“Um,” He starts lamely. His glasses start to slip down his nose and he pushes them back up with the hand holding the flowers. “You?”

You blink at him, looking understandably confused. “Huh?”

Clark flounders for a long moment. This is not going how he’d hoped it would.

“Uh.” He clears his throat and steels his nerves. “They’re… they’re for you, honey.”

He offers the flowers to you. Your features are still screwed up in skepticism, and Clark is immensely grateful when you take them from him, your fingers brushing his as you go.

“Oh.” You gaze down at the flowers, then back up at Clark, blinking rapidly. Clark wonders if you’re as nervous as he feels. He doubts it. “What for?”

Clark’s not really sure himself. He doesn’t know why he got them, he just knows that he likes you, and you like lilies, and maybe the logic got a bit lost in the process, but sue him for thinking you deserve nice things.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure. No reason, really,” he rubs the back of his neck with a warm hand. “I just thought you’d like them. Do you?”

You nod vehemently. “I love them, Clark. They’re so pretty, how’d you know lilies are my favourite?”

Clark hesitates. He’s not about to tell you he’s been listening in on your conversations. One, it’s definitely borderline creepy, and two, Clark Kent isn’t supposed to have super hearing.

He just grins, sheepish. “Dunno,” he says. “Just a lucky guess. I got you this, as well.”

He holds out the paper bag before he can psyche himself out. You put the flowers down on his desk, gentle as ever, and take the bag from him, opening up the top and peeking in.

“An almond croissant?” You say, sounding surprised and pleased at once.

Your shoulders start to creep towards your ears, and you bite the inside of your cheek like you’re trying not to smile too big. Clark knows almond croissants are your favourite. He heard you raving to Jimmy about the ones at the bakery down the street last week.

Before Clark can give you another lame explanation for his conveniently suitable gifts, you surge at him, throwing your arms around his neck with a pleased giggle. Clark, startled, catches you with his hands on your waist. His heartbeat goes suddenly frantic.

“Clark,” you gush, and his name sounds unbelievably sweet in your mouth. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know you skip breakfast most days,” he says, sheepish and a little bit panicked. His face feels like it’s on fire, worse when you pull back and smile at him like he’s hung the sun. “I figured you’d be hungry. I was going past the bakery, anyway. It’s no big deal.”

He’s rambling, but he can’t help it. You’re so close, and your smile is bruising.

You give him an exasperated look. “You’re downplaying it. Almond croissants are my favourite!” You steal your arms back from around his neck and hit him on the chest gently. He doesn’t feel a thing, but it’s cute anyway. “What are you, psychic?”

Worse, Clark thinks. He shrugs. “I told you. Lucky guesses.”

You squint at him, and Clark feels the heat of a million suns on his skin under your gaze. He almost spills his guts right then and there, but before he can, you break into a big smile.

“You’re cute, Kent,” you say decidedly. Before Clark can react, you push up onto your tiptoes, press a hand to his chest, and kiss his check sweetly. “Thank you.”

Clark goes a bit blind. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam gushing out of his ears right now. He’s gotta do this more often if you’re gonna react like that.

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