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onewmin · 10 months

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the perfume on the shelf. pt. 8 | bangchan

Pairings: Bang Chan x Fem!reader, Kim Yugyeom x Fem!reader

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was never a part of the plan. So you end it up. But does he want to put a stop to it, too?

Warnings: AU, 3 time jumps (not big ones), mentions of parental abuse, mentions of the eating disorder, mentions of shooting (at a shooting range in the park), mentions of mental illness, mentions of depression, profanity, a lot of awkwardness, typos, the reader’s and Chan’s povs, a bit of Minho x oc (not the reader lmao)

Author’s note: so… If some of the actions seem rushed/too awkward, don’t worry — it’s intended this way lol

I originally planned like 10 parts… yikes. It’s going to be more, I guess. Anyways, hope you enjoy!! Tell me what you think!!

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

Part 7 | Part 9

A week had passed since then.

Chan hadn’t called or texted. You hadn’t either. You left home to go to work and get some food if you felt like eating. To be honest, you wanted to eat every food item possible.

That was your compulsive eating speaking for you: ever since you were a little girl, you found comfort in food. When your parents were fighting, screaming in their bedroom early in the morning, you’d sneak into the kitchen to get anything to fill your anxious stomach with. When you were hurt, another breakup hitting you, you’d find yourself in a bar, drinking and overeating. Your first big weight gain was when you turned nineteen: you had yet another heated argument with your parents, resulting in you crying on the street, while excessively smoking. You had saved some money to get your first tattoo done; however, your parents — the conservative people they are — only tended to scold you for that.

“No one’s gonna marry you now!” Your mother screamed over the phone. “How could you do that! You’re a Christian girl, that’s a sin!” You didn’t quite remember when the God said tattoos were a sin, but oka, whatever. Your mom would tell that your father said it was a stupid decision, but did she really think you cared about his piece of mind in this conversation? He was barely present in your life, and when he was, he would only criticize you for every thing you did. And your mother thought you’d care about his opinion? As if.

Nevertheless, your parents’ reaction hurt you. You’d always wanted to have an open, honest relationship with your mother, but it was not possible — it was always one step forward, ten steps back. You’d cherish the moments when the two of you bonded, laughing at something together, gossiping about some family members. And in those moments you desperately believed that it could always be like this. But whenever you let your guard down, you’d get stabbed in the already bleeding wound. Your mother would never change. And you would never share the sweet moments with her.

Your mother also blamed you for the weight gain. She constantly stated you shouldn’t be eating so much food, because, “No one would want to marry a fat girl”. Even though she’d totally support your desire to fulfill the career goals, she was still focused on the possibility of prosperous marriage for you. Yeah, your mother wasn’t exactly a mentally stable person herself.

And now you were eating as well. All of the hard work you’d put into working out to get back into the desirable shape of yours would be washed down the drain now. As you were sitting on the floor next to the TV, a third bag of chips out of the ten you’d bought being shoved down your throat. And the cherry on top? There were actually multiple ones, like two huge bottles of coke and a cake in your fridge. Your rice and the fried chicken you’d cooked a week ago rotting in the refrigerator as you spent half of your savings on junk food.

‘Cause it was comfortable. It was your solace. Alongside with occasional drinking when you were sad, overeating was the comfort zone. Like you gained weight after that huge conflict with your parents (which led you to carry that massive guilt on your shoulders and your mother wasn’t speaking to you for weeks), like you gained more after the breakup with Yugyeom (and kept gaining, ‘cause every time you talked to him or saw him, you’d end up eating half the menu in the bar) or like when you were rejected by a publishing agency. The latter got you to actually go and work within your major, leaving your dreams behind. Now you were in the same pit of shit.

The mere thought of your hard work in the gym was overshadowed by the image of Chan, helping you around, guiding you through the training. It seemed as if any gym experience had been forbidden, ‘cause the memory of Chan being your personal trainer was engraved in your memory forever.

“Ugh, you’ve got to be kidding me”, you turned around to see Eunjoo, Minho behind her locking the door. You were so engrossed in that TV reality and your thoughts that you didn’t hear them coming in.

“Hey”, you said in a flat tone, facing the TV again.

The two of them would come and see you almost every day: Eunjoo was your work wife basically, but she still made sure to check up on you outside the office as well. After you wept in her arms that day a week ago, fell asleep on her lap and woke up to cry more, she just couldn’t leave you all alone. Eunjoo was the greatest friend out there and you definitely owed her a lot — you weren’t sure if you were able to repay her for all the kind things she did.

Minho, on the other hand… If Eunjoo was this sweet and comforting friend, who was there to help you cope with the emotions and be your crying buddy through all of that, this ass was quite the opposite. Eunjoo didn’t bring the topic up, letting you forget it, dissolve the memory of him forever; Minho would be running around your apartment, screaming curse words, shouting,

“What an asshole! What a complete piece of shit! My mother told me not to trust him!”

That’s his best friend, mind you. Their energy in this question didn’t really match much, obviously; so Eunjoo had to physically drag him out of the apartment and locking the door on her way back in order to get rid of his annoying anger splashes. But Minho would bang on the door, turning the handle violently, and it would result in the two of them bickering while Minho was still outside your flat. That was probably the only thing that made you laugh. And as they noticed that, they went on doing it more often just to put the smile back on your face.

“You’re eating chips again?”, Eunjoo sighed, turning to Minho in a helpless attempt to get some support from him. He shrugged his shoulders and plopped on the floor next to you, snatching the bag of chips from your hands.

“Oh, cheese flavored? Thanks”, he started chomping loudly, not letting you get another chip from the bag. “They’re mine now”.

“Did you tell your therapist about it?” Eunjoo sat down on the other side; now you were between your friends, being unable to escape.

“I cancelled our session this week”, you mumbled, pretending to carefully observe the palms of your hands. Eunjoo let out a sigh and took your hands in hers.

“It won’t help you”, she replied, “you’re only making it worse by shielding yourself from the world”. You nodded, still unable to look back at her. “Your therapist is the only person who can actually do something”.

You listened to Eunjoo silently, gaze fixated on the TV. You missed every thing said on the reality show you’d been watching, thoughts long gone from your head. You were so tired of this, extremely exhausted from all this talking. You knew you had to go through it with your therapist, but you just didn’t want to be analyzed for now. Not by your therapist, not by your friends.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” You stood up and marched to your bedroom, slamming the door when you got inside. It felt like fighting with your parents when you were a teenager; only if you dared to slam the door this way, your mom’d have slapped you.

You sat on the bed, back leaning on the headboard. Only, what, a couple of months ago, were you crying after Chan left and came to the decision to break up with him? Could you have ever imagined it all would go south?

You took the phone in your hands, the screen almost blinding you in the dark of the room. Scrolling down the gallery, you looked at the pictures you took of Chan, the ones he took of you, and the photos you’ve made together. Gosh, whenever you saw him standing close to you in any picture, you wish you could go back in time and punch him in the face. His stupid handsome face.

“Come here!” Chan’s voice rang out in your ears, looking at the particular photograph that was taken in the amusement park.

He looked so delighted to share that day with you — it was his debut anniversary, his first year as an idol had just passed. He had just gotten back from his tour around the country, and the first thing he did after stepping a foot in Seoul? Arranging a day out with you. “Tomorrow at 12. I’ll pick you up”.

And as you’d spent almost seven hours, running from attractions to food trucks to attractions again, your legs started getting wobbly with every step you were taking. Chan, on the other hand, with his body being physically stronger than yours, didn’t seem to be exhausted at all. So when he turned around to see you standing way behind him,

“Are you tired?”

“It’s a rhetorical question, right?” He chuckled at your sarcasm.

“Yeah, guess it is”. Your gaze fell behind Chan’s back, and he turned to follow it — only to see you staring at the shooting range. Before he could even utter a word, you already sprinted (wasn’t she tired a minute ago?) there.

After three unsuccessful attempts, you, for some reason, started bickering with the owner of the range, as he was making a lot of comments about you not winning. As amused by that as Chan was — seeing you bicker with strangers was a rarity — he took the matter in his own hands.

“Which one d’you want?”

You pointed at the plushy wolf. “That one”.

“Consider you have it”.

One. Chan wasn’t satisfied his first attempt was a failure, so he got his wallet out to pay for the next three rounds. Two. Three. Four. The smiley grey wolf in a sweater was still untouchable. “One more time”, Chan said to you confidently, “trust me, I’ll get him for you”.

Well, he didn’t. He was sulking, glaring at the owner from afar, when both of you had spent all of your cash on that stupid range.

“Sorry I didn’t get that wolf for you”.

You smiled, hand tapping his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Chan. You did your best”. He smiled back at you. “At least, it was fun”.

In the end, the two of you decided to take a selfie there, to capture the moment of your double failure. Now you noticed how closely to one another you were standing, as if your friendship was doomed to turn into something else from the beginning. Well, and Chris did admit he had always been in love with you, so it felt like truth.

“Do you want me to talk shit about him?” Eunjoo was sitting on the bed next to you. “You will show me the photos, and I will say everything that comes to mind”.

“I can do it without pictures, just so y’know”. Minho was leaning on the doorframe, your cat being scratched in his arms.

“I don’t think it’s gonna help”, you muttered. Having put the phone on the bedside table, you rubbed your face ferociously. “Wish I could… Just erase him from my memory”.

“Then lookin’ at his face won’t help”.

“Minho, shut up”.

“No, Eunjoo, he’s right”, your eyes welled up for some reason. Well, technically, there was some particular reason. That elephant in the room. “I’m, uh… Being too delusional, I guess. I think looking at him and knowing what he said to me will… Will make me hate him”. You draw a breath. “But it makes me hate myself more”.

Eunjoo took your hands in hers; that was a habit of hers whenever she needed to comfort somebody. “You know what I did when Jeong broke up with me?” You started nodding frantically. “No, I’m not talking about that”. The shadow of a chuckle in her voice made the corners of your mouth quirk up.

“When we broke up, the first thing I did was deleting our photos. Threw them away if they were polaroids. Put all the gifts he gave me in a box and then put it on the farthest shelf of my closet. That’s how you forget. Or, at least”, she added, “that’s how you start to forget”.

You didn’t need to think twice — because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of the memories. “I’ll start with the photos”.

Eunjoo smiled at you. “Good choice”.

Five hundred selfies. You and Chan had taken five hundred selfies, the majority of them during your situationship era. There was the two of you in his car, his mouth covered with your smudged lipstick; ten selfies taken on ‘a date’ Chris organized, and countless pictures of you two holding hands in various places. Looking through them, you couldn’t but wonder: how him and you weren’t a couple? Even your selfies, especially your selfies, were saturated with adoring glances and stolen kisses, many of the latter caught on camera. And he had the audacity to say that you weren’t his girlfriend? After basically admitting the fact that the two of you did, in fact, everything ordinary couples do?

Was Chris that stupid? Or was he just so bad at gaslighting that it didn’t take much to catch him do so?

Your blood wasn’t boiling, but you were not melancholically miserable anymore. Seeing his happy face in the now deleted from your memory photos made you just… Spiteful. Sick. You fell for his silky lies — the ones he himself believed too; and you were not going to grieve the relationship, the love that was actually never there anymore.

Your cat meowed loudly as she jumped from the bed, Eunjoo following her shortly. Minho went through your gallery after you handed him the phone, and hummed in approval.

“Does it feel better?”

“A bit, but… That’s enough for now”.

He nodded, standing up and slightly stretching his arms. “Good. I’ll tell him you did that when I’ll be in the studio”.

“Minho-“

“I’m kidding”, he huffed. “Dunno if we ever gonna talk again, like, as friends”. He sighed and shook his head; you couldn’t convince Lee Know to talk it out as well, ‘cause he just didn’t want to speak about Chris. “Anyways, who’s Jeong?”

You were dumbfounded for a moment. “What?”

“Well, y’know”, he scratched the back of his neck, “the guy Eunjoo was talking about”.

“Why are you asking about her ex?”

Minho shrugged his shoulders. “No reason. I’m just”, he cleared his throat, “I’m just curious, uh, who would date such a smartass”.

You let out a groan. “What grade are you in? Fifth?”. Having stood up next to him, you smacked his shoulder. “Ask her out, for god’s sake”.

You turned away to leave your bedroom, but you knew that Minho had this perplexed expression on his face. Yeah, you wished your best friend wouldn’t go out with Minho, knowing his dating history, but… There was just something about the two of them together, something that seemed right. And maybe in the endless circle of heartbreaks and hurt, at least Minho and Eunjoo would find happiness.

Although, you wish you and Chan would find your personal solace in each other as well.

Chan sat down at the studio, music blasting in his headphones. However, he didn’t hear anything but his thoughts, which were relentlessly torturing him for the past month.

The pain eased off a little bit, but… But Chris wasn’t numb to all of it yet. He was still clinging onto the memory of you, you, that were one call, one car ride away, but yet too far from his reach. And he was the problem. He was the epicenter of the explosion.

The moment you left, the moment the taxi drew away Chan knew it was over. Chan knew he screwed up so terribly that there was no cure, no mending to the damage he had done. Leaning back on his chair, he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. To this day, thirty-three days later, Chris couldn’t understand what possessed him to say all of that. Maybe…. Her words, anger, her lack of desire to forgive him then and there — he was embittered. He was willing to change, and she was leaving!

“What a pretentious asshole you are”, Jisung told him that morning, when he showed up at his place again. “How you manage to get girlfriends in the first place is a mystery to me”.

Chris knew what Han was implying. The thoughts that were lingering inside his head like unobtrusive memories — something that he remembered but wished to forget the moment he reminisced on it. His inability to maintain relationships because he chose to run away from every possible love expressed at him wasn’t the only problem present. He couldn’t admit a defeat; and he couldn’t admit he was wrong. Alright, the latter could happen, as he was willing to admit to his faults to some extent; however, if the other party pointed out other the things which he fucked up? A fatal mistake for them, a vicious victory for Chan. To throw more hurtful words, to cause more pain, reminding where they messed up instead of simply apologizing was the only possible outcome. The same thing happened with you. Instead of trying to fix it, he blurted out the stupidest shit, knowing that he, indeed, took it too far and, again, indeed, broke your heart by choosing to stay in a blissful oblivion.

Only now, a month later, Chan started to realize what he had done. It’s not like the both of you fucked up, no, for god’s sake, none of you would admit that; but, nevertheless, Chan got to the point when he knew, knew that it was him who spilled the darkest shade of paint onto the portrait of your love. Now he was starting at what used to be rosy background and had no idea how to scrub the black color off. Everything was in black. Because you weren’t there; and Chris could feel it in his chest, he knew it would take ages for your love to bloom like the first flower in spring again.

Having taken off the headphones, Chan stood up and rubbed his eyes. The action left wet traces on his face and fingers, and he tried to even his breath to avoid crying.

The door behind him creaked a little, and he turned around, swiftly thinking it was you.

“Hey”, Minho shortly nodded. Chan’s eyes widened as Lee Know was the last person he expected to see.

A glint of hope sprinted through his entire body, as he watched his best friend stand there, awkwardly twisting the ring on his finger. Maybe, just maybe, Chris would be able to save their friendship with Lee Know.

“So, uh…” Chan mumbled.

“Got a minute?” Minho’s voice was a little louder than usual. “Think we need to talk”.

A long drive in your car never seemed so nice like it did at the moment.

Summer was still present, the unbearable heat during the day changed into warm nights, and you enjoyed those. Windows open, the evening breeze gently touching your hair. Even though you cut it a couple of days ago, it was still long enough to get a bit tangled after the encounters with the wind. But you didn’t really care about that at the moment.

The traffic was slowly cooling off, which made your way to the destination shorter in time. There were still plenty of cars, but they were mostly going in the direction of residential areas, as everyone was headed home, even though it was Friday evening.

A week ago Youngjae invited you to his birthday party. You didn’t use to be very close before, he was just a pleasant acquaintance, your best friend’s cousin. However, in the past couple of months you found peace listening to his midnight radio program, Youngjae’s voice being the perfect lullaby to your unsettling mind. And since you texted him, praising his program, you’d become good friends. So him inviting you alongside Eunjoo didn’t come out as a surprise; besides, he really wanted to know who was that mysterious guy Eunjoo had been cryptically mentioning. Oh boy, you were willing to tell him.

Having left the car at the parking lot near the restaurant, you made the way inside, noticing how non-super-fancy the place was. Youngjae asked for no dress code and no gifts, but you did bring him a small one as a sign of your gratitude. If it weren’t for him and his midnight talks, you wouldn’t have fallen asleep at all.

“And as we finish today’s program, I wish we all could come to the road of finding peace and comfort within ourselves”. The tone of his voice slowly drifted you into sleep. “No matter how hard it is, it all gets better in the end. The hot line for the free mental help is…”.

His programs tended to have this unserious tone usually; however, quite regularly, he’d touch upon serious topics — mental health, depression, eating disorders — inviting specialists to discuss questions the audience would ask. As Youngjae put it himself, “I used to be heavily depressed when I was younger. And as I had no one to talk to, I listened to the midnight radio program. The host and their voice were my solace. I hope that I can be a help to someone who’s listening to my program now”. And he was. At least, to one person.

Youngjae pulled you into a warm hug upon your arrival. His shiny smile was impossible to resist; so after giving him the present, the two of sat down next to each other, some of his other friends greeting you simultaneously.

“Where’s Eunjoo?” You asked, having looked at your watch.

Youngjae rolled his eyes. “Running late”. You chuckled. “Tell me about the guy”.

“Oh boy”, you sighed, “but promise you won’t tell her that I told you”. Youngjae nodded. “It’s nothing serious for now”, you started, “they’re just… friends. But, from what I can see, they both really like each other”.

“Where does he work? How old is he? Who are his parents? How did they meet?”

The endless number of questions from Youngjae made you laugh. Him and Eunjoo were cousins, but they treated each other as siblings. Youngjae called Eunjoo his ‘little sister’ and you could understand why he was so interested and worried at the same time. You’d lie if you said you weren’t worried for Eunjoo as well.

“His name is Lee Minho, he’s 28, and he’s a choreographer”. Youngjae lifted an eyebrow.

“Minho? How does she know Minho?”

“How do you know Minho?”

Youngjae sighed. “Uh, well”, he ran his hands through his hair, “he was a guest on my program around a year ago. A really sweet guy”.

“Well”, Youngjae slapped his things and got up, “we’ll see. I want Eunjoo to tell me about him herself”, he giggled and you laughed back at him. You didn’t have any siblings, but if you had, you wished they were like Eunjoo or Youngjae.

Sipping a drink in the corner of the room, you saw Eunjoo walking in the hall, talking to somebody. Somebody tall, somebody dark-haired, somebody with a contagious laugh. “What the hell is Yugyeom doing here?”

You looked down, bringing the half-full drink to your face in a tremendously unsuccessful attempt to hide yourself. A desire to run away and hide came upon you immediately; it wasn’t the fact that you didn’t want to see Yugyeom, it was the fact that you unintentionally hurt him, choosing Chan when you shouldn’t have. And that made you really uncomfortable; he didn’t need your explanations or apologies, you knew that too well. But it felt like you needed to apologize to shrug this enormous weight of guilt off your shoulders. However, no matter how much you thought of him, you didn’t rush to get in contact. ‘Cause it was scary, and you almost never chose the unknown and terrifying path.

Fuck it. How long would you run? How long would you avoid uncomfortable situations just to stay in your imaginary tranquil world? How long would you escape the encounters with your fears? So fuck it.

You slowly raised your head to glance at Eunjoo, who was looking directly at you. Ignoring the tingling in the stomach, you waved at her, and she, having said something to Yugyeom, of course, made her way to you with him. Ugh. Eunjoo, why?

“Hey!” She almost sang, hugging you. “Remember that friend Youngjae told us about?” She immediately ranted. “This is Yugyeom”, she introduced him to you, “they met at Columbia University several years ago. Youngjae told us so much about you, it’s just…”

You didn’t hear the rest of her rather awkward speech as you looked at him for the first time after noticing him. The glimpse of smile on his lips, a white shirt covered by a black jacket and tucked into same-colored pants. His eyes didn’t hesitate to look at you, piercing through your appearance, landing somewhere deeper, somewhere around your heart.

You and him bowed to each other, and Eunjoo suddenly disappeared, using her cousin as an excuse. You gritted your teeth; she might have not remembered his appearance — as she only saw him in the rare pictures you’d shown her — but she definitely remembered his name and the fact the he went to Columbia University. Playing it off as if she’d ‘introduced’ you to each other was peak Eunjoo.

“Didn’t know you know Youngjae”, Yugyeom broke the silence a couple of minutes later.

“And I didn’t remember you do”, you answered. Awkward, to say the least. You wish it wasn’t this uncomfortable.

“On our way from the parking lot, she kept on telling me about her amazing best friend”, he continued, having taken a sip of his drink, “and also mentioned that this friend is freshly single. I didn’t understand what she meant until I saw the said friend”, he chuckled. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“She’s unbearable”, you sighed, “sorry about that”.

Yugyeom shook his head. “No need to apologize. I’m used to people ‘advertising’ possible girlfriends to me”.

“People?”

Now it was his turn to sigh. “Fine, not people in plural. My mom”.

You couldn’t stop yourself from snoring; in response, Yugyeom let out a breathy laugh. And in that moment, the time seemed to stop running as it used to. In that moment it seemed as if the two of you were laughing at some stupid jokes you shared when you were younger, when you were soaked from the pouring rain, riding your bikes on the country road, when you were lying in bed, your head on his chest, stomachs hurting after you laughed too hard. No matter how much times passed, you wanted to be absorbed in those moments, to stay in those memories forever. Because everything about Yugyeom just screamed home. You wish you could have changed the past after him completely.

God, you just wish none of it had happened.

Taglist:

@heylookwhoitis @amaranth-writing @itstorimf @tenshimara @whyyougottadothatbro

Fic masterlist <3

#bang chan #bang chan imagine #bangchan imagines #bang chan x female reader #bangchan imagine #bangchan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x oc #bang chan x you #bang chan imagines #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #bangchan x y/n #stray kids imagine #kim yugyeom imagines #kim yugyeom x reader #got7 imagines

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agustdef · 6 months

Text

Right Now

Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x Black!Reader

Genre: Angst, Light Fluff, Idol AU/Idolverse

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning: One cuss word; Language; Mentions of lack of eating, but due to workaholic behavior.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: I wrote this forever ago and never posted it, which makes no sense.

One thing that fans and choreographers had in common was that tour season was a whirlwind experience that came at you fast and had you begging it to slow down. Though to be honest Hana didn’t really beg for it to slow down, she went wherever it took her and that meant more work than all of the “off season” combined. Something she didn’t mind and to a degree could admit to loving.

And that is where the problem arose.

Yugyeom had his own tour dates to prepare for. Events that were some of his first since GOT7 left JYPE. They made him more anxious than when he had his members to rely on, so he put in more work than usual. But none of it was overworking himself or not taking the time to breathe.

With his new career within the R&B world he’d promised himself he’d take a little more control and do what worked best for him and the life he wanted to lead, even outside of music. It was a must, and it was hard because he was used to the go, go, go lifestyle of idol life, but he wanted to take his time. He had all the time in the world for the fast paced, always moving shit when GOT7 got deep into preparations for their July comeback - something he looked forward to.

But while he waited and geared up for his solo activities, he tried to impart some of that wisdom onto Hana. That meant talking to her about it and getting her to take breaks no matter how small and no matter what hops he had to jump through to get her to give in.

Of course, she had obligations so she couldn’t just ditch jobs. It would make people second guess hiring her or get her blacklisted from working with companies if she changed up on them at the last minute. But the problem wasn’t how many choreographing and teaching roles she took on, or at least not the one Yugyeom felt he could validly argue against. No, the issue was that she was also helping out other friends. She would workshop choreo, act as a member for demos, help them get into different companies to showcase they were the right fit for their artists, and even teaching classes with them when they asked at the last minute.

It left her with so little time to do anything else. Yugyeom feared if she was eating like she should have or getting enough rest in her own bed, because she hadn’t entered his in weeks.

The worry he felt was low at the start of the season, but peaked once some artists began to make their way out a bit earlier than the rest. There were so many last-minute details and intensive work to put in. He barely got a text out of her or anyone he could usually reach out to get ahold of her.

Even popping up wherever she told him yielded low results with him hoping the intimidating nature of being some of her clients' elder age and industry time wise would be enough to ensure they got her to eat or drink something when he dropped it off.

After a while it went from pure worry to agitation. Something that made him lie in bed at night staring at the ceiling as he thought about it until he picked up his phone.

Yugyeom: You at home?

Minutes ticked by with him staring at the screen awaiting an answer, to the point that he found himself a little pissed off and ready to call her, but before he could his phone buzzed a few times.

Hana: No, in the studio

Hana: I had to finalize that killing part for P1Harmony’s new comeback

Hana: I thought I told you???

Yugyeom’s anger didn’t subside despite her answering him, in fact her words seemed to just maintain how upset he was.

Yugyeom: You said it didn’t need to be done for two weeks. Did they push it up?

Hana: No

Yugyeom: So, you’re finishing it at 2AM 2 weeks early because….?

Hana: Because I want it done

Hana: Not rocket science. I got the time so might as well

There were many times in life that Yugyeom wanted to cuss someone out or simply scream and that was indeed one of them. It was like she didn’t know how she sounded, but he knew better than that. Hana knew exactly what she was doing and what he was calling her out on, but she wouldn’t cop to it. No, she preferred to do the thing where she played dumb until he said it outright and even then, she would deny, deny, deny.

It took several deep breaths to get him to calm down and respond to her.

Yugyeom: Come here and I’ll help you

Hana: I’m not falling for your tricks to see me. I’ll see you in a few days

Yugyeom: For work

Hana: And dinner after

He was going to push the issue, but just as began to type another message came through.

Hana: Gotta go. Ireh is back and we’re starting up. Go to sleep. Love you!

Naturally, he knew that she wouldn’t respond to him after that, so Yugyeom threw his phone across the bed. Or he tried to, but the slight force behind it made it bounce and hit the floor instead. He winced hearing it but made zero move to pick it up. All his focus was on Hana. The woman who drove him up the wall but who he loved endlessly.

The thing was he got it. There was no one more understanding than Yugyeom because he lived the life of someone whose work needed a lot of his energy and time spent with people like Monster Woo and other dancers showed him how much went into what they did. How much it could strain things. But all he saw was Hana running herself into the ground for no reason.

Of course, he had to admit part of it was for selfish reasons on his part. He wanted more time with her, even if it was a quick meal and falling asleep together. Spending quality time is something he loved to do with her, and he’d missed out on for months. However, the much larger reason was because he knew her and knew she was in her own head. Knew that a lot of the pressure to work, work, work stemmed from her need to keep herself relevant and employed in an industry that could truly break a foreigner, especially a Black one. She’d made a name for herself long ago and had the backing in the US, but working mostly in K-Pop was something new and she hated to fail at such a challenge.

That was the thing that kept him from losing his shit with her, but it was also the straw to break the camel's back. There was nothing left in him that said he should continue to let it slide, to not push harder for her to take a step or two back. Lines like telling her friends and colleagues to not reach out were ones he wouldn’t cross, but as he drifted off that night, he’d decided that he would put his foot down.

###

Days went by with Yugyeom not reaching out to Hana after their last text conversation. She wasn’t surprised that he’d stopped talking; he had two comebacks and tour dates to prepare for. Not that that was the reason he’d cut off communication attempts. Hana was smart enough to know he was worried and probably pissed with her. Something she hated but knew she couldn’t control since she had things to get done and not a lot of time to do them.

Tour season meant a lot of work and she was no stranger to pouring a lot of herself into it, so she rolled with the punches without much complaint. Which didn’t make him happy with her, but she knew it was something she could manage. Something she could explain to him to get him to understand.

Talking to him was in that plan once she arrived at the dance studio that he was preparing for his tour in. She was a choreographer for some songs and might go with him. Though with all the opportunities that rolled her way it looked unlikely that she would.

Another thing he would be upset with her about.

Upon her arrival she assaulted with the smell of food. As she walked further into the building those smells intensified and she basically drowned in them as she entered the break room area that the studio housed.

Everyone sat or leaned against something eating and paying her no mind. It was confusing because she thought they’d agreed to have lunch before coming in, but things had seemingly changed. All without her being in the know, something that she could have brushed off as an over thought if not for the momentary eye contact, she made with Yugyeom as he got up to grab a drink. His expression was blank as he looked at her and before she could blink, he turned around and went back to his seat without a word.

It was clear he was icing her out, which made her upset and a little angry. Not that she had time to process or call him on it, because the moment he sat down people noticed her presence and Ireh popped up and ushered her to the table she was sat at.

“We’re going to start a little later, so get comfortable. I’ll grab you something,” Ireh said.

Hana opened her mouth to tell her she was fine, but then her stomach growled, and she became all too aware of her hunger. She’d had a late night and got to sleep even later. So, in order to get the bare minimum of enough rest she’d slept in longer than she would have preferred and grabbed a pastry from the convenience store on the way. She’d planned to eat another snack before they started because she needed to and because eating a lot before dancing wasn’t something that she loved. But if she was hungry enough for her stomach to make sounds, she knew that she needed to eat something more. Plus, she had more time than she thought.

Another thing that wasn’t shared with her.

That made her irritation spike, so as she shrugged off her hoodie and dropped her bag Hana found her gaze drifting to Yugyeom. He was carefully spooning rice into his mouth as he messed around on his phone, only looking up when someone spoke to him and making sure to never even turn his head in her direction.

His behavior wasn’t something Hana never experienced before, she’d endured the silent treatment a few times before and it sucked every time. However, when it was about something that was work related and part of her livelihood it pissed her off. Even if there was a whisper in her head voicing the reminder that she could slow down some and not push herself so hard. That she had enough jobs for the season and could chill the hell out. The voice was right, but she wasn’t one to acknowledge that when she knew she could keep pushing and be fine.

So, being upset with him would withstand. At least that was what she tried to convey by glaring at a man who refused to give her the time of day.

Before she could do anything drastic, like walk over to his table, Ireh returned with two containers and a bottle of water. Hana took them carefully and was surprised to find kimchi-jjigae inside one. It was the typical food delivered for a work lunch, but it was a favorite of hers and something she craved whenever she worked a lot.

Something Ireh knew.

Once Ireh took a seat and began eating again Hana opened her mouth to thank her, but the woman shook her head.

“I barely even knew we were getting lunch today. You know who picked it out.”

“But he…”

“Hana, you know better,” Ireh said, but in Korean that time.

Though she often spoke both when talking to Hana there was something about the way she switched to it in order to scold that made Hana shrink into herself a little. It wasn’t that her feelings were hurt, but she did know better. Plus, Ireh was the oldest of four children, so she had the older sister act down pact, even if she only had less than a year over Hana in age.

Hana sighed. “I know.”

“If you know, then act like it.”

From there they ate in silence. The food was delicious, so Hana had zero problem finishing it and even after she was done the usual fullness never came. Which made her curse herself for clearly not eating enough especially because it wasn’t her intention, she just got easily wrapped up in things and forgot.

Once everyone finished, they cleaned up, and there were several minutes of sitting before everyone moved into the practice room. Hana brought up the rear and went to close the door behind them but was cut off by Yugyeom slipping into the room. He handed her a sports drink and continued to walk past her.

Or tried to but was stopped when Hana grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Yugyeom,” she whispered.

At first, she thought he would pull away, but after a few seconds he turned to her with an expression much gentler than the one he’d greeted her with.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to…”

“I don’t have to do a lot of things, baby. But I do them because I want to and because sometimes people neglect to get them done.”

Not another word was said as he walked away, mostly because Hana couldn’t find any to say. There was the care behind his actions in those words, but she couldn’t miss the dig at the end. She knew it wasn’t meant to be all that hurtful, but she also knew he was being a little mean on purpose. Something that he wasn’t often, and she was unsure if she was angry, hurt, or simply upset that they’d reached that point.

In order to not have to figure that out she took a breath and stood off to the side while the head choreographer and tour manager spoke to them. When all information was disseminated they got to work going over the choreo with those who’d created it. Though the songs she’d worked on were early in the set list she went last and the entire time she refused to meet Yugyeom’s eyes.

Despite the tension they worked through the moves easily and corrected anything that seemed off. It was hyper professional between them and to a degree that made her feel worse, but the alternative of letting feelings leak through wasn’t any better.

After an hour and a half of going through everything they took a small break and Yugyeom tossed her a protein bar before taking a seat on the floor to catch his breath. The urge to say something flared, but Hana just took a seat and ate the bar without question.

Twenty minutes later they were back into the groove of things, but instead of checking for issues they decided to tackle the set list as it was. Most of the people he’d worked with weren’t coming with him, so it was the dancers with him while everyone else watched carefully.

Part of Hana wanted to sit it out because she may not have been going, but also because she was in a petty mood. The more time she and Yugyeom spent with negative emotions looming over them the more annoyed she got, and it was hard to push it down or reason with herself. But instead of taking that step back she got into position.

Keeping her mind from wandering wasn’t hard when she was dancing. It was her passion, so Hana always found joy in doing it. Especially because she’d been so happy when Yugyeom asked her to work on some of the choreo for him. She’d done so on some of GOT7’s music but working closely with the man she loved when he held the same passion as her put her over the moon. A feeling that found its way into her as she danced alongside him.

Their run through went off without a hitch and they were able to do it with very few breaks. Once it was finished, they all took a moment to catch their breath and then any issues were pointed out before they did it again. The second time around included moments where he would stop to talk or to head backstage for a bit, so it was less taxing and also showed there was a better flow of things.

Usually that would have been the end of it, but it was decided on one more run through. Yugyeom had been singing the other two times so to preserve his voice they just let the track play and he lip synced the lyrics. During that practice he found his flow in a way that wasn’t present before and interacted with the dancers more. Hana effortlessly played off that and more often than before they ended up close together dancing in a way that wasn’t so scandalous that they looked like they were five seconds from fucking, but enough to fit the vibe and the sexiness of some of the songs.

With the last song, Hana found they stared into each other’s eyes more than they had most of the day and so it took a moment to snap out of it and walk away once the music stopped. They managed to do so and keep to themselves as they listened to the tour manager again. Everyone was happy with the practice so it ended and though Hana knew most of them liked to leave quickly the speed in which everyone got out of there was next level.

In about two minutes only she and Yugyeom were left, and he was at the door with his hand held out to her. Again, the urge to be petty arose in her, but she’d gone a long time without any physical touch from him that wasn’t dance related and she craved it. So, after she grabbed her bag, she walked forward and laced her fingers in his.

Neither spoke as he led them out of the studio and to the car that he’d hired to drive them around. As they sat in silence, they continued to hold hands and didn’t stop until Yugyeom motioned her into the restaurant they’d planned to go to for dinner. The host led them to a private room and to Hana’s surprise JayB and Youngjae were already there. Both men were often late to dinners.

“Did you even shower?” Youngjae asked as he got up to hug them.

Hana rolled her eyes. “No time.”

“At least she’s not as stinky as him,” Jaebeom said as they switched, and he hugged her.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom whined.

That got a laugh out of everyone and that meant a pouting Yugyeom as they took their seats. A server appeared the moment their butts touched down and they ordered and awaited the drinks.

“So how did it go?” Jaebeom asked.

“It went well. Most of it was already ready, so from here on out it’s just correcting any problems and making sure that we’re one hundred percent happy with how the set list flows,” Yugyeom said.

“That’s good. I know it can be nerve wrecking to do the first solo show, plus it’s in person. Making sure it’s just right means you’ll do great,” Jaebeom said.

“I hope so.”

“Ah, our baby is nervous,” Youngjae teased.

More pouting ensued as they all laughed and Jaebeom reached over to pinch his cheek, earning a light slap to the hand which only made them laugh harder.

It took a few minutes before they settled and their drinks arrived in that time. In the restaurant they went to drinks were fast, but food was slow because they prided themselves in being made to order so most of the food was unprepped.

“Speaking of preparing, how is all the tour stuff going with the different artists, Hana?” Youngjae asked.

Something about the question excited her, but also felt heavy. As if she was beyond tired.

“Good. I thank the heavens that most have been doing online concerts and don’t have a lot of new music coming before tour. It makes it so that we’re mostly just going over things and learning a handful of new choreo. Most pick it up fast, but some of the rookies are so new to it that their nerves are making it harder for them to keep up. But I enjoy being able to help them through it.”

Jaebeom nodded. “I don’t know how you do it. Dance has been in my life a long time and b-boying could take a lot out of you, so I can’t imagine doing it as much as you do. Hell, as much as either of you do. And Gyeomie finds time to do it for fun.”

Hana glanced at Yugyeom, who’d gotten quiet, before saying anything.

“Yeah, it can be a lot, but you get used to it.”

“I just hope you’re taking care of yourself.”

Before Jaebeom finished his sentence Yugyeom scoffed, but Hana ignored it.

“I’m doing my best,” she said.

Another noise was heard but it was softer than the last in a way that Hana almost missed it. What she didn’t miss was the way that Yugyeom rolled his eyes.

If it was anyone else besides his members in that room she would have been embarrassed, but they knew how he could get and saw both of them at their worst. There was nothing they would judge them for or at least all judgment would come from a place of friendship and not rudeness.

Regardless of that it annoyed her, and she wanted to ask him about it, but instead took a deep breath and a sip of her drink.

Seconds ticked by in silence before Youngjae broke the tension or tried to break it, because it didn’t let up even a little.

“So, you ready to go on tour with him? I know you haven’t done one in a few years, and you said you miss it.”

Anger gave way to discomfort then, and Hana paused for way too long.

“Uh… yeah. Some things have come up and so I might not get the chance to do it. But I am looking forward to it.”

“You might not go?” Yugyeom asked, shock and anger coloring his words.

“Yeah, I was going to tell you…”

“When?”

“After dinner. I thought we could talk then.”

Yugyeom’s face was stoic, and it was clear he fought to keep it and not allow anything else to color his expression as he looked at her. For several seconds all he did was stare, before he turned his head to look across the table.

“Hyungs,” he said, voice shaky.

Neither of them said anything, just nodded and got up. As they exited Hana heard Jaebeom mention sitting at the bar to give them a moment to themselves, but she was more focused on Yugyeom who’d risen from his seat and began to pace the room.

“Yugyeom,” she said softly.

Hearing his name didn’t stop his pacing or even get him to look in her direction.

“Yugyeom.”

Again nothing.

“Kim Yugyeom.”

That time there was a bit of anger in her voice, and she didn’t know if that did the trick or the use of his full name, but he finally stopped pacing and turned to her. She watched as he visibly took a deep breath and then leaned against the wall behind him.

“Do you know how worried I’ve been?” he asked.

Hana sighed. “I kn…”

“That was rhetorical. You know how worried I’ve been. You’ve had me checking in on you over the phone. Bringing you food and getting you to take moments to rest. You’ve seen my hold back because I know how you work, and I know it can be intense. I know that you do things a certain way and while it may seem like too much to be doing to me that you view it a different way. I know this industry is iffy and you committing to working mostly for this country’s industry is a lot because of the extra bs that comes with you not being Korean. I let shit slide because of those things. I put aside my worries because of those things, because I’m trying to be understanding. But there are limits.

“You push and push until you push me away. You’ve barely spoken to me for more than an hour in total over the last month. I have to work harder than one should to get proof you’re okay. To make sure that you’re eating and drinking. To ensure that you’re getting the rest that you need. And you don’t give a fuck.”

Throughout his speech Hana felt guilt creep in, but something about that last sentence shoved it down.

“I don’t care? How are you going to sit here and tell me that I don’t care? As if I haven’t been doing my best to keep in contact and as if I don’t always thank you for the things you do to take care of me. I’ve been busy, Yugyeom. You know how much comes up during these months and how much busier I get as tour dates get closer.”

“Fuck that busy shit!” he shouted.

That brought them to a standstill. Not because Hana felt threatened or anything, they cussed all the time so it slipping into an angry conversation didn’t faze her. But the way he raised his voice surprised her a little. It wasn’t scary, but it wasn’t like him to yell even though it had been softer than most people’s.

“Baby…” she trailed off.

Yugyeom’s face shifted from anger to a deep set frown and gentle eyes that told her he was tired and worried. Much more than he was letting on.

“I just… I want to take care of you, and I want you to take care of yourself. I get that you work hard, but you can work hard and also relax. Take moments to breathe. Have some sort of fun. You get into this work mode where it’s like you can’t seem to do anything else, even when there isn’t much else to do. And I get it, baby I do, but there has to be a line.

“And I’m selfish. Outside of you being healthy I miss you. I’ve barely seen you for a month and it’s not like we haven’t crossed paths. I miss being able to spend time with you. Making up dances in the studio just because it’s fun, taking small trips for a day or two, you yelling at me because you hate the way that I cook, and just falling asleep by your side. I haven’t held you in forever.”

As he spoke Hana rose from her seat and moved over to Yugyeom, wrapping her arms around his waist before she pulled him close. She knew she’d not been thinking about herself much and just going with the fact that she felt fine as an indicator on if she needed a break. It worked for her, but it was a dangerous way to live and despite how much she hated to realize it, lack of eating alone was enough for her to know she wasn’t as well as she thought.

That coupled with the neglect of her relationship was a reality check of epic proportions. She’d expected Yugyeom to just go with her schedule without throwing him a bone in terms of even a little affection. Plus, there was the depriving of her own touch and time needs. All of it showed her that she’d been a mess masquerading as someone with their shit together for weeks.

“I know and I’m sorry. I got wrapped up in it all and forgot myself. But even so, I shouldn’t have forgotten your needs. Forgotten that I would have to put in the effort to fix things when I finally came down to reality and not just expected you to be understanding or that I could explain it away. You deserve better than that and I’m sorry I was giving you less than.”

Yugyeom wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. His body relaxed and so did hers. Not everything was solved, and it was something they would need time to get over, but Hana knew it was the start of a good thing and that she would do better.

After a few moments Yugyeom moved away a bit and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. It was gentle and came with a spark that made it feel like the first time. A testament to how long she’d been in self-imposed exile of his touch.

As he pulled away from her, she made the mental note to overhaul her planner to work better for herself and her relationship.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you more.”

Yet another pout took form and as his lips parted to argue the boys reentered the room with the server right behind them.

“Sorry,” Youngjae said.

Hana waved them off. “You’re fine. We’re good.”

“Really?” Jaebeom asked.

“Yes.”

A squeeze of the hand was all she needed to be sure of it.

They enjoyed the meal without the heavy weight of tension in the room and despite how she needed to get across town the next morning Hana went with Yugyeom to his apartment without argument. She said she would do better and that needed to be immediate.

Plus, when she woke up a little later than she’d planned she couldn’t be mad, because being wrapped in his arms was the best night sleep she’d gotten in a while. She planned for it to be a repeat performance for at least a week straight.

#kwritersworldnet #kvanity #yugyeom x reader #kim yugyeom x reader #yugyeom x black!reader #yugyeom fanfic #yugyeom fan fiction #kim yugyeom fanfic #kim yugyeom fan fiction #got7 fanfic #got7 fan fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fan fiction #got7 x black reader #yugyeom angst #yugeyom au

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winter-dayz · 6 months

Text

Guardian

Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x Reader Demon AU Genre: Fluff Words: 2641 Warnings: strong language

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist: @soobin-chois

“You called?” He smirked and entered your room, plopping himself down right in the middle of your neatly made bed.

“For God, not Satan’s reincarnate.” You huffed, glaring at him before turning back to your laptop in frustration and annoyance. His face twisted into amusement at the irony of truth behind your words without you even knowing it.

Kim Yugyeom had been looking after you for four years and had wiggled his way into your life three years ago after perfecting his human form. Guardian angels were the standard, the praised, and the dreamt of. Guardian demons? Not so much. Yet, here he was still looking after his precious human under the guise of her best friend. This was not at all standard—incredibly frowned upon actually—and Yugyeom was sure any normal human would consider a guardian demon to be a nightmare. But he couldn’t help himself.

🎃

The angels considered getting to be a guardian an honor that was sacred, but demons, however, found it to be a boring punishment. To be a guardian meant that the higher beings had found the angel or demon responsible enough to look after human life. This meant that any demon chosen wouldn’t get to foresee any tormenting or torturing to the damned souls. Hence, why many of them dreaded and hated to receive guardian duty.

In the beginning, Yugyeom felt the same way. He detested that he, of all demons, had to look after a mortal being. No more troublemaking, torturing, or even living life as he pleased. Or so he thought.

Two months into his guardianship, he realized what a fascinating human you actually were. Sure, you did all the boring, mundane human tasks and things. But you also appeared more complicated than the average human, and you were definitely vastly more interesting than the souls he encountered in hell.

You were kind and selfless but did not allow others to take advantage of you and were not afraid to stand up for yourself. You were passionate in what you believed in but also were very open-minded to other possibilities. You were confident in your skin and walked through life not taking anyone’s bullshit, but you were also vulnerable and insecure in your own ways.

A year into his guardianship and he couldn’t stand watching from the side-lines anymore. You hardly needed help handling matters, but you were often alone. Kept to yourself at the end of the day. As kind as you were and with as many friendly faces as you knew, no one had taken the time to dig under the surface and really know you.

And for some reason that pissed Yugyeom off.

Because he could see it; he could see your longing for companionship. He could see how hard you would try. He could see how desperately you wished to be close to your friends.

So, being the troublemaker he is, he snuck to the portal room one night and shifted into a human-form in hopes of being able to fulfill your desires. He had even chosen a form that he assumed you would find appealing after observing the type of men you usually pined for.

Shape-shifting to appear human in order to face your ward was not totally forbidden, however, it was only granted to those with explicit permission. Which of course Yugyeom did not have the patience to get, nor did he think he’d even be given. But he thought this was important, and technically he was just doing his job as a guardian-demon trying to take care of his human as best as he can. Even if that meant breaking several rules and putting himself at risk of banishment.

That never did make sense to him though. As a demon, isn’t it his duty to be on his worst behavior all the time anyway? Regardless, up to this point he never had the urge to break his extremely loose rules.

🎃

“What are you working on anyway? I can smell your frustration from over here.” Yugyeom finally sat up on your bed, bored of pretending to scroll through his phone as he watched you.

“Stop being so dramatic. It’s just this idea I’m working on and no matter what I do I just can’t seem to get it to match what’s going on in my brain.” You sighed as your head flopped down to meet your arms. Except, you really did smell quite frustrated to Yugyeom, and it reeked. Normally you smelled like fresh flowers and clean linen, but ever since he walked into your bedroom all he could smell was mildew and burnt grass.

At your admission, he perked up, “Any way I can help?” Of course he was only asking because he had to, not because he wanted to. Although, technically, he really only had to step in as a guardian if you were in “life-threatening danger.” But also technically, his nose was currently in life-threatening danger—and he’s basically immortal.

“No… I think I need to step away from it for a bit. But that stresses me out ‘cause I’m on a deadline so…”

Yugyeom opens his arms wide, and after a minute of you both staring at one another, you slowly drag yourself over to plop into his grasp. He wraps his arms around you, softly rubbing his palm up and down your back. You can feel your entire body relax into his form, and it’s like everything eases out of your body. The speed at which your scent changes almost gives him whiplash, but he can’t help the smile that slips onto his face as he closes his eyes and falls back onto your bed still holding you.

“How are you so comfortable? You’re built like a string bean and yet I feel like I’m dissolving into a cloud right now.”

“That’s what best friends are for. I’m an anti-stress cloud made just for you of course.” You moved your head and blinked at him before your mouth curled up in judgment.

“That was so cheesy and cringey.” You continued to side eye him for a minute until he smirked. “Were you making fun of me for comparing you to a cloud?” He shrugged before pushing your head back to lay against his chest. You mumbled something into his shirt, but neither of you were really sure what you said, not that it mattered anyway. All that mattered to you now was soaking up time with your cloud of a best friend, and all that mattered to him was that he managed to help alleviate your problems.

So maybe he did offer just because he wanted to. Sue him.

🎃

Something was wrong. He could feel it. It had to be something to do with you because nothing around him had changed, no obvious danger in sight. No, this definitely had to be something connected to you, and once Yugyeom was sure of it, he panicked.

Not once during his time guarding you had he ever felt this connected to your emotions, and despite his confusion, that was not the main focus of his distress. Instead, he was panicking over what exactly could have aroused such a strong and depressing emotion from you.

He rushed to conjure his illusory human-form and bound through the portal. The closer he got, the more intensely he could feel your emotions. By the time he was outside your apartment, he was able to identify the feeling as rejection and insecurity. His chest tightened, and he imagined that this was what humans felt when their hearts “broke.”

He let himself into your apartment quickly—the details on how didn’t matter; you never asked him about it anyway. His eyes flew around the kitchenette and living area but flew to your room when he didn’t spot a sign of you. He ripped the door open and sighed in relief as he noticed a singular, still-breathing, lump hidden beneath the comforter. He took three big strides to stand beside you at your bed and paused when he noticed your puffy red eyes staring straight back up at him.

In that moment it was like he knew everything. He could feel the betrayal you felt, and it was like an image manifested before him: you sat at your desk, laptop open to a video call and on the other end sat an older couple. They looked distinctly similar to you, except their faces were shrouded with anger, disappointment, and disapproval.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered out, but the sound was ruined with croaks and cracks from obviously overused vocal cords. Yugyeom found himself easily sitting down and taking your face between his hands, wiping at the already dried tear tracks.

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect you from them.” His face scrunched in anguish, and his own feeling of failure rose above the leftovers of yours.

“How did you know?” You looked confused, moving to sit up in your bed. The call had only finished minutes ago, and you had no time to text or tell anyone else about the matter in the time that it took you to end the call before you threw yourself under the covers with a sob. It was only several minutes later that Yugyeom had shown up looking utterly distressed.

“I could feel everything. I’ve never felt such a thing from you, but you felt so distressed and– and broken. I panicked, so I got here as fast as I could, but there’s nothing I would have been able to do to stop them. I can’t control anyone… But you still didn’t deserve what ever happened, and I’m supposed to protect you from things like this. I failed…” He rambled on, definitely saying more than he’s allowed but unable to stop himself. He didn’t know what else to do. He just wanted to do whatever he could to get you to stop feeling that way.

Your mouth agape, eyes wide, and figure stiff as you stared at Yugyeom in confusion and shock. There was no way possible that he could have known what happened, and yet he spoke as though he’d sat right next to you through the entire thing. And then he had spouted on about protecting you, and failing, and you had no idea what any of it meant. Of course it made sense to you that your best friend would want to ensure your happiness at all times, but the conviction he spoke with told you that it meant volumes more than any normal friendship. He said it as though it was his job, or his life depended on keeping you safe.

“I know you don’t fully understand what I’m saying, but I promise I’ll explain everything in time. I just need you to know that I’m here for you now, and I want to always be here for you. I don’t know what they did or said to you, but it isn’t true. You’re literally the closest thing to perfect I’ve seen in my lifetime, and I’m actually really thankful that I was assigned the privilege of meeting and guarding you… Again, I promise I will explain later.”

All you could do was nod, searching his face for anything to be wary of, but all you saw was your handsome best friend. You believed his words despite how disorienting it all felt. As your eyes continued to rake across his face, you noticed something odd and gingerly touched his cheek, letting the tip of your finger ghost over the dot under his right eye.

“This wasn’t here before…” You breathed out, and Yugyeom stiffened. The skin under your touch felt as though it’d been lit with a fire comparable to the flames of hell. He’d never felt such a physical reaction to your touch before, and he felt something stir in his stomach. His eyes slid to a mirror that resided on a wall near your bed, and sure enough, there sat a small mole on his usually smooth skin. It must have manifested when he rushed through the illusion process.

“Looks like a mole… Probably insignificant. They show up all the time.” He tried to brush it off, but he knew his time to explain was counting down. Yugyeom knew the repercussions of this could be detrimental, but he couldn’t lie to you anymore without hurting you.

Meanwhile, the longer you studied his face, the more you could see that he almost appeared otherworldly. Sure, you’d always thought him to be immaculately handsome, but this felt different. Almost ethereal. And, you were certain that this mole had basically manifested overnight.

The longer you stared, the more Yugyeom could feel nerves and anticipation bubble within him until it finally rushed out like a volcano erupting after lying dormant for decades. He stumbled over his explanation several times, and his eyes seemed to be eternally locked on a picture frame that held your favorite picture of the two of you. But, he told you the truth…

The room fell into a thick, heavy silence as he finished his word vomit. The news that your human best friend was actually a guardian demon sat rather comfortably in your mind. The revelation somehow made a lot of sense now that you thought about it, but you were lost on how to respond. Yugyeom fidgeted, feeling rather nervous for a demon who usually didn’t feel all that much at all.

Finally, you reached over and took his hand into your own, and when he looked into your eyes, he saw nothing but trust and love sparkled within.

🎃

The next time that Yugyeom was able to come see you, the mole was still a charming addition to his face.

He hadn’t been able to visit for quite awhile since the higher beings had been aware of Yugyeom spilling the truth. They had already known, since the beginning, of Yugyeom’s worldly appearances but did not interfere since it seemed as though, despite his disobedience, he was not posing as a threat to the natural order of things.

But apparently, revealing the entirety of his existence, job, and even the ability to travel between worlds was not part of the natural order. So he had to face the music and explain his motivations and reasons behind breaking his unspoken oath to secrecy.

When the council found no ill-intent, and rather suspected that there were likely actually romantic feelings behind his exposure, they let him off with a warning that relationships between supernatural beings and humans were often doomed.

Yugyeom wasn’t exactly sure why they were warning him of such a thing. His relationship with you had always been purely based on his curiosity and responsibility.

But when he faced you again, and you smiled up at him, bringing him in for a hug and then brushing a finger over the new mole again, he understood what they meant.

For a moment, he worried about the mortality rates of humans compared to the eternity he would continue existing. But then you were pulling him into your room and snuggling up to him on your bed, surrounding him in your scent, and he didn’t care anymore. Even if your lifetime only felt like a second compared to his, he would bask in that second forever.

“I missed you, string bean.”

“I missed you too.” He breathed out, and for the first time, he actually noticed his heartbeat. “I hope you know, I plan to be by your side forever.”

“You’re being cheesy again. But… the sentiment is shared I guess.” Your head lifted slightly to press a light kiss to the underside of his chin before nestling back into his chest.

Yugyeom blinked at the action before he wrapped his arms tighter around your body, a smile overtaking his face.

“Well now you’re definitely stuck with me.”

#got7 #kim yugyeom #reader #kim yugyeom x reader #got7 x reader #fluff #demon au #oneshot #fictober

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honeyedhoseok · 2 years

Text

I Hope It's Cold In New York | yg x reader

genre | kim yugyeom x reader au!

summary | angst, implied smut, fluff, lots of sweet scenes followed by spiraling - enjoy <3

listen along | the wrecks - i hope it's cold in new york

The paper shakes in Yugyeom’s hand before slipping through his stiff fingertips, fluttering somewhere near his feet.

His unfocused eyes can see it lying there—thankfully, face down—beside his scuffed up sneakers and the grocery bags he abandoned on the floor before sifting through today’s mail.

He’d think he was paralyzed from a few words on cardstock if it weren’t for the steady, drumming of his heart beat in his ears, the hum of the radiator cutting on, and the soft movement of his phone vibrating in his pocket against his thigh.

He pulls it out, his body acting of its own accord to see your name and contact picture lighting up his screen. Your timing has always been mysteriously perfect—or rather this time, a mysteriously perfect inconvenience.

His fingers tighten around the rectangular plastic device, and for just a second he thinks about launching it at the wall—at the satisfaction of hearing it crack against the plaster, hopefully breaking the screen and keeping him from seeing your smiling face in your contact picture looking at him.

But he doesn’t. He loosens his grip, presses the silence button and sits it on the counter beside him, hanging his head back so his watery, stinging vision is aimed at the popcorned ceiling of his new apartment instead.

He can’t answer just yet.

///

He can’t answer just yet.

The two of you are walking home from an outing downtown, and you are deliriously giggly and happy from a few too many glasses of wine. Yugyeom watches you sway in front of him, your eyes trained on the starless sky above for a few seconds before you look behind you as if you’re making sure he’s still there.

“Are you not going to say anything back?” you ask, smiling mischievously at him. “Cat got your tongue?”

It’s not that he isn’t going to answer—it’s that he’s scared of the only answer he wants to give you, and furthermore, how you will react to it.

Yugyeom had blown his cool facade at the bar when some guy approached you, grabbing at your hand, your waist, trying to convince you to let him buy you a drink, calling you baby and gorgeous.

The guy was that really annoying kind of handsome—he was probably popular with the masses throughout his life, used to getting what he wanted with just a cheeky smile and a good one-liner—and it pissed Yugyeom off to see him trying to pull the same tactics to get you to come with him.

He knows you can hold your own, he’s seen you do it plenty of times. But this time maybe it was the burn of the whiskey he’d let slide down his throat along with his self-control that convinced him to tap the guy on the shoulder right before throwing a solid, left punch into the side of his squared, cocky jaw.

His hand stings in remembrance and he knows without looking that his knuckle is split. It’s going to be a bitch to grip the handles of his motorcycle, but he’ll worry about that when the time comes. Right now, he has to get you home in one piece, and the way your heels scrape harshly against the sidewalk because you’ve reverted to not picking up your feet tells him all he needs to know—you’re drunk.

But also aware—aware enough to realize he has yet to answer your lingering question from earlier: Why?

As if on cue again, you stop on a dime in front of him and whip around on your heel.

Why did he punch that guy in the face? Why did he get mad? Why did he ruin both of your nights by getting you two kicked out of the bar for almost starting a fight?

Yugyeom is lucky his left is strong—if he hadn’t knocked the guy out cold there would have been a lot more to tend to than just a few split knuckles and his raging hangover tomorrow.

“I don’t know,” he says, finally. “I’m sorry.”

“I think you do know,” you answer playfully, tsk-ing at him. “But I’ll let you slide, for now.”

Yugyeom grins, glad you’re not one to linger for too uncomfortably long. “Are your feet hurting?”

Your eyebrows raise and your gaze follows his down to your strappy heels that have left red marks around your ankles and the top of your feet. “No,” you say stubbornly. “I’m fine.”

Yugyeom chuckles, shakes his head. “Come on,” he says, walking over to crouch in front of you. “Get on.”

“We still have a few blocks until we get to my apartment,” you say in argument, but you’re already reaching down to slide your feet out of the shoes and clamor onto his back despite your statement.

He stands when your warm body is pressed against his back, legs wrapped around his waist and ankles crossed in a tight hold. He hoists you up, making you laugh a little and your hand that is holding your shoes over his shoulders jumps, making the corner of your heel collide with his chest.

“Ow,” he says, smacking his teeth. “I offer to carry you and you’re trying to take me out with your Manolos.”

“I can’t afford Manolos,” you say, still giggling in his ear. He likes that your voice sounds soft, breathless. “We live in New York, remember?”

“I’m glad we do,” Yugyeom says. “If your place were any further from the bar, I wouldn’t be able to carry you.” You respond with a press of your foot to his abdomen, and he laughs again. “Okay, okay.”

New York is barely alive at this time of night in your neighborhood. Unlike what people expected out of the big city, the smaller suburbs tended to have a homier feel to them. Away from the billboards and skyscrapers, only the streetlights and the occasional car gliding past with glowing, red brake lights guide your way home.

You tuck your chin on top of his shoulder, and every breath from your nose tickles the underside of Yugyeom’s ear. He loves this, loves that you are so comfortable with him that you’d let him hold you like this in public, giggly from all the alcohol in your system on a warm Saturday night.

Yugyeom doesn’t like to think of himself as sentimental, but this might be the night he remembers most when he thinks of you later. After.

“Do you think you’ll live here forever?”

Whether you mean in the city, or in this moment, Yugyeom’s answer is the same: “Yes.”

“What about that job offer in the south you said you were considering?”

Something is dancing underneath your tone—worry or unease, maybe—and Yugyeom can’t tell why.

“So?” he says, hitching you up on his back again. He can see the front of your apartment building looming up ahead now. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“Never,” you say, squeezing your arms around him, speaking directly into his ear. “Who else would punch sleazy guys and save me from swollen feet?”

Yugyeom huffs out a breath at this and doesn’t say anything. You’re quiet for a little while, chin still tucked in the space between his shoulder and neck. It isn’t until he’s walking up the steps to your apartment complex that you say something, just when he thought maybe you’d fallen asleep.

“I just wanted a free drink,” you mumble to him. “I wasn’t going to go home with him.”

Yugyeom makes it inside somehow, pausing in the lobby so you can slide off his back onto the flattened carpet of the building entryway. He watches you slip your shoes back on for the short walk up to your floor, noticing that the red marks there previously on your feet have lightened.

You fumble around for a moment, pulling your door keys out of your clutch and smoothing your clothes into place. Your eyes then train on his, blinking sleepily up at him, lips soft around the corners before you confess: “I don’t want anyone else.”

This makes Yugyeom’s mouth split into a grin. He reaches out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, lets his fingertips linger on the height of your cheekbone. “I know.”

“Good,” you say, stepping toward him, leaning up on your toes.

“Good,” he repeats, bending down to meet you in the middle so you can press your petal-like lips to his own.

Kissing you is like a storm rolling in on the beach—a phenomenon that takes Yugyeom by surprise each time at how quickly it escalates.

One moment your lips are barely touching in the lobby, and the next he is racing you up the stairwell to the third floor, pressing kisses against your exposed shoulder and neck while you giggle and fumble with your keys and the lock on the door.

Inside, your apartment is dark but tidy, and Yugyeom thanks the heavens above that he knows the layout well enough to scoop you up again into his arms and return his attention to kissing the gloss from your lips while he makes his way through.

The two of you don’t even make it to your bedroom—just to the couch in the living room, before Yugyeom is lying you down softly on the cushions. He stands to remove the thin fabric of his T-shirt, yanking it over the back of his head before he returns to the warmth of your body on the couch.

Your legs wrap around his waist, your hands finding purchase in his hair while the two of you attempt to make up for lost time with your bodies. Fumbling on the awkward length of the couch because of Yugyeom’s long legs, laughing between kisses and breathy sighs.

Yugyeom is in love.

You are wrapped around him on the smallest couch in the world, head tucked under his chin with your cheek pressed to his bare chest, and he is in love.

Your living room is blue with dim morning light that seeps through the upturned blinds. Outside, the city is just waking up and so are the two of you, despite your late night on the town and even later night with each other.

Your alarm clock goes off around 7AM—set accidentally out of habit. It’s Sunday, and neither of you have to work today.

You groan cutely, lips poked into a pout that could get you anything you wanted in the world. Yugyeom takes one hand off of your waist to fumble around on the side table above his head, smacking the lamp once with his hand before he feels the cool metal edge of your phone.

He hands it to you and lets you cut the alarm off, tossing it somewhere at the end of the couch where your legs are intertwined beneath what he thinks is also the smallest blanket in the world—but he’s okay with it. He’s okay with everything right now, and he pulls you into a tight embrace again, sleep still heavy at the corners of his eyes and within the droop of his mouth.

Just when he is drifting off, nose buried into the floral halo of your hair, he feels the slightest press of something against his chest, like the kiss of a butterfly.

Except it’s you that is kissing him, trailing with light breath up to the column of his throat. He swallows, hands tightening on the dip of your waist, smoothing over the curve of your ass.

You take this as a sign that he is very much awake now—and he is, how could he not be?—and you shift, throwing a leg over his waist and pushing him on his back. With a bit of awkward shuffling on the cushions that has both of you grinning like fools, you are straddling him, hands pressed on his ribs to center yourself.

Your face is swollen with the lightest dusting of sleep that still clouds your eyes and tangles your hair—but Yugyeom can see underneath the want that is simmering in the slightest part of your lips, the way your chest rises and falls. You are pressed against him in the most intimate of ways, only the thin fabric of both your underwear separating your hips from each other.

He decides to test you a little, despite the carnal urges rumbling underneath his skin to take you right here on the couch. Again.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, squeezing your hips. “What’s on the agenda today?”

You smooth your hands over his ribs, fingers trailing the dandelion tattoo on his right side, the lettering on the left, the bird on the cap on his shoulder.

“Laundry,” you say, and he thinks he sees the slightest twitch of your mouth in laughter. A joke he’s not in on, not yet.

His eyes drop from yours to the piles of clothes scattered in your living room—his T-shirt and pants, your frilly top and shorts from last night—and he nods. “Okay.”

You shift on his lap, and he lets out a grunt involuntarily. You had moved against him there, and whether it was on purpose or not, he can feel the blood rushing beneath his skin at the movement.

“These are dirty, too,” you say, hands smoothing down his front again, fingers playing at the waistband of his briefs. Your eyes shyly meet his, even though you are not a smidgen embarrassed. “Take them off so I can wash them?”

Yugyeom’s eyes flutter closed and he breathes out a laugh from his nose. You’re going to be the death of him.

“You’re insatiable,” he mumbles teasingly.

You grin at him, shrugging your shoulders in a What can you do? gesture. You lower yourself, breasts pressed against his chest, and instead of kissing his lips you hover there and then you pull back. Your eyebrows crease in confusion, and something else—embarrassment?

“What is it?” Yugyeom questions.

“I, um. I should probably go brush my teeth.”

Yugyeom blinks at you once before a laugh bubbles up his throat. He lets his head fall to the side, still laughing while you smack him lightly on the chest. “I’m being serious!”

He pulls you by your arms to lay on him once again, noses bumping against each other as he claims your mouth as his own, mumbling between heated presses of your lips, I don’t care.

Your answering giggle and then sigh as runs his hands up your back, is enough for Yugyeom. He’d listen to it on repeat if he could—the soundtrack of the rest of his life.

No, when you sigh his name later when you’re underneath him as he trails kisses down your jawline, across your bare chest and then lower—that should be the soundtrack of his life. He’s sure.

When the sun is higher in the sky and the apartment is stuffy with heat, the two of you finally separate from each other on the couch. Well, Yugyeom does at least, moving around to collect your garments from the floor to start the laundry. You laze on the couch a little longer, watching him move about your space with appreciative eyes, your head held up on one hand.

He opens a window, cuts on one fan and then another—the heat seems to sink further into his skin the more he moves around. What was the weather forecast for today, and why hadn’t he noticed the temperature before now? You had the dangerous ability to give him tunnel vision.

“It’s not even summer yet,” you complain. “I’m going to melt when it actually starts to get hotter here.”

“Just come over to mine.”

You sigh in response, flopping over on your back. Yugyeom’s large T-shirt now drapes over your body, and he picks your discarded one off the floor, throwing it in the laundry basket tucked under his arm.

“I’m going to take full advantage of the winter this year—you watch,” you say, sounding stubbornly sure of yourself. “I’m not going to complain at all. I’ll be walking on the streets to work with rosy cheeks and cold fingers and toes, so happy that it’s almost below freezing.”

“Oh yeah?” Yugyeom says mindlessly, walking to the small closet that holds your laundry facilities—despite not having air conditioning, at least you had this in your apartment.

“And I’m going to make you do all the winter activities with me,” you say. “Ice skating, seeing Christmas lights, sharing hot chocolate…”

Your voice trails off dreamily, and Yugyeom smiles a little to himself as he stuffs your laundry in the washing machine. The hopelessly romantic part of himself wants to linger a bit on your statement—you were including him in winter plans, in the future.

When he’s finished and the wash cycle is started, he turns around to see you laid on the couch, your hair splayed around you on the cushion, your chest rising and falling slightly as you stare at the ceiling in thought.

He puts the basket down and goes over to you, poking his head in your field of vision. Your expression softens when you see him before a grin splits your mouth.

“Well,” he says, “I hope it gets that cold here.”

“Me too,” you say, nodding. Distant, dreaming. “I hope it’s cold in New York.”

///

I hope it’s cold in New York an old friend, Chaeyoung, texts him one day. It’s blistering in the South rn

I want it cold when I come up

Omg what if it snows? I haven’t seen snow in years

Yugyeom looks at the messages coming in in between hurried bites of his sandwich for lunch, dusting off his hands quickly to respond back to her.

Why do you act like I live in Alaska he types with a smile, I’ll probably be COOL but not cold. Don’t get your hopes up

Chaeyoung, his one remaining friend from college, was coming to visit him later in the year. He was excited to see someone from his old life, the time where he lived in a smaller town and went to a small school before moving away from it all.

How are the people? She fires back. Treating you nice?

Yugyeom immediately thinks of you—of your sparkling eyes, tinkling laughter, windswept hair, aura filled with light and everything he thinks life in a new city is supposed to embody.

He crumples his sandwich wrapper up and stands, picking up his phone for one last message: Yeah. They are

However, in the following months, Yugyeom’s first stretch of living in the big city is a bit rocky.

Everyone he knows wants to live in New York. It holds its arms open as a big welcoming beacon full of opportunities and excitement and new faces—and while it’s absolutely true that it offers those things to both himself and you, there is turmoil underneath that comes along with those offerings.

Some of his problems are out of his control. The lock on his apartment door breaks and his landlord is out of town for three days before she can come back and do something about it—so he is forced to come home after work and set up camp in a chair in front of his door, nodding off every once in a while but jerking awake at the slightest sound that might be someone robbing him blind.

When someone steals his umbrella from beside the door at work on a particularly wet, miserable day outside, he’s forced to walk the blocks home with nothing to cover him from the cloud’s relentless downpour.

Taxi drivers are useless—they pass him on the road without even slowing down. He still has not mastered the art of hailing one.

Upon arriving, he pours enough water to fill a glass out of his loafers on the cement outside of his apartment building before trudging inside.

Other misfortunes, well, Yugyeom supposes they are technically in his control but also not. No matter how much he wishes to have some sort of say, he cannot and will not, ever try to control you.

He hasn’t seen you in a few weeks. To him it feels like lifetimes.

The expanse of five working days between him and his weekend also feels like lifetimes. Adulting is not for the weak.

He drops into a creaky kitchen chair after a long Friday at work, grateful for the weekend and determined to see you no matter the cost. Fingers dialing your number automatically, he waits for three rings before you pick up.

“Gyeom,” you answer. “What?”

His facial expression falls immediately—your words are slurring a little, consonants blending into vowels that even he picks up on with the shortest of sentences.

“Oh, are you out?” he asks. He absentmindedly takes the finger of his right hand and traces a small crack in his wooden table.

“Yeah, why?”

“By yourself?” His throat goes a little dry and he clears it. “I can come get you. I was just—”

“I don’t need you to come get me. I’m fine right here.”

“Where’s right here?” he asks softly. His left hand tightens around his cell phone. “Why are you—why didn’t you tell me? I could have met you.”

“You think I’m that lonely, huh?”

Yugyeom blinks. “What?”

“You think I only have you?” He hears you mockingly laugh through the receiver, alcohol tinting all of your actions. “That’s rich.”

He licks his lips, shaking his head even though you can’t see him. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s silence on the other end, and he thinks maybe he lost you for a second until your voice comes crackling through the speaker, smaller this time. “What have you been doing?” you pause. “It’s been a long time.”

Your tone almost sounds accusatory, but he can’t be too sure.

“Working, Y/N—you know, that thing that adults do?”

He doesn’t mean to snap at you, but his annoyance is rising. Why were you avoiding the question of where you were, who you were with? How many drinks had you had?

“Yeah? I saw your Instagram.”

“What about it?”

“You were out the other night—you didn’t call me up.”

Yugyeom knows exactly what you are talking about: a quick picture he snapped on his way home from after a few drinks with his coworkers. They were last minute plans, and he wouldn’t have even gone if he didn’t desperately need something to knock the edge off after a ridiculously long, tiresome day.

“That’s not—that’s—why do you even care?” he manages.

“You’re right,” you mumble. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t care. Listen, I’ve gotta go.”

“Y/N, come on—” he says, before the line goes dead in his ear.

Talking to you, getting more and more agitated as the conversation went on, he has rubbed his finger across the crack in the kitchen table so much he has a splinter now. He holds it up to the light—a tiny, dark sliver underneath the tip of his skin that stings like a paper cut.

Yugyeom isn’t one to get too upset unless it’s over you. And right now, he feels like he needs to hit something.

///

“Hit something!” Chaeyoung yells at him, clapping her hands from her seat. “At least one pin, Yugyeom, come on!”

Yugyeom squints at the pins in front of him, attempting to listen to Chae’s encouragement. But honestly with the lights and a few full glasses of beer from the pitcher on the table, it doesn’t matter how hard he concentrates: he just sucks at bowling.

He’s going to try anyway, because watching him is not just Chaeyoung, but a few of his friends from work—Jaehyun, Lia, and Mingyu—and you, of course. The most important of all.

“Try standing a little to the left,” Jaehyun coaches. “Or maybe like—as far from the right gutter as possible. You know?”

Chaeyoung laughs but smacks his arm. “We’re on the same team, you’re supposed to be supportive!”

Yugyeom flips him off before repositioning his hand on the ball, lining up his eyesight and sending it as straight down the lane as he can. Chaeyoung and Jaehyun stand up from their seats just as Yugyeom’s ball gets about halfway down the lane, looking like it’s actually going to hit something this time.

It makes a satisfying crack on the far right—three pins down.

They yell and clap like you all just won the super bowl, and tables nearby turn to look. Yugyeom laughs, a little embarrassed, but mostly just glad he can say he didn’t get a complete zero at the end of the game. He returns to the table in high spirits, smacking hands for high fives, and he’s glad to see you smiling delightedly at him, too.

“Nice job,” you murmur from beside him. “I thought Chaeyoung was going to have an aneurysm if you didn’t help them out a little.”

Yugyeom scoffs, turning to look at the scoreboard and then back to you. “We’re still losing.”

“Yeah, but now you’re losing by twenty-seven points instead of thirty.”

You two grin at each other under the dim lighting, and Yugyeom wants to kiss you. So he does--quickly, on the corner of your mouth. “Thanks.”

He’s not too sure how you are about PDA. Sometimes he can do it and other times he can’t, he just has to test the waters every time to see what mood you’re in. But he doesn’t mind.

You seem dazed by the action, maybe even slightly surprised. You glance around at the others who are too focused on Lia bowling her turn to notice and press your lips quick and soft against his in return. You pull back, trying not to break out into a grin at the little sneaky gesture.

The kiss lasts less than a second but it’s enough for Yugyeom to feel a little prick of something underneath his skin, looking at you under the hazy, fluorescent lighting. It starts as a little shiver on the back of his neck, his eyes trailing your features from one smooth line to the other.

You are so, so pretty. And he almost says it, right there. The truth behind all his bottled-up feelings.

In a fucking bowling alley.

“Yugyeom,” Jaehyun calls, breaking the two of you out of your reverie. “Want to come with me to get a beer refill before your turn?”

He nods and separates himself from you, giving your knee a quick squeeze under the table before he follows Jaehyun to the other side of the bowling alley. There’s a line, so they fall into it, watching as the cashier behind the counter struggles to keep with the demand on a Saturday night.

“Who wanted more beer?” Yugyeom asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jaehyun grins. “Me. I think we might be the only two drinking it at this point.”

Yugyeom laughs. He’s glad for this distraction, honestly. He needed to do something away from the others, away from your comforting gaze and hand that continued to find his underneath the table in between bowling turns.

He needs to get his head on straight.

“So,” Jaehyun says, trying to sound casual. “Y/N seems cool.”

Yugyeom’s eyebrows raise at the mention of your name. “Oh, yeah, she’s pretty cool. I told you she was.”

“You did,” Jaehyun says, nodding. “What you didn’t tell me was that you two were dating.”

Yugyeom grins, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulders a little. “It didn’t come up.”

“In the three million things you’ve told me about her, that didn’t come up, huh?”

Yugyeom rocks on his feet a little, feeling giddy and childish at the conversation that is unfolding. “We’re just—hanging out. You know? Casual.”

Jaehyun’s eyes narrow and he crosses his arms. “Okay, yeah sure. Hanging out,” he repeats. “I look like this when I’m hanging out with someone, too. Definitely.” He gestures to Yugyeom’s rocking, restless body and they both look at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter.

“I don’t know if we’re friends like this yet, but just—be careful,” Jaehyun says as the line moves up a few moments later. Yugyeom’s eyebrows crease over his eyes before he realizes Jaehyun is still talking about you. “You might be getting in over your head.”

Yugyeom doesn’t have time to ask exactly what he means by this because a second cashier is stepping up to help the struggling one, and she beckons them over with a call and wave of her hand to take their order.

Jaehyun orders a pitcher of beer and a plate of nachos for the table, and also a cup of water for Yugyeom—or, as he tells the cashier, my lovesick friend, here.

Yugyeom smacks his lips distastefully when he’s handed the cup, but he gulps it down anyways. His throat is suddenly a little tight at Jaehyun’s friendly warning.

Even though Yugyeom doesn’t want to understand, he does. He’s felt it all along.

He wishes things didn’t feel like they were slowly slipping through his fingers, somehow. But they are.

His hands feel sweaty when he sits back down at the table, and he wipes them on his jeans a few times. You raise an eyebrow at the sudden anxiety written all over his face—you okay?

He doesn’t know, but he nods anyway.

“You know what I mean?”

Yugyeom doesn’t know, but he nods anyway. Or, at least he shifts his head a little against his pillow in answer.

The two of you are lying in his bed after getting home from another round of drinks after the bowling alley. You are facing each other on opposite pillows, but your legs are tangled underneath the sheets, your toes brushing his ankle whenever you move.

Outside his shut bedroom door, Chaeyoung is sleeping on his couch, limbs sprawled out in post-drinking bliss across the cushions. When Yugyeom went to get some water earlier, she was actually snoring, which made him laugh a little.

You two were talking just now, like you always do before falling asleep beside each other. But something is different about you.

You’re here with him, in his bed, in his arms. But the words you’ve just whispered to him in the dark hurt his feelings.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, with your friends—I just. I feel more alone than usual.”

“What?” he’d asked, reaching for you out of instinct and pulling you closer. “What are you saying? Did someone say something to you while I was bowling?”

“No,” you said, your eyebrows creasing. “It’s just, they’re not my friends, they’re yours. And I see you having a good time with them—it’s selfish, but it makes me feel left out, somehow.”

Yugyeom blinked at you in the darkness. The moonlight shining through his bedroom window highlighted the crest of your cheekbone, throwing a shadow over the side of your face closest to the pillow. Where was this coming from?

You’d tucked your head down, gaze dropping from his and he couldn’t stand it. He moved his hand to lift your chin back up, making you look at him.

“Left out?” he repeated. “You have so many people that care—why are you comparing yourself to me at all?”

You didn’t respond so he pressed a hard kiss against your forehead, stroking a hand down the back of your head and smoothing your hair.

“You’re crazy,” he said, exasperated. “You have so many people around you that care about you, Y/N. I don’t understand.”

You spoke in a soft voice against his throat, his chest. “Not really though—you know what I mean?”

Yugyeom somehow feels the distance between you two more than usual, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your lower half flush against his body. You feel fragile in his arms.

This is a conversation you two have had before, he realizes suddenly. His mind drifts back to what you said on the phone that night he’d called, when you were drunk.

“You think I’m that lonely, huh?” “You think I only have you? That’s rich.”

He isn’t sure what to think now—you’d been drinking then, and even though you’re a lot more sober here in his bed, he can’t tell which version of your story is the truth. Drunk words are sober thoughts, after all. Both make him sad in different ways.

He pulls back and your eyelids that had floated closed flutter open, gaze searching his face in earnest.

“You mean so much to me,” he breathes in the darkness, pressing a kiss against your mouth lightly. “Do you at least know that?”

You nod against the pillow, giving him a small smile and tilting your head up a little more to chase after his mouth, deepen the next kiss.

Your lips are cold against his.

///

Your lips are cold against his.

Yugyeom and you are standing outside of the stadium downtown, waiting in the check-in line. It’s chilly today, the temperatures dipping lower as the sun sinks behind the horizon, and Yugyeom is hugging you for warmth since the line is slow.

It’s almost winter.

He’s sure you’re bothering the other people around you—like the pictures of annoying couples in amusement park lines he sees online—but it doesn’t really matter to him.

You are giddy with laughter because this is your first hockey game, and his baseball cap bumps against your forehead as he presses a chaste kiss to your mouth. “You’re going to love it.”

“Let’s hope so—I did some research last night on the team. I pretty much know their names now.”

Yugyeom intertwines his fingers together behind your back, both of your thick jackets making the action almost impossible, but he gets it after a few tries.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Tell me.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Let me hear some names!”

“You’re making me nervous. I’m forgetting all of them!”

Yugyeom throws his head back in laughter. “Sure, Y/N. Sure.”

Your eyes twinkle at him, filled with mirth and much more warmth than you two are currently standing outside in. The check-in line shuffles forward a few paces and Yugyeom switches to standing behind you, letting his arms drape overtop of your shorter frame.

“You really never went to a game when you were younger?” Yugyeom hums in your ear. “I can’t believe it.”

“My parents didn’t do much together—they were too busy,” you say with a sigh. “My mom was a career woman, chasing the next big promotion and my dad, well he was chasing everything but my mom.”

Yugyeom blinks—you didn’t talk much about your family, so this was the first time he’d heard anything concrete about them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing you a little. “When did you realize?”

You attempt to shrug underneath the weight of his arms. “Probably a year before they got divorced—I was like thirteen.”

“Where’s your mom now?”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Still career chasing, I suppose. We haven’t spoken in a few years.”

Yugyeom purses his lips in thought, not wanting to make the mood sour. “You ever had a stadium corndog?”

A smile spreads across your face at the change of subject. “I feel like I know where this is going.”

“Our first stop is the concession stand, then,” he says matter-of-factly. “It’s going to change your life.”

Once inside, he does indeed buy you a corndog and a soda, and anything else you would have wanted if you’d asked.

You watch with excited eyes as the hockey players zoom up and down the rink, bouncing in your seat when things get heated near the goal, gasping when the players push each other against the glass or start arguments on the ice.

“This is amazing!” you say at one point, looking over at Yugyeom—who, if he’s being honest, has split his attention 70-30 with you beside him and the game unfolding beneath your nosebleed seats. “Promise me we’ll come again. When’s the next one?”

///

“When’s the next one?”

Yugyeom is sitting in the conference room at work, looking into the concerned eyes of his boss, Jaebum. After a few moments of silence, Jaebum’s serious facade cracks, and he laughs at the question that has just tumbled over Yugyeom’s lips.

“What do you mean when is the next one?” he says. “There is no next one—it’s this opportunity, or never. You can’t put this off any longer if you want to change departments.”

Yugyeom had been called into the office, again, to discuss the training program in Ft. Lauderdale his company was offering. It was a short flight but hours by car, and states away from you. States. All the way down at the bottom of the east coast while New York sat at the top.

“Why don’t you want to go?” Jaebum asks. “It’s a really good opportunity. You’re a good worker and a smart kid. You deserve more money and the advancement this program could give you. Don’t you want that?”

Yugyeom does want that. That’s the whole reason he moved to the big city: it’s promises of a steady career and the lifestyle that came with it were so enticing he packed up everything without a single look over his shoulder for his past life.

Then he found you here, and he knew that despite all its shortcomings, New York felt like where he was supposed to be. Things were so good between you two again. And now he was faced with the opportunity of leaving—fifteen weeks away from the place he was just starting to like home in—but the rewards after he came back were well, unprecedented. He was sure to get promoted and who knew what else after?

Yugyeom looks up from his hands balled into fists on the table.

“Can I have tonight to think about it?”

Jaebum looks like he wants to object, but he runs a hand over his face and nods instead. “Tonight, only. Come back tomorrow with a solid answer because we need to get your flight and housing figured out if you’re going to go—they expect you there before November first.”

That was less than two weeks away. He’d spend the whole winter in the sunny climate of the South and miss everything here. And you.

“Yes sir.”

The feeling of defeat lingers as Yugyeom leaves the office that day. It’s defeat tinted with hopelessness—he doesn’t feel like he has much of a choice. He’s young and has to think about the opportunities he’s given and what life he envisions for himself in the future.

He just hopes you’ll understand, too.

He dials your number as he’s walking out of the building.

“Can I come over tonight?”

“Of course, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I just—” Yugyeom runs a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” you say, sounding unsure. “Um, well, I’ll be home at like 9. I think. Is that too late?”

Yugyeom presses the crosswalk button and waits, feeling restless. “Why? Is your team working over again?”

“No. Well, I mean, yeah, they are. They always are. It’s no big deal though—I’ll see you later?”

“Okay,” Yugyeom says right before the line goes dead in his ear.

The crosswalk sign dings, and he makes his way to his apartment. He spends the three hours between getting home and seeing you tidying up his place—he’s not much of a stickler for a deep clean but he needs something to do with his hands. Keeping his hands busy keeps his mind busy, for the most part.

Walking up the stairs to your apartment feels like he’s taking his time on purpose since he’s early, lingering in the stairwell for a moment before he finishes the walk to your door. It’s only 8:45 and you said nine, but he can’t stand the thought of sitting on his couch or doing another mindless task to pass the time.

Yugyeom needs to see you, be near you, touch you now.

He hopes maybe you’re home early. It wouldn’t hurt to check—but just as he is lifting a fist to knock, your door swings open and he comes face to face with a familiar

His memory of the night might be a little fuzzy around the edges, but Yugyeom remembers the satisfying feeling of cracking the guy in front of him across the face with his knuckles.

“Hey man,” he says, and Yugyeom is too surprised to even say anything back. He pushes past him and into your apartment to see you tidying up what looks like a delicious dinner for two in the kitchen.

You freeze in your tracks when you realize it’s not him that has come back inside, but Yugyeom, standing just outside of your peripheral vision.

“What the fuck is this?” Yugyeom manages. “What was he doing here?”

You’re wearing a pretty dress, hair curled into big ringlets and your makeup done. You swallow, blinking at him. “Yugyeom, I—”

“Y/N.” It’s him again, having followed Yugyeom back into the apartment after his apparent brush off earlier. “You okay?”

“Okay?” Yugyeom laughs, turning to look at him. “Why wouldn’t she be okay? I would never do anything to hurt her.”

He looks incredulous. “Hey, I don’t know—”

You take a few steps forward, holding a hand up in warning. “Mark, it’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it, it’s just Yugyeom.”

Just Yugyeom. For some reason the words make him more angry than anything else about this whole situation. Just Yugyeom. Nothing more.

Mark looks between you two a few times, trying to judge the situation accurately. You nod at him and he turns to leave. Finally, finally, when the door is shut behind him, Yugyeom feels himself deflate a little. It’s just the two of you now, but he feels more alone than ever.

“You were having dinner with him,” Yugyeom says. It’s not a question. “Why?”

You have turned your back to him to finish washing the dishes, but he wishes he could see the expression on your face—something, anything, to let him know he has it all wrong.

“He’s a friend,” you say softly.

“He wasn’t a friend at the bar that night, Y/N,” Yugyeom answers. “You’ve got to be joking.”

The silence is suffocating. Yugyeom feels like he can’t breathe in the few seconds that pass.

“What did you need to talk to me about, since you’re so insistent on coming over.” You rinse out a glass under the steady stream of water. “I told you nine.”

“I—” Yugyeom can’t believe the cold intent that is lingering in your voice. The feeling of everything slipping through his hands comes back suddenly, and he balls them into fists at his side. “I’m leaving.”

A dish clatters in the sink. “What?”

His heart is a hummingbird in his chest. He hopes this comes as a surprise in the worst of ways. “Training seminar. Our sister company in Ft. Lauderdale has an opening and my boss, Jaebum, he wants me to go.”

“Huh.” You cut off the water and dry your hands on a dish towel, turning to face him as you rest against the counter. Your expression is stony. “Well I can’t say I didn’t see this was coming.”

“Is that why you did this?”

Though he wishes his voice was steady, strong, it comes out whiny and so unlike him. Desperate. Pleading.

“Did what?”

“Is that why you’ve been, you’ve been—pulling away.” Your eyes dart away from his and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “I thought it was me, but really—”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Go on, Yugyeom. Blame all of this on me.”

“I’m not blaming anyone,” he says, taking a step toward you. He sees you visibly shrink against the counter. “I’m trying to understand why you would call Mark over for dinner at your place, by yourselves, and you’re—you’re dressed like that.”

He takes in the scene around him again, your distance, your dismissive nature toward him lately, and tries to find a better explanation for it all. “Am I a joke to you?”

“What?”

“Was this all just a joke to you?” he says, licking his lips, running a hand through his hair. “Tell me the truth. Everything that happened between us—it didn’t matter to you?”

“What, of course it mattered. Why would you even assume that?”

“Then why do you hate the thought of being with me so bad?”

“I don’t! I never have!”

Your response is too quick, too rehearsed, almost. You both know it.

“You and me, we’re—we’re just too different,” you try to clarify. Your eyes are welling with tears now, urgency lacing your tone. “We’re not meant to be together.”

Yugyeom’s mouth drops open before he can stop it. That’s the last thing he expected you to say—he almost thinks that maybe he’d prefer you tell him it was a mistake. That you were getting too comfortable and didn’t know how to process it, so you called Mark up—not that you two weren’t meant to be together. It’s not true. He refuses to believe it at all.

You’re full-on crying now, big crocodile tears falling down your cheeks and onto the collar of your dress. Yugyeom feels like he’s going to throw up.

He doesn’t, but instead his words come up like vomit, all in a rush because he has to let you know. If this is it, he has to let you know how he felt just this once, so that you can know if anything, at least one of you believed in an us. And that’s all that matters.

“Y/N, I loved you.” He says, softly, looking at you but you are looking at the ground, blinking away the water on your lash line. “No.” He corrects himself: “I love you.”

Your shoulders hunch like you are trying to curl in on yourself and on this conversation, but then you look up at him, lower lip trembling.

“I don’t want you to go,” you say, shaking your head. “Don’t go to Ft. Lauderdale. Please. I know it’s selfish, but I am.”

It’s funny—all these months he thought you two were building something strong and steady that would survive this, but in reality you both need more time. Yugyeom needs it to prove to you how much you mean to him, how much he enjoys your time and your presence and doesn’t need anything else. And you, you need it to soften the walls around your heart and let the truth of his feelings in.

He takes you in his arms then, ignoring the way your shoulders shake with sobs and presses kisses over and over into the soft floral halo of your hair.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

He was a fool to think that you’d wait for him.

The three months in Ft. Lauderdale are excruciatingly long, and only because there’s nothing to stop Yugyeom from thinking of you and how with each passing week he feels more space and distance growing between you two.

Yugyeom works hard. He puts his all into his training because that’s what he’s here for—if he’s going to mess up his personal life for this opportunity, the least he can do is take it seriously. He rubs elbows with the right people at the training center, putting on a facade of a person who really, really wants to be there. Wants to succeed. Wants to be something.

He sends you messages when he can, calls you when he can—but there’s no mistaking the far away sound in your voice when you pick up the phone, humming vague answers as Yugyeom tells you about his day, not even really listening sometimes. You tell him you just have a lot on your mind when he asks you about it, and when he tries to get you to elaborate, you don’t. So he stops asking.

Eventually, you stop answering when he calls, and soon after even his text messages go unread.

He’s unsettled in the small, stale hotel room he stays in for the training. He finds himself pacing the floor most nights after work, wondering what you are doing when you ignore his second, third, fourth call.

One night Yugyeom finds himself at a bar, three whiskey drinks deep when you send him a message.

Wish you were here

His hand curls around the plastic casing of his phone, wishing for once you would think about how it feels when you do things like this to him. When you ignore him for days and then send him something so confusing in the middle of the night. He’s walking a tightrope with you, only to realize there is no other side—he won’t get the relief of stepping on solid ground again because you will always keep him in limbo even if you don’t mean to.

The bartender asks him if he wants another, pulling Yugyeom’s empty glass off the bar coaster and tossing the melted ice. Yugyeom nods, looking back at his phone, his fingers flying over the keyboard on the screen.

Yeah me too

Nothing, he decides, is worse than longing.

///

Nothing, he decides, is worse than longing.

But he’s wrong. This, this is worse than longing.

He arrives home on a cold day at the end of January, and he knows his first stop after riding the subway into the city is the grocery store. Everything in his fridge has be spoiled by now, and it’s better to get it before the exhaustion of being back home creeps on him and has him knocked out cold in his bed.

The market is quiet for a Sunday evening, and he quickly gets some frozen meals for the week, some fresh fruit that’s on sale, a few snacks for work and some beer. Because he deserves it.

The cashier raises her eyebrows at him, recognizing his face from the many, many times he’s been in the store since moving in just down the block.

“You’re back!” she says, grinning. She’s a sweet girl with a round face—one he immediately realized meant she was too young for him. But a face happy to see him is one that he will take tonight.

“I am,” he responds, pulling out the rest of his items and putting them on the conveyor belt slowly inching along. “You working late?”

“Until ten.” She pouts, the register beeping as she swipes his items. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

Yugyeom’s chest tightens, but he manages to keep a straight face. “Oh, it’s late so I let her stay behind this time.”

The cashier nods, smiles hopefully, and drops the conversation because she’s at the end of Yugyeom’s cart. She tells him his total and bags his things, her hand accidentally bumping his as she hands them to him. Her face goes red, and Yugyeom feels bad, wishing he could tell her the reality of her crush is futile, but it’s not worth it right now.

His apartment is dark and stale when he opens the door, almost tripping over the mail slipped under the door by his landlord in his absence. It’s a bunch of bills that he already paid online, a few coupons, some sales papers from stores in town. White card stock addressed to him catches his eye amidst the pile, and he quickly sets the groceries near his feet, picking it up as he closes the front door behind him.

Please join us in celebrating the wedding of…

Yugyeom doesn’t even finish reading before his vision goes blurry, the card slipping through his trembling fingers and fluttering in the air. As it flips over and over, catching on an invisible wind current, Yugyeom can still see glimpses of your name and someone else's, written in elegant cursive on the stiff paper.

This is worse than longing, he’s absolutely positive.

Three months had seemed excruciatingly long to him and now he realizes why. Three months was enough time to end and begin anew when it came to you.

Your slow silence, the way it felt like you were fading—no, slipping—through his grasp just like the card stock had done a few moments before. He was just too ignorant to realize.

There’s a buzzing in his ears that he thinks is his rapid thoughts but is actually his phone in his back pocket, and when he pulls the screen into his vision he realizes it’s you calling.

What could you possibly have to say to him at this moment? What could you say that would make this all make sense, make the last year of his life not feel like it was worth nothing?

You can’t, he realizes—and so he silences the call with a press of a button, the first angry tear making its way over his eyelid, onto his cheek as he tilts his head back and looks at the ugly ceiling of his apartment.

He can’t answer just yet.

#yugyeom x reader #yugyeom angst #yugyeom fic #kim yugyeom x reader #got7 imagines #yugyeom smut #yugyeom scenarios

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liacontilde · 1 year

Text

Kim Yugyeom in my dreams pt.1

I was in some kind of high school where they had set up a huge stage for performances. I was on stage with the (G)I-DLE girls practicing a dance, and after finishing our rehearsal, the girls left and GOT7 arrived. I greeted them quickly, but I didn't have time to think, since they had already started dancing (in pairs). Since there are 7 of them, I had stayed as Mark's partner. Everything was fine so far, we were dancing, but at one point, we made a turn and Mark left, leaving me as a partner with Yugyeom. Honestly, I was comfortable with Yugyeom. He had always been my friend, but we had a TOO trusting relationship, and the rest of the group knew it. We continue dancing and without being aware of it, the choreography leads us to a step in which, after a turn, I stand in front of Yugyeom and suddenly find myself in the situation where he was touching my boobies (and I was touching his chest too). However, I did not feel uncomfortable or embarrassed. Low key, Yugyeom and I liked each other (and maybe even hooked up in the past). However, that didn't stop us from naturally continuing our relationship as friends.

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpopidol #kpopdream #dreamkpop #dream #dream fanfic #got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #kim yugyeom #kim yugyeom x you #kim yugyeom x reader #yugyeom #yugyeom x you #yugyeom x reader #idol x reader

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vex91 · 10 months

Text

GOT7 Masterlist

(f) - fluff, (a) - angst, (af) - angst + fluff (s) - smut

Mark Yien Tuan:

Nothing yet...

Im Jaebeom:

Nothing yet...

Wang Jiaer:

Nothing yet...

Park Jinyoung:

Nothing yet...

Choi Youngjae:

Nothing yet...

Kunpimook Bhuwakul Bambam:

Nothing yet...

Kim Yugyeom:

Nothing yet...

OT7:

Nothing yet...

#got7 x reader #mark yien tuan x reader #im jaebeom x reader #wang jiaer x reader #park jinyoung x reader #choi youngjae x reader #kunpimook bhuwakul bambam x reader #kim yugyeom x reader

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marvelous-llama · 9 months

Text

GOT7 recs

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, so please reblog and comment under works you like. Show love to the authors and appreciate their hard work

<<next chapters

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

OT7

The Mafia by @inyournightmares97

The Inevitability of You by @yehet-me-up

Soulmate series by @fantastic-bby (Mark, Jaebeom, Jackson, Jinyoung, Youngjae, Bambam, Yugyeom)

Firework by @inyournightmares97

one shots

Trust Issues by @jeonronwoo

Mark x gn!reader (wc - 1.7k) established relationship - angst, hurt/comfort

series

one shots

series

Suits by @bambikisss

Jaebeom x fem!reader (wc - 2.1k + 5.7k) strangers to lovers, CEO!reader, CEO!Jaebeom - fluff, smut, romance Being a CEO of a big company has its perks, except for meeting the one. After you sign up for a dating app for the elite 1 percent, you match with someone who is just as rich as you. Is love truly in the cards for you both? part 1, part 2

Through His Eyes by @prettywordsyouleft

Jaebeom x fem!reader - angst, romance, fluff, smut Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Reconciliation by @prettywordsyouleft

Jaebeom x fem!reader exes to lovers, business AU - angst, fluff, smut, romance You had allowed yourself to be undervalued for too long, as a business partner and lover of Im Jaebum and so you left him for good. When you crossed paths again, not all was how you imagined it to be. Could you reconcile after all the pain?

one shots

nights like this by @babecoups

Jackson x fem!reader (wc - 2.8k) brother´s best friend, idiots to lovers - angst, smut, fluff You have the worst luck when it comes to relationships, but sometimes the right guy for you is the one you shouldn’t have feelings for in the first place.

Light On by @cas-skz

Jackson x fem!reader (wc - 1.8k) established relationship - fluff, smut Jackson returns home after traveling. To his surprise, you're waiting for him

series

one shots

Plot Twist by @kpopchangedme

Jinyoung x fem!reader (wc - 5.5k) enemies to lovers - angst, smut, fluff? Being locked up until tomorrow morning with your biggest rival in the Archery team might not be all bad after all...

Royal Flush by @bambikisss

Jinyoung x fem!reader (wc - 3.6k) friends to lovers, knight!Jinyoung, princess!reader - fluff, smut, angst Your best friend sneaks into your castle and keeps you company before he goes off to war, leading to feelings being revealed.

Making a Move by @milfgyuu

Jinyoung x fem!reader (wc - 2.7k) roommates, friends to lovers - humour, smut, fluff

series

Destined by @prettywordsyouleft

Jinyoung x fem!reader soulmates - angst, fluff, smut You craved meeting your soulmate, but you wished more than anything he could be your best friend, Mark. When Mark finally meets his soulmate, you get the chance to find yours and he’s not at all what you expected.

enough by @ahgaseda

Jinyoung x fem!reader mafia, exes to lovers - angst, smut to survive as a single woman in the big city, you resort to letting rich men pay for your company, but never anticipated that your first client would be the boy you once loved, Jinyoung.

The Trial Period by @prettywordsyouleft

Jinyoung x fem!reader enemies to lovers - angst, fluff, romance, suggestive When the perfect studio space comes up, you leap at the chance to take it. Except, so has Park Jinyoung, someone you have hated for the past three years. Given three months to share the space before deciding who will claim it, can you push Jinyoung out by the end of your trial period, or will you find that the tactics you both use leads to something unexpected?

one shots

Open Tab by @milfgyuu

Youngjae x fem!reader (wc - 5.1k) strangers to lovers - angst, fluff, smut, hurt/comfort A connection is made with a handsome bartender who offers you comfort, a slice of cheesecake, and so much more on your ruined evening.

The Seventh Wedding by @inyournightmares97

Youngjae x fem!reader (wc - 15k) strangers to lovers, mutual pining - fluff It took Choi Youngjae seven weddings to fall in love with you.

series

one shots

I Think I Love You by @milfgyuu

Bambam x fem!reader (wc - 2.1k) coworkers/friends to lovers - fluff, crack Bambam rescues you from the company party and makes a rooftop confession to you under the stars. It’s kind of magical.

series

one shots

oh my god, they were roommates by @babybirdgyeom

Yugyeom x reader (wc - 2.5k) roommates to lovers, mutual pining - fluff One night you couldn’t resist your roommate Yugyeom anymore and finally gave in.

series

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sweetestofchaos · 1 year

Text

Got7′s Reaction to...Your Time of the Month

Backstory: You cancel date night because your period is kicking your ass

Mark

Mark’s been through this before, thanks to his sisters. He even has an app to keep track of everything himself. He planned date night with the possibility of your period coming into play. Mark is at your door with flowers and a new stuffy that also acts as a heating pad since you like to cuddle so much. He brings dinner to you from that restaurant that you wanted to try and later orders dessert to be delivered right to your door. The two of you are on the couch, your head reading on Mark’s lap while he massages your temples and pecks your nose playfully.

“Babe? Surprise! I hope you’re up for cuddles and chocolate!”

Jaebeom

This man is hands on. He is rubbing your back, using that super expensive body creme that you love so much. He remembered that you were running low and thought this was the best time to gift you with more...yes you did cry. Jaebeom’s fingers works their magic while you scroll through his phone trying to decide what you want to eat for dinner. You want something spicy and sweet. Keeping you in his arms, Jaebeom digs his fingers into your lower back and lets you absorb his body heat.

“Feeling better, babe? No? Just take a nap. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jackson

The moment he receives your text message, he’s already driving to the store with a mental checklist. He’s buying your favorite candy, tea and ramen. He even makes it a point to stop at that little bakery you love so much and gets your favorite cake. When Jackson shows up to your place, he is bundling you up in a warm blanket and hand feeding you which ever food you want first while giving you endless cuddles.

“Want more candy? Drink? Does it still hurt? Want me to kiss it better?”

Jinyoung

Canceling date night is a strong no. Jinyoung comes over to your place all dressed up and when he sees you on the couch stuffing your face with treats he sighs. Jinyoung settles beside you and pulls your feet into his lap, rubbing your feet and calves while you put on a movie. He’s okay with a date night in, no worries.

*sighs* “You’re really feeling it tonight huh? Did you need me to grab anything before you pass out?”

Youngjae

Youngjae is worried, very worried. He knows that your period isn’t fun at all, hell the last time it landed you in the hospital. He brings out the big guns and asks his eomma for her famous beef stir-fry recipe and gets to work. He even stops by her house to steal some homemade kimchi. At your place, Youngjae won’t let you move a finger. He is at your beck and call, treating you like the royalty that you are. The candy and little kisses to your forehead while you snuggle Coco is a wonderful bonus.

“Awe, my baby...I-I got eomma’s beef stir-fry recipe! Just wait a little and we can eat, kay? Get some rest, my lovely. Coco, your on watch until I’m done!”

Bambam

Can you say extra? This man is at your door with half the pharmacy and the ice cream aisle in his arms. Bambam makes sure to settle you in bed, making a fortress of pillows and the new heated blanket he got you. It’s nothing but sweet kisses and soothing words as he pulls out a handheld massager and starts working on your lower back and shoulders.

*struggling to turn on the massager* “Get comfy while I figure this thing out...oh! Nevermind, I got it!”

Yugyeom

Your pain is Yugyeom’s pain. The poor guy is doing the best he can at keeping you comfy, all nice and tucked away in your bed. He flew to your house with nothing but his love and Dalkyum. Thankfully you have everything you need to help ease the pain. Yugyeom orders food and he runs to the corner store to get treats, Facetiming you to make sure he gets everything that you would want along with some extra pain medicine.

“Okay, now what do you want, babe? Chocolate? Which one?”

#got7 x gn reader #got7 reactions #soc got7 #mark tuan #lim jaebeom #jackson wang #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #bambam #kim yugyeom #it's been a while yeah

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hwangyeonjun · 2 years

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got7 reaction when you call him daddy in public

warnings: none i guess? daddy kink kinda?

requested? yes.

MARK TUAN

he’d get sooo embarrassed. would probably try to hide somewhere (or even run away) and would definitely pretend like he doesn’t know you.

LIM JAEBEOM

quite neutral. he would go “oh shit” in smol and eyes widening before laughing it off immediately so you won’t get embarrassed or shy.

JACKSON WANG

this bitch would get so cocky. he would say something like “yeaaah, they call me daddy, what u gon’ do about it?” with the biggest smirk on his face and wouldn’t stop teasing you about it.

PARK JINYOUNG

would get so confused. he’d even probably look around in case your father is somewhere and when it finally downs to him that you’re talking to him, he would give you a “the fuck” look.

CHOI YOUNGJAE

another one who would get embarrassed. maybe more shy than embarrassed. would make sure no one heard, and if someone did hear, he would immediately walk away, avoiding eye-contact. (+ plus his awkward and flustered laugh).

BAMBAM

he would literally burst out in laughter. would probably even crouch down from laughing so hard and after a while he would remember it and start laughing again.

KIM YUGYEOM

sooo shy and flustered. would totally blush and stutter “w-what?”. thinks you’re serious which makes him even panic a little. i wouldn’t be surprised if he would go this far to think that you’re pregnant and this is your way of announcing it.

#got7 #got7 reactions #got7 x reader #mark tuan #mark tuan x reader #lim jaebeom x reader #lim jaebeom #jackson wang #jackson wang x reader #park jinyoung x reader #park jinyoung #choi youngjae x reader #choi youngjae #bambam #bambam x reader #kim yugyeom x reader #kim yugyeom

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melikeygot7 · 2 years

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DRABBLE FOR LIM JAEBEOM:

(NSFW below, minors please do not read, i am not responsible for your media consumption nor do i condone it.)

“Aish, so noisy this morning.”

If Jaebeom had whispered that in your ear twenty minutes ago you’d would’ve thought he was talking about the hammering, thunderous sound of rain hitting the roof above you and the glass panes of the window to the left of you. The rain often wakes the two of you up in the wet season if your alarms or the cats don’t first, and it’s a nice, oddly calming way to wake up.

But you know that he’s not talking about the rain at all, in fact, he’s talking about the noises your making.

The ones you’re making because of the way he shoves his hips into yours, his thick cock splitting you open over and over. He’s so hard, and rough and deep it’s hard not to make noise, in your defence. He’s got you face down in your shared bed, your cheek smushed to the soft cotton of his pillow and your cunt dripping onto his side of the bed, his breathy voice hot against your ear and neck.

“You’re gonna’ wake the neighbours baby,” he murmurs, followed by a deep, guttural moan when you clench down on him, “gonna’ get another noise complaint.”

You don’t care, how the fuck could you?

He’s pressing you down, your back to his chest, his arms wrapped under your chest and pinning your arms against yourself, his face pressed to your neck and fucking you so deep you could swear you feel him touching your teeth. He’s drunk on you, drooling onto you and half saying words before giving up on them to focus on you, but you know they, the neighbours who makes those complaints, will never understand how it feels to have him like this.

They’ll never understand how it feels to have him, pussy drunk and diamond hard inside of you, stretching you out and fucking you full, or how it feels to have him whining into your ear or kissing your lips when he comes because no one but you has ever, or will ever, know what it’s like to have him like this.

Because everything you like about fucking, the closeness, him, his girthy cock, the security, the dominance that’s so interwound with care and love, his voice in your ear and his heartbeat so close to touching yours, is happening in this moment, and all those other moments that have earned you other complaints. And it’s happening because he’s taken the time to learn you, to learn how to fuck you to make you loud enough to wake two floors of neighbours.

He’s taken the time, put in the effort and cares enough to make sure that every time you two fuck, it’s exactly, exactly, how you like it.

You’re grunting because of the force and depth, you’re crying out because of the stretch, you’re shuddering because he’s got a stray finger brushing your clit and you’re moaning because you fucking love him.

Because he deserves to hear those noises, to revel in your moans and screams and sobs and whines because he’s earned them, they’re because of him.

You turn your head, mouthing at his jaw and nose pressing to the short cropped hair right above and in front of his ear, your eyes closed, desperate to have him know that this? You? Everything you do, like doing his laundry, eating the food he cooks even if it’s something you’ve never had before, listening to hours of new/unreleased/half finished music so he can have your opinion, rubbing his back out before and after concerts and practices, and letting him hammer his cock inside and letting him fill you with searing ropes of come is all because you love him, truly and dearly, love him.

“Love you,” you try to say, but it comes out in harsh, breathy grunts and you pair it with squeezes around his throbbing dick, knowing he’s on the precipice of a mind melting orgasm by the way his whimpering and moaning your name and knowing even better, that he comes the hardest when you tell him how you feel, “feel so good, so thick Beommie, so full, love you so much Beommie’.”

“Oh baby,” he quietly cries out, voice so similar to when he reaches those high notes in his music, your cute pet name for him his favourite thing to hear when your voice is as breathless as it is right now, “fuckin’ love you, love this pussy, my pussy, oh god-“

He comes and comes, shaking and shuddering against your back and grunting and panting like a dog against your neck, high pitched whines and the slow but harsh grind of his hips against the plush flesh of your ass as he uses your soppy cunt to completion is not enough to get you over the edge too, but you’re happy to give him a few minutes before you roll him over to take what you deserve.

He’s murmuring against your skin and kissing over the side of your face he can get to, worshipping you in the best way he can as his limbs grow fuzzy and his brain melts. You let him kiss at your skin as he pulls out, feeling the swarm of warmth peel down your inner thighs and clit and eyes rolling closed at that sensation.

“My pretty girl,” he whispers against the back of your neck, trailing down the curve of your spine as his arms leave your chest and his hands find purchase against the fat of your ass, rolling and squeezing at your skin, “love my pretty girl, let’s me do whatever I want to her cause’ she loves me.”

You sigh, rolling your neck and arching your back when you feel his warm breath wash lower and lower down your back, a little grin spreading your lips when you realise not only what he’s about to do to you, but also because he knows why this is all happening.

Repayment for using your body however he likes is often repaid in an hour long session of him mouthing and sucking and licking at your come filled pussy until you pass out or cry if he hadn’t made you come during. And sometimes, you’d hold off on letting yourself come when he was inside of you just so you could feel his tongue lap out his own come out of your cunt.

And sometimes, he did it just because he could, because you’re his as much as he is yours and sometimes he did it purely because that was the end goal in the first place, and filling you with his come first was just an added bonus.

And you weren’t one to deny him that what he wanted to do to your body, it rarely, if ever, ended in disappointment on your end.

“Love you,” he whispers and kisses into the small of your back, resting his cheek on your back and drawing circles over the red patches of skin his hips left on yours with one hand and trailing the other down to swirl in the mess of come on the highest part of your inner thighs, “love my baby.”

The rains still pouring, still making noise even if you aren’t anymore and you suppose it’ll continue to hammer down when he gets his mouth on you in a few minutes but you watch the rain hit the glass of the window and listen to it plunder against your roof and sigh, because despite the rain being loud, you know there’ll be another noise notice on your door in the morning because you’ve been louder. But it’ll probably just join the other three in your recycling bin, and you’re pretty sure there’ll be another one joining it in a few days, and a few days after that one there’ll probably be another.

Your neighbours just don’t understand what it’s like to be in bed with Lim Jaebeom, and nobody but you ever will.

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onewmin · 8 months

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the perfume on the shelf. pt. 11 | bangchan

Pairings: Bang Chan x Fem!reader, Kim Yugyeom x Fem!reader

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was never a part of the plan. So you end it up. But does he want to put a stop to it, too?

Warnings: AU, mentions of verbal and physical abuse, descriptions of a toxic relationship, mentions of s*icidal thoughts, profanity, descritpion of a fire, the reader loves her cat very much, another day of the reader and Chan being annoying (the latter especially), jealousy, the reader is going through major changes (good for her), another bunch of Taylor Swift references, the reader has yet another traumatic experience; typos

In the parts with the cat it's very much self-inserted. Shout out to my cat and all other kitties and doggies <3

'Dal' stands for 'moon' :)

Word count: 5411

Author’s note: welp, there's a lot to read lol. Idk why this whole work lacks happy moments so much, I'm trying my best to make it more positive, but in the end... We get this lol. Still, hope you enjoy another part! I'll try posting part 12 in a couple of weeks, but, as my summer vacation is over, I'll have a lot of work to do, so I cannot promise you an exact date. Again, thank you fro reading and supporting 'the perfume on the shelf' and enjoy the ride! (put ya seatbelts on)

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

Part 10 | Part 12

Another day to cry in the bathroom of your therapist’s office.

Wiping your red cheeks, you took a deep breath in, trying to calm this sudden outburst of pain down. Talking about your unsuccessful attempt to go back together with Chan resurfaced in something deep, something that has affected you too much to even be able to handle it on your own. Your fear of rejection has finally become real - and instead of feeling calm after so many years of being scared of it, you found yourself utterly broken.

As long as you could remember yourself, this fear of being rejected has pressured you into staying out of the picture, of never saying what you truly feel. You were shaking at the thought of confessing to Yugyeom, when you were a teenager; your breath was hitched in your throat when you decided to join that writing club at university; the idea of asking anybody out made you sick to your stomach. And finally, all the mess with Chan was partially launched by your inability to ask direct questions, to come clean eventually. However, your initial choice was to live a lie, to let yourself have dust thrown into your eyes, to rather have smoke and mirrors than an honest relationship. What does this say about you?

“I don’t know”, you muttered, looking at the reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know”, you repeated, sniffing and exhaling once again. When you were nineteen, everything seemed so easy. When you were nineteen, you seemed to know everything.

“What would nineteen-year old you say about this whole situation?” Your therapist’s question was left unanswered, rather as introspection for the next two weeks. What would she say, really? That’s a walk in the park for her.

“Dump his ass”, the advice you used to give all of your girlfriends popped up in your head. “Find a new hobby, work more, go out more - do anything to forget him. He’s not worth your tears and time”. Easier said than done.

You sighed once again, before collecting your lip gloss back into your purse. It’s time to go home and prepare for going out; even though you try following your own advice, the thought of Chan is a lingering memory, a signature left right on your forever restless brain.

Running up the stairs on your subway station, you checked your messages to find Yugyeom and Eunjoo discussing art in the chat. Two weeks ago, after the airport incident, when Yugyeom was dropping you off at your apartment complex (the conversation with your parents about your early departure from the countryside was guided by Gyeom perfectly), Eunjoo caught the sight of the two of you while she was waiting for her best friend on the bench. For some reason she decided it would be a great idea to start going on ‘double dates’ - although, you could barely call them dates at all. She was unsure about her relationship with Minho, so she needed you to check up on him. You didn’t want to be the third wheel, so… So she invited Yugyeom. And now the four of you had a group chat. Was it a nightmare? Absolutely. You found out what nerds Gyeom and Eunjoo were; discussing everything - even rocket science, are you kidding me? - while you and Minho intervened in their intellectual conversations with memes and ridiculous videos to watch. For instance, when you sent a Tarot reading video, just for shits and giggles, just to send a follow up message, “This woman said I’m gonna have a billionaire husband in a couple of months” - only to get bashed by two absolute smartasses for your silly little hobby, as they threw in their pieces of mind on how Tarot is a scam, and it doesn’t work, and people like that woman are a fraud - et cetera, et cetera, blah-blah-blah. Minho, on the other hand, was pretty supportive (and a pain in the ass for Eunjoo and Yugyeom) when he sent in ten more videos of that same creator, chiming in with his comments about toxicity. Yeah, this chat was a shit show; however, it was bringing you too much joy to hate it.

In your apartment your cat greeted you with irritated meows and sweet purrs when you took her in your arms as if she was a baby. “Mama’s sorry, Gaeul”, you said, kissing her in between ears, “but I promise I’ll be back sooner than later. Just a couple of hours, okay?” She started gently biting your hand as you tried to scratch her tummy. “And you get to be the boss of the house. Not just for a few hours”, you kissed her nose and she put her paw on your cheek, “but forever, Gaeul”. She jumped from your arms as soon as you heard a loud stomp and a screeching curse - ugh, your neighbours were fighting again. How could a family that looks picture perfect hate each other so much? Well, you knew the answer to the question, but still, it never failed to arise every time you heard these two fight.

“You’re a piece of shit, Hajoon!” You sighed as you heard the man’s voice. “A piece of shit wife and mother!” This was the unfortunate reality-TV-turned-real-life program you had to listen to; the walls were rather thin not to hear them constantly fight over stupidest things in front of their little girls. When you saw the two of them ride their bikes and laugh, you always wondered, how they managed not to lose their innocence yet - with parents like theirs, who trapped themselves in a toxic marriage, the innocence of a child being saved was a miracle.

The drama continued as the woman cried out harsher curses, accusing her husband of cheating. Is that the life that awaits everyone in a marriage? Is that the life you’re going to have too? That’s what your parents have; constant fights, verbal abuse, toxic apologies with flowers and luxury candy, and no words uttered. No resolution of those conflicts, no rethinking of the life choices they’d made to get to this point of no return. Nothing. And this family, a family so similar to yours, was the same. Only the girls were lucky to have each other and not to be alone. However, calling the kids ‘lucky’ for lulling each other when their parents scream all types of insults, calling the children they created with ‘so much love and affection’, as the mother posted on her stories, ‘mistakes’ when they were in another room - calling them ‘lucky’ was a direct insult.

Accompanied by curses coming from a wall away from your living room, Gaeul was circling around you the whole time you were collecting your things. When you looked at the wrist watch, it was already ten minutes past the time you should have left the house. “Shit”, you mumbled, rapidly taking the bag in your hands and giving Gaeul a couple of more scratches, while she was meowing and standing in front of the door. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours, sweetie”.

You were supposed to be drinking as the four of you were going for some type of party one of Minho’s friends was throwing - so taking the car wasn’t an option; you didn’t know much about Changbin, but you were willing to get out of your shell and meet new people. “Maybe you’ll finally find a boyfriend there”, your mom told you over the phone, “you’ll be thirty soon - not really soon, though - and your father and I are waiting for grandkids. Your cousin is already a mother”. Ugh, yeah, whatever. Some nonsense that your mother confidently states is out of this world sometimes.

Running up to a bus stop, you conveniently saw your bus pull up; jumping in it, you paid for the ticket and sat down on one of the many empty places, staring out of the window. As the music took you to another dimension, your thoughts flew by, pictures of your mother nagging you about the prospect of marriage, Chan putting his arm over Micha’s shoulder, Gyeom stuffing his mouth with a sandwich in one bite, Eunjoo and Minho holding hands ran in your mind with a uncontrollably rapid speed. You were thinking about Chan less each day, the images of him being replaced by your friends, new people you met and surprising revelations you made about this world and, first of all, yourself.

Every bus ride that lasted more than twenty minutes - just like this one - got you hooked on rethinking and reflecting on every little thing that had ever happened to you. Sometimes it would be sappy, rainy autumn day like memories: Chan holding your hand while driving, bringing it to his lips to leave a small kiss on your knuckles every time the car stopped at the red light; you and him lying in bed, face to face, heart to heart, having those rare sincere conversations, filled with laughs and kisses. Whereas sometimes you’d lose yourself to cheerful moments, those July bright yellow afternoon days memories, with Yugyeom watching you chase after his golden retriever Dal; with you watching some happy kids fly kites while on a picnic with Eunjoo; with you writing your earliest stories in your old diary, sitting behind the desk in you sunlit childhood bedroom. The happiest that you were, in all of those memories you couldn’t even find the ghost of Chan; as if he had never existed in the most joyful moments of your life. As if - no, no ‘if’s’ - he had only brought you pain, and tears, and gut wrenching disgust towards your own self, towards the little girl, singing along the radio songs in her parents’ car, towards the fifteen year old girl, who wrote her stories on her old laptop and squealed after getting her first likes on the web, towards the woman you’d become. The woman who made stupid mistakes one after another, noticing but not seeing the pattern she had with every lover of hers, not seeing Chan being the same guy like the rest of them in her history. The woman you’d become, the woman you’re still thriving to be - she doesn’t deserve the slander you put her through.

There might have been happiness during him - his jokes, warm hugs, car rides to his parents’ country house, him playing with Gaeul, his voice, his soft curls, his late love confessions. But there would certainly be more happiness after him, after this whole mess you yourself created. No acid rains burning your cheeks anymore, no scratching yourself so much you start bleeding anymore, no gray colors during the brightest sunny summer mornings. Is this what the phase of acceptance looks like? Is this where you stop blaming Chan for the pain he caused you? Nah, you’re not there yet. But close. Definitely close.

Receiving another text in the group chat, your thoughts suddenly led you to the anxious search for your ID in the handbag of yours. “Shit, shit, shit”, you muttered under your breath, when you realized it was nowhere to be found. Did you lose it on your way to the bus stop? Or did you lose it here? Oh no. You rolled your eyes at the clear memory of seeing it on the kitchen counter before you rushed out of the apartment. How could you be so irresponsible? You’d never forgotten your ID, ever in your life, even taking it to the convenience store at 7AM to get a snack on your day off. And now, when you clearly needed it to get in the club, you’d left it at home? Super responsible, girl, just awesome.

Having jumped off the bus at the nearest stop, you caught yourself feeling absolutely shameless about the fact of being late. After you moved almost to the outskirts of the city, not being on time has become your signature mark. Now you were texting your friends, explaining the whole situation, while getting in an Uber - just to shorten the forty minutes you’d already spent on the bus to twenty-five. And as the car started off, your friends couldn’t leave you alone.

“Gyeom, I’m sorry”. The first words you said to him after picking up, annoyance recognizable in your voice. Yeah, you were the one being late, but Mr. Punctuality didn’t have to remind you about it as well.

“I’m actually late too”, he let out a breathy chuckle. What? Kim Yugyeom coming late?

“What happened?”

“Nothing”, he sighed, “I just spent too much time on the phone with my dad”. You hummed in response. “I can pick you up, by the way”, Yugyeom added.

“You don’t have to”.

“Ah, it’s not like I’m goin’ to be on time anyway”. The yippy notes in his voice made you reflect the smile he was probably wearing on his face. “So it’s not a problem, really”.

“Thanks, Gyeom”.

“I’ll be at your place in, uh, around ten minutes”. As you ended the conversation, you heard the siren sounds in the distance. It wasn’t an unordinary occasion: the song of the sirens was playing almost an unstoppable tune every minute of the day, as the ambulances were rushing through the busy streets, or the firemen were driving to stop the fires. It was not unusual for a city like Seoul; however, the closer you were getting to your apartment complex, the more the clump of fear inside your chest grew.

The first thing you saw when the car turned to your building was the blinding light of the fire truck. Then it was the group of firemen. After it was the crowd, surrounding the fire engine. The last thing was the smoke coming out of the apartment on the fifth floor. From the apartment right next to yours.

Jumping off the car, you rushed through the crowd, forcibly pushing apart the nosy neighbors and bystanders, only to be stopped by a firefighter. You couldn’t think of anything else, of other people, of the party you were late to, of the things in your apartment - the only image in your head was of Gaeul. How scared she must be, how she’s probably sitting in the corner of your room, far away from the strange and dangerous smell. The clouded vision of yours, the tears in your eyes were invisible to you. The only thing you needed was to get your baby out of there.

“Miss, you cannot go in there”, the voice of the firemen echoed in your ears.

“My cat’s in there”, you mumbled, but he heard you, “I need to get her out. It’s an apartment right next to that that’s burning”.

“We’ll get her out, no need to worry”. The calm notes in his voice had awoken some primal rage in you - how could he even say that? You couldn’t not worry, for fuck’s sake!

You quickly disappeared in the crowd so that the firefighter wouldn't recognise you if something was about to happen. There was an emergency exit, but they were probably evacuating people through it, right? What should you do to get in?

As the thoughts were rapidly running through your head, you saw smoke coming from another window. Your window now. Your heart sank; everything around started spinning slowly and you grabbed your chest in order to calm yourself down - at least, a little bit, at least, before you took Gaeul in your arms.

Fuck it. You hastened your steps through the crowd, away from the main entrance, in hopes to get lost amidst those being evacuated, in hopes to get through the emergency exit without being caught. In the inner yard of your building your restless, teary eyes noticed one fireman guarding the entrance; and over there, on the bench was your neighbour from the fourth floor, a fourteen year old, holding her brown dog close to her heart.

“Hello?” She picked up her phone, the shaky voice of hers bringing more blood to your already jolting heart. How smart it was to exchange numbers with her all those months ago.

“Could you distract that firefighter for me, please?” You uttered, while looking at her. She turned her head and found your eyes. “My cat’s still in there. I can’t… I can’t wait till they save her. Please”. The girl nodded and quickly rose up to her feet, probably coming up with an idea of taking the fireman’s attention.

She ran up to the man, still holding the dog in her arms, and started rambling something loudly, the hysteric condition of hers being the direct result of this horrible evening. “What was she up to?” You thought to yourself as you moved from a tree to a tree as fast as you could. “Was she walking her dog when the fire started? Was she at home?”

How convenient it was to have a bunch of trees to grow in the inner yard of the apartment building. “I should thank the managing lady after it”, you watched as the firefighter turned his back to the entrance - now. The adrenaline in your stomach felt like a fuel to the fire of anxiety and fear; as you leapt up the stairs, two, three steps missed, your heart was pumping somewhere in your throat, bringing the inevitable, horrible thoughts to your brain. You brushed them off before you reached your floor, running in the corridor, which was filled with smoke, with an empty head. The door to your apartment was being broken down as you ran up to it, right on time - maybe, the first time you were not late in the last couple of years. The firefighters weren’t pleased a resident was out in the dangerous area, but you quickly opened the door - having promised you’d let them in without getting inside yourself - breaking the recently made promise immediately when the lock was open, dropping the keys to the ground. If the building management had fixed the electronic locks on time, maybe the whole building wouldn’t have to use keys; maybe, the fire issue would have been resolved earlier, had the firemen had an easier access to the apartments.

Gray. Choking color gray - that's what your apartment was. You could get suffocated in here just for breathing in the smoke, but was it even a priority? You would die but get Gaeul out of this place.

“Gaeul!” Your voice came out quaking, eyes getting watery with every step you took. “Gaeul, baby!” Almost flying into your bedroom, you noticed her scratching the window in hopeless attempts to get out. “Baby, you’re safe”, you whispered, swooping her in your arms. She let out a weak meow as you covered her chubby face with a palm of your hand. The firefighter was quick to escort you from the apartment, having thrown a blanket from the couch over your shoulders. You wrapped Gaeul in it when you got to the hall; she was meowing as you ran down the stairs, telling you how scared she was. “I know, honey, I know”, you kept on repeating, “you’re safe now”.

The fresh air hit both of your faces abruptly, making you gasp and cough. Holding Gaeul as close to your heart as it was possible - perhaps, if you squeezed her tighter, she would be inserted in your heart directly - you sat down on the grass next to the girl with a dog sleeping on her lap.

“Is she okay?” You nodded, leaving a kiss between Gaeul’s brown ears. She started purring, exuding that velvety purring of hers that signaled of her finally feeling safe. After finding her in a pouring rain, as her dirty little paws left marks on your white hoodie and her squeaky voice notified you she wasn’t pleased with being carried by some stranger, after washing her up and taking her to the vet, after making sure she felt comfortable in every corner of any of the places where you lived, after teaching her to use the litter box, after buying her the most expensive and delicious food she liked, after having her sleep in between your legs every night since the first one she spent with you, after building up your whole life around her when you needed someone to give your unconditional love to, after having no suicidal thoughts the moment she took a step in your apartment, after having her as the only living creature who loved you unlimitedly - how could you sit and wait till they save her? How could you leave her little figure in the hands of fate?

“Mr. Choi set his apartment on fire”, the girl said while petting her dog. “That’s entirely his fault”.

“Tell me about it”, you mumbled.

“Why didn't the police do anything when they were called on them last week?” She questioned. “He literally threatened to burn the house down”. You shrugged your shoulders. No one really did anything when he threatened to jump off the window, no one took his threats seriously when he promised to burn the apartment if his wife got on his nerves again. Yeah, like it’s a reasonable excuse for a possible homicide. What a scumbag.

“He ran away though”. She sighed. “But they’ll find him in no time, I guess. Mrs. Choi said he broke his wrist trying to hit her, so he won’t be far away”. You nodded absentmindedly, eyes still focused on Gaeul. She already seemed peaceful, only her yellowish eyes still being completely overtaken by the dilated pupils. She was lying on your legs, covered by that blanket. “Isn’t it your phone buzzing?”

Oh, that was the annoying feeling in the pocket of your jeans. “Hello”. You responded in a monotonous voice.

“Where are you?” Yugyeom sounded panicked. “I’ve been calling you for the past ten minutes! Are you okay? Where are you?” He repeated. After muttering a few words you hung up, putting the phone on the grass. The autumn nights started to get chilly; but you were willing to stay seated on the cold ground as long as it took for Gaeul to fully calm down.

In mere seconds Yugyeom appeared in the inner yard, dashing to you. “Are you okay?” He observed you carefully, and then the gaze of his fell to Gaeul, curled up on your lap. “Are you okay, sweetling?”

“She ran into the building to save her cat”, your neighbor proudly proclaimed. Yugyeom gave a look - not the ‘Are you crazy?’ or ‘You’re insane’ one, but the look, striking as… Worry? Pain? Hurt? Love?

“I think the two of you need some warming up”. His soft voice impinged upon your indifference to everything but Gaeul; it seemed as if the part of you that was scared started to heal as soon as he helped you get on your feet. For the first time in the last half an hour you shivered under the cool wind, and Yugyeom took his zipper hoodie off to put it on your shoulders.

“You’re wearing a T-shirt”. You stated, looking at him. He gave you a small smile and shrugged his shoulders.

“I like the cold. I’m like Johnny Storm, y’know that”. You let out a breathy laugh - the first one after pulling up to the building. Your cat was already napping in your arms - the safest place for her, as it turned out - so you and Yugyeom slowly moved to his car.

The windows of your neighbors had ruined the whole front of the building - now the gaze of any person would fall on black frames around them. “I wonder if my landlady is here”. You said, when getting on the passenger seat.

“D’you want me to find her?”

“Gyeom, no”, you answered in a soft voice, ‘you’ve already done enough”. His brows knitted as he looked at you with utter confusion written all over his face.

“I didn’t do anything except for panicking and calling Minho and Eunjoo”, he noted, “and not like it’s hard to help you. Especially now”.

You gave in rather quickly. “Alright”.

“Give me her number, so I-”

“Just take my phone”, you shoved the device in his hands, “she doesn’t pick up if she doesn’t know the number”. He nodded before getting out of the car.

And as you were petting your sleepy cat, you felt the tears being finally let go from your eyes. Gaeul woke up when the salty drops fell on her side and, after staring at you for a couple seconds, started to licking herself up. You laughed through the choking tears and caressed her head and back, thinking how much your life had changed since the moment she magically appeared in it. It became… Brighter, funnier, sweeter. Even when she would wake you up at three AM ‘cause she was hungry; or when she would try to eat the yarn whenever you crocheted; or when she would sit on the kitchen counter while you were cooking. The thought of losing her made your heart hurt even more than it already was.

“We’ll be fine, right, baby?” You murmured when she started snoring quietly; you turned your head to look out of the window and noticed Gyeom in the distance, still talking with someone over the phone. A strange feeling of being absolutely safe around him had arisen in your chest the moment you saw his worried face tonight; maybe you shouldn’t push him away too hard - he’s one of the few people you can trust, after all.

Gyeom was right; he cannot certainly save you like he used to when you were kids. You can come up with a rescue plan yourself, like today, when you couldn’t wait for anyone else to save the most loved part of you. Anyone but you. Gyeom cannot save you; but he can give you the sense of comfort after you help yourself get back to life.

“Gaeul”, you muttered, “how long it’s been since we called him ‘Gyeom’?” A short version of his name, and he hated being called that. But when it came to you, his first love? He blushed whenever you said ‘Gyeom’. And why did you start calling him that again? Maybe that’s a sign, you thought to yourself, leaning your head back, maybe I do need him around.

“So you mean to tell me”, Jisung was talking with his mouth full, “that you and Micha are not together? What’s the point of bringing her here then?”

Chan let out a deep sigh. It was only a matter of time when Han found out. “We are together. But we just don’t like labeling it as a ‘relationship’ Just give us some more time”.

“ Are you kiddin’ me? It’s been two weeks, Chan!” He gnashed his teeth. “Every media outlet is calling me to confirm whether the two of you are together. What am I supposed to tell them?”

“That it’s none of their business”.

“It doesn't work anymore. Is she your girlfriend or not?”

“She is, technically”, Chris leaned in his chair, “we’re in an open relationship”. Jisung set his palms down flat on the table, the heavy breathing of his sending shivers down Chan’s spine. He loved riling his friend up, but sometimes he seemed to forget Han was also his manager. A scary one at times.

“I swear to God”, Jisung hissed, “I’m gonna kill you and replace you with another dude. No one will see a difference”. Chris chuckled and went back to his dinner, leaving Han’s question unanswered.

Him and Micha had a lot of history; but when he showed up at her door, drunk to the bone, she was more than shocked. He kept on complaining, crying about you, cursing you, proclaiming his love for you. Micha was impressed only by him being that emotional - nothing like that ever happened when they were together. A couple of days later one thing led to another and… Some time after that she was already packing her bags to go to Melbourne with him. Was it a smart, calculated decision? Absolutely not. But Chan, for whatever reason, promised to support her financially before she’d find a job there; alright, to be honest? He wanted to hurt you. To hurt you the same way your reconciliation with Yugyeom made him feel. Chan wanted to see you suffer as much as he did, to see you try to beg for him to come back to you. Spoiler alert: you never did.

Except for the airport incident. He almost caught the slightest glimpse of you, almost canceled his entire flight, almost called off all the business he had in Australia. If only he could delve into your features one more time, he would’ve put everyone aside. ‘Cause if you were there and he saw you, he wouldn’t need anything else. But he didn’t see you, so it was all settled as it was supposed to be.

Han was grumbling something under his breath while Chan was scrolling down the latest news; some of his friends had a comeback coming up, the other was starring in a new drama, the third proposed to his girlfriend… Everyone seemed to have their life put together but him. When he laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, Micha’s head resting on his arm, Chan would only think about a life he gave away. He could’ve been lying in his bed now, with his head snuggled into your neck, inhaling that sweet scent of yours right into his system. He could’ve been waking up to your leg lapped across his. He could’ve been with the woman he’s in love with, not the one he pretends to love. Micha doesn’t deserve this; but something tells him that she knows - just pretends not to notice.

‘Hey, doesn’t this house seem familiar to you?” Han shoved his phone right into Chan’s face; when his eyes could finally focus, he recognised the building immediately. “They report it’s been a fire, they’re still locating it”, Jisung continued, “and the guy who started it wanted to kill his family. What a piece of shit”.

The only thing Chan could see was smoke coming out from the apartment scarily close to yours. He was unable to forget the window of yours, the window he would always look up to just to see your smiley face. “Can I borrow your phone?”

Jisung swallowed his food, looking confused. “What for?”

“I need to call her”. Han rolled his eyes but obliged, lending the phone to his friend. Chan practically jumped from his seat, running from the second floor of the restaurant they were in to the street. Chan was aware of you blocking him everywhere; so he hoped you’d pick up if Han called. What was that logic? Why would you even pick up?

If the fire was still being located, how big is it? Were you home when it started? Were you not? Is Gaeul okay?

Long beeps only fueled his anxiety. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Please.

“Hello?” The voice on the other side of the phone wasn’t the silky one Chan was hoping to hear.

Chan asked for your name. Was it a cop? A firefighter? A doctor? “She’s okay, she wasn’t home when the fire broke out”.

“Who am I talkin’ to?”

“Kim Yugyeom. I’m a friend. You?”

Another tingling in his chest, every little blood cell of his running to his head, fueling his rage and pain, mixing them altogether. So, Yugyeom is there? After all of your claims he meant nothing to you?

“Hello?” Yugyeom asked once again. “Say your name at least, so that she’d know whom to call back”.

“Don’t you see the name on the screen?” Chan’s words came out harsher than he planned. “Sorry, whatever. Don’t tell her anything”. Chris hung up the phone and let out an exasperated sigh. Rubbing his face with his hands, Chan couldn’t even comprehend what he was feeling. Why was the mere thought of you and Yugyeom in the same space bringing him the worst pain of it all? It was jealousy. It was all the love he couldn’t properly give you resulting in that horrendous feeling of envy. The feeling that Yugyeom might give this love to you. The love that you deserve.

How long will he continue pining over you? Maybe he should just start paying more attention to his actual girlfriend rather than the dream woman of his?

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