Lookism. Character x reader

Funny indeed [yandere!JoonGoo x reader]

[very raw part of the old draft which I will probably never finish]

cw: violence, character death

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This is what he tells you, trying to hide an evil mockery behind a sweet smile, every time he makes you face the consequences of your, as he says, "disobedience."

How dare this bastard still smile ?

At your attempts to explain for the hundredth time that he has no right to limit you, he ust rolls his eyes and laughs softly. When you ask does he find it funny, he says: "Oh, nothing like that. It's just amusing to watch a stupid and helpless girl like you try to look serious," once again destroying your hope of a serious conversation.

This is what he usually tells you before he leans towards you with his glasses flashing and says in a condescending tone in which you can discern notes of an emerging threat, which he still tries to suppress: "Baby, I wouldn't do this if you were obedient! This is a forced measure, you know?" And then, "softening," he wrinkles his eyebrows in fake concern: "I love you so much, you know that, right? Would I limit you for no reason? I try to take care of you, cause i worry about you, do you understand that?"

- - - -

For a month, you were tormented by doubts, at night scrolling through the same ideas that frighten you yourself, but nevertheless give hope.

Somewhere a part of you, which did not harden under his influence and did not adopt his cruel cynicism, loomed cautiously on the periphery of consciousness, it seems, it is called conscience? But last of all, now you wanted to indulge in tormenting remnants of conscience, calling to think about morality.

A monster like this should only be treated appropriately.

Just killing him will not be enough, but still, you will take pity on him, because "we love each other, right?" You giggle, not because it seems funny, you yourself do not know why.

All the conclusions were made long ago, the decision came to mind a long time ago, although it remained unannounced.

- - -

Do this was easier than you expected. It looks like his cruelty really killed all the kindness in you. Haha.

Hide the knife first under the bed, when he was snuggling with you, then - under the pillow, when you exchanged wishes for good night.

Wait until he is fast asleep, while stroking his hair.

Draw the weapon in one precise motion.

Stick the knife into his peacefully heaving chest, pull it out and thrust it again, watching him flinch with sudden pain, open his eyes, emerging from sleep, trying to figure out what is going on.

A couple of seconds are enough for him to realize the situation. His eyes widen in rage - in the pitch darkness it seems to you that they flashed with evil lights. All you have time to do is to throw the knife into the corner of the room, not giving him a chance to take the weapon: if he gets it, it will be the end for you. Another second - you find yourself on your back, he hangs over you, his hand squeezing your thin neck, his heavy breathing turns into a gurgling wheeze when he hisses furiously: "Y/N, what the fucking hell?" His lips break into a wicked grin, his voice trembles from overflowing adrenaline and disbelief in what is happening. "It just can't be", he breathes out. Your ears are ringing. It can't be, but it's happening right now, right?

For the first time in a long time, you felt no fear of him. Even if he finds the strength in himself, despite the burning pain, to strangle you right now - you do not care, absolutely do not care. You were finally able to fight him back, that was spinning in your head.

"Of all people ... to die of YOUR hand? Yours, you fucking brat? How funny. Where did the determination come from in you, huh? "

This is really funny. Before, you would never have had the composure to harm someone, much less the courage to even try to resist him. Now, giving him a blank look, you do not feel fear or pity.

"Sorry, baby, - a sneering, malevolent grin involuntarily appears on your face, tortured by sleepless nights, - this is a forced measure, you know? "

Your words make him boil with irritation. He wants to say something else, but instead of words his mouth fills with blood, which he loudly coughs out, staining himself and you with dark spots, and he falls on his side, powerlessly collapsing on the sheets, quickly absorbing the dark liquid. In desperate oblivion he clutches the wounds with his palm, but this has no effect.

Pain digs into his mind, as does the realization that the end is near. He looks at you, squinting his eyes. His gaze bites into you with a sharp needle, but gradually grows cloudy and dim, along with how consciousness leaves him.

You raise yourself up on your elbows, sitting on the bloody sheets, and leaning your head back on the pillows. For a few more minutes he clings to life, his noisy breathing, interrupted by a cough, slows down. When he is completely silent, you close your eyes and exhale tiredly.

Two years of life under the yoke of his rigid rules. A month of anxious tosses and doubts. A week to hone your stab. And one night to end it all.

Ah, funny indeed.