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eureka-its-zico · 1 year

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Winterfall

Synopsis: When you thought of your life, Glenview Psychiatric Hospital was the last place you thought you’d end up. What could be weirder than calling a place like this home? Finding people who remind you that, sometimes, the messiest parts of who we are can be the best parts of us too.

Pairings: Christian Yu x Reader x Jay B x Reader (It’s a love triangle, y’all)

Series: ongoing

Word Count: 5186

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, mental health issues, mental disorders, slight violence, sexual themes

A/N: This is a hard one to post. I’ve had this in my WIPs for over seven years. I’ve rewritten it multiple times. Consider if this was a series, I was willing to share. As someone who suffers from BPD II and PTSD, it felt strange to dive into mental health. In a way, I felt like I needed a safe place to get it out. To share. This fic isn’t meant to be sad. It’s meant to be about growth. The journey of mental health can be a messy one, but it doesn’t have to hinder our own growth. Our sadness does not define us. If I ever miss anything in the warnings for chapters, please let me know and I’ll fix it ASAP! This fic is loosely based off of one of my favorite films, Girl, Interrupted. And remember, if you you ever need to talk: Im here.

Shout out to my bestie @deadneverlander for always being the better half in our clownery. I wouldn't be able to do half of this without you.

There was something about the bleakness of winter that seemed to make countless people’s bones ache for the warmth of summer. Their loneliness is somehow made more apparent by rain clouds and negative degrees, turning thoughts into reminiscent scenes of a doomsday film.

You’d always claimed that fall was your favorite season because the vast spectrum of your sadness didn't match the heat of summer. Sure, you loved the possibilities of hot cocoa, warm fires, ridiculous horror, Christmas films, and the first sight of snow. Somewhere along the way, however, came the anxiety of holiday dinners. Where the comfort you’d found in overcast skies turned sinister with repeated looks that reminded you that you were the black sheep; the odd man out with another year of nothing to show.

Fall no longer meant binges on shows and breaks from the endless routine that was work and school. It meant laying in the snow until your body heat forced it to melt underneath you, seeping into the fabric of your clothes to leave your nerves numb and transparent like ice. Your mind silently hoped it would be enough to extinguish the agony that blossomed in your chest.

Jackets were no longer marked for warmth, but strictly to hide your struggle to feel anything past the chasm that’d grown in the past couple of months: to bleed out the parts of you that didn't belong. It wasn't a surprise it's what landed you a one-way ticket to the cozy room inside a psychiatric hospital. Maybe that's just what happens when you're found unresponsive with a belly housing a fifth of rum. The marks on your skin lay like a map to follow on how you got there; only being found like a frantic afterthought.

Glenview Psychiatric Hospital, or GSH that was strategically labeled in bright crimson above the pocket of your prison-inspired sweatshirt, had been home for three months now. It was meant to be a place of healing, among the basic mood stabilizing and therapy sessions everyone held in a day. You felt further away from that concept with every group activity the doctors forced you to take part in. Your social anxiety becoming apparent each time it lands on you to speak, either to close the circle, or to be a part of the ridiculous game activities. The last time you played volleyball your face saw more action with the pleather ball than your arms ever did.

It was currently 12:47 p.m. The clock giving you a false sense of hope that the time wouldn’t just creep by to leave you stranded the last thirteen minutes until you’d earned your freedom. There was, however, the off chance if Dr. Thompson wasn't hearing what he wanted; the hour-long group activity would be extended.

You scanned the other six faces that made up your group: the huddled mess of piled sweaters and huddled blanket of Soomi a fleeting moment of comfort. It only took your eyes adjusting on her figure to know she didn’t have one. Her tiny body composed of thick layers of clothes to portray a false sense of shape. Her anorexia becoming so severe her family had no other option but to put her here, or watch her die. Jason’s endless finger taps on every surface he could touch the only giveaway to his OCD until he removed himself from his chair. Sejun with his alcoholism and Yuna with her acidic imagination that the wind whispered her deepest secrets out into the world.

All this ending with your gaze narrowed on the statuesque figure of Jaebum who comically sat opposite of your current position. The two suicidal inmates that shared in the anxiousness of sadness but little else, and the usual reason why your group never seemed to end on time.

You couldn't say it was a shame to be stuck sitting dead center of someone so attractive; as shallow of an observation as it was there was no denying how ungodly true that statement was. He held a silent attractiveness that resonated in the solitude he kept around himself, and Jaebum was indeed a solitary creature.

He preferred books over people. Usually moving away from anyone who got close to his latest reading perch without ever glancing up from his current book. Jaebum’s favorite place he’d reserved to get lost inside his fiction the seal of the window that looked out the expanse of the institute’s backyard. The entire estate currently covered in the dead burgundy and gold of a forest of oak tree leaves.

It wasn't like you were laying avid amounts of your attention on him or anything. You didn't pay attention to how broad his shoulders looked in his old man sweaters that you could've bet money smells like mothballs. How his features seemed sharpened to match the fierceness that lived inside his eyes. The only thing that exposed his softness was the speck of a mole that dusted itself on his left eyelid.

Jaebum just held a presence that demanded to be noticed. Whether he himself liked it or not.

“Jaebum: do you have anything you’d like to add to the session?”

Dr. Thompson’s question made the both of you jolt in your seats. Youwere too busy staring down at your nails while you plucked away at the cuticles. Jaebum's head turned, unbeknownst to you, from looking at you to the good doctor. It was enough to make your cheeks flush hot.

His crossed arms gave a soft shrug, and you hated how your eyes stayed captivated by the movement. You were willing to blame it on the charcoal-worn cable knit sweater he favored. It really did smell like moth balls and age making you willing to bet it wasn't his to begin with.

“We talked about this guys. Shrugging is not an adequate substitute for an answer.”

His tone showing his frustration more than anger at his need to repeatedly inform the group. Dr. Thompson looked at each of you individually until he stopped on Jaebum, who didn’t seem the least bit moved.

“I have nothing to say.”

A sigh escaped from Dr. Thompson’s lips as his head shook softly. His eyes averted down to the tin clipboard momentarily before they resumed their previous position.

“And what is it exactly you would like me to add, huh?” You felt your body tense against the chair. Your hands grasping at its edges like it would be the only thing to keep you stable against the oncoming rage that was Jaebum’s agitation. “We do these pointless sessions over and over: again and again. For what? Do you think it “saves” anyone?”

Your eyes diverted from the safety of your knees; counting every frayed piece of cloth on your jeans that hung loose from torn holes. No part of you needed to acknowledge that he was standing. The room did that well enough with the tension his power caused. The room itself swelling with anxiety that made fidgety Sera begin to rock violently against the back of her chair. Her head shaking hair into her face, like a curtain to hide what she feared was coming her way like the abusive hands of her father.

The orderlies were already beginning to circle his chair, but Dr. Thompson held up a hand of warding. He reminded you too much of an irresponsible ring handler at a circus. Unwilling to recognize his own tiger was about to maim him.

“No, no that’s fair enough. I see you have an issue with the way we try and help our patients.”

“Help?!” Jaebum snarled. “Is that what you call it? Like you helped Simon remember all the things he wanted to forget! Is that what you call endless therapies until he killed himself! You consider being helpful with the way you handled Ian?”

Dr. Thompson regarded Jaebum quietly, but his eyes were focused and searching the young man’s face. You watched in helpless awe as one stood like a calm in a blazing storm, while the other raged so furiously you thought the walls would come down. No longer was his voice a strong current, but now thunderous words that hurled like lightning bolts were being directed at the man before him.

Jaebum was right. Sometimes, the doctors picked and picked a part at you until you were left bare and raw. And if their words didn’t do it their physical methods picked up where they lacked. His anger was justified, because deep down so were you. But you didn’t have the towering strength like he did to stand up to anyone. Your fear of the seclusion rooms kept you prisoner: locked in your chair as a simple flick of Dr. Thompson’s hand sent the orderlies rushing to Jaebum’s side.

“I think that’s enough for today’s session.”

In the back of your mind you knew that Jaebum was right. In part. Who were counselors and psychologists to tell the broken mirrors of people how to put their pieces back together? Only to end up with more blood on their hands from struggling to put sharp pieces in place. They studied people like you, Jaebum...people like Ian who were features in their college books. They themselves barely ever one to experience it themselves.

Healing, even if unconventional, was still healing in the end. There was no right or wrong way to get there, but here, with people like Dr. Thompson, their textbook solutions were the only solutions. Maybe that’s why it backfired so terribly with Ian.

So for once, you wanted to stand up with Jaebum. To call out the injustices of treatments forced on patients, like Ian. Treatments they’d placed on patients that only wanted to forget, because no one wants to remember traumas and everything that makes them feel like failures.

You knew, however, if you took that chance to be brave for once you would end up like Jaebum. Uselessly struggling against orderlies who came prepared with syringes to make you complacent and an endless day being locked for god knew how long inside seclusion.

It was cowardice that kept your mouth shut. All of you stayed quiet as an orderly you aptly nicknamed, “The Bull,” grabbed at the neck of Jaebum’s sweater. That was all it took for him to react violently. Jaebum’s elbow flew back with such force it dislodged The Bull’s grip, which only seemed to make it worse.

“Jaebum, please do not struggle.” Dr. Thompson’s voice didn’t sound as soothing as he probably imagined. Obvious agitation outlined every word; the struggle forcing all of you up from your chairs and away from the fighting. “Everyone out. Now.”

A part of you hated listening. For not firmly digging your feet in to stand for something you agreed wasn’t right. It was an odd thought. Since Ian was the usual instigator of the chaos of how these ended. Never Jaebum. Maybe he just felt like in Ian’s absence he needed to take over for him.

“You play god with everyone’s emotions and leave them to drown alone in the aftermath. You are the reason Christian keeps escaping and Hyujin is gone! It’s you! It’s all of you!”

Jaebum’s rage became more apparent with each sentence and broke as his throat formed the words of his former friend. Former because he’d found himself as one of Dr. Thompson’s experimental new treatments. A treatment that brought back too much Hyujin couldn’t cope with - was forced to confront - before he was ready.

The ward still felt hollow - missing in the sound of Hyujin’s laugh.

You would’ve been impressed with the way Jaebum was laying into the doctor. He was holding his own against the orderly at his arms until the Bull snuck behind him and brought him falling down to the cold concrete floor.

That was the last you saw of Jaebum as you were ushered outside the doors. You faced them for a long time. No one questioned why you stood at the entrance as Jaebum’s yelling dulled to nothing. It was too late for you to run back and play the role of knight in shining armor and standing in front of the door would only make the staff assume you were waiting to cause a scene.

Turning on your heel you headed towards the living area. Your mind racing heavily with indecision and not paying attention to the overcrowded chairs and couches. You bypassed them all to head to your favorite window seat. It was opposite to the one everyone knew as Jaebum’s; reading a new book every week during free time. It was so engrained to the fabric of the facility that no one tried to take it from him. Not even Ian.

You folded into yourself as soon as you sat down on the window seat. Your chin pressed into your shoulder so you could get a better look outside. The vibrant colors of changing leaves reminding you that fall was coming. Maybe they would let you work outside if you were good? You were tired of doing bathroom and kitchen duties, but because of Ian’s latest stunt no one was allowed outside. Not until the fences were made higher with wire curled along the top.

If thoughts could be breathed into existence, you were positive you alone would be deemed responsible for Ian walking, right then and there, through the facility's double doors. Of course, Ian could never simply enter a room quietly.

Christian entered every room like a force. Wild and unpredictable. Mother Nature couldn’t compete with his massive hurricane personality. No one could come close, because underneath all that unhinged nature was a magmatism that far outreached just good looks.

Was Christian good looking? Devilishly so. It was his way with words, however, that left many people reeling. Not just fellow patients, but staff as well. He was painfully charming and, if you weren’t prepared for his wide-set smile directed in your direction, you were going to find yourself in trouble. Deep, deep Christian-flavored trouble. The staff had even labeled him with a warning of “verbal jujitsu” - you had to stay miles ahead of the conversation or you’d find yourself like the recently fired psych tech who’d handed over the ward keys without a second thought.

Seriously. That’s how Christian escaped this time. All the other times, well, the man could be considered the second coming of Houdini.

“How have you been, Bob? Are your feet still giving you grief, Margo?”

It was impressive how he acted like it wasn’t a big deal he’d magically reappeared. The guard and orderlies awkwardly keep watch over the double doors he’d come through like he’d disappear back into thin air.

You hated how happy you became hearing the richness of his voice. The way his accent reminded you of the battle of wills on what was the proper way to say, “water,” and the teasing you gave him about constantly saying, “Naurr”.

“It’s Margaret, jackass,” the older psych tech mumbled in reply. She didn’t even bother to look up from putting a new bandage on Bob’s hands.

“Missed you too, babe.”

You watched his reflection in the safety of the glass of the window. You didn’t want to show how eager you were to see him - or to find out that every time he left the ward became almost too much to bear alone.

In the safety of the window, you could pretend the call to freedom was what kept your eyes hypnotized. Not the sleeveless tee he’d tucked inside the waist of skinny jeans that hugged to the muscles like paint or the layers of tattoos that covered honey skin. He wasn’t tan when he’d left. Where had Ian’s adventures taken him this time?

You would get the chance to ask him yourself.

When his eyes caught sight of your huddled frame curled in the window seat his trajectory changed completely. He didn’t think you’d noticed him yet, but it didn’t stop his infamous megawatt smile from brightening up his features and the butterflies he’d left trapped in your gut instantly springing back to life.

The only downside? You were more than positive Ian saw you only as a sister. If he’d thought of you in the past as anything else you would’ve definitely known by now. As much as Ian was known for his charisma and whirlwind energy, he was also known for slipping into the janitor’s closet with more than a few now-fired staff members.

In a matter of seconds, he left the mirage of the window to become real beside you. The smell of cigarettes and his preferred cologne enveloped you, instantly turning the space intimate. You tried your best to ignore him. Ian would receive nothing but the side eye from you after the latest shit he’d pulled.

He let out a heavy sigh as a finger playfully poked into your side. He wiggled the digit in a weak attempt to tickle you thinking it would be enough for you to finally look at him. Fat chance. Using your elbow, you pushed down with just enough force to dislodge him from your side. The act forced a heavy sigh to flare his nostrils as he leaned back against the window.

“Come on, ‘Roo. You can’t be that mad at me?”

Of course, he would use your nickname. The nickname you earned one night when he’d tried to tickle you until you couldn’t breathe. To be honest, he thinks you’d kicked him accidentally in the chest because you might wet yourself. The truth? Ian had gotten dangerously close. A few times it felt like his lips were just a few sharp breaths away from landing on yours, and that night you’d felt hollow. So hollow. All you wanted was to burn and Ian…he was so full of fire and life and for once you wanted to know what it felt like to be filled with something other than emptiness.

You wanted to catch fire too.

So you’d kicked out at him in panic. Hence how you became his Kangaroo. His ‘Roo.

“Actually,” you began, biting out the world with each syllable. “I can be upset with you and I most definitely am.”

“Don’t be like that, ‘Roo. I know you missed me.”

“No, I didn’t. It was rather peaceful while you were off on whatever antics you decided to get into.”

A tsk sent his bottom lip into a pout as he crossed his arms. His shoulders lean further down the window and slightly into your view.

God, why did he have to be so heartbreakingly handsome?

You refused to make eye contact with him. Don’t do it. It’s a trick. You knew it was a trick. A sneaky ploy and yet…you looked. One look was all it took and Ian knew he had you.

“I missed you.” His voice caressed your skin like velvet causing it to erupt in goosebumps. “So, I know if I missed you that can only mean that you missed me.”

A snort of disbelief left you as you finally gave him what he’d been asking: your full and undivided attention.

“Is that how it works, Ian?”

“Ah!” He beamed. “She finally looks at me.”

You couldn’t keep your eyes from rolling as you tried to face away from him, but Ian wasn’t having it.

“I shouldn’t even do that.”

“Where is all this hostility coming from?” He pouted. “Did you experience another one of Dr. Thompson’s riveting group circles?”

“It’s not funny, Ian. You always leave.” You hated how your voice betrayed you. The way it cracked before you could glue it back together. “You go and leave me here, without you, all the time. One of these days you may not come back.”

All the playfulness slowly drained from his features. The sly smile wilted to a grimace as deep brown eyes scanned over your face. Calculating your words with the body language of guarded arms and saddened eyes. His hands gently grabbed at your elbows to loosen your arms before turning you to him. His head dipped down just a bit to make sure he had you at eye level.

“Hey, ‘Roo. I’m sorry. I come back for you, you know that right?” You knew he was lying, but try telling that to the butterflies fluttering around like crazy in your gut. “These assholes could never catch me if I didn’t turn myself in, and I only turned myself in to get back to you.”

You didn’t know what you would’ve said at that moment. Maybe something he wanted to hear or maybe - finally - you’d have the guts to call him out on his bullshit. Luckily for you, the muffled sound of Jaebum’s screaming slowly grew louder until his struggling body was brought through the double doors from therapy.

“Let me go, you assholes!”

You’d never seen Jaebum fight so fiercely before. The way he flailed his arms to find a way to get them released along with his legs kicking out like a madman. They practically dragged him down the hall towards seclusion. For a split second, in his struggle, his eyes landed on you. His gaze held yours for what felt like a lifetime until the spell was broken. It felt like slow motion as his face turned to see Ian on your right and all the fight drained from his body.

Did he think he was fighting for Ian? Himself? Jaebum was never much for acting out. That was usually Ian who created trouble. Maybe that was why he looked so shocked seeing Jaebum being dragged down to seclusion.

“Oi! What the fuck is this?”

Ian was up off the window seat in seconds. A couple of orderlies were already coming out from behind the nursing station to meet him halfway. Whatever they were saying, you weren’t all too sure. Ian was doing his usual of screaming and shoving causing the orderlies to prepare for a fight. The patients closest to all the commotion desperately trying to get out of the way.

It was all chaos. All classic Ian. The only non-classic thing was Jaebum looking at you in a way you’d never noticed before. It created a row of questions that sat heavily on your tongue and ones you weren’t sure he would ever be willing to answer.

It wasn’t until everything had settled down again that you snuck inside the room that held group therapy. Your eyes instantly homing in on Jaebum’s chair and underneath it one of his grandfather’s books.

Before you dared to push all the way through into the room you gave one last cautious glance to the recreation room and slipped inside. You made sure to hold the door so it didn’t click into place. There was no denying if you were caught sneaking in somewhere you weren’t meant to be you’d be joining Jaebum in your own seclusion room.

The sterile room with its egg-white walls was most definitely not your favorite. The only way to add your own source of color to its walls was to display your thoughts - projecting them out like a fucked up home movie that you’d rather forget.

You made sure to cut across the room silently. Your legs bending at the knee to swoop down to grab the worn-down cover and secure it to your chest.

You couldn’t explain why as you made your way out of the room towards the upper floor that held the seclusion rooms what made you want to do this for him. It’s not like he would thank you, but you weren’t looking for that.

It wasn’t hard to notice the way Jaebum cared for his late grandfather's things. From the sweater he wore daily that was meticulously cleaned and laundered to the few books Jaebum was able to keep from his collection. He coveted them the way others valued trophies but it wasn’t praise that Jaebum found secluded inside their pages: it was peace.

You didn’t know much about him. Jaebum wasn’t much of a sharer. He was reserved. The only way to know him was by the pages you held close to your chest. So, you weren’t terribly sure why you were doing this for him except for the fact you believed no one should go without something that they loved.

Just as you were about to round the last corner to the hallway that held seclusion rooms 1 through 3, you caught a flash of an orderly speaking to a nurse. From the brief moment you’d caught before you found the safety of the opposite wall, they were more than likely flirting.

Ted. That was the name written on his uniform. He’d called Ian a “Psycho,” a handful of times. You wondered if Ted knew the nurse he worshiped spent the same handful of nights sneaking inside Ian’s dorm.

“Do you maybe want to go get breakfast in the morning?”

Breakfast?! You mouthed to yourself before you snuck another peek around the corner.

“Oh, I don’t know, Ted. I might have plans later.”

If your eyes could roll back any harder you would’ve seen brain cells. You knew exactly what her supposed plans were. You could already hear the moans that echoed down the halls like a haunting. The only thing haunted here would be you.

You didn’t have to see Ted’s expression to know he was defeated. He was probably wondering how someone could refuse breakfast or maybe he was finally growing tired of being told no. The mystery of the unknown in this love triangle would sadly (not really) remain a mystery. You didn’t really care if they had breakfast together or hunted Easter eggs. You just wanted them to finish their awkward conversation and leave the damn hallway.

A few more strangled pieces of conversation later and you could hear the shuffling of feet. Quickly, you moved inside a linen closet and quietly shut the door. Your ears straining - waiting - to hear a pair of feet move past your location so you could finish what you came to do.

Every second you were out here and not inside your own dorm waiting for the nurses to come in and check you were there was one second too many in a chance at punishment. After a few more minutes went by and the coast sounded relatively clear, you creeped out from the linen closet and dashed towards the seclusion rooms.

“Jaebum!?” You half whispered half yelled. “Jay!”

“What the hell are you doing over here?”

Ah, there was that condescending voice you’d grown accustomed to. Following the sound of his voice, and with the help of his fingers hanging out of the small seclusion window, you darted towards the back of the hall. Your arms still securely held onto his grandfather’s book and only began to loosen as you got closer to the door.

“I wanted to bring you something before they placed it in lost and found.”

With another cautious glance down the hall, your fingers wrapped around the edges of the book's spine. You offered it up to him and gently started to push it through the small window. Jaebum hadn’t spoken since he noticed what you held in your hands. His fingers overlapped yours as he took it from you. His arms immediately brought it inside with him with the sound of pages flipping while he made sure each page was still accounted for.

“How did you-“ he began, but his words quickly died out.

“Can you believe it ladies and gentlemen? For once, he was too stunned to speak,” you teased.

Jaebum’s eyes narrowed in on your face. His hands wagged the book as if he was going to hit you over the head with it. Who knows, he might have if there wasn’t a 30-pound door stationed between you.

“I’m serious. You came all this way to give me this?”

You shrugged his words off like what you’d done wasn’t a big deal. Both of you knew it was. So many factors that could lead you to where he was, or worse, if they believed you were trying to steal someone else’s property. Which, they one hundred percent would even though kleptomania wasn’t part of your conga line list of disorders.

“I remember how much his things matter to you. I didn’t want Bull or Kojak The Great Dick to get a hold of it. I know they wouldn’t have respected it after today.”

You’d expected a lot of things to come out of this exchange. The main one? At least a thank you. All you were getting now felt like the cold shoulder that featured a very unnerving stare. With every second you were feeling more self-conscious and it took everything in you not to shout, “Boo!” in an attempt to get him to blink.

You couldn’t take the awkwardness of the exchange any longer. Your feet were already backpedaling as your arms swung, thumb extended out, to indicate your exit before you spoke.

“Great well, this was a fun chat-“

“He lies to you, you know.”

Jaebum’s words took you by surprise. You were sure that was the point. His face was set in deep lines of determination as if what he needed to say was something you needed to adhere to like the gospel from the Bible.

“Okay, Jay I’ll bite: who is he?”

“You know who I’m talking about. Ian. It’s who he is. He doesn’t know how to tell the truth, and you always set yourself up for failure with him.”

Maybe Jaebum thought he was being helpful - calling to light all things you were aware of but couldn’t bring yourself to say out loud. You must have seemed too weak - gullible - in his eyes for him to believe he needed to say these things.

You eyed him coolly through the window. Your tongue rolled around inside your cheek trying to decide what exactly you should say at this moment. Did he want recognition that you knew you were an idiot? What did it matter to him if you knew Ian didn’t give two fucks about you.

So, the only thing you could settle on was the beginning of a long sigh before you spoke: “I know I might look like a love-sick puppy to you, Jay, but I know my place.”

He tried saying your name to stop you. You just ignored him as you shook your head and allowed yourself to begin to move back down the hall towards the safety of your own dorm.

“It’s alright, Jay I get it. Take care of your grandfather’s things better, okay?”

You didn’t wait to finish your sentence before you were already turning to head down the hallway. The bottom of your feet itching for you to sprint in the opposite direction. Your mind raced over Jaebum’s words and matched them with the growing chasm in your chest.

So lost in your head, you barely caught the sound of his parting, “Thank you,” as you bolted around the corner.

177 notes · View notes

mykoreanlove · 7 months

Text

Can I see you tonight?

“You are doing WHAT? Y/N, are you out of your fucking mind?”

The slightly annoyed voice shouting at you through your phone was no other than your best friend. “You cried so much because of that man-whore and now you’re going to his place? What is wrong with you?”

Fair enough, you had asked yourself that as well. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. What’s your motive?”

You sighed in defeat. “See, I thought about that, too. It’s true, JB hurt me badly. And I should be over him and all but I’m not. I am still thinking about him, wishing that it would be different. I… I miss him. And I haven’t heard from him in so long, I just.. I just want to know what he’s got to say to me. Can’t you understand that?”

Your friend sighed in annoyance. “What are you wearing?”

That question caught you by surprise. “Huh?”

“Y/N, don’t play dumb with me. What are you wearing?”

You looked down at yourself and started describing your outfit. Black sports leggings, red hoodie and leather boots. “Oh, you mean the sports leggings that accentuates your bubble butt? And the red hoodie that makes your eyes pop? And not to forget the leather boots that look sexy as fuck on you?”

You gulped, not saying a word. “What are you wearing underneath?”

It was pointless to lie, so you told her the truth. “Red lacy thong..”, you mumbled. “And?” You rolled your eyes, thankful that she couldn’t see it. “No bra.”

“Y/N, I swear to god. You are going over there because you want him to fuck you! Seriously? That bastard behaved like he fell for you only to ghost you and you’re thinking of fucking his dick?”

Hearing her talk like that made your stomach turn. She wasn’t all wrong but she wasn’t all right either. Did you put a lot of thought into your outfit? Of course you did. When Jaebeom ditched you it hurt like hell, so naturally you wanted payback. Getting dolled up, showing off your goodies to tease him – anything really that would make him regret dumping you.

You thought of all possible scenarios in your head. Would he apologize and confess his love to you? Would he fuck you and make you leave? Would he apologize and introduce a new girlfriend to you? Would he even be at home or was this all a prank? Endless possibilities roamed your head until you decided to stop thinking. The last thing you needed was a headache.

“Listen, I know you worry about me and I appreciate that. I am curious what he has got to say to me. And if he isn’t saying anything at all, I can at least ask why he ended things the way he did. Anything after that? Total uncertainty. Maybe I’ll see him and be turned off by him. Maybe I understand his ways and feel empathy for him. Maybe I decide I am done with him and leave. Or maybe I’ll use him just like he used me… It’s been a while and a girl got needs. Is that noble? No. But the world is complex, it’s not black and white. Especially not with JB. At least, I want to be prepared.”

You hung up as you arrived at his place. You scanned the bell for his name, taking a deep breath before pushing it. “Jaebeom, please don’t make me regret this.”

His apartment was on the third floor. You took each step nervously, not knowing what to expect from him. You were wondering if his heart was racing as fast as yours. When you made it to his floor you noticed his door being open ajar, him being nowhere in sight though. You collected yourself one last time before grabbing the handle and entering.

“JB?”

He was rushing to the front door, cheeks slightly red because he didn’t make it on time. “Y/N! I’m so happy to see you. Come on in!”

You took a good look at him. He was dressed casually – black joggers and a white shirt that accentuated his defined body. His hair was longer though, falling into his beautiful features effortlessly. He still had the same aura about him. He was confident in a silent, down to earth way. “Fuck”, you muttered under your breath. Hating him just got a lot harder.

“Did you eat? I cooked for us.” He beamed you a sly smile and ushered you into the kitchen. It smelled heavenly and you started to relax for the first time. You were too nervous to eat before, so you welcomed the pleasant smell of your favorite dish. “I made you tteokbokki. It’s your favorite, right?”

You thought back to the first time you had tteokbokki with him. It felt like ages ago, even though it only had been months. You were sitting on his couch eating, trying your best not to go up in flames as it was way too spicy for you. JB looked at you concerned. “Is it good?” You took a deep breath, nodding. “Yes, but it’s so fucking spicy!” He sprinted over to you immediately. “Oh, let me extinguish the heat then.” And with that he kissed you – sweetly and innocently.

You got pulled out of your memories as he handed you a plate. “Come on, let’s eat.” You barely touched your food – not because it was too spicy but because you were too nervous to eat. Up ‘til now you only talked about irrelevant things – what you had been up to, work, your family, plans for the remaining year. Jaebeom barely looked at you which you took as a sign of his nervousness. Why was he nervous though? You were the one that got rejected.

He got up and put on some music, dimming the lights to change the mood. Your stomach churned again, you had never been this nervous with him. He sat next to you on the black couch and just watched you.

“What?”

“Sorry, I, I thought this would be easier but it’s not.. It’s hard for me actually.”

You were confused. “What is?”

He grinned embarrassed. “Seeing you again. I know I fucked up and I wanted to talk about it but now that I’m actually seeing you it’s so hard.” He gulped nervously.

A ping of relief washed over you. He wanted to apologize, that was good! But you wouldn’t go easy on him, you wanted to see him suffer. You turned around and faced him directly, your doe eyes looking at him innocently while you were licking your lips seductively.

“Go on. You can do it, JB.”

He laughed. God, you missed his voice so much. The deep, honeylike voice that whispered the sweetest and naughtiest things into your ear.

“I wish I could find the right words and give you a proper explanation, Y/N. But I wasn’t in the right mind back then. I felt so lost.”

He took a halt and waited. That was not enough, no. You wanted more, you wanted a proper explanation from him. Maybe you needed to help him start?

You stood up and re-positioned yourself – on his lap facing him intimately. Jaebeom’s eyes widened in shock. His hands travelled to your sides automatically, squeezing your hips and ass. You caressed his face, tucking the lose strands of hair behind his ear.

“I am listening, Jaebeom.”

You felt him getting hard underneath you, grinning vigorously. He was holding back so much and you knew.

“I had been single for a short while when we met. And I wanted to keep it that way. You know, have some fun and move on. And it worked perfectly with all the girls before you but you y/n, you were different.”

You saw the pain in his eyes and felt good. It was petty but you were hurt and now you wanted him to suffer, too. You placed sweet little kisses along his jawline, whispering. “Different how?”

Jaebeom sighed heavily, trying to control himself.

“You were one of a kind. You still are.”

You let go of his jaw and watched him carefully.

“I had never met someone like you, y/n. You are so beautiful and funny. Smart and creative. Like I could talk to you about the most stupid stuff as well as my biggest fears. I was so drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. I felt my best when I was with you. But also my… worst.”

The last part caught you by surprise. You wanted to get up and get some space between the two of you but he held you tight by your wrists.

“Listen to me, please. I felt my worst because I knew I couldn’t live up to you. I wasn’t the man you deserved to be with. I was acting like a big fuckboy, running away from my demons and facing different pussies instead of my baggage. I didn’t deserve to be with you.”

You started to tear up. Never ever had you thought of this possibility. Did you think of him leaving you because you were not good enough? Yes. Did you think of him leaving because you sucked in bed? Yes. Did you think of him leaving because you were just not what a guy wanted? You bet. But this?

His honesty caught you off guard.

„I knew that you wouldn‘t let go of me, y/n. I saw it in your eyes. So I did what I always do best: fuck up. I had to hurt you so badly, hoping that you would forget about me. Did you…?” He paused for a brief moment. “Did you forget about me?”

You held back tears as you were facing him. You hated being weak, but you couldn’t help it right now. With a very low voice you answered. “I tried to. I tried kissing someone else, I tried dating someone else but I… I always thought about you.”

You looked down at your lap, too embarrassed to face him. Jaebeom grabbed your chin with his fingers and looked at you lovingly. “Funny enough, I did the same thing. I tried to forget about you by getting with other girls but none of them did the trick. No one ever compared to you, y/n.”

You grabbed his hand that was holding your chin and squeezed it lightly. Tears started to fall from your eyes as you asked him again. “What changed? Why now?”

Jaebeom’s fingers landed on your cheeks, wiping away the salty tears you cried because of him. “I wonder how many tears you must have cried because of me, y/n. I am so sorry. I really, really am.” He looked at you sincerely, you were believing his every word. With a sigh he explained further. “I got tired of running away. I got tired of playing this game that I’m bound to loose. I want to be with you. I know I’m not perfect and I can’t change what I did but I want to be better. For you. I want to be the man you deserve to be with. If you let me, of course.”

He looked at you nervously. “Will you let me, y/n?”

You chuckled in relief, as well. “Of course, you idiot. Of course, I will.”

His eyes lit up with excitement as he realized what you had said. Not even a second after he crushed his lips onto yours, kissing you like it was the first time. You made out for a while, in desperate need for each other. He interrupted each kiss with another declaration of love.

“I will make it up to you, y/n.” Kiss. “I missed you so fucking much.” Kiss. “God, I’m such an idiot.” Kiss. “What did I do to ever deserve you?” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you for giving me another chance.” Kiss. “I won’t fuck up this time.” Kiss. “I promise”. Kiss.

72 notes · View notes

jae-daddy · 1 year

Text

mode

one

genre: romance, mature, melo plot: two married people fall in love a/n: i know its written dull, but trust me on this.

You wake up everyday facing the balcony of your apartment.

You never wake up to sunlight creeping in through the space between the blinds in your room. You always wake up just before the alarm, your shoes always placed perfectly so your feet slip into it as you sit on the edge.

Every morning seems the same. The same monotonous day; the same routine. The same twenty steps around your bathroom, the same cups, the same jar holding the teabags. The same toast and eggs, the same same same same same same same same same same same.

The same man always wakes up twenty minutes after you.

You always just happen you be halfway through the door when he enters the kitchen.

It’s the same bus ride to the same glass building. The same cubicle, the same work, same fake smiles and laughs, same stories. Same everything.

Tonight you decide to make stew for dinner. But is it really a decision when you make it at least five times a month?

He comes in at nine tonight.

You tell him to put the dinner away. You get into your bed, and close your eyes.

Sleep never comes easy, but you close your eyes anyway.

Your doctor told you to close your eyes even if you’re not sleeping.

Let the eyes rest.

But you can feel it moving underneath your eyelids, and now you can feel a migraine forming at the front of your head.

You feel the bed dip beside you. You remain on your side, ignoring him. You even out your breath, you are asleep.

I am sleeping. You say it as a mantra over and over again.

It works tonight. He faces the other side, you hear his phone click open.

He stays on that phone forever.

The sounds of the clicking on the keyboard, the endless Tiktoks. Your head is about to burst, you are about to burst.

And just when you cannot take it anymore, he lets out an obnoxious yawn. You ease, and he relaxes and sleeps.

You close your eyes waiting for sleep to take you away, but it does last long.

A few hours, and then you wake up to your balcony again.

The slippers slide onto your feet. Your pink brush remains where you left it yesterday.

The cup you sip your tea from as you stare out the window is the same one as yesterday. You got it as a gift from your sister one birthday. It was one of those horrifically cringe ones that says ‘The Greatest Sister Ever.’

You both had a fight a day before your birthday.

You were slipping into your heels when your husband enters the kitchen.

“Thank you,” he says just like every morning. You give him a small smile.

Normally that is the end of it, but today there is more, “We have to go to dinner tonight.”

You still in your actions and look up to meet his eyes. It was like looking at a stranger but worse, you couldn’t even tell what he was thinking.

But he could read the confusion on your face, “It’s my mum’s birthday.”

You nod, before looking at the calendar behind him. Even from the door you could see the pink marker around the date. You give him another plain smile, “I’ll pick up a gift on the way back.”

“It’s okay,” he says, and you’re thankful for it. “I’ll pick up something.”

“Okay,” you say, and slip your shoes on completely. You stand awkwardly for a second, and he looks at you too. How can you live with someone for twelve months and feel like complete strangers with them?

“Have a good day,” he says. Your lips part, and the silence stretches for a bit too long, but you finally manage,“You too.”

You escape before anymore awkward pleasantries pass between you.

The bus is busy like always. You find a space and smile at the girl already sitting there.

You let out a deep breath, and then inhale. You do it three more times, and a place a hand on your chest. Your heart was beating so fast, but you didn’t know why.

Apart from the mild heart-attack (it wasn’t actually a heart-attack, you googled it), the rest of the day was the same. The court room was the same, you had lunch with the same two girls, at the same lunchroom. The bus ride was the same; awful, humid and tiresome.

But tonight when you went home, you didn’t cook dinner.

Instead you showered, and changed into a pretty pale yellow dress. You did your hair into a nice pretty bun. You put on makeup and the lipstick that matches you so perfectly you save it for special occasions.

You get on your knees and pull out the box with your special heels.

You were going to meet your in-laws, you had to look nice.

Once ready, you took a look in the mirror.

You looked pretty.

How long had it been since you dressed up?

Your husband came soon after. He gave you a small smile as he took you in. You took in the pink wrapped box in his hand, and then your eyes went to the bouquet of flowers in the other.

He placed them both on the table next to the fruit bowl.

He went into the bathroom, and you stared at the flowers.

You wanted flowers too.

Growing up you never wanted to live in an apartment. You wanted to live in a house with a lawn or the country-side, somewhere where you could plant an entire garden. You would plant every flower you could get your hands on. It didn’t even have to look pretty as long as they bloomed you were happy with it.

You made a few attempts to plant in the apartment when you first moved in. The proof of that lies brown and dry in colourful flower pots outside on the balcony.

You didn’t realise you were staring at the flowers the entire time until he emerged from the bedroom.

He looked good.

He was good-looking.

The white shirt and casual blazer you laid out for him, hoping he would wear it, looked good on him.

You didn’t say anything though. He didn’t too, only, “Ready?”

It wasn’t a question really, more like ready or not here we go. He picked up the keys, the gift, and bunch of flowers. You picked up the tiny handbag you prepared for the night and followed him outside.

Maybe Uber rides were more comfortable than this.

The last time you set in one, they asked how your day was at the very least.

This was one of the few rare occasions you and your husband were made to be in each other’s company completely. Normally, the timings never matched up or there was someone else, or some other distraction.

People said this is common in arranged marriages. Reassurances and promises of everything working out were passed out to you like candies to a kid on Halloween.

You just stared out the window, you wished you could put the window down.

You wished you were in an Uber.

Your in-laws were good people.

Your mother-in-law, Jenny, always was in good hopes. She shared the same smile as her son and daughter, but you saw it more on her than anyone else.

Your husband handed you the gift and kept the flowers for himself. You hand her the pink box and she gushes, excitement evident in her voice, but she still reassures you that you shouldn’t have.

You’re polite with them. You smile, you laugh, you talk.

Whenever you’re with them or your own family, or whenever anyone else is around you and your husband, it feels like you’re outside your body. This woman is not you, it’s your husband’s wife.

“My son,” she places a sloppy kiss on your husbands cheek, he grimaces but his smile is bigger making his eyes disappear. Your heart feels like a mini heart-attack again, but its nothing, google said it was nothing.

You hug your sister-in-law Jae-e, instead. She hugs you back tightly, before complementing your lipstick, and your smile is true this time.

Your lipstick was made for you.

“Justin has come a long way,” you agree after Jae-e finishes her fifteen minute monologue about Justin Bieber’s highs and lows. She was a firm supporter of Selena, but she believes love changes and happens where it needs to, and Justin and Haley are together now.

You didn’t know much about Justin, you did back in middle school. Your best friend was a die-hard fan.

“Who’s Justin?” Your husband asks.

“Justin Bieber,” Jae-e rolls her eyes annoyed with her brother. Your sister and you were the same, it was like you were always teenagers no matter how much time passed.

“He only knows one JB,” she slides the comment towards you, you snort slightly, and her brother ignores it.

Or at least he tries to because he begins asking her about her new book.

The betrayal in her eyes is so funny, you had to bite your lip to hide your grin.

“It’ll probably be done before I get the chance to play with mum’s grandchild,” she’s proud of her reply, but instantly regrets it when her mother’s head snaps towards you and your husband.

You are frozen in place, your eyes on the sizzler plate. You wonder if it was still hot; and if so, how much would it burn the big mouthed twat.

“Yes!” Your mother-in-law gushes, and you start screaming inside. You’re surprised no one can hear you, in a way you are lucky no one can. She continues her loud words and each word makes your ears bleed, “WHEN DO I GET TO PLAY WITH MY GRANDCHILD?!”

She goes on and on. Some other couple who got married after you already has a kid. Another just announced their pregnancy.

You sat there staring at the plate, and then at the white table cloth.

White table cloth is so impractical. It basically just highlights all the mistakes a person makes. This family of five does not know how to take out their dishes properly and now there’s stains all over.

It was your father-in-law who finally stepped in, and said “That’s enough. This is not table conversation.”

You liked your father-in-law.

You bow and say goodbye to your in-laws. It was about time.

Your stomach was so full you were going to explode, and the heel straps were cutting into your skin. You were sure your lipstick had faded away by now.

All you wanted to do was go home and sleep.

But you have work tomorrow- no, tomorrow is Saturday!

But you were still excited to feel sleepy, maybe you’ll actually sleep and knock out completely.

Your thoughts got cut-off when you opened the door of your car.

“Oh,” you gasped as you picked up a flower from your seat. You showed it to your husband who stood there on his side of the car. “This must have fallen out.”

He bit his lip and then nodded, “Must have.”

He entered the car.

You were smiling when you buckled into your seat. You hummed along to songs playing, and looked out the window. You were okay with having the windows up.

The entire ride, you twirled the flower between your fingers, the yellow petals fluttering with each turn.

You wanted flowers.

When you get home, you head straight to the bathroom. The twenty steps increase by three as you place the flower into the cupholder. You stare it for a good minute.

You strip, shower and change into your pyjamas.

You watch as your husband as he goes into the bathroom.

Tonight you wanted it. Tonight you were not going to fall asleep.

Tonight you watched the light beneath the door. Tonight you didn’t realise as sleep took over you.

You woke up the next day. No alarm.

Your slippers sliding onto your feet. Twenty steps around your bathroom.

The cup- oh.

You halted in your steps.

The cup on the table, breakfast spread out and ready.

Your husband putting on his shoes as he’s rushing out the door. He looks frantic. You want to call out to him, what do you call him?

He catches sight of you before that, “Office emergency.”

You nod, smiling, telling him its okay.

He hesitates, and then the door closes behind him.

You look over the breakfast.

Same cup. Same bread and toast. Same egg. Same table. Same room. Same apartment.

But somehow different.

#jaebum #jaebeom #im jaebum #lim jaebum #lim jaebeom #im jaebeom #im #got7 #angst #arranged marriage #fanfic #series #story #love #jaedaddy #fluff #smut

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winter-dayz · 7 months

Text

I Can't Lose You

Pairing: Lim Jaebeom x Reader Deadly Games AU; Inspired by Squid Game & Alice in Borderland Genre: Angst; Horror Words: 2104 Warnings: murder; torture; violence

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist: @soobin-chois

“10.” She jumped from square to square carefully but with incredible haste. The monotone countdown nearly made her steps stumble, yet she remained sturdy and hurriedly finished the obstacle she was on.

“9.” He had already finished this trial several minutes ago and stood staring at her from behind the finish line, watching with creased brows and his lip tight between his teeth. She wished that she could soothe his worries, but even once she finishes this trial, there’d be no solace in the victory.

One trial led to the next, and they only increased in difficulty as they progressed. They’d been promised answers and to be released at the end of the “games,” but no indication for how many or how long it all would take.

She had woken up next to her newly ex-boyfriend in a large empty warehouse surrounded by another fifty or so others that also had no recollections of getting there.

The last obstacle of this trial was, of course, the most daunting and required more time to cross than she had left. In front of her was a thirty-foot long beam. On either side was a bottomless pit.

For those who had completed other obstacles in a faster manner, they’d had plenty of time to carefully cross the narrow stretch of concrete. It was the least deadly obstacle so far, but the longer you took on the other obstacles, the less time you had to carefully cross the final one.

“8.” Y/N had eight seconds to get to the other side. Never before had she felt so disheartened but determined. Jaebeom stood on the opposite end, waiting with bated breath. She had to do this.

She placed one foot on the skinny path, testing her balance before quickly placing one foot after another in quick succession. She got halfway across before wobbling; she took in a quick intake of air as she swayed in her spot before steadying and letting the air escape again.

“4.” Her heart thundered in her ears and she nearly missed that wretched deep voice relaying the remaining trial time. A glance was shared between the two, and then she looked back to her feet.

Each step felt as though it’d be her last. Each beat in her chest felt like it wasn’t enough. She’d stopped breathing the minute she started balance-running again. It wouldn’t be enough time.

“3. 2.” She stumbled. One foot caught on the other in her reckless haste.

“1.” Arms wrapped around her and pulled her the rest of the way forward. They tumbled onto the hard floor, but she had made it. Looking to the side, her eyes were captured by the dark depths of familiarity already staring back at her. They did not speak.

🎃

Neverending. She thought they’d never see freedom again. Stuck to whatever building, realm, life they’d been trapped in. She noticed his eyes on her more frequently.

Towards the end of their relationship, he had hardly glanced at her. Unimportant; she’d never felt so unimportant and irrelevant in her life than when she was with him.

Now it was like his eyes were made to solely look after her form. She felt pinned by his gaze. There was no question as to why. Obviously, she’d almost met her maker, and now, he felt responsible for keeping her alive.

That wouldn’t do. Y/N would not be anyone’s liability but her own. This was not the place to rely on another person for getting through the trials. One could die at any moment, and then what? Sit and wait for your own death because your partner couldn’t carry you along? No.

They were led by lights to their next trial. She was determined to get through this on her own.

🎃

They were told they’d need to navigate the maze to reach the door. But upon entering the room, the remaining fifteen were met with walls of mirrors. Some had symbols etched into the surface.

Someone mentioned the trick of following the left wall until they found the exit. It’d probably work, if they had the time for such a tedious method. But time was once again against them.

The entire group would only have five minutes to reach the door once someone entered the maze. Anyone left in the maze at the end would be suffocated with poisonous gas.

The group began debating the smartest methods or strategies. Y/N walked closer to one of the entrances, cautious not to step inside the bounds. She inspected the symbols on the mirrors.

She glanced behind her, but none of the others had realized she’d stepped away. Even Jaebeom no longer had his sights glued to her. Instead, he was arguing with another trial runner over who knows what.

When she looked back to the mirrors she noticed something else hidden within their confines. As she tilted her head and stepped side to side, she saw a distorted image reflected below each symbol.

One showed an arrow pointing to the right. The next was too difficult to make out in its current distortion. The next she was just barely able to recognize it to be a dead end sign. And the last symbol almost looked to be a door.

As she turned to announce her findings, she realized that only a few people remained, and when she saw the clock, it was ticking down closer to four minutes.

Jaebeom had waited for her but was urging her to follow the left wall strategy. But really, if you stopped to think about that strategy in this situation, it made no sense at all since there were four entrances to begin with. So which left wall do you start at?

“That’s not how this maze works, JB.” Y/N stopped him from entering the path with the reflection she couldn’t make out. “Follow me. I think I figured it out, but I can only explain while we’re walking. There’s not enough time.” She declared, moving towards the reflection of the distorted door. He began to follow, but attempted to protest only to be cut off by his former girlfriend.

“Look, five minutes wouldn’t be enough time to wander a maze of this size aimlessly until you find the end. And even following one wall the entire time would just lead to constant dead ends. Plus, there were four entrances, so it’d be hard to decide which starting point was the correct one anyway.” She paused, looking closely into the mirror again.

Behind her, she noticed Jaebeom listening intently, but with confusion on his face as he tried to decipher what she was doing.

“So… there had to be some sort of clue to where to start and how to get to the end. I saw the four symbols immediately,” she explained, pointing up at the symbol above them, “but it took me a while to figure out that they correlated to the distorted image below them. When I turned around to tell everyone, they’d already started. But this one has a door in its reflection.” She picked up into a jog as they turned into a long corridor of the maze.

🎃

They were not the only ones to make it out of the maze. But their group had dwindled down significantly. A measly six remained.

Once again they were led by lights to the next area. Jaebeom grabbed her arm, holding her back.

“I want to talk–” He started, but she stepped away.

“This is not the place for whatever you’re wanting to say to me.” She shook her head. The last time he had uttered those words, it’d been to end their relationship. She couldn’t risk something like that clouding her focus here.

The lights above them shut off, urging them to keep moving. Her lips thinned out as if to say “see?” She turned and continued on, quickly catching up to the others. He watched after her for a moment, but ultimately did the same.

It was their final trial. Two truths and a lie with a twist. The disembodied voice would read out two truths and a lie for a participant. If no one in the group could correctly identify the lie then the participant would be shot through the head.

No one questioned the fact that there weren’t any enforcers or obvious automatic guns present. Rules hadn’t been taken lightly since trial one when a woman had been decapitated after trying to cheat her way through it. The entire warehouse had fallen into a hush at the sight. Some had promptly emptied their stomachs onto the concrete floors, a sweaty man had fainted, and the woman next to her had screamed once realization finally hit. Jaebeom had subtly blocked Y/N’s view, but she had already resolved to look elsewhere by then.

Since that moment, rules were not to be tried against. If it was promised, then no one was curious enough to test those limits.

The monotone voice read out the three facts of one of the random players. The man was mindful of his reactions and kept to a careful poker face. They’d all assumed that hinting toward answers would be considered cheating.

Both Jaebeom and Y/N stayed quiet on this turn, not having learned anything about this man in their time here. Not that there was much down-time for chatting and story-sharing. Thankfully, one of the other three had correctly detected the lie.

“Y/N’s biggest fear is being forgotten by those she cares about.” She tensed in her seat as her turn came. Her eyes had been cast to the ceiling since round two when they’d all failed to guess the lie for the young man.

“Y/N has only been in one relationship.” Jaebeom eyed her from his seat in the circle. His eyebrow twitched, but he waited for the final option.

“Y/N cheated on her last boyfriend.” A scoff resounded out into the room. Eyes flung to Jaebeom’s outraged figure. He stayed quiet only staring at her indignantly.

The others in the room had long since picked up on the connection between the two. None had been sure if it was a romantic or kin relationship, but they’d all recognized the familiarity and allyship.

But at his reaction, they assumed it meant the former was true and took that as a sign of an easy round. The other three in the room all spoke aloud their guess: number two was the lie.

Jaebeom watched as a silent tear fell down the side of her face. She remained staring at the ceiling, resolute in not giving away any answer. She was sure she’d be done for. Either Jaebeom would abstain from guessing just to spite her, or he’d stay firm in his belief that she cheated on him—which had been the cause of their breakup.

“Number 3 is the lie.” He spoke up loud, clear, and firm. Silence ensued.

The ex-couple woke up in Jaebeom’s apartment, slumped down on his couch. Neither of them questioned how they got there. A letter sat in front of them, the outside void of any sender. Both refrained from reaching for it. They knew that the answers to whatever had just happened, and why, would await them inside; neither found it that enticing to find out yet.

“We need to talk.” He started, gulping down his nerves. She stared at the hard wood floors beneath her socked feet. Whoever returned them was kind enough to leave their shoes at the front door.

“Do we?” She spoke up. What was there to discuss, really? He hadn’t trusted her the first time. Was a life-or-death situation the only solution to looking at things from her perspective? That wasn’t a relationship she saw worth saving.

“I can’t lose you. I will do whatever I have to in order to prove that to you. I’ll do whatever I have to so that we can work things out. I should’ve trusted you before. I should’ve known that the things I’d been told weren’t true.” He blew out the air that had built up in his lungs. “I can’t lose you.” He stated again. “No one out there will understand each other the way we do anymore. No one did before anyway… No one got me like you did. Please, Y/N. I want to make things right between us.” He waited. His eyes roamed her face as he watched for any change in her features.

“Me too…” She breathed out with a strained expression, but reached out to take his hand in her own.

#got7 #lim jaebeom #reader #lim jaebeom x reader #got7 x reader #angst #horror #deadly games au #squid game #alice in borderland #oneshot #fictober

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h00mandied · 6 months

Text

🌧️🎶

비가 내리고 음악이 흐르면 난 당신을 생각해요 당신이 떠나시던 그 밤에 이렇게 비가 왔어요 비가 내리고 음악이 흐르면 난 당신을 생각해요 당신이 떠나시던 그 밤에 이렇게 비가 왔어요

When rain falls and the music flows, I think of you That night when you left it was raining like this When rain falls and the music flows, I think of you That night when you left it was raining like this 난 오늘도 이 비를 맞으며 하루를 그냥 보내요 오 아름다운 음악같은 우리의 사랑의 이야기들은 흐르는 비처럼 너무 아프기 때문이죠 오 As I stand in the rain today too, I let the day pass by Oh, like a beautiful music our love stories are hurtful just like the flowing rain

난 오늘도 이 비를 맞으며 하루를 그냥 보내요 오 아름다운 음악같은 우리의 사랑의 이야기들은 흐르는 비처럼 너무 아프기 때문이죠 오 그렇게 아픈 비가 왔어요 As I stand in the rain today too,I let the day pass by Oh, like a beautiful music our love stories are hurtful just like the flowing rain Oh and then the sad rain fell

***

#jay b #jinyoung #lim jaebeom #park jinyoung #jj project #jjp #bnyoung #bnior #got7 #moodboard #rainyday #rain #like rain like music #lyric #kim hyunshik #mood #angst #Spotify

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sweetestofchaos · 2 years

Text

Gᴏᴛ7 Rᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ...𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲: 𝖳𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎

a/n: For the life of me, I cannot remember who requested this...I know it was a while ago. So yeah, sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoy this one.

Mark

Mark would just stare at Jackson with wide eyes for a few seconds before he caught himself and looked down at his folded hand in his lap. Jackson liked you too, huh? Well, shit. Now what was he supposed to do? Jackson was his boy, one of his best friends. Did he really want to put that all on the line just to maybe get the chance to call you his? Mark sighed and shook his head before he spoke up.

“I like y/n too…I have for a while now.” Mark could see the worry on Jackson’s face, thankfully he was in the same mindset as him. “I-I already asked them on a date, and they agreed.”

Jaebeom

Jaebeom wouldn’t be surprised at all. He knew someone was bound to see how great of a person you were, so why wouldn’t it have been Mark. Now the question was what were the two of them going to do about it. At the end of the day, him and Mark were boys. Bros before hoes as they say, right?

Jaebeom laughed and shrugged his shoulders, “If you like them, ask em out Hyung. You would look good together.”

Jackson

Jackson would feel like his world was crashing down around him. Why? Of all the people in the world, Youngjae had to like you. The one person that made Jackson’s heart go into overtime with just a smile or wave of their hand. No, this was horrible. Jackson wouldn’t be afraid to let Youngjae know that he feels the same way about you. If anything, Jackson would make it a point to let Youngjae know, no matter what they would still be cool.

“How can you like, Y/N? They’re supposed to be with me!” *dramatic screaming that he does*

Jinyoung

Jinyoung wouldn’t even be bothered to hear that Bambam has feelings for you. He knew he was bound to have a rival, but he didn’t feel threatened by Bambam at all. He knew you like the back of his hand and Bambam wasn’t your type. Jinyoung would smirk to himself and pat Bambam on the shoulder. He would encourage him to say something. Jinyoung would rather you break the news to Bambam about liking someone else rather than do it himself.

“Give it a shot, Bambam. I wish you luck.”

Youngjae

Youngjae would feel bad, extremely guilty for even liking the same person as Yugyeom. How did they fall for the same person? Didn’t that only happen on tv? Youngjae would confess to Yugyeom that he liked you too and the two of them would be at a standstill. The cinnamon roll of the group versus the baby of the group��oh no.

“Have y-you said anything to y/n? Do they like you?”

Bambam

Bambam would be in shock. There is no way that his Hyung, his leader would have feelings for the same person as him. No freaking way! How the hell can that even be real? Jaebeom liking you? Bambam would snort and flat out tell Jaebeom to let you go. He wouldn’t be mean about it but come on. He’s old and Bambam is young!

“Come on gramps, like there’s even a competition between the two of us.” Bambam would joke and Jaebeom would let him try to win your heart.

Yugyeom

WAR. The end all be all…no second chances. This was going to be brutal and Yugyeom was ready to win your heart. He loved Jinyoung like an older brother, but you were someone so very special to his heart. You were the only other person that really understood Yugyeom and didn’t treat him like a little kid. You treated him like a man, and he was going to prove himself.

“Hyung, y/n is very special to me…are you sure they mean as much to you?”

#soc got7 #mark tuan #lim jaebeom #jackson wang #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #bambam #kim yugyeom #got7 angst #got7 reactions #soc requests #request 32 #got7 x gn reader

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dontbekoifish · 2 years

Text

The Sky Prince (1/3)

Pairing: Duffi!Jaebeom x f!reader (future chapters), slight Muska!Jinyoung x f!reader

Genre: Angst, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, death, violence, mentions of murder, injuries, toxic relationships (chapter specific)

Word count: 3684 (chapter specific)

Summary: Maybe Jinyoung was a little mean to you, but you think it gives him personality. You kind of like it. But he leaves you all alone. Until one fateful day, where your whole life turns upside down.

Movie: Castle in the Sky

Fandom: GOT7

This was written for the 2021 Ghibli Collab by @toikiii. It’s a long time overdue, so I’m sorry about that. But this will be finished by October, in a three-parter. I hope you enjoy the first part. :)

Jinyoung insisted he’s some sort of prince. You would’ve found it annoying if it was any other kid in the village, but you didn’t mind it from him. He had dreams and aspirations, and who were you to judge him? You would sit with him under the big oak tree in the orphanage’s yard and listen to his stories and tales. The other kids would call you both weird, but you didn’t mind. It wasn’t like they were any more mature.

As the oldest two of the orphans, Jinyoung being only a few months older than you, you and he often had a lot more free time. Honestly, you didn’t know why you both had to stay. Well, kind of. You weren’t able to leave until someone offered to marry you, as you were a young woman with no family. Such was how the village worked. But Jinyoung, you didn’t know what was stopping him.

Deep inside you wished he was waiting until he was old enough to marry at twenty and then he would engage you, but you know it wasn’t that. He didn’t really like you. He only put up with you because you believed his tall tales. You could see it in his eyes. When you two were stuck doing chores any other day, he would look at you with such animosity. But when you sat at the tree, he smiled at you.

That was why you would listen. Any sort of appreciation he looked at you with, you relished. Even if it was only thankfulness at your willingness to hear his stories.

But one day, when you were waiting at the tree, Jinyoung was slow. A lot slower than usual. Usually, he was right behind you, eager to tell tales.

“Jinyoungie,” you called out, watching his head lift, “why so slow today?” You ran back down the hill to meet him halfway.

Jinyoung looked at you, eyes dead, and your brows furrowed. “(Y/N).”

“Jinyoungie? What’s wrong?” You reached out, hands fisting in his cotton shirt sleeve. “Why do you look so mad?”

“I have a family.” What? “I have family,” Jinyoung repeated as if he read the look on your face.

Your lips pulled down into a frown, feeling a burn behind your eyeballs. You don’t want to cry, but you might. Having family means he would leave, and you’d be stuck here by yourself. “But I don’t want you to go,” you whined, the words coming out more choked than you’d like.

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “Well, I have a family. I want to find them. They’re the key to reclaiming my position as prince. You remember, you have to. All those things I told you. And the gift, remember it?”

You nodded, letting go of him and shoving your hand in your pocket and bringing out the book he gave you. It was an odd show of affection, but it had been your fourteenth birthday and Jinyoung had found you crying in the closet because the other kids had pulled your hair and called you names. It was filled with drawings and notes upon drawings and notes of these bodies Jinyoung called robots. It was a little weird but you still loved it.

“Well, it’s important. And you gotta keep it safe.” Jinyoung assured you, and you nodded again. “Look, I’m being serious.” He had such a look of determination on his face for an eighteen-year-old, you suddenly felt small in comparison.

You sighed heavily. There would be no stopping him. Jinyoung took your silence as assent and he turned around to leave. “Wait, Jinyoung,” you said again, and Jinyoung turned back. “You know, I like you a lot.”

Jinyoung smiled slightly, a rare occurrence. “I know.” His hand lifted and planted itself on the top of your hair. “Thanks for listening to me.” He leaned in and your breath hitched as his full lips planted itself on your cheek.

You couldn’t move, not even when Jinyoung pulled back and offered you a wide grin before heading back down the hill. You stayed up on the hill ‘til evening when the mistress of the orphanage called for you, and when you headed to bed without even having dinner, the other kids laughed at you. But you didn’t care.

He kissed you. Even if it was just on the cheek, and you’re probably never going to see him again, he kissed you. He likes you back. Maybe he’ll come back and marry you when the time comes. You clutched the little book close as you fell asleep. Jinyoung will return, you could feel it. You knew it.

And he did return, just not in the way you expected.

You had just turned twenty-one and from in the closet of where you hid, you could hear shouts and cries. This was not how you had wanted your birthday to go. When the morning of had come you were waiting anxiously in the early morning at the gates of the orphanage as you had done for the past two years on your birthday, hoping Jinyoung would come.

But strange men in suits had come instead, telling you to go fetch the mistress, and you had gone to her. You had thought maybe they had come to get one of the boys, so you waited inside for them to leave so that you could come to the gates again. They talked with the mistress and it seemed they had reached a conclusion, so you thought they might leave. But they didn’t leave.

They pulled out a gun and shot the mistress right in the face.

The kids watching at the door and outside screamed, but you couldn’t go out and save them. You didn’t have time before more men swarmed the courtyard, grabbing the kids and shoving them down before pulling out their guns. You couldn’t look.

The kids inside were still here and you needed to help them. The mistress would be angry if you didn’t.

You shoved the children inside closets, under cupboards, in wardrobes, anywhere they would fit. Only then when they were all hidden and you could see the big oak door entrance start to shake violently did you run.

You found yourself in the boy’s side of the orphanage, in Jinyoung’s old room. What a sick irony. But you had no time to wait, the clamor was getting closer. You shoved your way inside his wardrobe, thick shirts from the kids who replaced him over and over getting in your way. But it was dark and it felt safer than under the bed.

It wasn’t safe enough, though. The closet door opened and you were yanked out so hard you thought your bone might pop out of your shoulder. The men had found you.

“We found another one!” One of the three men in the room poked his head out the door and called to someone. “It might be the one you’re looking for, sir! She looks like it!”

You struggled, but it’s no use. The men are too strong and one of them backhanded you, the gun he held slamming into your jaw. You cried out from the sharp pain, but they just hit you again. “Shut up,” the man gripping you hissed, “you’re only making this harder on yourself, little girl.”

You clenched your eyes shut, waiting, waiting for pain or death, when footsteps entered the room and a familiar voice was heard. “(Y/N).”

Your eyes flitted open. “Jinyoung?” you ask in a hoarse, broken voice. “What– what are you doing here?”

Jinyoung, now twenty-one, smiles at you but there is nothing positive in his eyes. Just cold, hard, greed. “(Y/N),” he repeats, “you’ve grown up well. Happy birthday.”

Your eyes welled up, unsure whether to be happy he remembered or disgusted he did this. This was not the determined eighteen-year-old boy you knew all those years ago. “Jinyoung?” you repeated again, voice cracking. Jinyoung smiled a little wider, taking a step closer. “Why are you here?”

“(Y/N),” he tsked, “don’t be so sad. This orphanage never did anyone any good. They keep you here to be married off, and when they don’t get you married off, they keep you for free labor. Tell me, how long have you been here? Six years? More? So why haven’t you left? You had all the chances you could.”

You didn’t even know how to respond, only weakly saying his name once more. Jinyoung rolled his eyes and sneered. “Stop calling me like a child who just learnt their parents’ names. Look, I’ll just cut to the chase. Give me the notebook.”

You blinked up at him. “Notebook?” Jinyoung hissed through his teeth, stepping closer and grabbing your jaw with his hand. He wrenches your chin up and you can feel your neck strain as you’re forced to meet his eyes.

“The damn notebook, (Y/N). God, you’re so fucking stupid. The notebook. I entrusted. To you.” Your eyes shook looking up at Jinyoung. He was unhinged, so, so angry, and you hated him.

“It’s in my room,” you croaked out, and Jinyoung slipped into an easygoing smile with a bat of an eye.

“Good girl,” he crooned, and you felt sick. “Now, take us to it and I’ll let you go.”

You stood shakily, legs weak. How did this happen? You wanted to cry but you were so damn scared. When you stepped out in the hallway, you almost collapsed again. Bodies of the employees and the children here littered the hallway and it was only the grip of one of the men that kept you upright.

Jinyoung tsked again, hand moving to your shoulder where he dug his fingers in uncomfortably. “Stand up straight, (Y/N). Hasn’t the orphanage taught you anything? I could just kill you right now and find the notebook myself.”

You couldn’t respond, eyes trained on the wall in front of you. You could not look down. You must not. If you looked, you fear you would kill yourself. You lead them silently through the hallways until you stop at your room next to the headmistress’s. You unlocked the door with shaking hands, and you could feel your heart cry at the sight before you.

The children who were hiding under your bed were strewn across the floor, blank, dead eyes looking up at the ceiling. You could barely move, and Jinyoung sighed at your almost-catatonic state. “Go on, (Y/N),” he said with barely concealed impatience. “Go get me the notebook.”

It’s only when the other man shoved you did you stumble toward your pillow, feet heavy and tripping over the bodies strewn across the floor. The notebook– it was inside your pillowcase and you drew it out quietly.

When you turned around with the small, worn notebook in your hands, Jinyoung’s eyes lit up. He leaned forward and basically grabbed it, flipping through it fervently with a sick, twisted smile on his face. “Finally,” he breathed, “finally.”

He stood there for an almost uncomfortably long amount of time, flipping through before landing and staring at a page. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you knew which part it was. After a few minutes, Jinyoung finally turned to the men standing right at the door. “Leave us,” he commanded, and despite their obvious uncomfortableness with the command, they left you two in the room alone.

Jinyoung stared at you for a moment before thrusting the notebook at you, opening to the page you had dreaded. “Read,” he commanded again.

“Why?” you asked, but Jinyoung shook his head and you cleared your throat slightly before reading aloud what you had written. The journal entries you added once a year on your birthday until today. “Entry one. Jinyoung is gone, am I happy about it? No, but maybe he’ll come back.” The words were choked, and Jinyoung tsked again.

“Clearer.” You coughed lightly, eyes quavering with unshed tears.

“I want him to return and marry me. I want to smile at his side. I miss Jinyoung. It’s only been a few hours but I want to hear his stories again. He’s a sky prince. Will he return? I must believe he shall, for if he won’t I know that butcher from the village will ask me to be his. I don’t like him that much, he gets mad when I’m dreaming about things that are out of my reach”—the first tear slipped down your face and you quickly scrubbed it away with your palm—“but I’m sure Jinyoung will return.

“He has to,” you continued with your resolve weakening and more tears falling down your face, “because I love him. In all those children’s books, they say love trumps all. I want Jinyoung to come and yell at the kids teasing me like he used to. I just want him back.”

Jinyoung sighed, hands coming out and cupping your face in his big hands. You flinched but Jinyoung paid no mind, thumbs gently brushing the tears away. How could he? How could he come here and kill all the people you cared for and then just treat you so softly? “Continue,” he ordered once more, but his voice was a lot quieter.

“Entry two. Jinyoung isn’t back, but I’ll wait until next year. I’ll be old enough to marry then, and he’ll come and take me away. The butcher is getting impatient. He keeps coming to talk to the headmistress about me, and I’m never allowed to listen in. Where is Jinyoung? Even though he was a little mean to me, he still made sure I was all right. After all, I was the only one who listened to him. Why can’t he come to visit?

“Entry three.” Jinyoung’s hands were still on your face and you refused to lift your eyes from the book. You don’t think you could look at him after what he had done. “The butcher asked me to marry him. I said no and he hit me.” You could feel Jinyoung tense, fingers pressing into the hollows of your cheeks slightly. “The headmistress was angry with him, but he still waits at the gates sometimes to look for me. I try not to go out anymore. Where’s Jiny-”

“Stop,” Jinyoung hissed, hands dropping from your face and grabbing the book back. “Don’t read it anymore. Instead, tell me.” His voice shakes almost imperceptibly as if he’s trying not to become the eighteen-year-old he once was. “Why did you write in it?”

Your lips tightened, you still refused to lift your head to look at Jinyoung. “I missed you. I was young, lonely, and I loved you.” Jinyoung’s hand grabbed your jaw again, forcing you to meet his eyes. They still didn’t show any affection for you, but you’re rather glad about that. If he looked at you with love you might have forgiven him.

“Do you still?” The question made your lips quirk up. How could he ask you this now? Your eyes shifted to the side; you could hardly stand to look at his cold eyes.

“Maybe under different circumstances, I would.” The answer was enough for Jinyoung and he dropped his hand once more. He turns away, but you can’t help but ask him one more question. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

Jinyoung looked back at you, something akin to pity flashing across his stony face, and he stepped closer again, leaning closer. You flinch back but his hands dart out again, holding you still as he presses his lips to yours. Unlike the first kiss you had received from him, your heart didn’t beat in excitement, only in fear and disgust. There was no feeling as if Jinyoung was only trying to see if he would feel any different.

He lets you go after a moment, pulling back with an unreadable expression on his face. “Maybe if I stayed here, I would’ve married you. But I had left and I only knew you as the girl for whom I owed a favor. I suppose it was some sort of wishful thinking. Never will happen again, probably.” Your heart dropped.

If he stayed, this never would’ve happened. He would have been yours. But he’s unrecognizable now. Greedy, evil, you hate him. Jinyoung laughed at the expression on your face. “Don’t look like that, (Y/N). Be glad I kept you alive. And don’t worry about the butcher anymore.”

You didn’t move, almost in a sort of parody from when he first told you he was leaving. You didn’t move until long after he left the room and the sun was rising to its position in the middle of the sky. Only then did you have the courage to move. The bodies were still strewn across the grounds and you couldn’t help but cry for each and every one of them.

Fifteen kids, you remembered the count. Fifteen kids and all of them dead. Fifteen children and their mistress, the workers, all dead. Only you were alive and you didn’t want it. The village was just as quiet, when you had left the gates of the orphanage no one came out.

But when you approached the center, one lone woman came out, eyes burning with hatred and tears. It was the butcher’s sister. “You killed him,” she cried shakily, a finger pointing at you accusingly. “You sent that man to kill him.”

You can barely hear her, your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But the words struck you. “He– Jinyoung? He killed–” She nodded angrily once more.

“He came, saying he was doing a favor for you, and shot him point blank. You told him to,” she screeched, and you flinched. She took an angry step towards you, and you took one back.

“I didn’t– No, of course I–” you pleaded, “I didn’t know– He didn’t tell me, I told him nothing.” The sister shrieks, in fury or anguish, you don’t know, and lunges at you. She doesn’t get far when someone else runs out and holds her back. You recognize him too, the son of the village elder. His name escaped you at the moment, and it would only be years later, when you tell the story to your grandchildren, that his name was Jackson.

He sighed, shaking his head at you. “I don’t think you caused this,” he started to say slowly, “but I don’t think the village will believe you. I cannot save you from their wrath. You need to leave now. I can give you time until sundown, but leave.” His face tightened at your expression; you didn’t know what face you’re making.

You didn’t even have time to register when he pulled the sister back inside and left you standing out there in the open. Only then did you realize that while the town yard was empty, eyes were staring at you through the windows and the doors. He was right, they blamed you. Who else, when all the others in the orphanage were dead? Maybe Jinyoung thought he was doing you a favor in some twisted way, but his life wasn’t the one upended, it was yours.

You ran all the way back home in a fit of panic, pulling out the lone suitcase you had and shoving everything you can into it. Maybe if you had paused for a moment, you would have changed your mind because you certainly wanted to die after seeing what you saw. But this wasn’t the way you wanted to go. Maybe you didn’t deserve it, but you wanted to live.

Walking out of the town after spending almost all of your life in it was strange. You didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, you were happy you were gone from this hellhole, but on the other, you hated yourself for causing the death of someone. Why would Jinyoung do this? That was the lone question on your mind. Did he cause all this just for the damn notebook?

Your heart ran cold thinking about Jinyoung. What happened to him? Sure, when he still lived at the orphanage was cold-hearted and often just flat-out mean, but he still had some sense of morality. But not he just went on a rampage, killing every child in the orphanage because of what reason? It couldn’t have been spite.

What changed him? You shivered, remembering his cold eyes as they looked at you like you were just another person in his way. And maybe you were. But then, why would he kill the butcher? A favor? In return for keeping care of his notebook?

You shivered again, not up and down your spine, but from the cold. It was November, not quite winter yet but it certainly felt like it. The orphanage was always warm in the winter so you hadn’t the need for coats, but now you regretted it. With only a worn shawl around your shoulders, you were uncomfortable in the bitter wind.

If you died from the cold now, you wouldn’t be opposed. You had been walking for hours; night had settled over the trees and the temperature dropped by the minute. Death seemed like a good option, and maybe it would give you peace of mind about Jinyoung.

You may not be given peace of mind, but your brain did stop thinking about Jinyoung when your ankle rolled and you started falling down the steep hill you had been so carefully walking along the edge of. Sharp rocks bruised and scraped your body as you tumbled down what seems to be everlasting.

Only when you slammed into the side of what seems to be a stone wall did you come to a halt. You could hardly move, aching all over and your eyes fluttered shut. Everything hurt and you just wanted to die. You could hear a lantern jangle but you didn’t even have the energy to call out for who it was. You only feebly curled into yourself and let the pain overcome you and turn everything muddy, and then to black.

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chicken-fifi · 3 months

Text

Forgive and Forget | Mark Tuan (MafiaAU!) Imagine

Pairing: Mafia!Mark Tuan x Wife!Reader; Mafia Boss!Lim Jaebeom X Sister!Reader

Requested by anon: haii, i saw that your request is open!! i want a request with mafia!mark tuan x wife!reader. mark and your jayb are known have died being killed by the other group. unknownly you're having a child years later, and when the other group saw you both, they wanted to kill both of you. suprisingly, you were saving by got7. you were mad at them being shadows and hide themselves from you for years especially mark and your brother. so, (especially) mark and the others regaining your trust back and want to be a dad in your child live, you're slowly trust him and got7 again (maybe there's an incident or something that mark almost being killed cause he saved you and/or child(?)). thank you^^

Genre: angst

Word Count: 2,960 words

Warnings: violence, mafia, kidnapping, death threats, implied torture, blood, bruises, etc.

A/n: the urge to turn this into a miniseries was deep, but i couldn't do that given i'm already in the midst of attempting to plan one and putting the Ghost!YoungK on the backburner for a bit. hopefully you like this! for the record, yes, i got the child's name from pachinko by minjin lee. please go read that masterpiece.

Tunes: [Playlist] Life is a Book by ethereal

“Isak!” you called out, setting down a plate on the dining table. “Dinner’s ready!”

Still in your work clothes, you sat down at the dining table, watching as your six year old son slid into his chair happily digging into his meal. His dark locks bounced as he danced as he ate. He looked identical to his father - a father he would only ever meet through the few photographs you had managed to keep from the early years of your relationship…before everything went to shit.

You felt an irrational amount of anger towards your brother as you recalled how he had been the one to offer the job to Mark under the promise that it would help him provide for the two of you. After all, “nothing bad will come out of it when it’s all of us together.”

God you wished you could puns your brother in the face for the boldfaced lie he’d told.

Not that it would make any difference. Both Jaebeom and Mark were dead. The consequence of their growing greed and name having put them on top of just about every other mob’s hitlist. Bring them down and they get the monopoly back. Simple as that.

Even it meant the other mobs had an excessive number of lives on their hands. It wouldn’t be something new to them either way. Not even with the knowledge that they were taking away a brother and husband of a woman who was unknowingly pregnant with her and her husband’s first child. None of that would matter to any crime organization’s decision to make someone ‘disappear.’

“Mom?” you heard Isak call out, halting all of your thoughts.

“Yes Baby?”

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Your brows furrowed at his question - especially after he’d been so happy eating his meal.

( Not to mention that it was out of the ordinary for him to ask to sleep with you. He hadn’t asked to sleep with you in nearly three years. )

A soft smile made its way onto your face and you reached out rubbing his cheek gently. “Of course, Darling.”

He smiled at you and continued eating quietly, although no longer dancing. The two of you finished dinner not long after and cleared up. Isak lingered by your side the entire time you washed the dishes. You weren’t entirely sure what had transpired in his little mind during the short time from when he start eating to when he asked you the question, and you certainly weren’t aware of what was going on in his little head at the moment as he clung to your side as if you would leave him and never come back.

“Is something wrong Isak?” you asked, setting the final dish aside to dry.

Isak looked up at you with his big, round eyes. You could tell there was something he wanted to say but didn’t actually want to say for whatever reason.

“Do you not want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, looking down at the floor. Without saying a word, you took your hand and ruffled his hair lovingly, hoping it would provide some silent comfort. Clearly Isak didn’t want to talk about it and you didn’t want to force him to talk. So you’d wait it out for a bit.

“Whenever you’re ready you can tell me okay?”

You got a small nod before he hugged your waist as best as he could. Hugging him back, you crouched down and picked him up with a huff, holding him as tightly as you could for a few minutes before setting him back down. When did your little boy get so big?

“Why don’t we watch a movie before going to bed?”

~~~~

You sat up in your bed with a start hearing rustling down the hall in the living room of your home. Isak was still sound asleep beside you, cuddled closely into your side. Moving as quiet as you could, you got out of bed, inching towards the bedroom door avoiding the creaky floorboards you could remember in your sleepy state. As you reached the door, you heard a floorboard creek on the other side of the door. Panic and fear filled you as you pressed your body forcefully against the door, just as whoever was on the other side attempted to open it.

“They’re in here!” a man’s voice yelled, waking Isak with a start who instantly looked in your direction eyes wide.

“Mom?”

Hide. you mouthed, pushing all of your weight against the door, jolting as the men pushed against the door. HIDE!

Isak’s eyes filled with tears as he slid out of the bed and walked in your direction initially before you shooed him away motioning to the closet. You knew that he knew about the crawl space that was pretty hard to find if you didn’t know it was there - it was his favorite hiding space after all. He didn’t get a chance to get to the closet before the door burst open, your frame practically going flying from the force used to break it open.

Frozen in fear, his little eyes widened as he saw the four burly looking men enter the room. Two immediately went to grab you, covering your mouth preventing you from screaming. A third went to him, reaching to grab him a sickly sweet tone being used as he spoke. Running past the man, Isak made a break for the master bathroom, only to be grabbed by the fourth man, a scream echoing throughout the room as the man’s hands gripped him tightly. You pulled and flailed from the two men holding you, instinct telling you to get to your son - all to no avail.

“So our intel was right,” another voice spoke from behind you before another man entered the room crouching down in front of you. “The son of bitch does have a little sister.”

“And a nephew,” the fourth man added, covering Isak’s mouth before yelping as he bit the man’s fingers.

In his captor’s distraction, Isak ran to you not paying any mind to the two men holding you.

“And a nephew…” the fifth man repeated, eyes trained on the little boy. “This will certainly make things interesting.”

~~~

Mark lunged himself at the man tied in the chair before him, “You pathetic piece of shit! How could you?!”

Jaebeom pinched the bridge of his nose, “What exactly did you tell them?” he asked the man as calmly as he could, not paying Mark any mind.

The man gulped, looking at Mark before flicking his gaze to his boss, “They threatened me.”

“SO YOU DRAG INNOCENT PEOPLE INTO IT?!” Mark yelled, landing a punch on the man’s face, the force alone knocking the chair to the ground, the man along with it.

Yugyeom and Youngjae watched, unsure of whether or not to intervene. Jinyoung sat at a chair looking at the photographs they’d been mailed. The dirtied and bruised figures of your son and you making him sick. How had they let it go this far?

“Mark,” Jaebeom barked. “That’s enough.”

Mark turned, rage alight in his eyes, “Enough? I don’t think so. Your sister, my wife, and our child have been kidnapped and are about to be killed because of this…pathetic,” a kick to the man’s side, “piece,” another kick, “of shit.”

A door opened and in came Jackson and BamBam, their faces void of any emotion. Jaebeom looked away from Mark momentarily.

“Anyone else working with him?”

Jackson shook his head, “He went rogue on this one. Bold move if you ask me.”

“Any idea on where they could be being held?”

Bambam shook his head, “Not yet. My squad’s still looking.”

Jaebeom turned back to his brother-in-law, walking up to where the man was still kicking the mole. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he pulled him back, crouching down before the battered man.

“You have three tries to tell me where they are,” Jaebeom spoke, far too calm for someone who had just been betrayed by one of his men. “If you even think about lying to me, I’ll riddle your body with so many bullets that no one will recognize your body once it’s found - if it’s ever found.” Without even waiting for a response, Jaebeom grabbed his handgun, placing it on the man’s thigh and firing it, “Better start talking.”

~~~

Your hands held Isak close to your bruised and bloodied body. One thing you were thankful for was the lack of light in the room as it provided you a way to hide the many injuries that had been inflicted onto you from your son, even if the groans and radiating pain intensified whenever he cuddled you. Little whimpers fell from his lips as he cried into your dirtied shirt.

Your heart broke as you shushed him, rubbing your hands along his back and hair, attempting to comfort him as best as you could in your state. Tears filled your own eyes as you took in the reality of the situation you were in - along with all the information you’d found out during the many hours of ‘interrogations’ you were put through by whoever this group was.

Jaebeom, your brother -whom you swore you saw gunned down right before your eyes - was alive.

Mark was alive.

Those two lying sons of bitches were alive and had let you live the past six, seven years of your life believing they had been killed.

And here you were being questioned about their location.

How the fuck would you, of all people, know?

Isak’s soft cries turned into sniffles as he fell asleep, your own eyes growing tired, both from the torture you’d endured and the past few… How long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? No. Not weeks. You’d be dead if it had been weeks.

Letting your mind rest, you fell into a light sleep, unsure of what your and Isak’s futures held.

~~~

Much like the night of your abductions, you awoke with a start - so did Isak - as the sound of gunfire and shouts rang out throughout the building you were in. Isak clung to you whimpering as he hid his face in your shirt. You did your best to wrap your body around him - a weak attempt at shielding his small body, giving him even the tiniest sliver of a chance a t surviving whatever it was that was going on out there. You shook as you tried to get him to quiet as his whimpers grew louder as the gunfire drew nearer.

All too soon, the gunfire stopped just as footsteps were barely heard stopping in front of the door to the room you were in. Thuds followed which you could only assume was someone making an attempt at breaking down the door, something you weren’t really you wanted to happen. It could be the police finally having been notified of you and your son’s sudden disappearance - but no one in this world was stupid enough to leave traces of that - or it could be yet another mob wanting their final taste of revenge on GOT7.

Either way, you were scared shitless for you and your son.

Then you heard him. The sound of his voice calling your name over and over again from the other side of the door.

“Mark,” you whispered. “Mark!”

Isak stopped crying looking at you strangely, before calling out the name you had just said realizing that you were far too quiet to be heard - genuinely afraid that whoever was there would leave if either of you didn’t respond, clearly they were there to help you if they sounded worried, right?

“Mark!” he shouted, his tiny voice still rough from the tears he’d shed. “Mark!”

The thudding got more and more frantic and frequent before a few more names were said, presumably more help - and the thudding was stronger until the door finally caved and in rushed one man before anyone else falling beside you.

“My love,” he whispered, taking you into his arms, choking up at the sight of you. He turned his attention to the little boy who was clearly trying to decide whether or not this ‘Mark’ was actually safe. It didn’t take long as he soon recognized the man’s face from the many pictures you’d shown him.

“Daddy?”

Mark let out a breath between a laugh and sob, as he cradled your body reaching out to touch his son’s face.

“Yeah, I’m your Dad.”

~~~

As you sat on the bed in the infirmity you avoided all eye contact with Mark and Jaebeom. Having saved you or not, they were not in your graces.

“We know it wasn’t right, but we had no other choice but to disappear in order to-”

“You didn’t disappear,” you snapped. “You faked your deaths and left me with six, almost seven years of grief. Not to mention having to raise our child by myself thinking you were dead and he was never going to know who you were.”

The last part was clearly directed at Mark, who winced at your words.

“I know it wasn’t right,” Jaebeom continued crouching down before you. “And I’m sorry that my decision brought so much pain and agony to you. But at the end of the day, I made the decision that would give me and my men the best chance at survival. The choice that would allow you to stay out of all of this mess. Clearly that wasn’t the case, but I don’t regret it.”

You looked away, tears welling in your eyes. You wanted to be selfish and hate both of them, hate your brother for everything, but you couldn’t. You knew he was capable of making the most gut wrenching decisions if it meant keeping the people he cared about safe and out of harm’s way, even if it brought pain in the process - at least they would be alive.

Jaebeom rose to his feet, “I think the two of you need to talk some more, I’ll go check on…Isak?”

He was clearly unsure of the way the name rolled off his tongue but smiled as he remembered the little mannerisms that the small boy had shown as he was treated by the mob’s doctors.

As soon as Jaebeom left the room, Mark took a step closer to the bed before sitting down after you didn’t move away.

“He looks a lot like me,” he commented, figuring you might be more willing to talk if it started off with your son.

“Acts like you sometimes too,” you add, cracking a tiny smile. “You have no idea how difficult it is to see him everyday. It’s like being haunted by your ghost.”

Mark nodded, in understanding. He couldn’t take away or undo anything that had happened. But he knew he could maybe change things for the better now…if you let him that is. Seven years was a long time.

“Listen,” he began, turning to face you. “I’m not going to ask you to forgive. What I did and went along with is not forgivable. I have hurt the two of you in ways I can’t even begin to imagine. But I need you to know that I’m extremely sorry for that. That, if given the chance, I would take it all back and rewind the clock.”

“Mark-”

“Let me be in his life. I don’t care if you want a divorce after all of this. If you don’t want to ever see my face again. But please, please, let me in my - our - son’s life.”

You looked at him for a few minutes, not saying a single word. Despite not allowing them to fall, tears were welling on his eyes, threatening to spill over his waterline.

“I think he’d like that a lot,” you finally said, looking away. “Just, keep him out of all of this.”

“I promise!” he said without a single ounce of hesitation. “I swear I won’t allow anyone to rub a single hair on his head in the wrong direction.”

You smiled weakly, biting your lip, “As for me, just…just give me some time. It’s a lot.”

Mark cocked his head to the side. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through right now, all because of him. The very man who had vowed to never hurt you all those years ago.

“Of course.”

You went to say something when the sound of Isak’s voice filled your ears as he called for you rushing towards where you were on the bed, Jaebeom right behind him.

“Mommy, he said he’s your big brother!” he giggled, bouncing up and down his hands on your knees, as he pointed at Jaebeom. “He’s my uncle right?”

You smiled, running your hand over his reddened cheek - he must’ve been having fun with Jackson who had been tasked with distracting him while you were being examined - and nodded.

“Yeah. He’s your uncle. My big brother.”

Jaebeom smiled slightly at you as you finally looked him in the eye, “Do you want to go see your room?”

Your brows furrowed at his words before Isak pushed away from you and ran after Jaebeom who was already out the door.

“His room?” you asked, looking at Mark.

Mark scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah…Jaebeom and I think it’s best if you live here for a while. With him. Just until things settle down. I personally don’t want you going back to the house alone after what happened.”

You nodded, it would take some getting used to that’s for sure, but maybe you’d be able to move past it all quickly. Forgive and forget everything as best as you could. After all, you had them back. You finally had your family back.

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #got7 #got7 masterlist #got7 mark #got7 mark tuan #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #mark #mark tuan #mark imagines #mark scenarios #mark tuan imaginea #mark tuan scenarios

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onewmin · 10 months

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snow on the beach | jaebeom | knj | 18+

Parings: Lim Jaebeom x fem!reader x Kim Namjoon

Summary: You reminisce on the memories about the most important men in your life after being caught in between them, your feelings put at stake.

Warnings: AU, SMUT (do not engage in my works if you’re a minor), non-graphic description of sex, mentions of oral (f receiving), friends to friends with benefits to friends to lovers (?), mentions of cheating, profanity, the reader doesn’t know what she feels (very elena gilbert of hers), a very cheesy thing in the end (pls I’m a sucker for such stupid clichés) and a cliffhanger of course; typos, a slight of angst

Author’s note: hope you enjoy this… whatever this is lmao. Let me know what you think!!

Pics are taken from Pinterest, if you know their owners, pls let me know!!

Disclaimer: My works are not for minors to read. All the appearances of real people are taken for inspiration purposes only. I do not own anything, except for my writing.

Masterlist

A summer breeze blew through your hair, hugging your shoulders with its warmth. There’s something about beaches, something that has always drawn you to this place. Is it the ocean, the small waves of which washed over your feet in the early hours of the days; is it the sand, that was always collected in your shoes after you walked around? You don’t really know, to be honest. You just know that you love being on the beach, whether it’s winter or summer, whether you’re alone of with someone else.

Five years ago, Jaebeom took you to the beach to teach you how to swim. Back then, you’d been friends for over a year, and shared the benefits for several months. The beach was secluded, isolated almost; so after his successful lessons, the two of you ended up making out on the sand. You remember sitting on his lap, arms wrapped around him, hands in his hair, tugging. You remember his grips on your waist, fingers putting hair behind your ears, slow kisses with sweet nothings whispered in between them. None of you had ever opened up to the other party of the mess, coming clear with the mutual feelings the two of you had developed. He never spoke of, and neither did you. You two just continued making love and acting like a couple until some months later you met Namjoon.

“Joon asked me to be his girlfriend”, you said to Jaebeom, when the two of you were smoking outside the bar.

“What did you answer?”

You shrugged your shoulders and threw the cigarette in the bin. “Figured I’d talk to you first”.

Jaebeom peered right through you, and then took the second cigarette from the pack. “No need to. He’s a great guy. You should go for it”.

Deep inside your head, you were hoping he’d snap, take your hand and pull you in his arms, whispering about you being his girl, like he did when you’d have sex. But he never did. And so the two of you were only friends again.

You grew to love Kim Namjoon quite quickly; he was always tender with you, gentle touches left on your cheeks whenever the two of you kissed. He fell for you first, having spent months dancing around you, trying to approach you the best way possible. He’d bring you flowers, take you on long bike rides and meet you after work. You’d go on simple dates, like movies or walks, but you were mesmerized by every little thing he did for you. However, Jaebeom wasn’t the bad guy in the story either: he was still you close friend. And prior to Namjoon, he had also done everything to make you fall for him.

But Jaebeom never acknowledged that. Namjoon did.

For your first anniversary the two of you rode your bikes to the beach to have a picnic, while watching the sunset. There were plenty of people there too, but you only saw Joon, and his ever glowing love reflected in him holding your hand and smiling brightly at everything you said.

And while the time was passing, Jaebeom had gotten in and out multiple relationships, you and Namjoon stood strong, facing every challenge together. Him and Jaebeom grew to be friends too, and you never touched upon you and him being an item before Joon. Because, no matter how friendly they’d been to each other, Kim Namjoon was overly possessive whenever he saw you and Jaebeom together.

Something seems off, he’d think to himself, judging you male best friend silently, but I can’t grasp what. You had to reassure him a thousand times that there was nothing between the two of you, — at least, not anymore — and he’d cool down, coming back to that sweet persona of his.

And the time has passed almost invisibly, marking your fifth anniversary as lovers and second one as an engaged couple. Things were going pretty great, horrendously sweet the two of you are, your friends would say.

Jaebeom, on the other hand, four months prior to your anniversary, had broken up with his long-term girlfriend — probably, the first one in years that he had very serious intentions about. He called you in the middle of the night, his speech slurring, for you to find him in the alley, drunkenly unconscious. Having carried him to your car, you heard him mumbling to himself, lying in the backseat, while you were driving him home.

“Jaebeom, you’re heavy son of a bitch”, you huffed, after putting him in his bed, and taking his clothes off. You didn’t feel the wave of embarrassment seeing him in his boxers only; you only felt a tsunami of irritation growing inside of you.

“Stay”, he grabbed your wrist when you had put the blanket over his body.

“Jaebeom, you know I can’t stay”, your annoyance turned into softness the moment you heard his weak voice.

“I can’t sleep without you”, he looked you right in the eyes, “I think… I think about you a-all the time”, he stuttered.

“Oh god, you’re too drunk”, you replied and released yourself from his grip. He was obviously imagining his ex-girlfriend brought him home. That’s what you kept on telling yourself even when you heard him murmur your name when leaving.

The two of you never spoke of that. Not until two months ago.

Your friends would tell you about the most bizarre experiences of them finding out their partners were cheating: catching them red-handed was the most outdated one. Nevertheless, no matter how ‘boring’ it was, that what happened to you. Namjoon and the girl from his work, in your bed, in the bed the two of you have shared for the past three years.

“It’s not what you think!” Followed you as you flew out of the apartment, only to jump in your car and drive, drive, drive until you couldn’t feel your hands, which were gripping the wheel tightly. You stopped near the beach.

Sitting on the sand, you shivered from the cold spring wind as a harbinger of the heavy rain that followed shortly after you arrived. The raindrops fell on the water, creating ripples on its surface; and you didn’t know what really soaked the sand — the rain or your tears.

Soaked to the core, you tried to warm yourself in the car, bone-shaking sobs ripping your heart apart with every breath you took. You stayed in the car, in the parking lot of the supermarket outside the city, and fell asleep in the driver’s seat, head resting on your hands on the steering wheel.

You drove to Jaebeom’s house in the morning, just to cry more, being safe in his arms. He made you stay in his house even for longer, as you felt sick the next day, your beach experience being the fault. Namjoon was banned from visiting.

“She doesn’t want to see you”, you woke up to hear the words coming from the hall of Jaebeom’s house.

“Is that what she said?” You knew Namjoon’s voice all too well not to recognize him. “Or this are your words?”

“Both”.

“She’s my fiancée, not yours, Jaebeom”.

“Is she still?” Jaebeom chuckled. “Don’t remember her being ecstatic about your wedding since she caught you fucking someone else”.

1:0, Jaebeom won that round. Namjoon left but kept on bombarding your phone, texting and calling all the time. What could he possibly tell you? That it was a mistake? That him sleeping with his colleague was… What? What possible excuse could he ever given to make you forgive what he had done?

The anger has turned into resentment; you could no longer think of Namjoon without feeling sick to your stomach. Your engagement ring was in your bag, a lingering memory of the moments you were the happiest.

“Have you ever thought about it?” You and Jaebeom were sitting on the couch, watching TV in his house. You’ve just gotten better, but he insisted you stayed a little bit longer. You didn’t mind.

“About what?”

“About…” He hummed. “About us”.

“Us?”

He took a deep breath. “Like, if we… If you and me… Shit”. He ran his hand through the hair. “If I, uh…”. Jaebeom stopped for a moment again. “If I asked you to be my girlfriend back then, would you be mine?”

Gawking at him, you opened and closed your mouth, being unable to produce a sound or a thought. Just like that? Five years have passed!

“What are you… What are you talking about?” Your words came out as a whisper.

He moved closer to you, having taken your hands in his. “I-I just… I just want to know”. His brown eyes scanned you, pupils dilating every time his gaze stopped at your lips.

“It’s been too long for me to even remember-“

“I couldn’t forget”. His words firm, unlike the soft caressing of your hands by his fingers. “Because no matter how much time passed, I find myself still… Still drawn to you”. Your chest suddenly was heavy and the heartbeat was the only sound you could hear. “Don’t you ever think of… us?”

Your verbal answer came out as silence, but you quickly found yourself pulling him in for a kiss. Starting slowly, it escalated into a heavy one, tongues sloppily meeting in between moans. You never dreamt to be in his arms ever again, nevertheless, you were.

The couch was no longer enough as the two of you crawled to his bed, entangled in the sheets. His touches were the same, same as you remembered them: simply perfect for you. His head buried between your thighs, exploring your most sensitive spot once again, even more skillfully and satisfyingly this time.

And as you were riding him, head thrown back, both of you lost in pleasure, your personal Edem inside his bedroom. The way he tugged on your hair, gently and tenderly, when talking you from behind, open-mouthed kisses left on your back and shoulders. Every year spent suppressing your desire for each other turned into an erupting volcano; and there was no possibility to stop the disaster from happening.

You regretted it in the morning. You regretted it until Jaebeom woke up and grinned at you, lips touching your forehead in a soothing kiss, as if he’d felt the pain you were feeling. The said pain was relieved by the kiss, and then by another, turned into making out, turned into him slowly thrusting into you. For several hours you couldn’t even remember Namjoon’s name — as if the mere touch of Jaebeom’s erased your fiancé from your head.

However, not from your heart. No matter how good it was, no matter the suppressed feelings for Jaebeom coming back, you still had feelings for Namjoon as well. Torn apart, you were unable to leave Jaebeom, ‘cause doing it felt like leaving him forever. It seemed if you stepped out of his house, you’d lose him forever. But if you stayed? If you stayed, wouldn’t you lose Namjoon?

Did he think about that when cheating on you?

So you drove to the beach instead. Summer is in its full bloom, people walking around, swimming, laughing. Not many of them, but enough for you not to feel lonely. And as the weather seems perfect, you close your eyes to trust your faith to the only place you ever felt safe at.

“If it snows today, now, on the beach”, you speak to the ocean through your thoughts, eyes squeezed, “I’ll drive home to the man I love”. As if you knew. As if you had a clear vision of your future. As if you one whom to love.

And as you stand there, eyes still closed, several minutes pass. When you hear people’s voices suddenly getting louder, you lift your head to look at the sky. Opal colored just five minutes ago, now it was grey, clouds covering the sun.

Could it really snow on the beach in the middle of the summer?

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flurrys-creativity · 1 year

Text

Filipendulous

Filipendulous (adj.) - hanging by a thread

Pairing: Park Jinyoung (GOT7) x GN!Reader; Genre: Roommates to lovers, angst, romance, hurt and comfort?, a bit of fluff; Rating: sfw, pg-15; Warnings: mentions of an argument, mentions of jealousy, mentions of drinking alcohol (not really responsible), mentions of an accident, mentions of results from said accident, short hospital setting, one kiss; Wordcount: 1.967

Summary: After a fight with your roommate you ran out of the apartment. Blinded by rage you get caught in an accident, leaving Jinyoung worried sick back at home.

The door slammed shut behind you, leaving Jinyoung in your shared apartment. He closed his eyes upon hearing the harsh and sudden sound, his jaw clenching in the process.

Jinyoung felt his fists shaking beside his body. The anger still reverberated through his whole body. This wasn’t the first fight he had with you and it wasn’t unusual for one of you to just leave the apartment and come back with fried chicken and beer later the same day.

This time though, Jinyoung had a sinking feeling within his stomach. Something didn’t sit right with him. It might be the green monster of jealousy still rearing its head causing that feeling but Jinyoung tried telling himself he was above that.

He wasn’t.

The whole reason the fight started in the first place. You had casually mentioned you planned to go out for a couple of drinks with one of your classmates from college - Lim Jaebeom.

Jinyoung just couldn’t hold his tongue and had to comment on your plans snarkily. Which in turns pushed you into the defence. One thing led to another and the two of you argued back and forth, throwing insults and stupid, petty arguments at each other's heads.

Until Jinyoung shouted: “Are you that desperate to get laid, you lower your standards this much?”

The last thing Jinyoung heard from you, had been a shocked gasp, followed by a scoff and your retortion: “Are you that jealous you even limbo under my low standards?”

Jinyoung exhaled deeply. As much as he hated to admit it, you were right. He wanted to be the one to go out with you, take you on dates even. Over the years of living together he fell for you and he became quite protective and sometimes even possessive over you. Though he never found the bravery to ask you out for real.

Once you returned he would apologise to you immediately. Jinyoung nodded several times as if he tried to reassure himself with that decision. He opened his eyes again, finally turning around and staring at the closed apartment door.

It would be a few more hours before you would actually return. For a split second he even considered running after you as the continuous nagging feeling inside of him, begged him to go. Yet he rationalised the situation and decided to stay at the apartment, figuring he wouldn’t catch you now anyway. Instead he went to the couch and sat down, turning on the tv to distract him as he waited.

Jinyoung scooted around on the couch, becoming more and more restless as you still didn’t show up again. Hours had already passed but no sign from you. His gaze wandered to the display of his smartphone, which he tapped again to check the time.

Not able to stay still anymore, Jinyoung stood up and paced around the living room, holding his phone in one hand and tapping the screen the second it turned black again.

There were no messages, no missed calls, nothing. Where the hell were you?

Jinyoung’s thumb hovered over your icon, ready to call you any second but something inside him made him hesitate. Was it his own pride, his uncertainty, the thought you just wanted to make him suffer a little longer?

At least that’s what he would have done. And Jinyoung knew you were just as petty as him at times. With a deep sigh Jinyoung placed the phone on the small coffee table again, wandering over to the cupboard with your liquor stash. He grabbed a shot glass and one of the strong liquors, moving back to the couch.

Instead of sitting on the couch though, Jinyoung sat on the ground in front of it. He leant against it with his back, one leg propped up where his arm rested on.

Soon enough one shot turned into three, four, five. By now Jinyoung had to concentrate quite a bit to pour himself another shot as he hadn’t eaten anything prior and the alcohol hit even harder than usual.

With the veil of drunkenness clouding his mind, he grabbed his phone holding it way too close to his face as he typed a message painstakingly slow.

“It3 getting late… where ar yo?”

He gulped another shot, staring at his phone screen in hopes to see the tell tale sign of you answering but nothing happened.

“If youre stayin out at least say soo…”

A deep frown appeared on his face as he continued staring at the messages. He only saw one check mark on them, meaning the messages didn’t even go through to your phone. Jinyoung - not able to think of anything better - poured himself another shot, downing it followed by a loud hiss.

The nagging feeling became louder and louder and Jinyoung couldn’t ignore it anymore. Tears welled up in his eyes as he felt absolutely miserable. He blinked several times and looked around the room, trying to keep the tears at bay.

He felt as if he hung by a single thread, unsure whether continuing to hang or letting go was the better option. Jinyoung only knew whatever decision he’d make would impact his life.

“Fuck it”, he murmured and pushed himself up, staggering a few steps until he regained his balance again. Jinyoung grabbed his phone and stumbled towards his shoes and jacket. His head spun heavily, making it extremely hard to put his shoes on.

After what felt like ages he wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, ready to open the front door when his phone suddenly rang.

Jinyoung stared down at his hand, which still held the phone. He blinked once, twice, three more times until he was able to read the caller ID. “Y/N!” He almost shouted into the phone. “Where are you? I’ll come and get you! I was just about…”

Jinyoung stopped talking when he heard an unfamiliar voice interrupt him. “Are you familiar with someone named Y/N L/N?”

“Yeah.” Jinyoung didn’t dare to breathe, holding the air in his lungs as he attentively listened to the person on the other side of the call.

“Y/N was brought to us after a heavy accident. We did as much as we could-”

“Where? Which hospital? I’m on my way!” Jinyoung yelled into the receiver, the nagging feeling from before turning into dread that weighed heavy on him. “I’ll be there in a bit”, he said again after he got the location, hanging up the phone call.

Even though he said that, Jinyoung couldn’t move. One of his hands still held the doorknob, clutching it tightly so his knuckles turned white. A few tears rolled down his cheeks and he closed his eyes. Jinyoung inhaled shakily, twisting his face in pain.

There was no time to dwell in regret now. Jinyoung shook his head vigorously and turned the doorknob, rushing out of the door a second later. He half jumped and half ran the stairs down to the ground floor, pushing through the front door and colliding with a few passerby. Jinyoung turned around his own axis, the cold air hitting his face and sobering him up a little. He looked around to orientate himself, right before he sprinted down the streets. He ignored all the collisions and bumps and angry yelling behind him, only wanting to get to you as fast as possible.

Jinyoung panted heavily but felt somewhat sober again when he reached the hospital and walked through the doors, looking around frantically. Once a nurse pointed him into the right direction, he started running again.

He took two steps at a time, half pulling himself upwards on the railing. Jinyoung cursed under his breath, thinking he took way too long.

“I’m here”, Jinyoung blurted out as he opened the door to your room, scanning the surroundings and seeing nobody but you.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, making Jinyoung turn around on his heels. “As I tried to explain on the phone”, the doctor in front of Jinyoung spoke quietly, “we did everything we could but several bones are fractured and we assume a severe concussion as well. We’d like to keep them at the hospital for a few more days just to make sure we didn’t miss anything.”

“So that means?”

“They’ll be able to do everything as usual in a few weeks again and will be fully healed in a few months. For now we gave Y/N a high dosage of pain meds, which explains them sleeping. I actually wanted to lower the dosage anyway, resulting in them waking up. I’ll make an exception for you to stay here.”

Jinyoung nodded along to the explanation of the doctor, turning around to you when the doctor mentioned he could stay. He didn’t even wait for the doctor to say anything else before he walked over to you, pulling a chair next to your bed.

You were covered in bandages and bruises. You looked so frail like this and Jinyoung’s heart twisted in pain. With trembling fingers he placed his hands on your hand, leaning down to kiss the back of it.

Jinyoung had no idea how much time passed and he even had the inkling he fell asleep for a while, but when you groaned in pain he felt wide awake. He stared at your face with wide eyes, gently squeezing your hand with his. “Y/N?”

You opened your eyes, blinking rapidly to get a clear vision. Your eyes roamed around the unfamiliar room until they landed on Jinyoung’s form. You noticed the tears welling up in his eyes and how his lower lips trembled as he smiled at you. “Where am I?” You rasped, wincing in pain.

“Hospital”, Jinyoung answered softly and stood up, grabbing a glass of water and helping you to drink it. “You got caught in an accident ten minutes after you stormed out of our apartment.”

Your face twisted in displeasure while the memories flooded your brain. “Ugh.” You closed your eyes as a sob ripped through your body. “Can you hold me?” You barely managed to ask Jinyoung before you started crying, overwhelmed with all the emotions crashing back into you.

Jinyoung didn’t even hesitate and carefully climbed onto the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around your form. He rubbed over your back and mumbled sweet nothings in hopes of calming you down again.

Despite the pain you turned on your side and hid your face in Jinyoung’s chest, clinging with your fingers on his shirt while you continued to cry.

“I thought I would die and never see you again”, you whispered after a while, having calmed down enough to speak again. “I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

Jinyoung kissed the top of your head, gently squeezing you against his chest. He didn’t know how to respond, yet he wanted to comfort you at all costs. “It’s my fault”, he murmured, “if my jealous ass could have just stayed quiet.” He laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “I was so angry and idiotic but when you didn’t come back… I never want to experience that again.”

“Me neither.”

Both of you stayed silent for a while, simply basking in the presence of each other.

Jinyoung felt your beating heart against his chest, felt your slow evening breaths on his skin. He smelt your shampoo, combined with the sterile hospital scent and remnants of gasoline from the crash. He looked down at your form, smiling softly when you tilted your head back and met his eyes. “I love you.”

Neither of you reacted surprised by the confession, nor did you freak out by it. Instead you stretched your neck - once again ignoring the pain - and gently kissed him on the lips. “I love you too.”

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland

#got7writerscollective #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #wkcnet #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #park jinyoung #got7 #got7 jinyoung #one shot #filipendulous #kpop #idol

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limjaeseven · 6 months

Text

Blood Red Love

Pairing: Jinyoung x Yugyeom

Genre: Horror, Angst, Hannibal!AU

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Cannibalism, lots of death and gore, graphic description of murder and dead bodies

Word Count: 5,919

Summary: Yugyeom should have remembered that if something seems too good to be true, it probably was, and that something, or better, someone came in the shape of a tall, handsome, psychiatrist with an impeccable taste in fashion and a penchant for the unspeakable.

[a/n]: Written about half a century late for @flurrys-creativity's supernatural collab. This was really fun to write, I appreciate the incredible sense you have of coming up with collabs themed around the exact shows I'm obsessing over at any point of time.

Yugyeom should have known better. He worked as a cop for years, he was working for the NIS for god’s sake. If there was someone who should have seen this coming, it should have been him. He had managed to miss every red flag till it came kicking his door down.

Six months prior

The day was cold enough that Yugyeom had to pull out his thickest jacket. Dusting it off took a while, he had an impressive tolerance for the cold so it got little use. Donning it, he bid his dog a quick goodbye in the form of a pat on its head before heading off in his beat up Volvo.

His new job at the National Intelligence Service was proving to be nothing short of trouble. He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks, images of his investigation victims haunting him. His “perfect empathy” had always been there, but it became an asset when he got into law enforcement and made a bit of a name for himself.

That’s when he met Lim Jaebeom, director of the Behavioural Science Unit and the reason behind Yugyeom’s torment. He had heard of Yugyeom’s skill of being able to perfectly recreate the happenings at a crime scene and recruited him to consult for a few minor cases.

Yugyeom had wondered why he had been called for it, because the cases were easy to solve, there was no way Jaebeom hadn't figured them out on his own. Well, if there's one thing Yugyeom has learned about himself, it's that he's bad at seeing things coming his way.

They didn't cross paths again for years. Yugyeom had quit the police and joined the NIS training academy as a professor. Jaebeom had dropped by one of his lectures where he offered, more like forced upon, Yugyeom a job as a profiler for a high profile case he was working on.

And that was what led him to his predicament where he's spending one of the coldest days of the year at the NIS building instead of being at home with his dog. Jaebeom wanted him to stick around after they solved the first case and it wasn't like Yugyeom had a choice. What Jaebeom wanted, he got.

“So, what does it look like?” The Director asked, having handed Yugyeom a dossier full of photos of their latest case.

“An act of justice.” Yugyeom closed his eyes and tried to concentrate but it wasn't working. “I'll need to see the scene for more, the photos don’t give me a sense of the space.”

“Well we’re basically snowed in at this point so try harder. We don't know if or when he’s going to strike again so we need to figure this out quick,” Jaebeom snapped. Yugyeom could feel a headache radiating its way up the back of his skull. Realising that his presence was probably not helping, Jaebeom left him alone to brood in his office, promising to return soon.

Sighing, Yugyeom went back to examining the photos to better understand the geography of the house so that he could piece the series of events together. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture himself in the room, turning back time on the elements around him till he was envisioning the moments before the act took place.

He found himself across from Mrs Yoo, sitting on a plush sofa in her living room. Looking down, he saw a revolver in his right hand, a glass of wine in the other. The way Mrs Yoo’s eyes shone looking at him, it had to be motherly, a mix of care, kindness and fear. She was afraid of what he had become, knowing full well that it was her fault.

Yugyeom spun the wine in his hands gently before breathing its aroma in and taking a small sip, setting the glass carefully on the side table after.

“I despise the gentleness in Mrs Yoo’s eyes. They remind me of too much pain. I left because of those eyes, because of the pity that drips from them. I need those eyes to stop staring at me, I need everyone to stop looking at me.” Yugyeom examines the gun in his hand and raises it to be level with Mrs Yoo’s head.

“I stare straight into Mrs Yoo’s eyes as she trembles in fear in front of me. She’s begging for a forgiveness she knows I can’t afford. It takes a single shot to pierce right through her left eye and end both of our misery.”

Yugyeom sighs as he opens his eyes, rubbing his face with his hands as he tries to calm his breathing. He calls Jaebeom and the staff back into the room before asking, “Does Mrs Yoo have any kids on the record, someone old enough to own a firearm?”

Youngjae, a member of the forensic team, looked through the file in his hand before replying, “Yeah, a son. He’s 25, works at a tech firm on the other side of the country. We looked into him, he doesn’t seem to have been in the area on the day of the incident.”

“Look into him again just in case,” Jaebeom said before turning to Yugyeom, “Any other possible leads?”

“Maybe an illegitimate child? It’s someone who looked up to her as a mother figure but felt betrayed. Someone into their adulthood with years to have ruminated on their feelings on Mrs Yoo and turned it into a carefully plotted murder.”

“Look into the shooting ranges nearby, see if you can link any of their regulars near the area.” Jaebeom added, pointing at the image of Mrs Yoo’s body and how cleanly the bullet had hit her eye. “Too good of a shot for an amateur.”

Yugyeom stood there, eyes wide open, feeling rattled. Doing this was hard enough when he was at the crime scene but having to construct everything just out of photos drained him of everything. He slumped into the nearest chair and let his head roll back as he tried to calm himself down. Jaebeom gave him a pat on the shoulder before leaving him alone in the lab.

It had taken him a long time to learn the best way to come down from his “sessions” without having a panic attack or scaring those around him. Some space and a series of breathing exercises were what he finally settled on, concentrating on a spot on the ceiling to keep himself focused. He was just about done when a knock on the lab door pulled him out of his head.

“Mr Kim?” The man asked. He was dressed to the nines in a three piece suit, hair perfectly styled, eyes sharp as he watched Yugyeom.

Nodding, Yugyeom stood up. “And you would be?”

“Park Jinyoung. Jaebeom’s an old friend, he wanted my help with the case.”

“You don’t look like law enforcement.”

“Oh no, these hands weren’t meant for firearms.” Jinyoung said, holding them up. “People used to say they’d be good for paintbrushes but I drifted towards scalpels first, then towards people’s minds.”

“Psychiatrist for such a low priority case?”

Jinyoung pressed a hand thoughtfully to his chin, “Would you be here if it was low priority?”

“This is not the only case of its kind, is it?” Yugyeom asked, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly.

“Fifth one in a row. Each in a different state along the east coast, all women in their late forties or early fifties. No seeming connections between them.” Jinyoung walked across the room to a table piled high with files before pulling a thin one out. “This is everything that could be found in common. We don’t even know if it’s one killer or multiple different ones.”

“And why didn’t Jaebeom tell me any of this?” Yugyeom felt anger simmer inside him. Jaebeom had done this too many times for him to be surprised but it didn’t affect him any less.

“Too many theories floating around the office. He wanted a fresh perspective.” The table was now littered with tens of photos, each one different in setting but the same in execution. “What you saw was the first one that happened three months ago. That’s why he wanted you here, because there’s no crime scene to see.”

“When was the last one?”

“Last week. Each murder has had between two and three weeks between them. Jaebeom was hoping to catch the next one before it happened but he wasn’t getting anywhere.”

“What’s your theory, Doctor?”

Jinyoung rifled through the pictures to find one of each victim, photographed from a similar angle, that of the chair opposite to where the women sat. “Odds say it was all the same killer, but it feels too intimate for that. How many years does a young boy spend at home? How many of those would he have to build a bond that burned him when it got cut?”

“They all knew each other. They planned this together. They all had to be good enough shots to hit exactly the eye from a decent distance and also have the resources to clean up after themselves.”

“Maybe the reason why Jaebeom couldn’t understand it was because he kept looking outside for answers.”

Watching cops getting arrested would never stop being unnerving to Yugyeom. After confirming the details with Jinyoung they both went to Jaebeom with their findings. It wasn’t an easy search but since they knew the killers would be inside the law enforcement system, they had enough connections.

“All foster children, brought into seemingly perfect households.” Yugyeom said as he read over the final report. He sat in Jinyoung’s office across from the man himself, a glass of scotch in his hand. “Abused for being troubled, sent to police academies to learn discipline.”

“It’s not incredibly difficult to find those of a similar disposition once inside. The cruelty of the academy breeds resentment and the resources to get away with one’s darkest desires.”

“Why left eyes though?”

Jinyoung stood up from his seat and walked over to one of the bookshelves that lined his walls. He pulled one out and handed it to Yugyeom. “Any luck reading Chinese?”

Yugyeom chuckled and flipped through the book. “My mom had one of these, she tried to get me to read it but I was never any good.”

“It’s a common text around these parts, stories, traditions and superstitions. It has a part on the twitching of eyes. Left eyes signify life in women.”

“A bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but revenge blinds. It can never be measured, for it always has alterior motives.” Jinyoung took a long whiff of his wine before sipping it. “The best poet loves poetry for it’s own sake.”

“Well, glad this lot weren’t poets.” Yugyeom said.

Jinyoung laughed and raised his glass. “To amateurs, then.” Yugyeom grinned and raised his own glass. “Could I tempt you to dinner with me this weekend? Something celebratory for our accomplishment.”

“Will you tell me which wine I should bring so that I don’t pick the wrong one?”

“Find a good Chianti. Saturday, eight o’clock. I’ll have my assistant deliver you a formal invite.”

Yugyeom felt woefully underdressed when Jinyoung opened the door, dressed in another perfectly tailored three piece suit with a tastefully patterned tie. He wished he had taken his blazer to wear over his full sleeve shirt rolled up to the elbows and slacks.

“I hope this will do,” He said, extending the bottle of wine.

Jinyoung barely glanced at the label before clicking his tongue. Yugyeom felt a shiver down his spine, a sudden fear of disappointing the doctor gripping him. Jinyoung’s eyebrows furrowed for a second before they softened into a teasing smile.

“This will do perfectly. Please, come in.” Jinyoung stepped away and Yugyeom was met with an extravagant living room, decorated with utmost care. The doctor seemed like a man of exquisite taste and wealth, unafraid of indulging in the luxuries of life.

Jinyoung led him to the dining room, where a long glass topped table took up much of the space. It was decorated with an elaborate flower and fruit arrangement in the centre, with two places set up, one at the head of the table, and one to its right.

“Please take a seat,” Jinyoung said before disappearing into the kitchen. He returned with a decanter of wine in one hand and two plates artfully balanced on the other, one on his palm and the other on his wrist. With a flourish, he filled both of their glasses before setting a plate in front of Yugyeom and one in his own place before sitting down. “Stuffed Roast Heart with Devilled Kidneys and Garlic Liver Paté.”

Yugyeom stared at the food in wonder, not having seen such a beautifully plated dish before. “What is it that you can’t do, Doctor?”

“You flatter me too much, I’m merely a man of a few interests.”

“This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten, Doctor. I don’t think this comes just from being a hobbyist.”

Jinyoung smiled and sipped his wine before answering, “I started cooking for my sister young, then it became a passion, if you will.”

“Well I do hope we work together more often in the future if it means you’ll call me over for dinner every time.”

“It would be an absolute pleasure,” Jinyoung said before holding his glass up for a toast. “To Lim Jaebom, an eternal friend and pain.”

“To Jaebeom indeed.”

The joy of the night together was quickly sobered in the morning when Yugyeom woke up to Jaebeom calling him early in the morning.

“Dr Park will be picking you up soon, we need you two here stat.”

He barely had the time to get himself out of bed and dressed before Jinyoung showed up, looking as classy as ever, dressed slightly down in a shirt with no tie and a sport coat. “Did you eat anything?” Jinyoung asked as they got into the car.

“Nope, Jaebeom called me ten minutes ago,” said Yugyeom. “Also why’re you here? I could have gone myself.”

“I offered since your house was on the way.” Jinyoung paused for a second, glancing at Yugyeom before continuing, “And Jaebeom thought it’d be best if I was with you at the scene.”

Lim Jaebeom was hard headed, short tempered, rude, but he was also almost always right. Yugyeom was glad he had Jinyoung with him when he arrived at the scene. There was a small group of officers standing outside the local art museum looking rather green and it made sense as they stepped in.

The hall was large, lined with paintings along the walls. The centre of it featured only two pieces, well three now. Between the two displays, like a sculpture, stood a body. It was stripped naked, posed like a ballet dancer, one leg slightly raised, arms up in the air, held up by red ropes that hung from the ceiling. The body was so carefully positioned that it only rested on the ground by the toes of one foot.

Most notably, though, what captured the eye first was the fact that the corpse’s chest was cut open, split down the middle and flayed open, the ribs slightly pried apart to show a hole in the middle, filled with a small bouquet of flowers where the heart should have been.

“Okay after last night’s dinner this is probably not the best thing to happen,” Yugyeom mumbled, feeling light headed. “Sure you’re not serving up human hearts are you, Doctor?”

“Only the finest beef, Mr Kim. I can put you through to my butcher if you’d wish to confirm.” They both laughed a little to ease the tension but the glares from those around quieted them quickly.

Jaebeom stormed in immediately after, his voice loud and frustrated. “Get to work, the two of you. I need this sorted out and fast.”

“Any other similar cases anytime recently that you’d like to tell me about?” Yugyeom asked, trying his best to not sound accusatory.

“With parts of the body missing? Yes. With this level of… what do I even call it? Craftsmanship? Not so much.”

Jinyoung interjected before things had the chance to go awry. “Noted, Jaebeom. Lets just work with the assumption that this is a one off thing first, then we’ll try connecting the dots.”

Jaebeom nodded before leaving the two to examine the body. Youngjae stayed with them to brief them about the latest developments. “Jeong Jisub, 42. Luxury car salesman. Unmarried and orphaned. Wasn’t very well known even to his own neighbours and not well liked by those who did recognise him.”

“Unlikable doesn’t mean having enemies,” Yugyeom mumbled. “This doesn’t feel personal.”

“What, flowers are impersonal now?”

“What Mr Kim is trying to say, Mr Choi,” Jinyoung answered, addressing Youngjae, “Is that while the gesture of the flowers and the body may be symbolic and personal, the murder itself. or at least the choice of victim doesn’t feel so.”

Yugyeom nodded, adding, “There was a lot of care put into the act of rigging up the body, but it was the same to the killer as making a sculpture. The marble itself is immaterial to obtaining the final outcome.” He walked around the body, examining every minor detail. “Check the back, the kidneys should also be missing. This isn’t just art, it’s a message.” He turned to Jinyoung, “Doctor, you’re sure this wasn’t you, right?”

Jinyoung put up his hands, wrists pressed together. “You’ve caught me officer, take me away.” His tone was light and teasing, matching Yugyeom’s.

“Why kidneys?” Youngjae asked as he looked at the back of the body and noticed the small sutures present there that corresponded with where the organs would be present. The killer had carefully cut open the back to extract them and stitched it back up almost imperceptibly.

“Two organs of humanity, two organs of love,” Jinyoung said after a minute of pondering. “The Egyptians left the heart and kidneys inside when mummifying their corpses and many traditions considered the kidneys the locus of affection.”

“The flowers, what do they signify?” Yugyeom asked Youngjae.

The forensic analyst looked down at his file before answering, “All imply something along the lines of romantic interest, infatuation, crushes.”

“Our killer seems to have fallen in love.”

“Why ballet? Why the flowers of infatuation but organs of love?” Yugyeom wondered out loud as he once again sat at Jinyoung’s side at his dining table. Jinyoung had offered to cook lunch since they’d wrapped up early and Jaebeom wouldn’t be available to talk to till the next day.

“Some things, emotions, people are both delicate and sturdy at once. They’re fragile, easily disturbed, hurt, broken, but if nurtured correctly, they blossom powerfully, often dangerously.” Yugyeom felt Jinyoung staring into his soul as he spoke those words.

“Wait a minute—” He started, getting up from his seat abruptly. “You’re not here for Jaebeom or the cases are you?”

“Mr Kim, please, we can talk this out cordially—”

“No, you’re not getting into my head anymore. We’re done.”

“Yugyeom, Jaebeom asked me to do it out of concern for your well being. He told me about the dark places you retreat to after the cases. How the darkness from the killers’ minds seeps into your own and haunts you. How you lose yourself in the process.” Jinyoung’s eyes looked pleading as he spoke, “I want to help you.”

Yugyeom chuckled bitterly, “Help me or Jaebeom?”

“You, Yugyeom. All Jaebeom needs is a report saying that you’re fit enough for duty. I have that prepared here,” Jinyoung left the dining room for a moment before returning with a file. “You have the choice now. Tell me to stop and I’ll tell Jaebeom that my work is done.”

“Tuesdays.” Yugyeom mumbled into his drink.

“Pardon me?”

Grabbing his jacket, Yugeom moved to leave the room but turned just as he was about to step out, “Sessions on Tuesdays, I get off work early.”

It was difficult for Yugyeom to look Jinyoung or Jaebeom in the eye without getting angry knowing what they were doing to him, but the case forced them into the same room, the body on a table in front of them, pictures of the crime scene scattered on the one on the side.

“Yugyeom, what did you see yesterday?” Jaebeom asked.

Closing his eyes, Yugyeom envisioned himself back in the art gallery, the body that was once hung in front of him now lying on the floor next to him, not yet rigged up.

“I never saw Mr Jeong as a person. His life was worth less than an insect crushed under my foot. His death was quick and painless. I would have dragged it longer if I’d so desired, but I had other priorities. This display was everything. I needed it to be perfect.

“I spent hours making sure the pose was correct, rigging ropes carefully to hold the body in place. I placed the flowers in last, the finishing touch to a labour of love. A proposal, a request for courtship, proof of the power and devotion I held in my hands.”

Moments of silence ticked by as Yugyeom collected his thoughts. “It’s a letter, Jaebeom. The killer wanted someone in particular to see this, someone who’d understand what it meant. He wanted them to know what he was capable of.”

“Who in the world would appreciate a dead body with missing organs as a letter? Another killer? Don’t tell me we have two killers to deal with.”

“You said there were other cases with organs missing, right?” Jinyoung asked. Jaebeom nodded and handed him a case file.

“Twelve deaths over two years. All of them displayed one way or the other, clearly meant to be found. They were all far more detached than this one, though, more a show of ruthlessness than art.” Jaebeom thought for a moment before adding, “Don’t tell me our new killer is in love with our old one, that might just make me quit. I’ve worked tirelessly to catch the ‘Butcher’ as we call him, I don’t have time for another one.”

“I don’t think these are two killers, Jaebeom,” Jinyoung said, and Yugyeom nodded in assent. “I think the Butcher met someone who softened him.”

“All of these cases show someone with expertise with bodies, a doctor, nurse or mortician of some kind. One with a build large enough to carry them around and access to medical supplies and some sort of space to do the dissection,” Yugyeom noted, rifling through the photos.

“What does he do with the organs? And it's not just organs, some of them have flesh missing. Sometimes just sections, other times an entire limb,” asked Jaebeom.

Everyone turned to Jinyoung as the resident doctor, “Surgical trophies, maybe? He could be keeping them as a personal collection, a piece of every person he’s killed.” Turning to Youngjae who was working on the body he asked, “Anything in common between all the victims?”

“Nothing we could figure out. The gender division is pretty even, ages stick between eighteen and fifty. Some had families, others no one. They feel extremely random, half the victims originally from different parts of the country but all of them turned up in the general area of this city and two over.”

“I need time to think, Jaebeom. Start your search with medical professionals in the area, I’ll give you more details as soon as I can.”

Despite Yugyeom’s wishes, he ended up in Jinyoung’s office that evening. The scotch in his hand was the only thing keeping him sane, especially as he sat facing the doctor.

“I want this to be a place where you can be honest, Yugyeom. I am contractually obliged to not utter a word outside these walls. You can tell me whatever’s on your mind. I’m not here to judge, but listen.”

“You’ve lied to me before, why should I trust you?”

“Lies of omission are not the same, are they? But I’m not here to defend that. I’m sorry, I wasn’t able to figure out a better way for you to open up to me, but it was still wrong of me to. Would you be open to starting fresh?”

Yugyeom thought for a second before nodding. He pushed himself off his chair and started strolling around the office. The space was large, with a tall ceiling and a staircase leading up to a mezzanine lined with bookshelves end to end. Ladders rested against the bookcases on both floors, allowing access to the books stored up high.

Stopping by the nearest ladder, Yugyeom turned his back to it, resting a leg on the lowest step and leaning back against it. “This killer,” he started, “he makes me feel so many emotions.”

Jinyoung sat silently, his eyes expectant, waiting for Yugyeom to open up to him.

“I’m equal parts horrified and fascinated by him.” Yugyeom sighed and took a large swig of his drink. “I don’t know why I’m saying this but for a moment it felt like that letter was for me.”

Crossing one leg on top of the other, Jinyoung raised an eyebrow, “And why did it feel like that?”

“Jaebeom said that the person the Butcher is in love with, has to be a killer or someone who understands his work. Looking at the body, I could feel the emotions the Butcher put into it, I could understand the effort he went into to put it up there. It just felt like it was made for me, then. Like he knew I’d see it, that I’d understand him because that’s my job. To put myself into the heads of those who kill and find them inside there. Not see them as cold blooded killers but as people with motivations, desires, wants, needs. Maybe he hoped I’d see beyond the body, the murder, and see him in his art.”

Jinyoung stood up and joined Yugyeom near the ladder, standing close enough that Yugyeom got a strong whiff of the doctor’s perfume, a classy, masculine scent, much like the man himself. “What did you see of him?”

The image of the killer in Yugyeom’s head was blurry at best, but seeing the body, it felt like Yugyeom knew him. “A strong, skilled man. A bit traditional, trying to prove himself as the provider and caretaker but not one to be held down by norms. He kills not for lowly reasons of revenge but because he merely can. He sees his work as art, even when its cold and lifeless, he still wants it to be a spectacle.” Yugyeom stopped for a moment, arranging his thoughts. “He’s playing god.”

Those words hung between the two of them as they took them in. “What does that mean, Yugyeom? What does it mean to the killer?”

“He sees himself as above man. He wasn’t decorating the body, he was elevating it. He wants the person he likes to see what he’s capable of, how he can make something as repulsive as a dead body to art that moves.”

“Then why the trophies? Wouldn't that be uplifting the remnants of the murders a bit too much?” Jinyoung asked, pushing Yugyeom to think harder. “What could he be doing with the organs that would put himself above them?”

“I don’t know,” Yugyeom admitted. “That’s the one thing that doesn’t make sense. But I think they have something to do with the confession too.”

“Do you think that person will like it? Will they accept the courtship?”

“I do.”

Yugyeom tried his best to explain everything they’ve figured out to Jaebeom without the detail of how he saw a little too much in the Butcher’s work. It didn’t help narrow their search much but helped them build a more detailed profile of the killer. This left Yugyeom and Jinyoung free till more evidence came up while Jaebeom’s team worked on finding suspects.

“I’m heading back to the training centre, I’ve missed too many lectures,” Yugyeom said as they wrapped up their meeting.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday then,” Jinyoung said with a soft smile. They walked out of the building together and Jinyoung helped Yugyeom get into his car before waving him off.

For the first time in two weeks Yugyeom felt himself breathe. He was, even if temporarily, free of the cases and everything related to them. Driving had always been a comforting activity for Yugyeom, giving him the space and time to think for himself. He had two hours before his lecture so he decided to just use the time driving around town and maybe grab something to eat.

As he drove, he let his thoughts wander, but it kept coming back to case. There had to be something that he was missing. The question the doctor asked still bugged him. What was the Butcher doing with the organs and flesh? Surgical trophies make sense but doesn’t explain all the cases. What would he do with chunks of meat from the back, on either side of the spine?

That’s when it hit him. Yugyeom slammed the brakes on his car and pressed his head into the steering wheel. Angry horns from behind got him to snap out for a second and he pulled the car up by the side of the road and let the world stop around him.

Meat. Of course he saw the victims as less than himself. He saw them as pigs, animals meant to be grown just enough to be killed and taken apart for personal enjoyment. Yugyeom felt himself getting sick as he thought of the Butcher, of himself in the killer’s mind, eating his spoils.

He needed Jinyoung to know when he’d realised. He couldn’t deal with the thoughts alone and so he turned the car back around and drove to the doctor’s house.

Ringing the bell didn’t reward him with an answer. The door didn’t open regardless of how long he waited. That meant that either the doctor was still at his office or Yugyeom would have to wait a while for him to return from wherever he was. Just as he was about to turn away to try the office, he felt the impulse to try turning the knob on the door and he saw the door open under his fingers.

A flash of panic swept through him as he wondered if the doctor was in trouble. He didn’t seem the type to just leave his front door open. Reaching to his side, Yugyeom pulled out the gun that he’d been allowed to keep now that he was back in service. He tiptoed through the ground floor and found nothing. The house was seemingly empty.

He was about to climb the stairs to the first floor when he heard a sound. Footsteps from somewhere below him. Searching around the house, he tried to find where the way to the basement could be, till he found a door in the kitchen that looked like any other cabinet door. It led him down a set of steps to a metal room, designed much like the forensic lab at the NIS.

Turning the corner into the room, Yugyeom held his gun up but felt his grip loosening at the sight in front of him.

On a metal table lay Lim Jaebeom, very clearly dead. “Took you long enough,” A familiar voice called from behind him, forcing Yugyeom further into the room to turn to face it.

He should have known it was Jinyoung all along. It was way too obvious and that’s exactly why he missed it. “Why?” was the only thing Yugyeom could think of asking.

“You already know, Yugyeom. You explained it all to me yourself yesterday.” Jinyoung walked closer to Yugyeom despite the gun pointed squarely at his chest.

“And you thought I’d like all of this? That I’d say yes?” Yugyeom’s hands were shaking as he tried to hold his ground.

Jinyoung reached out to wrap his hand around the barrel of the gun and push Yugyeom’s arms down and out of the way. He used his other hand to grip the side of Yugyeom’s face. “I think you already have,” he whispered.

“No! I’m not a monster like you!” Yugyeom shouted as he pulled himself free of Jinyoung’s grip.

“Am I a monster? You’ve seen the inside of my head. You’ve seen what’s there. Can you look at all of that and still call me a monster?”

“Why kill Jaebeom though, I thought he was your friend!”

Jinyoung glanced at the body with a look of inconvenience, not regret. “An unfortunate casualty. I needed insurance, Yugyeom. I’m a simple man, if I can’t have what I want, I’ll burn it all down.” He looked at Yugyeom thoughtfully before continuing, “You know what I’m capable of. Walk out of here and you get framed for the murder of not only Lim Jaebeom but of all the Butcher’s victims. A perfect liar, who had access to everything he needed to carry his killings out, with medic training from his days with the police. No one would believe your innocence, I’ve made sure of that.”

Or you can stay with me. We put Jaebeom’s body up together, a proof of our courtship and then we run away. I have enough money for us to settle down anywhere in the world and never be bothered again.” He once again held Yugyeom’s face, who was shaken to his bones as he processed everything Jinyoung was saying. “You see me for who I am, not for who you want me to be. Stay, please.”

Yugyeom felt his knees weakening as a flood of emotions washed over him. He realised that some part of him had known since he saw the Butcher’s victim for the first time. He knew it was Jinyoung, that it was meant for him, and that he’d accepted the courtship.

“You knew that I wouldn’t be able to say no to you, insurance or not,” Yugyeom said.

“I had to cut off the ropes that held you here. Jaebeom would have tracked you down wherever you were if I’d left him alive.” Jinyoung held Yugyeom as he broke down and fell to his knees, finally giving himself entirely to Jinyoung.

“I’ll stay, I’ll see you for who you are,” Yugyeom whispered, “If you promise to hold dear the darkness in me too.”

“I promise.”

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7writerscollective #got7 jaebeom #got7 jayb #got7 yugyeom #got7 jinyoung #yugyeom #jinyoung #jingyeom

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celestialshearts · 1 year

Text

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍

——— BASICS! ♡

NAME: kiran

PRONOUNS: he/him

ZODIAC SIGN: scorpio

TAKEN OR SINGLE: taken

——— THREE FACTS! ♡

i've been roleplaying on and off since i was like....13?? (jfc that's a long time...)

i'm currently studying for a history and politics degree!!

uhh...i got to meet lim jaebeom from got7 last year?? i'm counting that as a fact about myself bc i can't think of anything else lmao

——— EXPERIENCE! ♡

PLATFORMS USED: tumblr, discord, used to write on forums

PLOTTING / WINGING IT / MEMES: i prefer plotting and memes!! it helps me get more inspired for a pairing/thread

——— MUSE PREFERENCE! ♡

GENDER: if this means for my own muses, then honestly i just like writing trans and non binary muses? i don't really have a preference other than none of them are cis lol, but i'm very happy to write with muses of any gender!!

MULTI OR SINGLE: multimuse/multi-ship for myself (except for certain muses like ori for example) and no preference for everyone else!!

LEAST FAVOURITE FACECLAIM(S): uhhhh...i guess those on my banned faceclaim list??

——— FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡

FLUFF: yes fluff is adorable

ANGST: i may love fluff but i need my muses to go through it too asdfgjdjsdd

SMUT: rn i don't feel very confident in writing smut (unless i'm very, very comfortable with someone, then i'll give it a shot) but if we talk a lot, i'm happy to do headcanoning!!

tagged by: @unfinishedjulyrain tysm!! <3

tagging: whoever would like to do it, you can just say i tagged you hehe

#(ooc): typing ...#i'm crying the facts about myself was so hard to fill out #idk shit about myself HJDSJDKS

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rikiflowers · 2 years

Text

rain and heartbeat; l. jaebeom

a short y/n (fem!reader) x lim jaebeom scenario.

warnings: a little bit angst, fluff

- 1.9k words

“Your memory feels like home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds it’s way back to you.” ― Ranata Suzuki

______________________

People love. So violent that breathing was pointless. Nothing could be compared; nothing was as intense as the feeling of loving and being loved. She loved. She loved too much and that was ultimately what broke everything; She loved too much and neglected herself. Many said that you give up a piece of yourself if you loved unconditionally – y/n had given everything and was left with nothing. The end came stormy, almost destructive, leaving her with nothing. Emptiness.

She swore to herself; Never again. Never again would she love so much. Never again let a person get so close to her. Never catch fire again because she won't stand the burning. Never again. It was like a mantra that she sang in front of her, as she stared out the window in the dark of her room, trying not to feel reality.

But life was not as hoped it would be. It was played by its own rules, in which you were just a small figure in a big, endless stream. Suddenly she was swept away and came across someone who, for the second time in her life, tore the ground from under her feet and dragged her into the storm.

Time: 5:24 PM

Uncertainly, her fingers buzzed over the chat. All good intentions were gone, just at the moment when she had to gather her courage. She had her episode again – stronger than ever. Everything in her contracted convulsively. Why couldn't she jump over her shadow even at that moment? Why did she put so many obstacles in her own way? He was different. He was not the man who had destroyed her life at some point back then – Jaebeom was different. He was so much more than she could put it into words. y/n finally wanted to confess to him that what lays on her tongue at every conversation, at every meeting and at every glance and was ready to just break out of it.

She wanted to tell her best friend that she loved him. Finally, after all those years of not wanting to admit it. In which she labeled the tender feelings that grew in her over and over again as mere friendly feelings. She finally wanted it. She wanted to love him, but there was a problem; how would she know that he felt the same way? Most likely, he didn’t, and she would ruin with her confession what she was so attached to – their friendship. Y/n was caught in a dilemma, and nothing would help, but to finally take her courage and risk it.

Could she endure it, when he rejected her, and everything would change? Everything she appreciated so much about him then would be dissolved as they drifted apart and there was nothing left of the warmth; a horror scenario.

But what was she supposed to do about these stormy, even urgent feelings that completely captured her thoughts, made her imagine surreal things and clouded her perception? She was no longer herself – not for a long time.

Jaebeom, with those deep eyes that she could look into for hours, had her heart in his hand. Unconsciously, he pressed harder and simply deprived her of the ability to live normally with his closeness. She was so hopelessly in love.

Y/n had to write to him. It was now three weeks in which they had no more contact – it didn't seem like much, but for the young woman it was the world. Each of her nerve cells was tense and not a day went by when she didn't wish to shout it out to him, so she had to make a cut. The young woman needed time to think. The whole weeks boiled down to only one thing – her confession.

So, the young woman had been sitting in front of her smartphone for an hour and camped in the chat of Jaebeom and her. And then when she suddenly saw the online sign, she closed all the windows in shock and threw her head back, staring at the ceiling. She was so hopeless.

Then it had to bring the new day, on which the courage hopefully was coming back. Now it was over. She couldn't. She decided to watch her favorite series, escaping the endless overthinking. The young woman had her day off and since she had nothing to do anyway (and of course wanted to avoid the confession).

She jumped off her sofa, wanted to prepare her favorite tea before she snuggled up in the soft fabric of her couch. The well-known sound of raindrops at her window made her pause. It hadn't rained in a long time. In the small kitchen, she turned on the kettle, but she had to turn on her small lamp beforehand – the sudden rain came with a storm that had suddenly darkened the sky.

No matter what she thought of, it was always Jaebeom. Always him. She felt transported back to the time when she loved someone so much and was shattered by it. She didn't want it to take the same course. y/n didn't want that with him. He knew about it; knew how much she suffered from her relationship at that time. He was always there. His warmth was always there, but at some point, that was no longer enough for her and now she was sitting here, listening to the old kettle, which hissed and chuckled – she found peace in the sounds associated with the rain. The tranquility.

Something about this situation led to an inner peace. Perhaps it was the finite rain that drummed against her windows, drowning out their own racing heartbeat.

A knock on the door tore her out of her thoughts and made her pulse race. She hated it when the doorbell rang or knocked because she wasn't expecting anyone. Silently, she stopped, hoping that whoever was standing outside the door would leave.

It knocked again. The kettle was ready, but her muscles weren't moving. Who the hell knocked on her door? y/n had no contact with any neighbors, and she did not expect any packages. She had only a few friends who knew that she didn’t like it, when they showed up unannounced.

Another knock. She got scared. Who was so intrusive that he was still standing at the door after the first knock? She tried to make quietly sure of this and crept to the door on her cuddly socks.

Only a quick glance through the spy was enough, so she unlocked the door with a racing heart. It was Jaebeom, completely soaked. He stood in front of her. After weeks she saw him again and he looked desperately through the black strands which fell wet in his face. He had been outside in that weather. Reality hit her hard.

"Oh God Jae – come in right away." She scurried him, but he stopped as if he was rooted. She had forgotten their lasting silence for a moment. "I have to ask you something and after that I will never bother you again y/n."

She wanted to answer, wanted to ask how he came up with the idea that he was going to bother her, but nothing came from her lips. Silently she looked at him, clawed into the door frame to keep her trembling hands in check. "Did you notice my feelings and stay away from me because of it?"

"Huh?", it escaped first, since she had not yet processed the question properly. What kind of feelings? She didn't understand anything at that moment. Her brain wasn't working properly, even though she had spent hours searching for the right words before.

"You have already understood me y/n.", it has escaped him louder and more urgently than he had in mind. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, where the neighbors could hear everything. Jaebeom dripped the hallway full.

"I don't know what you mean Jae – I stayed away from you for another reason," she defended herself, completely ignoring the fact that the older man had just indirectly confessed his feelings to her. "Please come in first, you'll catch a cold," she said caringly and dragged the young man by his wet sleeve into her apartment.

"What reason?"

The question had to come, of course. It could not be avoided. The best moment to finally let it out. He was here now and yet she was struggling. She looked at him in despair before turning around. "I'll get you new things that I still have from you – wait a minute."

y/n had no way to leave, because she was stopped by the black-haired man, who suddenly pulled the young woman backwards into his arms. Immediately she got wet, the moisture immediately ran through her clothes, and she should actually be cold – but inside she glowed. "Jaebeom?"

"I love you, y/n. For so long. I can't suppress it anymore. I know I'm destroying our friendship, but I can't", he nuzzled against her sensitive ears, and everything turned up in her. Had she just really heard that? He reciprocated their feelings? Was she dreaming?

"I'm so sorry that I'm destroying the friendship... Don't hate me, please." From his lips came a plea and it made everything in the young woman pull together. He had probably suffered as much as she had in the whole time. He had the same fears as her. His grip on her upper body loosened and finally y/n acted on her own. The young woman turned to him and looked up at him. As if in slow motion, she pushed the wet strands out of his eyes, watching him as he closed his eyes at the gentle touch. A moment of silence in which everything went slowly. Every touch was felt.

"I could never hate you, Jaebeom," whispered the young woman, the rain in the background synchronized with her words. Her fingertips ran over his cheeks, over his chin, on which the beard stubbles cavorted. Delicately her fingers ran over his full lips and very easily the elder returned the pressure against her fingertips; it tingled.

"I avoided you because I felt the same way. My love for you was too strong and I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship."

Jaebeom opened his eyes, looking for confirmation of these words in her eyes. The confession hit him deeply, shook him and he suddenly let himself fall in front of the young woman, clutching her legs while she heard him sobbing quietly.

"And I thought you were loathing me. I – I'm so happy."

y/n let herself sink down to him, pulled him bumpily into her arms – she didn't care that she herself was getting wet. That didn't count now. She wanted to be close to her love. Tears of joy ran down the young woman's cheeks as Jaebeom clung desperately to her. God, he loved her so much. For so long he had suppressed these feelings and was almost broken by them.

Now it was like a dream. He never thought that his hasty actions would lead to them finally coming together. His heart had acted on its own. y/n was now in his arms.

The quiet rain sound and two heartbeats at one were her favorite sound from now on.

#kpop #jaebeom #lim jaebeom #got7 #jay b #kpop scenarios #y/n x jaebeom #kpop fluff #jaebeom fluff #jaebeom angst #jaebum #jaebum x reader #jaebeom x reader

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jae-daddy · 2 years

Text

Duff (13)

im jaebum au series

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, mature, smut plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: hi, idk imma put out the worst trash and not overthink it, because at the end of the day its all about getting it done <3 hope y’all like it. and ive gotten my life together, so i’ll post more regularly fr now. not edited <3333

You snorted as you stared at the scene in front of you.

It was almost comical watching as everyone crowded around Jaebum, waiting like dutiful lapdogs for their master to offer them the slightest bit of attention.

You took a sip of your cool vodka with a splash of orange juice, clicking your tongue as one of the girls dropped something right in front of Jaebum. She shamelessly bent in front of him, picking up the tube of sunscreen and staying in that position for two seconds longer than necessary.

Your face remained neutral as if your eyes were closed and you were basking in the sunshine. But your right eye twitched as she looked over her shoulder at a smug looking Im Jaebum. A frown settled on your lips as you took in the way his lips tilted into a lazy smile as she moved towards him.

Your chest heaved as a molten fist gripped your heart, clenching it tightly as she sat in front of him. The burning spread all the way down to your tummy as you watched him squirt the sunscreen onto his hands and rub them together.

That son of bitch was about to rub sunscreen onto that girl's back.

He inched closer to her, and you could almost feel the heat of his body radiate against your back. As his hands touched her skin, his body leaned closer to hers, his lips close to her ears; you turned away.

Something lodged in your throat, and you tried to gulp it away as you stared at the branches of the palm tree swaying lazily above you.

You bit back a groan and closed your eyes. It didn't stop the ridiculous giggle from the other side of the pool though. Her voice stabbed your ears, causing you to clench your teeth.

You tried to will their presence away. You wanted Jaebum and all of him in that light blue loose shirt to disappear into the sea breeze, just like how it was meant to be. Just as this trip had always been, with just you and Heather.

It was always just the two of you, under the sun, deliciously warming your skin before you escaped into the cool water. It was always flirting with strangers on the beach and then cocktails until sunrise. It was a time to relax, unwind, to celebrate hot girl summer.

But it was far from that now.

Now the dreamlike days had been tarnished with demons she had invited with open arms. It was supposed to be quite sunshine and the dancing of palm trees. But now it was grating giggles and annoying assholes who wouldn't leave you in peace.

"Any harder, y/n and your teeth will turn into dust," you hated the way your body reacted to his velvety voice.

Speak of the devil.

You ignored him, but it was not that easy to shake him off.

"Was the big hat necessary?" He chuckled. You brought a hand up to your sensible white hat and turned to him with a glare.

"Sun damage is no joke, Jinyoung," you told him, unable to come with a better comeback. But kill them with knowledge.

An endearing smile bloomed onto his lips as he said, "I'm sure, y/n."

You looked away from him and tried to blame the sun for the heat creeping up your cheeks. The heat only grew as you felt his gaze remain on you. You turned to him, and his dark eyes behind those light shades watched you with that same smile that made your heart flip.

"Go away." You said simply, before relaxing on your back again.

Of course, Park Jinyoung wouldn’t just leave because you asked him to. Instead, the pool bed creaked as he settled into it beside you.

You tilted your head to find him sprawled comfortably, with his hands behind his head. The distant memory of his hands behind his head, while you were on your knees in front of him, flashed before your eyes. He smiled almost as if he could see what was happening in your head.

Silence enveloped you both as you lay in the cool sea breeze. The voices from the chatter around the pool floated in the atmosphere, and someone yelped as the sound of water splashing reached you. If you closed your eyes it wasn't that bad.

And at least, the grating giggles had somewhat stopped now. You tried to search for Jaebum’s voice but it was to no avail. Another flick of anger licked your belly as you thought of him whispering in that girl’s ear, talking softly to her as she batted her eyes up at him.

“Do you remember that time we went to Fiji?” Jinyoung spoke, pulling you out of the green slime you were sinking into.

You kept your eyes closed as you hummed, “I remember the blissful times when you weren’t annoying me.”

You heard him chuckle, before he continued, “This reminds me of the private villa we had.”

You remembered the villa. You remembered the days and nights spent together doing nothing but being lost in each other. Everyone thought you were on your honeymoon, and maybe it was. It was the last time you both were so incredibly happy together. As soon as you landed back home, you had found about his engagement to the heiress.

Jinyoung kept talking, “We had just come back from exploring the village when you decided you wanted to take a swim.” You couldn't help the smile itching at the corner of your lips. You knew exactly what he was talking about. He must’ve seen your grin, because you could hear him smile and shake his head, “I thought you were going to die. Your scream was straight out of a horror film.”

You laughed with him this time. You turned towards him, your heart hurting as you saw him laugh so freely. You missed him laughing like this so many times over the years. His shoulders shook as chuckled, “And then- then-”

He couldn’t continue because he was laughing so hard. You reached over slapping his broad shoulder, “It was a reasonable reaction.”

“I thought you were going to get brutally murdered, y/n.”

“I’m sorry I’m not used to seeing goats lounging around the pool,” you protested, glaring at him. But you couldn’t keep a straight face for long as another round of laughter escaped you.

“Well, I wasn’t the one that got chased around by a dog,” you snorted at him. His eyes widened as his mouth fell open.

“You were supposed to take that to your grave, y/n,” he tutted, his eyes glistening with amusement.

“Well, technically it was a puppy,” you clicked your tongue, smirking.

“A puppy?!” He chocked, making your grin widen. “That thing was not a puppy or a dog. That monster is used to protect the gates of hell.”

This time you laughed entirely. You threw your head back as belts of laughter left you. You gasped for air trying to calm down, when he continued, “I swear I still wake up shivering from nightmares about it.”

“Jinyoung,” you gasped, hitting his shoulder, giving him a silent plea to stop.

You both slowly lulled to a stop. The air between you thick with emotions you both were feeling. You could feel the same heaviness in Jinyoung that was slowly settling over your heart.

You spoke first, "Why did you come here, Jinyoung?"

He stared at you for a long moment, before shrugging, “Heather invited me.”

Something close to betrayal shot through your chest as you stared at him, shocked.

"Why?" you whispered in a low voice.

The smug look on his face melted as he brought his hands close to yours. They loomed over your hands that were turning white from your tight grip on the frame of your chair. Finally, they settled tightly onto his lap.

"For business," he cleared his throat. You didn't reply as your mind finally began to register that Park Jinyoung was actually here. At your hot-girl summer trip, but so was Jaebum, Bambam, and some other people. This was not a hot girl summer trip; this was something else.

Jinyoung continued taking in your silence, "It's a rich kid event. We all are heirs of big fortune, so we're networking."

You didn't answer again.

You didn't understand why, but you felt utterly betrayed being invited here. Heather knew you didn't like the elite crowd. You didn't like the way they looked down at the poor, how they flaunted their money, how easily they got out of trouble. You hated how immune they were to their own consequences.

But what hurt the most was Heather knew Jinyoung would be here, and she still invited you. She hadn't even given you a heads up. She had just invited you and left you to the wolves.

You scanned the area, searching for her. She was easy to spot in her red hot swimwear. Just like Jaebum, she had her own circle of groupies surrounding her. They were all laughing at something, and your cheeks flamed brighter.

You felt stupid being here. You needed to get away for a bit.

"Hey," Jinyoung's hand touched your arm. You turned to him with wide eyes, the frown on your lips deepening. You felt the frustrated tears building up as you brushed his hand away.

He let it hang there for a second before drawing it back.

"Sorry," he cleared his throat, "I was calling out to you, but you weren't listening."

You shot up from your seat instead of answering him. You grabbed the bag next to your chair and began walking away.

"Hey! Where are you going?!" He yelled quietly, trying not to draw any attention.

You just shook your head and continued walking.

You didn't fit in this crowd.

Even now, when you didn't mean anything to Jinyoung that could taint his reputation, he was still trying to hide his association with you.

You weren't thinking about where you were going. But all those summers spent at Heather's summer house had made you very acquainted with the area that you were sure you wouldn't get lost. You quickly found your way to the beach and stared at the near-empty beach.

"What a shame," you looked out to the sea, covering the glare of the sun with your hand, "It's just a nice day."

You pulled out your blanket to lay onto the sand.

Anyone can call you crazy, but you like to be prepared for anything. Hence your handy summer bag that had gone through countless trials and errors until it became the perfect summer bag.

The blanket resulted from a terrible day a couple summers ago when you and Heather had stumbled onto the beach and decided it was a beach day. The lack of a towel led to sand in areas that took days to get rid of completely.

You positioned yourself underneath one of the giant umbrellas and opened the blanket onto the sand. Two solid, tanned hands straightened the other side.

"Thanks," you smiled, finding a handsome man smiling back at you.

"No problem," his smile widened as he took in the hello kitty print on the blanket. His eyes flickered back to you as he smirked, "Cute."

"Thanks," you replied, as you bit your lip feeling embarrassed.

"Aye, come on," he clicked his tongue, with a teasing smile he said, "I wasn't teasing."

Even if you wanted to, you couldn't stop the smile spreading over your lips, as you nodded, "A-ha-"

Before you could say respond, a voice interrupted you.

"There you are."

His chest heaved as he tilted his head at you.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, confused.

Jaebum didn't answer you as he came to stand beside you. His sunglasses were pushed up on his head, his eyebrows drawn in concentration as he focused on you.

“You can’t just leave without telling people-”

“I told Heather.” You cut him off with the lie. Of course, Im Jaebum didn’t believe you, he could see straight through your lies all the time and it annoyed the hell out of you.

One time, when you were both working together, he had given you some of the lunch he had prepared himself. It was horrible, tasted like bitter acid, but you still took many bites and tried to act like it was nice, but he saw right through it. Or the times when you on the edge of a breakdown from all the stress, and even though you would say you were fine, Im Jaebum would give you the most absurd errands like going up to the rooftop and recording the sky for him for ten minutes.

Even though you both seemed to bicker every time you talked, he was always smiling at you.

But he wasn’t smiling right now. He looked somewhat pissed, and you really couldn’t understand why, because frankly, what you did was none of his damn business. You were just about to tell him this when someone coughed drawing your attention away from Jaebum.

“Oh,” you remembered the stranger standing in front of you.

"Sup," Jaebum did the little nod thing to him, smiling as if he had known him his entire life. You rolled your eyes at Jaebum. How could he look so pissed one second, and then be this happy chap the next? "I'm JB."

"Like Justin Bieber?" The stranger chuckled, and you almost rolled your eyes at the lame joke. Jaebum didn't seem to mind; he just shrugged, smiling, "Not quite."

"Ah, I'm Jackson, dude," he introduced himself.

Dude?

"Nice, dude, like Micheal Jackson?!" Jaebum teased him back, and the two laughed. You stood there, wanting to drag your blanket away and go lay down somewhere else in peace.

"Nah, bro. MJ was a crazy dude. I can't compete."

"Rubbish!" Jaebum gushed as he turned to you with raised brows. "What do you think, y/n? Is he any less than MJ, the crazy dude?"

You bit back the smile threatening to grow on your lips as you met his dark eyes in challenge.

"Y/n," Jackson cut in before you had to reply. He said your name like he was tasting it on his tongue.

"Yeah, hi," you replied, tucking your hair behind your ear. The sea breeze was really strong here, making your hair fly into your mouth.

You smiled up at Jackson, who smiled back.

Jaebum cleared his throat, drawing your attention. His gaze remained on Jackson as he said, "So what are you doing here?"

"Surfing, bro," he pointed his thumb behind to the waves and group of people on their boards. "Came here with some mates. Do you surf?"

"Y/n loves surfing," Jaebum replied before you could answer. You punched his stomach, making him groan before turning to Jackson, "No, I actually don’t know how to."

"I can teach you," Jackson said, leaning towards you.

Your cheeks flushed as his eyes scanned your face. You suddenly felt bare, as if you had not gotten ready this morning.

"Maybe you can teach a couple of us," Jaebum spoke, making you both turn towards him. His eyes didn't look at you as he continued to talk to Jackson. "I have a couple of bros who would love a lesson too."

"Oh, it was just for-" Jackson rose his brows.

"We'll pay you," he interrupted with a charming smile. "Of course."

"Yeah?" Jaebum nodded in reply. His eyes bounced between you and Jaebum, before he nodded with a grin, "Alright, take my number..."

And that was your cue; you tuned them out.

You stepped away from the pair and stood on your blanket. You brushed away the bit of sand that had flown onto it before standing up straight. You grabbed the first button of your dress and began to open it, suddenly feeling too hot as frustration began burning inside you.

Sometimes you forgot Jaebum was just another spoilt rich brat.

The soft material slid off you, revealing the yellow swimwear you had on. You rolled the dress into a ball and placed it under your head as you lay onto the blanket.

"Shit," you heard Jackson mutter, and you tried to ignore it. Suddenly feeling too exposed, but you didn't cover yourself. Instead, you cast your gaze over to the two boys.

Jackson was trying to hide it his glances towards you, but not Im Jaebum.

He was looking at you; unmasked.

"Okay, I'll see you later, bro."Jackson cleared his throat as he cast you one last look. "See you around, y/n."

You got onto your elbows and waved him goodbye with a grin.

You watched him walk away, slowly becoming smaller and smaller on the horizon.

Jaebum who was looking into the distance now, and lay onto your back again. A few moments later, you felt him lay down next to you, and you tried to ignore him. But the words were right on your tongue, stinging to be let out.

"You didn't have to flaunt your money at him, you know."

Jaebum let out a snort, "I wasn't the one flaunting."

"What do you mean?" You got on your elbows again and glared at him.

Jaebum rose an eyebrow, a bitter smile on his lips as he dryly chuckled up at you, "This is one way to get over your ex, y/n."

"Ex? What?" You sputtered, confused. You took your sunglasses off, "What the fuck are you on about?"

"You cling onto the first thing that comes your way to--"

"Excuse me?" You choked.

"Oh, alright then," he corrected himself like it made a fucking difference. "Flirting with the first guy who gives you the tiniest bit of attention."

"I wasn't-"

"Are you that desperate for attention?" He rose up to meet your eyes.

You didn't answer him.

Your chest hurt. His words shouldn't hurt so much, but they did. They burned you.

"Are you that willing for a distraction that you'll take it from anyone?" You didn't answer him. You just stared at him as his jaws locked and eyes hardened. He leaned onto his side, facing you perfectly.

His eyes finally left yours and went to his hand that reached for you.

You watched him as the back of his hand grazed the slope of your neck. You watched him, follow his hand, and watch you, as your chest heaved at the ghost of his touch spreading through your body.

His hand traveled lower, down the middle of your breast, making your breath hitch. His fingers splayed on your hip as his fingertips dug into your skin.

"Can't that someone be me?" he whispered. His dark eyes finally meeting yours.

A slow breath left you as you leaned in closer, getting lost in the way the velvety darkness in his eyes flickered with heat. His eyes fell to your lips, then back to your eyes. His fingers tightening on your hips, stinging.

You were so close to him that your could paint the gold flecks in his eyes, and count every dark lash that kissed his cheekbones when he blinked. Your gaze fells to his lips, parted and waiting; and then you stopped.

A bucket of cold water fell over you as you pulled away from him. Your eyes prickling with tears as you gasped.

It was so small you would've missed it. You could've easily mistaken it for excitement, but you knew him. You knew that smile all too well. That winning smirk that itched the corner of his lips.

It was all a game to him.

"You bastard," you breathed. Your stern gaze met his stunned ones. He flinched at your words. You moved away from him, and lay on your back.

"You are cruel," you gritted out, trying not to show the way your heart was shattering, "a complete asshole."

Just another rich sick snob.

You tried to distract yourself by staring at the sky. "There are no clouds today."

"Cloudless skies are better, anyway." He answered, his voice tight.

"The more I get to know you, the more I despise you." You told him, honestly.

Jaebum chuckled at that, settling back to become comfortable. His warmth of disappearing instantly as he drew his fingers away, "Well, you're not the first to experience that."

You didn't answer.

None of you spoke for a long time.

"Who was that girl by the pool?" You swallowed, your throat painfully dry.

"Who?" He asked, amused.

"It certainly wasn't Heather," you said.

"No, it wasn't." He said after a long moment.

"How could you do that to her?"

He stayed quiet for a long time before saying, "How can you, y/n?"

After that, no one spoke until it was time to go.

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