#Lim Jaebum | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eureka-its-zico · 2 years ago

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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.

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onewmin · 2 years ago

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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?

56 notes · View notes

murderyoursoul · 2 years ago

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oh he thinks this is funny 😀 i see 😀

#jaebeom #jay b #mypost #im jaebeom #im jaebum #lim jaebum #lim jaebeom #jaebum #got7

111 notes · View notes

jae-daddy · 2 years ago

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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.