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dontbekoifish · 2 years

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The Sky Prince (1/3)

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

Genre: Angst, some fluff

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

Word count: 3684 (chapter specific)

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

Movie: Castle in the Sky

Fandom: GOT7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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