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onlinekitsune · 2 months

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LET ME IN: SAEYOUNG CHOI (PART TWO)

"make your way to me through the waves"

PAIRING, GENRE, WARNINGS ─ saeyoung choi x gnc!reader, not proofread, this is mostly comfort?? kinda just on saeyoung's side sorrryyy

SYNOPSIS ─ after a bit of an argument played out, between you. saeyoung returns back inside of the bedroom. unaware that you're actually awake, he begins to talk out his feelings.

WRITER’S NOTE ─ a handful of people requested a part two of the original!! which i honored and very gratful for!! i have a hard time liking my content, so when others tell me they enjoyed it, it means a lot! i tried my best with this but, kinda lost where i was going with it. again, a bit of dialogue is taken directly from the game. (day 8/9 iirc) i hope you enjoy! and again, thank you for all your kind words and support! i know i am off and on about posting content on here, but know that your words aren't just ignored!! so erm... anyways. do you think i could do a part three lmao

Your dreams were hard to recall as you continued to lay still in bed. Perhaps that was for the better, a dream about the argument prior or even recalling happier times in the chatroom would haunt you. You took a deep breath, not bothering to even open your eyes or get up. You felt exhausted, mentally and physically. It was ironic to you how crying provided the same effects as if you were to actually do something straining. Your hand slid through your sheets, blindingly guiding you to your phone. Before you could even reach it, you hear the door creak open. You laid completely still, unsure of what to do. Footsteps gently got closer, stopping as they reached right in front of you. The sound of fabric brushing against each other filled the room. Your heart raced, not sure what to expect. But you continued to stay still.

“You’re… asleep? Good.” Seven sighed, breaking the silence. He reached out his hand, brushing against the sheets. "You’re really quiet while you’re sleeping...” The room returned to its silence for a moment. You felt him lean his upper body on the bed, only being able to assume that he was kneeling before you. “You’re something, you know? I… must have hurt you by saying all those things, but you somehow manage to still be so bright. Even now. You remind me of the 707 I pretend to be in the chatroom. You have more in common with him than… Saeyoung.”

Your face slightly furrowed, hearing his voice become soft and vulnerable. You so desperately wanted to sit up and comfort him. But, you knew that if you did he’d immediately retreat. You continued pretending to be asleep, allowing him to continue.

“Saeyoung is dark and pessimistic. His cold and complicated personality is the true me. I-I can’t wear the mask of the happy-go-lucky 707. I want you to realize that and be disappointed. I’m not a fun and cool person. I can put you in danger. So, don’t waste your feelings on me. I know telling you this won’t stop you. You’re so strange.” He continued. Hearing him talk bad about himself made your heart ache. If only he knew. If only he could see himself from your perspective. His hand hovered over yours before gently placing it on top, dissipating your thoughts. His touch was gentle, as if any friction could cause you to crumble beneath his fingers. “No, it's not you that's strange. It’s me. You’re actually… so nice and warm. You know, I… I sometimes dream about you accepting the real me. It’s a ridiculous dream, I know. But, thank you for allowing me to dream, at the very least.” His thumb brushed against the back of your hand before slipping away.

The silence filled the room again, accompanied by your heartbeat in your ears. The weight on the bed returns to how it was, as he gets up. “Please, remember in your dreams that you can’t trust V… or even me. Be less nice to me, so that when I disappear, you won’t be hurt. Don’t trust anyone, and promise me you’ll stay safe. Allowing me to protect you is more than enough. It’s more than I deserve. It’s enough for Saeyoung.” He uttered, slowly turning away from you. You snuck a glance, seeing that he was now facing away from you but stood still.

“Saeyoung.” You let out, softly. You shifted from the bed, sitting up against the headboard.

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just leaving-”

“Saeyoung. Please. Just wait a second.” You pleaded, looking up at him with soft eyes. He winced, hearing his name come from you a second time. He took a deep breath, and turned around to face you. He kept a straight face, but you could see the ache in his eyes. “Can we sit and talk?” You added. He hesitated, but ultimately gave in. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“So, I can assume you heard everything?”

“I…Yes, I did. I didn’t want to pretend to be asleep but, also didn’t want you to run off.” you answered, grabbing onto your wrist. Your gaze met him as he turned his head to look at you. “Listen, I know how you feel. Pretending to be this happy-go-lucky person. I have experience with that, clearly. I don’t know how much you actually found out about me but… just know we have that in common, okay? I like yo-”

“Even if you say you like me, my life can’t embrace anything. You don’t know how it feels to live this kind of life. You shouldn’t be nice to me when you don’t know anything. The person you truly like is the 707 in the chatroom, just… forget about me. About this.” he interrupted, turning away from you. He was mere moments from leaving out the door, you felt it. And if he did, it’d return you back to where you were. In a moment of desperation, you bolted forward, hugging him from behind.

“Then please, help me understand the person in front of me…” You muttered, resting your head on his back. Saeyoung didn’t pull away, or even try to. He stood frozen, unable to comprehend what his mind was going through.

“You!” He let out, stunned. His eyes shut, slowly giving in to your affection. “Why are you doing this to me? You’re making this harder than it should. I live a dangerous life, one you don’t need to be involved in. I couldn't even protect my own brother… I have to abandon the person I adore. My life is good for nothing.”

“I’ve been through a bomb and a hacker, it’s a little too late for me to not be involved. I like the you that’s in front of me. Regardless of how complicated anything else is, I want to know you.”

Saeyoung shook his head, taking a deep breath. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I… cherish you. I want to make you happy, but I can't! Why do you want to be with me when my life is so dangerous? Why do you… even like me?” He asked, his voice trailing off ever so subtly. You break off the hug, and sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

“It’s more complicated than that. I can’t give a simple answer. I just like you, Saeyoung.”

“You’re impossible. What are you going to do if something happens to you because of me? What then?”

You gave him a soft smile, before reaching out to grab his hand. He didn’t bother to stop you, or even pull away. “No matter what happens, I won’t regret my feelings for you.” you uttered, now brushing your thumb across his hand. Another sigh, and again he shut his eyes for a moment.

“I don’t know anymore. You’re so strange. I.. feel like i’m going strange too. No matter what I do… I can't seem to get rid of your feelings for me. Nothing good will happen by being close to me, you know. It’ll be too late to regret it later.” He muttered. You let go of his hand, placing it on his shoulder. You slightly tugged at him to turn. You two faced each other directly. You saw the sadness, the despair, the anguish in his eyes. Up close this time.

“There’s no way I'll regret being with you, Saeyoung.” you softly replied, gently cupping his face. He stood there, as if he was afraid to touch you. To give into the affection.

“You shouldn’t say that too easily. Ugh. I always told myself that I wouldn’t ever want to grow close to someone. But you’re making that so… complicated. I- I can’t believe you’re getting to me. Gods, what am I supposed to do now?” He asked, reaching to hold your forearms. You let out a soft breath, before leaning closer to him.

“First, just take some time and think about accepting my feelings. We can figure out the rest from there, alright?.” you answered, tilting your head slightly. You wanted to be his light, especially now.

“Alright… I’ll need some time.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger oneshot #mysmes fanfic #mysmes oneshot #saeyoung choi #707 mystic messenger #707 mysmes #luciel choi #saeyoung choi x reader #saeyoung choi x mc #saeyoung x mc #saeyoung x reader #707 x mc #707 x reader #saeyoung choi angst #mysmes angst #mysmes

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marshmallowprotection · 1 year

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Slumber

Pairing: Reader/[SE] Saeran Choi Fandom: Mystic Messenger. Description: As you watch over his sleeping form, you recount all the ways you want to protect Saeran's dreams until the day you die. Word Count: 2,013

[Read On AO3]

He was fragile.

You'd never know it by looking at him, though.

Not a soul would ever think that a man who draped himself in a leather jacket for comfort could ever be fragile; much less would they expect him to be one of the most vulnerable people on the planet.

He suffered so much before you knew him, and frankly, he was still suffering to this very day, just not in the same way. It was different and yet, all the same. Not that you had any idea about the little things. His life before he met you was still an enigma.

Even knowing what you did today would never fully encompass his experience. You understood that very well. It was why you made a point to never question him or push his buttons when he had a bad day. You knew if he wanted to talk about it, he'd ask. The least you could do for him was be there when he asked if it would be alright if you could stay with him. You were under no real obligation to give him your company on the bad days, but you wanted to be there for him.

Saeran meant the world to you. Even if he was a little rough around the edges, you saw purpose and value in his exasperation. People would never understand him the way you did. It was a crying shame, but in many ways it made you feel special. The only reason you knew as much as you did was because he wanted you to know.

If he didn't want you to know what he felt, you'd never know what was going on inside his head. You considered yourself lucky since you were granted the opportunity to know him as well as you did. He was a polarizing figure in most people's lives; For the people who did know him, and the people who knew what he had done. That was difficult enough considering the only people who knew he even existed as a person were as many as you could count on one hand.

You were probably one of the only people in his world he even trusted remotely enough to talk to.

How could anyone let him into their lives knowing every atrocity he had committed while under the influence of drugs and coercion? It wasn't possible for most, if not all people. You understood why it was difficult not only for him to be close to those people who were close to his brother, but why it was the same in reverse. How could any of them look at him without seeing those cold-blooded hands of a murderer? Saeran didn't think they could see anything else. It was one of the few things he mentioned to you about that fateful day.

It was the thing he mentioned the most when he woke up from night terrors about that day and couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't forget the way he felt in that moment when everything he'd been told up until that point became nothing more than a lie to manipulate him to be a tool. Every lie was something that he believed to be the gospel truth until she ripped it out of his chest and stomped on it like it was nothing. He only wanted it to stop. He wanted the pain to stop and he wanted people to leave him alone.

They cornered him like a caged animal and— he reacted.

Saeran wanted nothing more than to protect himself at that moment. He was scared, petrified, and afraid because he no longer knew anything to be real. When his world became a lie, he felt like a liar. Every single hiss underneath his breath about liars was just as fake as he was. You couldn't blame him for reacting out of fear. You sympathized with what he must have felt at that moment and how all he wanted at that moment was to make everyone disappear so he could crash.

Nonetheless, his fear had compelled him to react the only way he knew how to react—

With intimidation.

Saeran had never looked so small to you then at that moment. His clothes swallowed him and barely fit his malnourished frame in a way that made him look younger than he was, his tired eyes could hardly communicate any emotion other than what you could call terror, and his hands kept trembling like he was fighting to stay afloat during a hurricane. Despite everything he suffered at the hands of the people who were supposed to trust him and the acts he committed against others during those years of absolute torture… Even if he saw himself as a monster who couldn’t come back from what he’d done to people, you would never see him that way.

He would always be a man named Saeran Choi, a broken boy who, despite all his flaws, faults, and fears, would forever hold a piece of your heart.

There was no place in your heart for judgment. How could you judge him? After all, you were just as guilty as he was all things considered. There were times when you beat yourself up over what you had done in Magenta, too. But, you didn’t want it to consume you. You didn't want regret and paranoia to take over. There were things you regretted and things you would never regret. There were many things you would never forget.

But, if you knew anything about yourself, it was that if you allowed the harsh feelings of that place to follow you, you’d never be free. You would never be free of the basement and the toxic substance that eviscerated your lungs. You would never be free of the chanting and the hissing that came from those that claimed they could save you. You would never be free of the anger you felt that you’d never had in your heart before you came to that place. You would never be free of the petrified screams that you still couldn't identify as yours or someone else's.

Even if you couldn't forgive yourself, even if the world couldn't forgive you, you wanted to exist and experience life. That was what you wanted for Saeran. If nothing else, you wanted him to have what he always dreamed of. You wanted him to have those sprawling fields of flowers and tall grass that were too high to see over—wild enough to hide but not too far overgrown to relax—while his outstretched hand reached toward the sky to chase after the clouds and birds who knew true freedom more than he might ever know.

If he thought you deserved the chance to be free, then you wanted the same fate for him.

Even if he could only have peace for a fleeting moment, just a single second, that was all you could ever want for him.

Which was why you were incredibly glad Saeran finally went back to sleep after his night terror had kept him awake for hours. Somewhere in the middle of you talking about nothing and everything to ease his weary soul, he finally passed out. He couldn't fight his exhaustion forever, and you didn't want to leave him alone just in case he woke up screaming again.

Normally, when he had nights like this one, he didn't want anybody to be close to him because of his reaction to it. He would never say why he wanted to be alone, but you knew. You knew why he wanted to be alone. It was a sad and miserable kind of secret he kept under wraps for a damn reason. The kind of secret that would tell anyone why he looked so fragile if somebody looked underneath the surface of his dry expression.

Saeran would scream, punch, thrash, cry, and more just to get away from what he saw in his dream. It didn't matter how much anyone tried to reason with him, much less if he tried to reason with himself, the fear would take control of his body and he would react instinctively. Though he didn't say it, it was obvious even to you that he didn't sleep alone because he liked it. He slept alone because he was afraid that he would hurt somebody else.

His reasoning had to have been that it was better if he hurt himself amid his fear instead of someone else.

You weren't afraid of him.

But, Saeran was afraid you would be soon enough.

You gently tugged the comforter over his body so he wouldn’t catch a chill, making sure that it wasn’t too tight around him, but not loose enough that it would fall off of him if he turned in his sleep. The delicate balance between comfort and constriction was something you knew all too well. You waited to see how he’d react, knowing that his reaction to this gesture would tell you all you need to know about the night ahead of you.

The room was quiet, the sound of air being drawn into his lungs filled his tiny room, but as the minutes passed, he didn’t budge. It was a good sign because it meant he likely wouldn't wake up for a couple of hours. You let out a sigh you hadn't realized you'd been holding in. This is the way the world ends for a pair of people like you, right? Not with a bang, but with a whimper. Even so, as long as you were able to be together, you would never fear the abyss.

If he was lucky, this time, the exhaustion would keep him from having any dreams. He would slip into the dark space of his mind and enjoy a few hours of non-existence. He deserved to have a little moment where he wasn't thinking too hard about everything. That was all you wanted for him. You wanted him to have a blissful sleep. Even if the world around him could never be truly perfect, these hours could be enough for him to let go of everything that plagued him just enough to show you the man you loved to the moon and back was still in there.

So, you sat there next to him, whispering anything you could think of to ensure his nightmares could never catch up to him, while his features slowly but surely became peaceful. Even if the only thing you could ever do for him was talk him through the night, you were grateful because it meant you got the chance to see him as he truly was. A vulnerable soul who had lost his way down a path of fear that led him to do things he wasn’t proud of, but still wanted something to believe in.

Even if he would never admit it—

The only time you saw him smile freely was when you guarded his dreams.

This side of Saeran was one that you could only see if you were allowed to be this close to him. You knew what trust he placed in you to have let you inside his room at this hour, especially after having a nightmare. You wanted to relish this moment where you protected his slumbering dreams like it had been a duty given to you by your maker.

His smile was worth protecting, no matter what anyone else had to say about it. His tired and dirty hands would never suffer again... not as long as you were there to help him find the light of day. Maybe that meant you were just as horrible as he thought he was, but you didn't care. You didn't care what anyone had to say.

The only thing you cared about was Saeran's happiness—

And by God, you would protect it with your life no matter what.

That was the only thought you had in mind when you saw his smile, and it would continue to be your life's purpose just as it was his to learn how to live again.

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reifromrfa · 11 months

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Short fic: Mafia AU | Jumin

I saw this artwork by @ranartinart and got inspired to write something short for my love, Jumin Han ;w; Thank you for your lovely art! :)

Reposted with permission from @ranartinart <3 Check it out here!

Wrote this fic while listening to this playlist ♪( ´θ｀)ノ

Trigger Warning: Violence

Story under the cut! This was purely self-indulgent haha! I feel as though I'm a little rusty with mysme so apologies in advance if it feels ooc ^^;; Enjoy~

★・・・・・・★

His precise steps against the marbled floor echo through the hallway. He isn't in a hurry; in fact, he takes his time, allowing the rage to bubble up inside him. He keeps his expression composed though, his head held high, his cold, steely eyes staring straight ahead, at the door on the end of the hallway.

Men and women bow to him as he passes, all of them avoiding his gaze. Finally, he reaches the door and his men open the door for him. Assistant Kang sees the man kneeling in the middle of the room, a few bruises already visible on his face and arms. She feels no pity for him, especially after he'd attempted to kidnap MC. Though MC was unharmed, Jaehee knows that this man will probably die here tonight. Honestly, he had a far better chance of surviving had he attempted to kill her boss, the mafia king of South Korea. But attacking his wife? His queen?

Jaehee looks at him with disdain as Jumin hands her his coat.

"Good riddance," she thinks to herself, turning on her heel. She makes a small gesture and the guards in the room follow her out, leaving Jumin alone with the man.

Jumin carefully folds his sleeves up, watching the man with cold, calculating eyes. The man glares at him, his hands bound behind his back.

"You motherfucker. You can't keep me here! They're gonna come lookin' for me! And when they do, they're gonna take you down, you bastard! You'll see. You're gonna be fucking sorry!" the man spits out, staring hatefully at Jumin.

Jumin arches a brow, continuing to fold his sleeves on his other arm. His voice is calm, low, as though he's having a casual conversation and not being threatened by this piece of scum. "Oh? I'd like to see them try."

The man becomes angrier, as though Jumin’s calm facade is somehow an insult to him. “Don’t you fucking know who I am, huh? I am—”

“You are irrelevant to me,” Jumin interrupts, crossing his arms as he looks down on the man. His expression darkens as he studies the lowlife who dared to touch his MC. Who dared to even breathe the same air as her. “I do not need to know your name, I do not need to know who you are, what you’re worth. All I need to know is this:

You meant to harm my wife.”

Jumin watches as a small smile appears on the man’s face. His jaw clenches as he holds himself back. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet.

“Your wife? MC? Yeah, she’s a real beauty. I remember those scared cries she made when I grabbed her. I bet she sounds real good in bed, huh? I bet—”

The man never gets to finish his sentence. Instead, he has a split second to widen his eyes before Jumin’s fist collides with his jaw. The man hears a crack but it’s quickly forgotten as pain shoots up his cheek, his jaw. His head whips harshly to one side and he tastes blood in his mouth.

Jumin grits his teeth and grabs the man by his hair, forcing him to face Jumin again.

“How dare you talk about my wife that way. How dare you even utter her name with that filthy mouth of yours. You have no right to even walk in the places her feet have touched. You have no right to breathe the air she breathes. You have no right at all to LIVE in the world she exists in.”

The man attempts to scowl but it turns into an ugly grimace, his jaw throbbing. “When I get outta here, I’m gonna fuck her and make you watch, you sonovabitch!” He’s about to spit at Jumin Han’s face when Jumin releases his hair and hits him with an uppercut, effectively slamming his teeth together. Jumin steps back and watches as the man chokes on his own spit, violent coughs making his shoulders heave. Blood starts to trickle down the side of his lips, down his chin; to Jumin, that vermin’s blood is like coal that fuels the deep loathing he feels towards said vermin. He wants more, more of the man’s blood to spill until he is on the brink of death.

“What makes you think you’re getting out of here? Do you think that highly of your comrades? Do you think they would come for you…at the risk of becoming my enemy?” Jumin lets out a mirthless chuckle.

“You’re sorely mistaken.

No one is coming to save you.”

“Think of it like this…” Jumin yanks on the man’s hair again, pulling him to his feet. He leans closer. In a low, soft voice, he speaks to the man —like Death’s whisper to a dying soul.

“You’re dead to them. In fact…you’re dead to everyone. There’s not a person who would want to be affiliated with you now. There’s not a single soul who will even speak your name anymore. Because if they do, I will not only obliterate every trace of their existence from the world, I will also ensure that their life becomes a living hell. They will spend every waking moment in a dark cell, suffering, praying they were dead, and every time they close their eyes they will be plagued with nightmares of the pitiful, painful, pathetic life ahead of them.”

The man struggles to remain upright, his hands still bound behind his back as blood starts to soak the front of his shirt. A muscle in Jumin’s jaw twitches as he stares at the hideous expression on the man’s face.

“You asked me if I knew who you are? Yes, I know who you are. I also know where you parents are, your sister and her family, even the bastard son you’re hiding from your employer.” At his words, Jumin sees the man’s face pale. “Here, we place a high value on family. That’s why I sought to learn about your family.”

“If you fucking touch them, I fucking swear I’ll—”

“You’ll…what? Kill me?” Jumin’s eyes flash and his lips curl in a small, taunting smirk. “That’s what you should have done. You should have killed me instead of going after my wife.”

Jumin approaches the man and now, he sees the man take a small step back.

“You’re only fucking cocky ‘coz you’re beating up a defenseless man! You think this is a fair fight?!”

“Fair?” Jumin’s eyebrow arches. “Fair?” He tilts his head ever so slightly, looking at the man in disbelief.

“Why would I stoop to your level and make this fair?”

He takes another step towards the man and the man’s eyes widen as he takes a step back.

“I was born with every advantage…why wouldn’t I use them? To, as you put it, ‘make this fair’? Why? You certainly thought it was fair to take advantage of a woman who’s smaller than you…and now you call me ‘cocky’ for beating you while your hands are bound?”

Jumin closes the gap between them and delivers a swift punch to the man’s solar plexus. The man chokes and gasps for air, wheezing as Jumin throws another punch…and then another.

The man feels his knees buckle as his body topples forward. But before he can even fall, Jumin grabs his shoulders and pushes the man down at the same time raising his knee and driving it further on the same spot.

“Get this through your thick head,” Jumin says vehemently, now letting his anger take over. Gone is his composure, all he can see now is this man stalking his wife, touching her, laughing at her horrified expression, thinking about the terrible things he’d do to MC…all because she’s Jumin’s queen.

“Life will never be fair.” Jumin keeps his grip on the man, not giving him a chance to straighten. He slams his knee against the man’s abdomen and now he can hear the man wheezing hard, his gasps turning raspy, desperate.

“You and I will never be on the same level.”

“P-lea—”

Jumin scowls at the man. He dares try to interrupt Jumin? Jumin takes a slight step back before slamming the man’s face down on his knee.

“Shut up. You don’t even deserve to be talking. I’ll have your tongue cut out…eventually.”

Jumin releases the man and he falls to the ground like a pathetic rag doll. The man is still wheezing, taking in short, quick breaths. Jumin watches him struggle to breathe, a rush of satisfaction filling him as he sees the man’s bloody face, his nose broken, his lip busted, his eyes swollen and drooping.

But still, this will never be enough. There’s never a good enough punishment for someone who has ill intentions towards Jumin Han’s family. Especially his Queen.

Jumin uses the front of his shoe to push the man onto his back. The man’s wide eyes dart to Jumin as he starts to choke on his own blood. But Jumin merely places a foot on his chest and leans forward, putting all his weight on the foot that’s right over the man’s lungs.

“Now…I’ve established that I know you. But…

Do you know who I am?”

Jumin’s steely gaze never leaves the man’s face, his icy expression showing no hints of mercy. In fact, he leans forward more, pressing his foot deeper.

”I am Jumin Han. I am the most powerful man in Asia.

From now on, your life is in MY hands. If you breathe it is because I’m letting you breathe. But don’t worry, I assure you, breathing will be a luxury for you. Like I said before, I was born with every advantage at my fingertips.

I intend to use my power to make your life into something far worse than the hell you’ve imagined.

About your family…I won’t hurt them. Yet. It all depends on whether you cooperate or not. You may think this is a sick, cruel game…I want to assure you yet again that yes, this is my sick, twisted game for simpletons with a death wish.”

The man’s face is turning purple as he desperately opens his mouth to try to get air into his lungs. Jumin just stares at him for a few seconds, watching the red lines creeping into the man’s eyes. Jumin eases his foot over the man’s lungs and he waits until the man intakes a couple of short breaths before pushing against his chest again.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, turning me into your enemy…but now I’ll be more than that. I’ll be the demon that haunts your every move. I’ll be your personal Grim Reaper, collecting blood and instilling fear in you.

Every day.

For the rest of your meaningless existence.”

Jumin lifts his foot from the man’s chest and he gazes down at his work. The man has tears flowing down the sides of his face, bruises and cuts all over his body —at least, the parts that Jumin can see. Jumin is sure the man has a cracked rib or two as well.

To him, this punishment is still nothing compared to the trauma this pathetic idiot instilled in MC. But he’ll have to stop for now; he doesn’t want the man to die that same night. No…Jumin wants him to live a long, miserable life.

Without another word, Jumin heads for the door, where Assistant Kang is already waiting with a towel in her hands. Jumin takes it, wiping away the man’s blood from his hands.

“I want him looked at but make sure he’s bound tightly. Only patch up the wounds that are fatal. Then transfer him to our warehouse, put him in a coffin and make him think he’s going to be buried alive; I trust you’ll oversee this, Assistant Kang?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll send you a recording afterwards.”

“Good. He can stay there for the evening, but make sure to check the CCTVs in the coffin every now and then. I want him to live for a long time. In the morning, move him to a cell and only give him water. No food, no lights, no toilets, no requests. I’ll call you with further instructions tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?”

The guards around Jaehee reply in a rush, the menacing aura Jumin is exuding, scaring even them. Jaehee waves the guards towards the man and they get to work.

“Oh, and Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee turns to her boss, watching him holding the blood-stained towel. She never thought she’d be working for the most powerful man in the continent, but she’s also grateful that she is. There’s no mercy in Jaehee’s heart towards the man who could have taken someone precious from them, and she’s glad her boss can inflict the most damning punishment onto that man.

“Yes, Mr. Han?”

“Make sure that man or anyone affiliated with him will never get anywhere close to my wife. If they do, kill them. I want all our men to know that.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good. I’ll leave this to you, then. Have a pleasant evening, Assistant Kang.”

Jaehee watches him go, as though he didn’t just nearly beat a man to death. But at the end of the day, they’re all just pawns on Jumin’s chessboard.

She pities any fool who dares to take on the king and his queen.

★・・・・・・★

I hope you liked it! Thank you for reading <3 Don't forget to follow @ranartinart too <3

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

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xelasrecords · 1 year

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The Love We Live For

Kim Jihyun x MC x Han Jumin

Jihyun comes home injured so MC and Jumin fuss over him. MC's love for them is romantic and reciprocated, while Jihyun and Jumin's love is platonic. The idea for this came when I replayed Jihyun's route and realised I couldn't choose between them. I want to feel loved and admire their love. Everything else comes after. I hope this story will make you feel loved too.

Words: 4.3k

Masterlist Read on AO3 Moodboard

The evening saw her and Jumin lounging on Jihyun's couch, her bare feet on Jumin's lap, Jumin's head tipped back against the plush cushion. Her heart was thrumming with anticipation of Jihyun coming home today. It was the kind of yearning that one didn't realise one could have until the object of affection was gone. She welcomed the feeling without objection, for there had always been fondness between the three of them. And if hers developed into something more—equally yet differently—for the two men she always searched for in empty rooms and bustling crowds, it was not something she could control.

"Jumin, this is not the time to be sleeping." She nudged Jumin's side with her toes when his eyelids were drooping.

A few weeks had passed since Jihyun's departure for work, and instead of growing accustomed to his absence, they had grown to miss his presence. So when she asked Jumin to join her in welcoming their beloved friend at his home, Jumin accepted her offer in earnest. No one wanted to miss the opportunity; the right place at the right time couldn't come often enough for three people who lived vastly different lives.

Jumin closed his hand around her ankle, not bothering to open his eyes. It was a wonder that a touch so familiar could still send sparks up her veins. "Allow me to take a quick nap."

She was glad when he didn't move his hand away. "I don't think your best friend would like it when his surprise gift is a sleeping log."

"He doesn't have any expectations from me. He likes me always," Jumin said. "And I would make a sustainable log."

She sunk into the sea of throw pillows and made herself comfortable. "I'd process you into paper immediately."

Jumin peeked at her. "To write a heartfelt love letter proclaiming your feelings for me?"

"To revise your sleeping habits and make a better you." She cracked a grin. She liked how Jumin could flirt with her in a playful manner. He never revealed this side of him when there were others around. Of course, Jihyun was excluded from the grouping. He was not other people to them.

"You only need to turn to Jihyun for that," Jumin said after a moment. "He is the better part of me. His kindness is what makes me who I am. I wouldn't be sitting with you here if he never influenced this acceptance into me."

"Then who are you to him?" The first button of Jumin's white shirt was undone, revealing the slope of his throat that ran down to the base of his collarbones, but she fought to train her eyes on his face.

"His conscience. I think he looks to me as some kind of moral compass. He's always apologetic for the things he hasn't done enough. He doesn't think about what he has done, only what he hasn't. I'd like to believe that I lessen his burden by having faith in him."

"Do you ever wonder if that faith is misplaced?" There was no judgement in her voice, just curiosity. She could never tire of listening to how much Jihyun meant to Jumin. Jumin was at his tenderest when he spoke about his friend, the one soul that he could recognise from afar and would not let go no matter the circumstance.

"It wouldn't be faith if I doubted my belief in him," Jumin stated like it was a fact known to all. "It's how I believe in you too."

"I don't think I look at you like you're my guiding star."

He lifted his head to face her. "Quite the opposite. I believe in you because you possess a good sense independent of anyone's opinion, a sense that sometimes I lose, and you care for Jihyun like no other. That's enough to tell how trustworthy you are."

"I care for Jihyun like I care for you," she said softly. "There's no one I'd rather be here with than you. Your company means more to me than you can imagine."

Jumin smiled at her. "I know."

She was about to reply when they were interrupted by a click at the door. Immediately, she and Jumin rose from the couch, him gently putting her legs away and her shoving the pillows aside to get to her feet.

It was Jihyun. It was Jihyun who trudged in with a camera slung around his neck. It was Jihyun with a face peppered with scratches and bruises and ragged clothes stained with dirt.

She stopped short before him, her initial joy upon seeing him twisted into horror. One glance at Jumin's stricken face confirmed that his feelings mirrored hers, his clamped fists turning white at his sides.

Jihyun was just as astounded to see them. He turned his head away as if to hide the scars on his cheek, but she slowly tilted his jaw back to her, the other hand hovering over a blooming bruise. "What happened?" she breathed out.

Jihyun gave them a rueful smile, eyes darting from her concerned expression to Jumin's terse form. "I didn't know that you two would be here."

"We need to get you to the hospital right away," Jumin said, his tone urgent.

"It's only a light injury, Jumin. No need to call the doctors. I didn't hit my head and there are no open wounds, see?" Jihyun widened his arms. After a quick scan and her experience of tending to his worse wounds, she could tell that he was telling the truth. It relaxed her a bit.

But his comment seemed to shake Jumin out of his shock and shifted his mood into annoyance. "Oh, I have seen light, and this is not light."

"It's deep purple—the bruise, I mean," she commented helpfully.

"Thank you for your observation," Jumin deadpanned. "He should paint his next artwork with that colour."

"Dark violet would be a nice shade to paint with," Jihyun mulled.

Jumin shot him a reprimanding look and helped him shrug off his coat. Slowly, Jumin got Jihyun's arms out of the sleeves, cautious not to let the fabric scrape against the cuts on the skin. No matter how angry Jumin was at him, he would never use aggression to handle him. It was another thing that she liked about Jumin.

Jihyun, however, wasn't exactly likeable at the moment. She was relieved that he didn't need urgent care, but she shared Jumin's displeasure. A nagging suspicion crept up when she noticed the guilt darkening Jihyun's expression.

"Did you do something stupid?" she asked.

"It's in poor fashion to assume he's the perpetrator when he could've been the victim," commented Jumin.

"It wasn't something stupid." Jihyun seemed as innocent as he could be, but she could see through his distractingly angelic face, the battered face that sent a fresh sharp pang to her heart whenever she examined it. "I was trying to take a photograph of a flower growing on a high wall when I slipped."

Jumin dropped the dirty coat that he'd folded and stared at Jihyun. "I take it back. You are an idiot. Did you not check for your safety before you put yourself in a precarious position?"

"He wouldn't be in this state if he did," she muttered.

Jumin bent down to pick up the coat. "You have been very helpful tonight."

"Sarcasm from a handsome brooding man, just how I like it." She winked, trying to make light of the situation. Jihyun had been through worse, so this was fine. This was manageable. There were no serious injuries, so self-treatment would be enough. They could head to the hospital the next day if they really had to. "Now I'm about to be even more helpful. Pretend to be surprised, Jumin."

But it appeared that Jihyun could sense her underlying anxiety. He touched her forearm and offered a reassuring smile while nodding his head once, silently encouraging her to do what she had planned. She pressed her lips into a tight smile and placed a hand on his back, guiding him to the couch. She could feel Jumin's gaze burning the back of her head, but she ignored it. Better for him to be irked than incapacitated with terror.

Jumin sighed and stalked off to another room, presumably in search of the first aid kit. In this house, nothing ever stayed at its original place. Jumin often brought it up as a complaint and had attempted to stage an intervention for it, but she didn't mind if Jihyun did not. She found Jumin fussing about and Jihyun watching him in resignation rather endearing.

Once she cleared the throw pillows from the couch, Jihyun took her hand and brought her down to sit beside him. "I didn't want you and Jumin to know," he said.

"I know."

"I didn't want you to be worried about me."

"I know that too." She took his camera off his neck and placed it on the table. "But we'll worry nonetheless. Partly because you're always up to questionable things but mostly because you're our friend. You can't expect us to be happy all the time when that isn't humanly possible."

Jihyun pushed aside the strands of mint hair that fell over his matching-coloured eyes. "I'm afraid that I'm a burden to you and Jumin."

"Do you think it's a burden to love?" She briefly wondered how it would feel to thread through his hair but quickly banished the thought. This was not the time.

"To love me?"

"For you to love someone," she clarified. "Me. Jumin."

A small, disbelieving laugh slipped past Jihyun. "How could I, when I've known how warm it feels? I feel it when I see you and Jumin, and I feel it from the two of you. It's like the three of us are running on the same wavelength." He met her unwavering gaze. "I would do anything for a chance of your happiness even if it's the most laborious and harmful task, and I wouldn't think of it as a task. It'd be the easiest thing to do in the world because it's not something I'd have to choose. I would just do it."

The edges of her mouth curled into a small smile. "Helping you isn't something we have to choose either. When you love someone, sometimes you've got to let them do a little more work when you can't. Love is not about giving until you break yourself. You need to refill your vessel by receiving love too. We're here with you, so stop driving us away." She arranged a pillow on the couch before sliding to the floor. "Come, lie down. I bet you're tired. You drove on your own, didn't you?"

Jihyun gave her another apologetic smile but obeyed her request without protest. Jumin's footsteps echoed behind her—footsteps that she had become familiar with from the many times they slept over at each other's houses, how he always took long, steady strides like he had a place to be. Jumin swerved his body away from her as he passed by, carrying a large bowl filled with water in one hand and a first aid kit in the other while she shifted to give him space.

He set down the bowl on the table, water swishing inside. "Jihyun, you need to let me call someone to organise your home. Did you know where I found this?" Jumin rattled the first aid kit. "In the cereal cabinet. What on earth was it doing there?"

She craned her neck to look at Jumin. Though his shoulders were slumped from exhaustion, there was still an air of authority about him. "I heard you could use iodine as a replacement for milk. It'd look like blood and tempt the modern vampires from the book you read," she paused, thinking. "But you have to consider its texture. It's not thick enough to be confused with blood."

Jumin looked at her with newfound fascination, his irritation temporarily forgotten. "That's an interesting observation. Iodine smells like iron, so there's a chance that they could be fooled. I must tell Assistant Kang to retrieve some samples and test them out later."

Beside her, Jihyun leaned across to her ear and whispered, "Should we stop him?"

She snorted. "Maybe I could be your test subject, Jumin. Who knows? I might be a vampire, or it might turn me into one."

"Not now, then," Jihyun said under his breath and reclined to his previous position.

Jumin brandished the bottle of iodine from the kit and examined it with utmost curiosity. "According to the book, you'd have to be bitten to be one."

"Please," Jihyun cut in. "I merely wanted to take out the cereal but I forgot and shelved the kit instead."

Jumin deflated with disappointment. "So you were hungry and bleeding?"

"I understand." She raised her hand empathically. "I get that once a month."

"If it helps, I'm still bleeding now," Jihyun offered.

"Right." She arranged herself into a kneel and squeezed out water from the floating cloth in the water bowl.

The water was warm as it dripped down her elbow. She gently rubbed the cloth over Jihyun's face, cleaning it of the dirt that smeared across his jaw. He smelled like it too, she thought as she plucked a twig out of his mint-coloured hair. It might have been a small accident, but how many more small accidents should occur until they amounted to fatal destruction?

When she reached his split lip, she hesitated. Dry blood had crusted around the cut, but fresh blood was pooling again; it must have cracked when he talked. She was regretting how she couldn't be there for him when he lowered her wrist just enough to see her without the cloth obstructing his view. "It's all right, take your time. It doesn't hurt as much as it looks," he encouraged.

It was as if he could read her mind.

She nodded in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "This may sting a bit," she warned before wiping the blood away. She was conscious of her movement and his breath fanning the back of her hand, the softness of his lips despite the injury. It was the closest she had ever got to it.

She was also aware of Jumin's presence beside her, who had sat on the floor with her to clean the cuts on Jihyun's arms, her shoulder occasionally brushing Jumin's. She could feel his eyes flitting from Jihyun to her when he thought she didn't notice, but was there any chance that she would not? It was almost impossible not to bristle under his intense stare studying her actions and reactions. She bit her lip and tried to concentrate on her duty at hand.

Jihyun cleared his throat. "I know I said that I felt bad for making you two help me earlier, but if I'm being honest, I'm also relieved that I don't have to do this alone." He smiled apologetically at both of them. "Thank you."

Jumin halted his ministration and looked up at Jihyun. "How many times do we have to tell you that you're not alone? Even when we're not here, you can always call us and we'll come in a heartbeat. Or I can call in a house doctor for you if you prefer. You simply need to ask." Jumin stared at the bandage that he just patched on Jihyun's arm. "Or don't ask, but I would do it regardless."

"Asking for help is harder than believing I would receive one," admitted Jihyun. "I know that you would come to my aid. You always have, but letting myself be weak has never been my strong suit."

"If it is reassurance that you need, then I will give it to you: being weak is not wrong," Jumin said, a hard edge in his voice. "What's wrong is putting yourself in dangerous situations for the sake of art. I worry that your pursuit of it is making you self-destructive. Is there no other healthier way to do it?" The gauze in his hand was trembling—from frustration and desperation, she guessed.

Alarmed, Jihyun pushed himself up and leaned towards his friend. "I'm surprised you're in this much distress, Jumin."

She felt compelled to comfort them, but she knew soothing words would not fix anything. The two men, the only men she could love this much, had to come to an agreement themselves. Jihyun always put every other thing before his health and Jumin was always worried about him. No one meant harm, but it did not mean no harm came to them.

Jumin shook his head in disbelief. "How can I not be? She and you are all I have. What if someday you do something so foolishly dangerous that you—"

"No!" Jihyun exclaimed, shocking both of them. "That won't happen." He grasped at Jumin's hand, the gauze falling to the floor. She had never seen such an intense display of emotions between them. "You forget that I love you. You're my best friend and I won't leave you for a temporary thrill. Art may provide me respite, but hurting you would scar me forever. It's not a line that I dare to cross."

"You're famous for blurring the line of death."

"Not this time. I know I'm selfish for this, but when I imagine toeing the line over and over until I've done irreversible damage to you, I shatter inside. I don't think I could live with myself if that happens. It is difficult enough to live with myself as I am."

"Then I would live for you." Jumin's eyes blazed with righteous rage. "What is it that you think I have been doing this whole time? I forgive you so you can find it in you to forgive yourself. I stand by you through everything because I believe you are good when you fail to see why, which is always, but I can't stand it when you promise one thing for my sake and do another behind my back."

"I won't—"

"Don't," Jumin warned, "make another empty promise."

"Jumin, no." Jihyun's tone was pleading. "That was before."

At once, she and Jumin understood what Jihyun meant. For Jumin and Jihyun, there was only before she came into their lives, and after, when everything fell into clear focus. Jihyun turned to her, reaching out to touch her face, and she drew closer instinctively. "The sight of you heartbroken isn't something that I ever want to see." His voice was barely a whisper.

Everyone held still. They never saw her as an intruder to their friendship; she was the missing key that locked their bond together. It felt right to be three, or they would spend their time constantly wondering how the missing one was doing. Jihyun's honesty was a surprise to her though—she didn't think he could have faith in how deep her feelings ran for him, and in turn, did not want to betray her heart because he cared about her just as much. She had thought that treatment was reserved for Jumin.

"It's fine to do the things you're passionate about," she finally said, dimly aware that her fingers had pruned under the wet cloth she was clutching. "You'll fall sometimes. That happens when you hit the ground running. Only don't disregard your safety completely, and rely on us when you need to. That's how you can keep my heart."

A small smile played on Jihyun's lips. "I will try."

She smiled back and turned to Jumin, only to have him already regarding her with such tenderness that made her feel like folding into herself. She knew what he was trying to convey—thank you for looking after my friend, thank you for telling him he's fine the way he is, thank you for loving him. And the most palpable of all, thank you for being here with me.

But she hadn't done anything grand. It was simply a love she couldn't hold back from spilling at the brim. Both Jumin and Jihyun came with their own set of irritabilities, but they were easy to love. Where else could she find a love that stayed up with her because they loved the person she loved, a love that was willing to kneel on the floor with her until their legs went numb because someone she loved was in more pain? It was the kind of love where she didn't have to explain herself because there was nothing to explain, because they would understand her or strive to do so without judgement.

She would not give it up for anything.

Jumin, gentle eyes still on her, switched out the cloth from her hand with an ointment. "How much scrubbing are you trying to do to him? You're flooding the floor." He bent down and used the cloth to wipe the water pooling before her knees, his knuckle skimming her skin, a contact that sent a pleasant shiver through her body.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, silent gratitude for what he had said to Jihyun. There was love in Jumin's words. She could hear it as she could read it in her own actions, as Jihyun could feel it through their care. They loved each other so, so much, and she knew that if they were offered a chance to find a better friend, none of them would have taken it. No one was like the two men, and no one was like her.

Jumin tilted his head up to her and nodded with a smile. With Jumin, it was always the words unsaid that spoke the most volume.

"She could polish me until I'm shiny," suggested Jihyun.

Jumin straightened his back. "That's impossible. You're not a statue."

She shrugged. "He looks like one."

"Oh no, that can't be." Jihyun waved it away. "Jumin is more handsome than me."

She took a swab of the ointment and applied it generously to Jihyun's bruising cheek. "All right, if you're going to be humble, then I'll proudly announce myself as the most beautiful one here."

"While that is true, I didn't say I was going to be modest," Jumin jumped in.

She opened the iodine's cap, the strong biting smell stinging her nose, and dabbed it on the cuts on Jihyun's forehead and chin before covering them with bandages. "But you did agree that I'm the best, so no point in making a point of your handsomeness now."

"She's right, you know," Jihyun said.

Jumin grunted and stood up, apparently done with his help. "Why do you always pick her side over mine?"

Jihyun grinned. "Just following my heart."

She patted his shoulder after she finished applying salve to his split lip. "You're all patched up. Just be careful for the next few days."

"Forever," Jumin corrected.

"You two are incorrigible." Jihyun laughed and shook his head. It was a lilting, melodious sound that she never wanted to lose from memory. "I will be more careful in the future. Please believe me this time."

She and Jumin shared a look. His steady belief in Jihyun did seem to strengthen Jihyun's resolve in himself. She knew the change would not be instantaneous, but the fact that he listened already spoke a lot about his usually obstinate character. How could one affect another so greatly? She saw her wonder reflected in Jumin's expression.

"I'll believe you," she said.

"So will I," said Jumin. "Since we have toiled into the night for you, it would be appropriate to commemorate this moment. May I use your camera?"

Jihyun gestured at him good-naturedly while sitting up. "Go ahead. Just turn the setting to automatic."

She and Jihyun shared knowing looks and suppressed their giggles as they waited for Jumin who was busy tackling the buttons and adjusting the lens. Jumin's eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, occasionally looking through the viewfinder only to alter the settings again. Why he didn't ask Jihyun for help she couldn't fathom. Perhaps he wanted the satisfaction of succeeding in figuring it out alone.

Finally, he looked up with a smirk. "I'm all set. Do get into position now."

"You don't want to be in the picture?" she asked.

"I shall try to be Jihyun tonight. I'm eager to find out why he's willing to put his life on the line for this." Jumin gave Jihyun a pointed stare, which Jihyun returned with a wince.

She chuckled to herself, mesmerised by how easily Jumin could get annoyed by Jihyun's antics, and yet it was impossible to find another love as pure as theirs, and how they welcomed her with open arms. Now that she knew with whom she belonged, everywhere else felt foreign. In this friendship they had, she was not a trespasser and did not have to cross any line; there was never a line to begin with. They accepted her and loved her, as simple as that.

She settled into a relaxed pose, folding her legs into a cross while still sitting on the floor. She placed an elbow on top of Jihyun's knees and looked up at him, her chin in her palm. With a smile, he caressed her hair and placed his hand on her shoulder, angling his body close enough that her head could lay against his chest if she dared to.

Jumin watched them with patience and fondness. They were all happy at this moment—yes, yes, they were. It was almost more important that they could capture this present joy than the scene itself; if only feelings could be frozen and preserved. Was this the reason Jihyun took pictures? At the count of three, they both smiled into the camera and the flash went off.

The result?

It was not even a question worth asking.

Of course it was blurred.

Footnotes:

The theme of this story is becoming better because of the people you love. I know Jihyun is the type who can hurt himself even though it hurts his loved ones, but that's when he's at his worst with Rika. I'd like to think that surrounded by the right people, he could be influenced to be better. When I was younger, I thought it was impossible to be deeply changed by anyone and that it'd be a bad thing if we were, but I've learned that it isn't always. We can bring a good impact on others' lives too.

Hardest one to write yet because I'd never written about love this honest and fond before, but I had fun doing it although I wanted to scream whenever I got stuck articulating the feeling. The platonic side was easy, however, since it was my love for my best friend that I poured into Jumin and Jihyun. Sometimes I really do believe that our souls are intertwined—no one can see through me the way she can and vice versa, and I admire her for everything that she is. This is my love letter for her of sorts. I wouldn't be who I am without her.

Now I NEED to talk about the header. I thought it fitting to use paintings that feel intimate and vulnerable, and purposely didn't give MC any physical attributes to be more inclusive (fought the urge to project my characteristics to feel like the main character). MC has a painting of a red rose that stands out among 2 white roses because she brings colour to the twin soul best friends. Jumin has 2 silhouettes watching a lonely shadow go. Jihyun has a close-up of a man with bright brushstrokes looking out forlornly. The background is crimson red to match the intensity of their love. I literally cannot be chill I will think about everything this is how I have fun.

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

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hecalledme-jagi · 7 days

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The Ponderings of a Man In Love

I've had this FanLore for Zen strewing in my brain for a little over a year and finally decided to write it out into a one shot!

Enjoy!

What does it mean to experience first love?

Zen wondered as he watched you doze off beside him to the sound of a movie you both had forgotten about halfway through. He smiled to himself softly, gently brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen over your face, planting a tender kiss on the top of your head. The comforting gesture caused you to snuggle further into his side, cozy and loved. Treasured and wanted.

Zen often thought about the meaning of first love when he was with you. He always felt a pang of guilt over dating other girls before you, even if you weren't bothered by it. He knew you were his yesterday, today, and tomorrow--his dusk and dawn. His moon and stars--leaving him with the fact that you weren't his first, which felt wrong in every way imaginable. So there he sat wondering, and really pondering, what it meant to experience first love. Had he experienced it before? If so, that idea devastated him, leaving his heart aching, poking, splintering, and desperately wanting your comforting. Hoping all his wondering meant nothing.

He snuggled in close, soaking in your warmth, soothing his self-inflicted wounds, nuzzling your hair, blinking back the sting of tears.

Slowly he doze off to the sound of your steady breathing, calming his anxiety. Slowly learning to bask in the simple pleasures of a quiet evening.

His breathing steadied, finding rhythm with your own, and in complete unison, your chests rose and fell.

He found his peace in his small basement apartment.

But absolutely and entirely, he found his peace here with you.

And in his slumber, there came a dream. Or, more accurately, a nearly forgotten memory.

Zen was younger here, much younger than you knew him now. His hair barely reached past his shoulders, fashioned into something of a mullet. His leather jacket just a size too big, but in a year's time, it would fit him perfectly. And he stood in a place filled with familiarity. His secret mountain hideout. The view was the same as it had always been, and somehow, that comforted the young boy, here now, and the man he would come to be.

The cold evening air nipped at his cheeks and nose, a gentle breeze passing through his hair with the faint smell of cigarette smoke. Following the scent with his eyes and nose, he found a scene this young boy very well knew but was far from the scene his adult counterpart adored. There stood a girl who simply wasn't you.

Ji-an, a younger, much more boyish Hyun, recognized with an air of giddiness coating his thoughts, and in like manner, she was viewed with rose-tinted glasses.

He admired her long black hair as it gently swayed in the passing breeze, her sharp and unusually dark eyes staring down at the view he found so much comfort in, reflecting nothing of the setting sun or the city lights flickering on one at a time. And her lips turned in a slight frown with a lit cigarette in hand. Ji-an was a girl made entirely of mysterious beauty, and for a long time, Hyun might've considered her the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. She was in the same gang as Zen, that's how they had met. She was older than him, but only slightly, maybe sixteen or seventeen. She was a force to be reconned with, a calm before a storm. Freedom and rebellion. Anger and desperation. Loneliness and devastation. But other than that, she was a total mystery. Hyun never knew more about her than she let him see, and maybe that was part of why he clung to her so helplessly. Or maybe it was because he envied her and how free she seemed to be. Maybe he wanted to live reckless abandoned where he was allowed to be who he wanted to be, the way Ji-an seemed to. Or maybe it was because bad habits always seemed more attractive than good ones at the start.

Ji-an sucked on her cigarette, holding the smoke in her throat until it burned.

“You know,” she began as she turned to look at Hyun, “I think if we had met before everything hit the fan, I would’ve fallen in love with you for real.”

Hyun watched and admired the rugged elegance she exuded. Marvalling, despite how her words cut him deeply. His heart secretly wondering--when will anyone ever truly love me?

“For one thing, you’re a real looker,” she leaned in and kissed Hyun's lips softly, leaving the faintest taste of cigarette smoke and strawberry lip balm on the tip of his tongue.

Is that all I'll ever be? A pretty face barely worth loving? Another secret wonder he wouldn't discover until much later.

“You’re not so bad of a guy either,” she reached out, with her free hand and gently played with the fringe that hung over his forehead. “If I wasn’t so damaged, I’d probably be able to appreciate that heart of yours,” she poked his chest playfully and with a tone of self-mockery, sucking another puff of cigarette tar into her lungs.

“But instead, here I am, giving you cigarettes, beer, and bad memories,” she scoffed.

Hyun took a step closer to Ji-an, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with her. He peered into her face, hoping to read the meaning in her words by seeing her expression more clearly, but there was nothing he could see. Her eyes continued to stare dispassionately at the scenic view, and not for a moment did she meet his searching gaze, nor did she acknowledge his presence at her side. Instead, her brow furrowed, and irritation fizzled in her vacant eyes.

"We shouldn't have met," she said, tossing her cigarette onto the ground and stomping it out under her boots.

Hyun felt his heart drop.

Ji-an turned on her heels and walked towards her motorcycle.

"W.. wait! Ji-an, where are you going?" He called.

There was no answer except the loud roar of a motorcycle engine starting.

"Ji-an!"

She paused, looking towards Hyun, with more emotion in her eyes than Hyun had ever seen before, "Get out of here. Become something."

And that was it.

She rode off, the rumbling of her motorcycle fading the farther she got. And Hyun could only watch, confused, lost, and entirely too alone for a boy his age.

Zen jolted awake, beads of cold sweat running down his back and his heart dropping into his stomach, leaving his chest feeling hollow and unbearably lonely until he heard you.

"Hyun?" you said, coming back into the living room with a glass of water, "Are you okay?"

He looked at you, and the frenzy in his eyes became calm. A deep breath entered his lungs, and it was exhaled smoothly.

And that's when his wondering all made sense.

Zen realized it then as his hysteria calmed at the mere sight of you. He knew then that perhaps in all possibility, before you came and before he had forgotten what life was like in your absence, he would've considered Ji-an his first love experience. And in some way, maybe she was. Maybe she was his first love, but that thought didn't seem to bother him so much anymore. Because maybe love was more about changing than firsts and lasts.

(Although, admittedly, he was perfectly enchanted by the idea that you would be his last. You would hold all his ending chapters, and perhaps, that was far more important than keeping all his opening phrases.)

Ji-an encouraged his flaws but neglected his strengths. He knew now that they were bad for each other, beasts ravenously hungry for love and acceptance. In love with their shared self-pity. Wanting each other because of the addictive nature of cigarettes, loving the nicotine clinging to their clothes and mingling in their mouths. Loving the faint taste of strawberries after every kiss that made the bitter taste of tobacco seem pleasant and sweet. But even still, she inspired his drive for freedom.

And you? You came and captivated him.

You nurtured his strengths and loved his flaws, and for that, he loved you, but as his feelings began to grow, he wanted to be better for you. He wanted to change. So maybe, just maybe, it was for the best that you came at this moment in his life. You came at the point in his life when he still had room to grow but was mature enough to treasure you wholeheartedly. Perhaps now was the best time to love you--not to say it was the only time he could love you, nor was it the perfect time, for he knew that if he had met you ten years ago or ten years from now, he'd be ready to love you precisely and honestly--so now as Zen looks at you, finally finding his moment of lost peace, he realizes that all this wondering about "first love" was for not because all that matters is that he loves you.

Zen nods, gently grabbing at your waist and pulling you in. He rests his forehead against your torso, hugging your waist tightly.

"Never better, honey~"

˚✧₊⁎𝒥𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎⁎⁺˳✧༚

I do not own any characters, all ownership goes to Cheritz. Thanks for reading!

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serede986 · 9 months

Note

HOLT CRAP IM ADDICTED TO YOUR WRITTING,good thing requests are open,so I was thinking

Zen x reader Litteraly anything

I'm thirsty for content of this man so bad (tho beware I'm still not done with the game I started playing like what 10 days ago and I have today and tmw the final day so if it's possible no spoilers hihi)

Aren't you the sweetest.. Coming right up, here's your dessert...

Zen, you and a home date<3

It's a date for you both, with flowers in the middle of the table for when you're done cooking.

Is adamant on picking you up from your house, he doesn't trust those in public transport peeps.

It's all the things you love to eat and for one day, he's willing to eat everything that your heart loves. You're eating salad the next day though, don't think much about it.

To put cherry on top, he is shirtless with just his apron and shorts. You hug him from behind, peeking at what he's preparing for you. Uff his laugh when you smooch his back.

Shivers and backs away when you circle that soft spot behind his ear. Certainly, he looks so cute when he's red.

You tease him so much, he picks you up and sits you on the counter. You're no more allowed to cook but taste what the great Chef Zen cooks.

Puppy eyes don't work on him, maybe, but when he comes close to you for a taste test, make sure you pull him close by the neck and rub your nose on his'. He'll drop everything for you. Literally.

He takes you to the couch and sets the dishes in front of you with your favorite romantic songs in the background.

Dinner, liquor and love.

he traces small and big hearts on your thighs, while you're resting your head on his shoulder. He's trying very hard not to shiver by your breath and give you any traces of how you've got him so weak.

You're both so drunk, none of you have any idea what you're saying. Stupid plans, kids, compromises to pet allergies, small-cozy little apartment goals, with just you and him. a small world that's yours and his. they're yours to fulfill.

Hope you like this~ feel free to ask for a rewrite if it's not up to your expectations:D

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trailerprk-princess · 2 years

Text

—jumin with a s/o thats also a ceo | jumin han x gender neutral!reader headcanon

!!!: my work is not to be reused without credit/permission!

requests rules

requested by anon: Hello! Your blog is amazing and I love your work!! If you are taking requests, can I ask for hcs for Jumin's S/O being the CEO of a big multimillionaire company like him? I think this would be a power couple! It can be gender neutral, but if you need a specific gender I would like it to be female. Thank you in advance ❤

authors note: YESSS OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! ive always saw mc viewed as a v submissive person & its great to think that jumin would be totally awesome with a more powered reader yk?

he rlly loves it when u correct him when it comes to stuff about being a ceo. you can literally be like, "no, jumin that's not quite correct." & he'd just fall to his knees

LOVES that you act like a "commoner" & even do things they do. like, drive, cooking, eat fried chicken, eat those fish pockets or anything thats deemed to "unhealthy" to him or something he could just hire someone to do like cooking & driving

honestly, he just thinks that you being a ceo & contrasting so MUCH different than he is as a ceo is like 100% amazing

ALWAYS wanting to learn stuff from u & do the same things u do. he saw the way u treated your assistant & mans like "why do you treat them like that??" & when u explain it to him, he instantly starts treating jaehee more like a human than a robot

that being said though, he has warmed up to some things that he never did. probably would get his drivers liscense. (idk if they do permit tests there but if they do, he would get a 100% on the test)

he'd probably find multiple ways to collaborate with ur company!

jumin thinks that first dates should be at a romantic restaurant that charges a bunch of money for a glass of wine. but when u show him that theres so much more to love than fancy shit, hes j in awe. esp cause youre rich as well

he would probably cool it down a bunch w being a ceo & learn that its okay to show emotion other than sterness

mystic messenger masterlist

masterlist

#dally answers!❤️‍🔥#jumin han #jumin #han #jumin han x reader #jumin han x you #jumin han headcanon #mystic messeng #mysmes #jumin han mystic messenger #jumin han x gender neutral!reader #jumin han fluff #jumin han fanfic #jumin han imagine #jumin han x mc #jumin han x y/n #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger headcanons #jumin han oneshot

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sentinelpri · 1 year

Text

Dye

Saeyoung Choi is sick of having red hair.

It’s three in the morning as the redhead stands in front of the mirror in his bathroom, golden eyes tired and body covered in nothing but a black tank-top and matching boxer shorts. He’s exhausted and should really be in bed considering that he has to take Saeran to therapy at eight, but his dreams have rendered him unable to sleep yet again. He drums his fingers against the edge of the marble that lines the counter, his eyes on the two boxes of bleach and the box of toner that are sat there.

There’s a shower cap over his hair, that of which is soaking in a copious amount of coconut oil. It’s been that way for a few hours, just as the tutorial he googled at 12AM told him. As he follows the instructions on the first bottle of bleach to develop it before pulling out his phone and logging into the RFA chatroom.

707 has entered the chatroom.

707: hey guys!

707: guess what

Yoosung☆: What is it Seven?

707: I’M DYEING MY HAIR

Jumin Han: Right now?

Yoosung☆: What color??

707: It’s a surprise!

707: d:

707: You’ll have to catch the glory of it in person next time you see me! I’m still working on it as we speak : D

ZEN: You have such a beautiful natural red that people would kill for and you’re over here dyeing it…

Seven feels his stomach drop at that, a little offended. He’s been wanting to dye his hair for years to escape the striking resemblance he has to his mother. After the new member joined the RFA and everything went to shit, leading to the discovery of Mint Eye and the retrieval of Saeran, things have calmed down somewhat. Saeran is back from the psychiatric ward he was placed in for a few months and is now living along with Seven and Vanderwood in Seven’s large home. The new member has settled into a comfortable romantic relationship with Jaehee (who deserves to be happy after all her years of servitude under Jumin) and helped the former assistant with her new coffee shop. Everything is peaceful and Seven has gotten a lot of closure regarding the situation (minus what has happened with V and Rika, who have been impossible for him to track down), and things are settling.

Seven is ready to escape the past somehow now that things have changed. What better way to do that than to change his classic look?

ZEN: Seven, I sure hope this is just one of your pranks. If not… RIP beautiful red hair T_T

Jumin Han: Seven.

And now Jumin’s there.

Honestly, Seven didn’t expect for the older man to be online so late, but seeing his name pop up on the chat log makes him smile. While the rest of the RFA may see them as nothing more than friends, their relationship crossed into romantic territory a while ago and their one year anniversary is in less than two weeks. They’ve agreed that for both of their safety, it’s best to keep their relationship under wraps until everything settles down and Jumin inherits C&R from Chairman Han, but that doesn’t bother Seven too much. He’s used to keeping secrets, anyhow.

707: YES DADDY!?!??

ZEN: I suddenly feel very nauseous.

Yoosung☆: Same… ew.

Jumin Han: Can I call you?

Seven’s heart skips a beat at that.

707: Yes, daddy (;

Jumin Han: Don’t call me that here. You’re going to disturb the other members.

707: Fine, fine. Master it is, then!

707: Talk to you in a minute then, master Jumin (;

707 has left the chatroom.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

Yoosung☆: So are we just going to ignore all of that?

ZEN: For the sake of my sanity and mental health?

ZEN: Yeah

ZEN: We are going to ignore all of it.

Yoosung☆: Ight then ima dip.

Yoosung☆ has left the chatroom.

ZEN has left the chatroom.

Seconds later, Seven’s phone starts to ring. He answers the call, sets it on speaker, and places the device face-up on the bathroom counter. Then, he puts on the gloves that came with the bleach and starts on his hair. Part of him thinks it’ll turn out great. The other part of him suspects that it’ll be ugly or botched enough for him to have to wear a wig over it, especially considering that his glasses are abandoned in his bedroom and he can hardly see anything.

“Jumin, why are you calling this early?” Seven asks and smiles when he hears Jumin’s low, sleepy voice on the other line.

“Is it early or is it late for you, Saeyoung? It sounds as if you’ve been awake all night,” Jumin subtly calls Seven out like he always does.

“You’re not wrong, but why are you awake?”

“Ah… I woke up on my own. I could sense that you were awake, waiting for me.”

Seven chuckles.

“I don’t know if that’s romantic or creepy.”

“Interpret it as you please, but did you mean what you said in the chatroom?”

“What, about calling you master?” Seven snarks with a quirked brow and starts to paint his hair with the bleach solution.

“No, about dyeing your hair.”

“Oh, yeah, no, I was a hundred percent serious! I’m actually doing it right now!”

“What color?”

“White.”

“...In one night? Won’t that damage it severely?”

Admittedly, Jumin has a point. Hair-bleaching is something you should go get done at a salon, and it’s also something you should only do once every few months to avoid damage to your hair. Bleaching it back to back comes with the risk of frying it off. Seven knows that. He just doesn’t care all that much.

“I don’t care if it does. Worst comes to worst, my hair starts falling out or turning brittle so I have to shave my head and wear a wig for a couple of months. I think I’ll live.”

“Alright, then…” Jumin trails off. There’s an awkward few seconds of silence that makes Seven wonder if the older man hung up until he looks down at the screen to see that the call is still going. Finally, Jumin speaks again. “Are you doing okay?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“You usually only make sudden, drastic changes to your physical appearance when you’re struggling mentally.”

Seven’s stomach drops at that- mostly because it’s true. He’s done crazy shit to his hair, pierced his own body, and gotten a variety of tattoos when under immense stress. Most of the time, he doesn’t regret any of it, but sometimes… Well, sometimes it’s gone terribly; an infected piercing here, an ugly tattoo there, the occasional hat-over-his-head-for-a-few-months. Still, he tries to deny it, because denying his problems is something that Seven is accustomed to.

“C’mon, Jumin! That’s ridiculous! When have I ever done that?”

“Well… Do you recall illegally buying a tattoo gun to tattoo your own chest a few years back?”

Seven flinches and thinks of touching his chest before realizing that his gloved hands are drenched in hair bleach. Still, he remembers it like yesterday- a shitty hand-done cross with crooked lines that he had to have covered up a few years later. The new piece is nice, the ugly cross turned into a cross-marked gravestone with flowers all over it to cover the bad line-work. Though he wouldn’t say it out loud, he wishes he’d never had any of it done in the first place.

“Yes, yes, I remember! Are you not going to let me live that down?”

“Considering that you cried and squeezed my hand so hard that you nearly broke the bones in it when I took you to go get a cover up done for it last year because of how badly it hurt? No, I’m not.”

“Okay, that was one time when I was like fifteen, and have you ever gotten a tattoo before? Yeah, I didn’t think so! Those bitches hurt!”

Seven can’t help but be defensive about it. After all, his least favorite thing in their relationship is when Jumin tries to scold and parent him like he’s a child. It’s embarrassing, especially coming from someone who didn’t have to grow up nearly as fast as he did- from someone who was handed a kind father and an entire empire from the very start instead of the shit hand that Seven got. And it’s true that Jumin is a responsible adult, much more responsible than Seven, but still. Seven is a prideful man who hates feeling like he’s being talked down to.

“Alright, fine. How about the instance a couple years ago where you got snake bite piercings done on your tongue and complained afterwards because you couldn’t eat solid food for a week?”

Seven’s frustration quickly builds. Jumin won’t just drop the issue, nor will Jumin allow him so much as a moment to defend himself.

“That was-”

“And when you were eighteen and got gauges in your ears that you tried to upgrade too fast to the point where you had a gauge blowout?”

“Jumin, that’s different!” Seven exclaims.

“You still hide your ears with your hair because of that. Your earlobes are deformed around the holes because of it and they won’t close back. It’s serious,” Jumin continues, going on and on. Seven’s eyes flicker to the mirror and land on his ears, which are- as Jumin said- incredibly scarred and misshapen around the perimeter of his gauges. “And I know you haven’t changed since then, either. Right after we brought Saeran back, you went and pierced your own belly button and it still hasn’t fully healed. Remember when you had to take antibiotics for the infection that gave you?”

“I thought you said it looked good!”

“It does look good now that it’s not red and oozing with puss from a localized bacterial infection. I never said I didn’t like any of the things I’ve mentioned, just that they’ve been rash decisions made under intense stress that you’ve complained about or suffered because of later. I don’t want you going and dyeing your hair only to hate it or risk burning your scalp with bleach, but since you’ve already started the process, I suppose I can’t stop you… Saeyoung, you really need to go to a professional next time.”

“Really? You’re going to judge me for this?”

“I’m not judging you, I’m concerned. There’s a difference.”

“Fine, Jumin… If you’re going to be like that-”

“Saeyoung,” Jumin cuts him off once more, but this time, his tone is much softer. The tension seeps from Seven’s body as the ravenette tries to calm him down. “I’m not judging you. What you’re doing is an unhealthy coping mechanism of yours and I’m trying to make you aware of it so you don’t go and do it again. I’ll stop talking about it if it’s upsetting you so much, but please bring it up to your therapist at your next appointment and get her input.”

“Yeah, okay,” Seven replies. He’s sure it sounds sarcastic, because in all honesty, he didn’t want to hear any of the rants that Jumin just went on about his bad coping mechanisms. Part of getting closer to the RFA and maintaining close personal relationships is accepting concern from others, though, even if it’s expressed in a way that he doesn’t always like. “...Thank you for worrying.”

“What’s got you so stressed out?”

“Who said I’m stressed out?”

“Well, you’re up past three in the morning dyeing your hair. You know you can tell me, Saeyoung.”

Seven sighs and finishes covering his hair in the bleach, careful to cover it so the color develops properly. Then, he answers Jumin’s question while disposing of his gloves and sitting on the bathroom counter.

“It’s Saeran… He was doing pretty good for a few week stint there, going on walks with me and coming out for meals, but he’s been getting bad again over the last couple days and I’m scared he’s going into a depressive episode. Any time I go to check on him he ignores me or tells me to go away.”

“Can you not just go into his room?”

And of course Jumin would say that because he doesn’t understand being mentally ill- at least not in the way that Saeran is. Since the younger man has moved in with Seven, it’s been a relief, but it’s also been difficult. Between making sure Saeran eats, drinks, showers, and goes to therapy, Seven is starting to crumble. On top of that, following RFA’s party, he hasn’t been able to track down V or RIka- so God knows what they’re up to.

“Not really? It’s a fine balance, you know! That’s his safe space, I don’t want to invade it unless it’s a life or death situation,” Seven explains. He remembers clearing out his old work room and setting it up for Saeran before he came home from the psychiatric ward. It looks completely different with a brand new bed, a desk, a television, bookshelves, and curtains that weren’t there before. Unfortunately, even though Seven offered to take Saeran to buy decorations and help him personalize it, Saeran hasn’t taken him up on the offer. So, the room has remained incredibly bland and bleak. “I told him that the room I gave him is his to decorate and live in as he pleases and that I won’t go in there without his permission. Plus, he’s an adult… He’s capable of making his own decisions! I can’t infantalize him just because he’s struggling with his mental health. I mean, I’m almost as bad as he is, I just… He’s been through more, and he hasn’t had the chance to really live as his own person- as an adult- like I have.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to either of you for you to compare traumas. Don’t think like that.”

Suddenly, the conversation is far too tense and far more personal than it should be. Seven is at a point where he doesn’t really need to do anything but wait for a half hour to wash the bleach out of his hair, but he figures he can use it as an excuse to hang up on his overly-concerned boyfriend.

“You’re right. Well, I’m going to get off here and finish my hair! I’m pretty sure by the time it develops and everything, I’ll have to take Saeran to his weekly therapy session, so I’ve gotta haul ass.”

“Alright, then. I look forward to seeing how it turns out,” Jumin responds. Seven can hear his smile through the phone. “I love you, Saeyoung.”

“I love you, too… Jumin. Go back to bed and get some rest if you can.”

“I’ll try. Talk to you soon, then.”

Then, Jumin hangs up, leaving Seven with no one but himself and this bleached hair that he’s sure to regret.

Somehow, with enough bleach, a shit ton of toner, and probably a pound of coconut oil, Seven manages to get his hair bright white without making it fall out. Unfortunately, it leaves him with so little time that he can’t even spare half an hour to get a nap in. When he approaches Saeran’s door around 7AM, he’s exhausted and a little loopy.

He knocks, his fist lightly tapping the wood three times. No response. After a couple minutes, he knocks again. Still no response.

“Saeran, are you awake?” Seven asks, to which Saeran snaps at him.

“What do you want?”

“We need to go to your therapy appointment! C’mon, let’s go- we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave in the next ten minutes!”

“I already texted my therapist,” Seven’s stomach drops at those words. It makes sense that Saeran wants to skip after the decline he’s had over the past few days. It’s frustrating. All he wants is for Saeran to feel better and it just can’t happen fast enough. “I’m not going today.”

“What? Saeran, we talked about this! You can’t just skip therapy because you don’t feel like going- hell, the times you don’t want to go are the times you need to the most! You have to be consistent if you want to feel better,” The words are met with silence. Seven lets out a groan. Sometimes, he wishes Saeran would argue or scream or hit rather than just close himself off entirely. Part of him wants nothing more than for Saeran to take out all of the pent up sorrow and rage he’s been bottling up on him. But it doesn’t work like that, and neither does Saeran. The only thing that will make things better is time and effort, and Seven knows that. He has to be patient. “Okay, fine. Did you at least schedule a virtual appointment for today.”

“No.”

Seven frowns and holds his head in his hands. His long, shaky fingers tangle in his hair. The wavy locks are totally fried.

“Okay, did you take your meds?”

“No, now fuck off!”

“Wow, um… Sure, I guess! I’m going out for a bit,” Seven says and clears his throat. He’s embarrassed, uncomfortable, and confused. He’s tried to do everything right, but he can’t make Saeran happy by himself and it’s killing him. “Vanderwood’s here if you need anything, or if you don’t feel comfortable asking him, you can just call me. I love you!”

Seven receives no response. Dejected, he decides he’ll at least try to get out of the house. Maybe seeing Zen will lift his spirits…

Zen is working on a new movie, so Seven goes to see the actor on set whenever it’s time for his lunch break. How he gets in without clearance, none of them need to know. He knocks on the door of Zen’s large dressing room and barges in before he gets an answer. Zen, who is sitting at the vanity doing his makeup, spins around in his chair after nearly jabbing his eye out with an eyeliner pencil to face Seven with a pointed look.

“Zen!” Seven greets excitedly and stands in the doorway.

“Wow, Seven! I didn’t recognize you for a second there, uh,” Zen looks a little guilty, but that doesn’t stop him from saying the following words as he points to Seven’s hair. “Please tell me that’s a wig.”

“No, it’s not! I dyed it, remember?” Seven reminds him, just hoping that he forgot the conversation from the chatroom last night. Though, he suspects that Zen remembers and just hates how it looks. “C’mon, don’t tell me it’s that bad!”

“It’s not bad, per say… Just doesn’t work with your skin tone. I liked the red a lot better.”

At that, Seven sighs and tries to change the subject. So Zen doesn’t like his hair. With such a sudden change, and with Zen being so particular about beauty, it makes sense. So what? Surely, someone else will like it. Despite the awkward feelings of hurt and rejection that swirl around in the pit of his stomach, Seven plasters on a smile and asks Zen about his upcoming role.

That night is LOLOL night with Yoosung. Seven almost forgets that it’s happening until he’s reminded with an ‘omw’ text from Yoosung half an hour before it’s supposed to start. He panics and thinks of just canceling it, citing some fake illness or emergency, but then he remembers that Yoosung is one of the few people who can actually get Saeran out of his room. So, he sends back a simple text saying ‘okay’, sets up snacks and drinks at the coffee table, gets his PC set up in the living room, and shoots Saeran a text to let him know that Yoosung will be there.

Right around eight, Yoosung shows up. Seven answers the door and excitedly greets his good friend while leaning against the doorway.

“Hey, Yoosung, you ready for LOLOL night? I’ve got Honey Buddha chips and PHD Pepper set up at the coffee table and-!”

“Seven, what’d you do to your hair?” Yoosung asks with wide violet eyes as he reaches forward and touches one of the dry, bright white strands.

“I dyed it last night, remember? Pretty snazzy, huh? What do you think?”

“No offense, but it looks pretty weird on you! Can’t say I ever expected you to go white,” Yoosung mutters and walks past Seven and into the living room. Seven shuts and locks the door behind them, then goes with Yoosung to the living room couch. The two men sit together with Yoosung still talking about Seven’s new look as he digs his own laptop out of his school backpack. “You even did your brows! You really gotta give us a warning, man, I thought I was having an aneurysm or something when I saw you with white hair!”

“...Huh,” Seven disguises a frown with a fake smile, nothing new. He expected Zen to dislike his new hair, but Yoosung, too? It makes him anxious. If those two have already reacted so badly (i.e. clearly being taken aback and not liking it, but trying to feign that it’s not terrible even though they clearly think it is), what will Jaehee, Jumin, and Saeran say when they see it? “Well, that aside, have you made any progress on that game event yet?”

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me! I…”

Yoosung opens his laptop to show Seven his progress on the event, excitedly rambling with a grin that Seven can’t help but find endearing- a grin that Saeran would find endearing, too, if he would’ve responded to Seven’s text and surfaced from his room instead of leaving the former agent on read.

Seven opens his laptop as well, and with that, LOLOL night starts- even without Saeran.

Saeran never does surface from his room for LOLOL night, much to Seven’s surprise. He figures that the younger man’s depression must be pretty bad right now, but at the very least, there’s signs that he’s alive (the occasional shuffling noise, leaving Seven’s texts on read, etc.), so Seven is relieved.

Still, he’s worried, and he misses his little brother’s face. With Yoosung’s presence not working to draw Saeran out, and with Seven’s attempts at texting Saeran or visiting his room working to draw Saeran out, he decides he’ll do the next best thing; lure Saeran out with ice cream and coffee. Having not seen the former assistant in a while anyway, Seven goes to Jaehee’s coffee shop.

When Seven opens the front door, a bell rings. Jaehee, whose hair has grown out to her shoulders, rushes to the counter. Though there are plenty of people seated in the cafe who are enjoying their drinks and sweet treats, no one is in line, so Seven approaches the register to talk to her.

“Jaehee, how are ya?” He asks, but he doesn’t get an answer- instead, he gets a comment (or a few) about his newly dyed hair.

“Oh my, Seven… You’ve dyed your hair,” Jaehee reaches out with her perfectly manicured, coffee-brown finger nails. The paint on them is glossy and covered in a light sheen of glitter clear coat. It’s clear that she wants to touch Seven’s hair, but she doesn’t, probably realizing just how impolite it is. Jaehee allows her hands to fall to her side as she continues. “I saw that you’d mentioned it in the chat room the other night, but I honestly thought it was just one of your pranks. Is that permanent dye, or…?”

“It is,” Seven nods. “I guess you’re the only one who hasn’t seen it yet, huh?”

“It’s quite… Different,” Jaehee says with a forced smile, to which Seven gasps and exclaims-

“Oh, come on, Jaehee, don’t tell me you hate it too!”

“No, no, I think you did a good job,” Jaehee frantically rushes to correct herself, even if it’s already too late. It’s obvious that she doesn’t like it, just like Zen and Yoosung. “It’ll just take some getting used to. It works for you, really.”

“...Thanks,” “Can I just get a large caramel frappe, a pint of the homemade vanilla bean ice cream, and a medium iced mocha with a breakfast sandwich to go?”

“Of course,” Jaehee nods, but doesn’t ring anything up. She turns to make the drinks, grab the breakfast sandwich from the warmer, and remove a pint of her homemade ice cream from the small freezer behind the counter. She slides everything forward to Seven with the drinks in a carrier, a smile on her face. “Here you go.”

“How much? You forgot to ring me up.”

Jaehee shakes her head.

“It’s on the house. Tell Saeran and Vanderwood that I said hello.”

“Will do,” Seven grins back and takes the items, ready to head home to his brother and former handler with the treats. “See ya later!”

Upon arriving home, Seven labels the medium iced mocha and the paper wrapper that covers the breakfast sandwich with Vanderwood’s name and a little note so he can put them in the fridge for the older man to have whenever he returns from whatever it is he’s out doing. Next, carries the pint of homemade vanilla bean ice cream and the large caramel frappe along with a spoon to Saeran’s bedroom door.

“Hey, little bro,” Seven knocks. “You holding up okay in there?”

“Don’t call me that… And I’m fine, leave me alone.”

“Saeran… I want you to be happy, but I can’t let you stay in that room forever. I’m starting to get worried about you,” Seven insists as if he isn’t already worried about Saeran when, honestly, he’s worried to death.

“I said to leave me alone!” Saeran yells back.

“Please, Saeran, it’s been days! When’s the last time you’ve eaten? Please, just talk to me… All I want to do is help…” Seven trails off, then sighs. A pit of sadness pools in the bottom of his stomach as tears fill his golden eyes. “Look, you don’t have to come all the way out, and you don’t have to let me in, but I brought you breakfast from Jaehee. I even got you your favorite coffee and something sweet so you’d eat. Just come open the door enough to grab it from me, you don’t have to do anything else. I promise.”

“And you’re not going to drag me out or try to force your way in?”

“Of course not,” Seven relents, as tempting as the idea is. “I want you to trust me.”

“Fine, give me a sec,” Seven hears some shuffling, which is followed by footsteps. The door opens and Saeran is on the other side, matching eyes bloodshot and tired, white and red hair matted, and skin pale. It looks like he’s lost a few pounds, but he’s alive, and he’s okay. Seven expects Saeran to snatch the ice cream and the coffee out of his hands, which does happen, but it’s not immediately followed by Saeran slamming the door shut. Instead, Saeran looks up at him as if he’s grown another head. “...You dyed your hair. Why? Why the fuck did you dye your hair?”

Saeran doesn’t look like he hates it, at least not immediately. He just appears curious. Seven smiles and starts to explain.

“I was getting sick of the red… Makes me look too much like Mom, y’know. It sucks hating what’s in the mirror just because of the past.”

“Okay, but why did you make it the same color as mine?” Saeran asks with narrowed eyes.

“It looked good on you- thought it’d look good on me, too,” Seven explains.

“It looks stupid. You should’ve gone pink or black or something… Would’ve suited you more.”

The words hurt more than they should. It’s just hair dye. Seven likes it, he’s liked it since he did it. But everyone else’s opinions matter to him more than they should, and his feelings are hurt, especially when Saeran slams the door shut in his face with not another word.

“...At this point, I’m not even surprised anymore,” Seven deadpans and turns to walk down the hallway and back to his own bedroom. “Oh well.”

“Seven,” Vanderwood greets lowly. He almost walks right past Seven, at least until he stops in his tracks and stares down at the younger man with a baffled expression. “What the hell is going on with your hair?”

“Don’t even ask, Vanderwood, I’m not in the mood.”

WIth that, Seven storms off to his bedroom, so frustrated with the reactions he’s gotten to his new hair that he decides he’ll just have to cut it all off.

~~~

That night, Jumin stays over. Seven supposes he didn’t think it through very well, but as soon as the older man fell asleep, he finds himself sneaking to the master bathroom. Leaving the door unlocked, he flicks on the lights, plugs in his electric razor, and grabs a pair of hair scissors from the drawer. He’ll have to cut off all the longer parts, then tackle what’s left with the razor. After that, he’ll wear a wig for a few weeks until it grows back red- the only color that looks good on him, apparently.

To his surprise, though, despite Jumin having an incredibly long work day, he wakes up and walks into the bathroom to lean back against the wall. Seven sees him, not because he turns around, but because the ravenette aligns perfectly with the mirror that Seven is currently using as visual aid while he holds the scissors up to the first strand he plans to cut off.

“Saeyoung,” Jumin starts, voice groggy. He’s dressed in his blue and white striped satin pajamas, fully finished with that silly pajama hat that Seven makes fun of every once in a blue moon. His dark eyes are full of sleep and his long arms are crossed over his narrow chest. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Cutting my hair.”

“Why? I thought you trimmed the ends when you dyed it last week.”

“I did.”

“Then why are you cutting it now?”

“Honestly, Jumin, I don’t want to talk about it,” Seven frowns. The thought of how everyone- Zen, Yoosung, Saeran, Vanderwood, and Jaehee- reacted to his new hairstyle, it bothers him. As used as he is to them teasing him for his weird personality and silly jokes, he doesn’t like it when his appearance is judged like this, even if they don’t mean to offend him. “Please just let me shave my hair off in peace.”

“...Saeyoung, put the scissors down for a moment and listen to me,” Jumin sighs, and Seven listens. He sets the hair scissors down on top of the bathroom counter and turns around to face his lover. “I don’t know what inner turmoil you’re going through, and I don’t know what you’re thinking right now. What I do know is you’re stressed, which is probably why you made such a big change in the first place… But I like it. I think you did an excellent job with your hair. Please, don’t cut it off just because everyone else is struggling to get used to it.”

“Jumin, everyone hates it! I’ve had multiple people tell me it looks weird or stupid since I did it, and I know they’re not wrong. At this point, I may as well just chop the shit off and start over.”

“That’s a terrible idea and you know it, because if you cut it off, tomorrow you’re going to be complaining that you’re bald,” Jumin points out, and it’s true. Even if he wears a wig for a while, he’ll hate the way he looks without it; he’s tried shaving his head a handful of times and it never looks proper because of his head shape. “It looks fine, you can’t blame everyone for struggling to adjust to it. After all, we’ve only ever seen you with bright red hair before this- minus the occasional wig. Give it a few more weeks. If you don’t like it after that, you can dye it back to what it was or dye it another color, or even shave your head if you so please. Just don’t go and make a rash decision about your appearance because things haven’t been going well lately.”

“...You’re right,” Seven admits and reaches out to unplug the electric razor. “But you should probably hide the scissors and the razor from me for at least a month. I may get tempted when you’re not here to stop me.”

“Fine. I can do that much after you fall asleep tonight.”

“Thanks.”

Seven moves to push past Jumin and go back to the bedroom to sleep with his sad, ugly white hair, only to get caught by the wrist. He looks over his shoulder and sees Jumin staring down at him with a small smile.

“Saeyoung, wait,” Jumin murmurs and leans down to press a kiss into his hair. Seven’s heart skips a beat at the gesture of affection. “I do mean what I said. You look beautiful. I love the white more than I thought I would when you told me about it over the phone.”

“Thanks, Jumin,”

“Hey, I have an idea,”

“And what would that be?”

“...Got any more of that bleach? Perhaps a makeover for me would distract the RFA from your new look.”

At that, Seven smiles and starts to dig through his bathroom cabinet for the last bottle of bleach.

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fartmaster200-blog · 4 months

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Hi!!!!

Welcome to my (mainly) fanfiction blog!

this is super new so i don't have anything out yet but request all you like!

Fandoms i'll write for:

Harry Potter (mainly)

Mystic Messenger

Crush Crush

Obey me

Percy Jackson (and hoo)

Teen Titans

Young Justice

Paul Dano (his characters)

IT (2017-2019 and 1990 so please specify which version of the character you'd like!)

One Piece (i'm really early in tho >_<)

Garfield (i practically mean just fanfics about jon)

Ride the cyclone

Heathers

Little shop of horrors

Type of Fanfiction:

masc and fem reader

stories and headcannons (please specify!)

mainly x readers but i can do ships if people suggest it!

Off limits!:

smut stories (will do hc or suggestive stuff!)

Incest

Pedophelia

Teacher x Student

Abuse

Hurt without comfort

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capt-spacebussy · 4 months

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I was surprised to see so many months of nothing actually...

Feb🩵May🩵Jun🩵Jul🩵Aug🩵Sept🩵Nov🩵Dec

#suggestive #mdni #oneshot smut #mysme smut #mysims smut #adventure time smut #spto smut #i do ehat i can w these tags man #fair warning the goth boy image IS omo #stocking anarchy #paswg #psg

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space-wedding · 2 years

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I want to kiss my best friend

A cute, short and fluffy Jaehee x gnc!reader oneshot, inspired by her valentines day DLC. This plays after her good ending! So be cautious of spoilers if you haven’t finished her route yet.

“What are we? Best friends. One would assume. Yet I think of holding her hand. Cupping her cheek while kissing her. Falling asleep next to her as I hold her in my arms. I don’t think this is what best friends are supposed to feel for each other.”

The sun shines brightly as you make your way down to the coffee shop. Every day that you get to work with Jaehee makes you excited. Jaehee... your best friend. She means so much to you. Her determination inspires you greatly. Her voice always brings you comfort and peace of mind. Everything about her is so beautiful. The way her lips curl when she smiles. The way she licks the spoon after mixing together ingredients for a new cake. The way her hand sometimes accidentally brushes against yours...

“Oh hey Y/N!” A familiar voice calls out. You are brought back from your daydreams.

“Jaehee! How are you? I see you started early!”

“Yes, the construction going on outside woke me up. I also had this great idea for a new cake I wanted to try out.”

“Ah yes. The -.” You cough, standing in the doorway, as dust from said construction finds it’s way to your lungs. “I don’t think we’re gonna get much business today.”

“Exactly! That’s why I decided to work on some new desserts. Do you want to help me?” Jaehee smiles at you. Oh how could you say no to a smile like this. You grab your apron and make your way over to the baking station. You look at her in awe. At the way she is focused at her task. A little bit of flour got on her nose. How the heck is she so darn cute? You’re blushing. Is it okay to feel those things for your best friend?

“How can I be of help, boss?” You joke. She chuckles.

“Mind grabbing the cake form and getting that buttered up? Also, try this!” She hands you a spoon with some cake mix.

“Jaehee! This is delicious!”

Her cheeks are turning red at your compliment. “Thank you!”

The noise of the bells attached to the front door of the coffee shop, startles you. You must have forgotten to lock it up. Someone is in the entrance, coughing and calling out for your names. A voice very familiar.

“Yoosung, it’s good to see you! What brings you here?” You ask.

“I was close by, running some errands for Jumin. Gosh that guy. ‘Yoosung get this, Yoosung do this’. it just never stops! But yes, since I was near, I thought I’d come see you!” He grins. Jaehee couldn’t help but chuckle at Yoosungs complaints. “Though, it seems you are closed today?”

“Yes, it’s incredibly dusty and loud because of the construction outside. Regarding that, we decided to close today. So we can start working on some new recepies!” Jaehee beams. “Would you like a coffee anyway?” She asks.

Yoosung answers: “Ah yes, I’ll take one to go. Jumin just texted me with even more work! Ugh.”. A sigh escapes his lips.

After handing Yoosung a delicious Cappuccino in a to go cup and saying your goodbyes, you make your way back to the work station. Jaehee was just about to put the finished cake mix into the oven. As she was bending down you couldn’t help but glance over. “Cute butt.”

“What? Did you say something?”

“N- no, nothing!” You try to hide your face out of embarrassment. Did you really just say that out loud?

“While the cake is baking, why don’t we restock everything? Now seems like a good time! Will you help me?” Jaehee asks, grabbing your hand. You smile, nod and quietly follow her to the storage room in the back of the coffee shop. The door falls shut behind you, closing with an unusually loud “Thud”, which makes both of you gasp. You reach for the door handle, twisting and turning it, to no success. “Darn it. Something must have fallen in front of the door, locking us in.”

“Oh no! How will we get out? Wait, do you have your phone on you? Maybe you can call Yoosung, he shouldn’t be far yet!”

“Good idea!” You reach into the pocket of your trousers, grabbing your phone and dialing his number. He picks up right away and the two of you have a brief conversation. “He’ll come back for us, it might take him a while though, as he seems to be stuck in traffic!”, you exclaim.

Jaehee sits down on the ground and motions for you to do the same. “Oh, I’m glad he’s coming to get us. Besides, I don’t actually mind being stuck in here, as long as it’s with you.” Your eyes widen at what Jaehee just said. She continues: “I feel like I don’t tell you that enough, but you really mean so much to me Y/N. You helped me build this coffee shop up from the ground, you gave me courage to leave my old job and try something completely new. You inspire me every day.” Her voice was so soft. Her lips curling into a slight smile. It felt like your body was moving on it’s own as you reached over to lay your hand in hers. She did not resist, but in fact held yours tighter. It felt like your heart was about to jump out of your chest. You were certain that Jaehee could hear it.

“You -” Your voice broke, but after taking a deep breath you continue. “You also mean a lot to me Jaehee. I’m so glad that we became closer. I think about you all the time, you make me so happy.” You take another deep breath before you continue. “Also, there is something I want to say to you. I am not quite sure how though.” Jaehee’s eyebrows quirk up as she turns her head to look at you. She’s clenching your hand just a bit harder, her cheeks rosy.

“Yes?” She asks, innocently.

You move closer to her, your bodies nearly touching. Your heart beating and heat radiating off of your body. You move your other hand up to touch her cheek. You lean in, slowly, slowly... and before you know it, Jaehee closes the gap. Her lips are soft and taste of chap-stick mixed with cake batter. It felt like your chest was about to burst open, electricity flowing through your body. A moment you wanted to last forever. The kiss is innocent, new, yet full of excitement.

*Knock knock knock*

“Are you guys in here?!”

A familiar voice brought you back to reality. You can’t help but laugh, looking at Jaehee. “Yeah we are, Yoosung!”

The door to the storage room opens.

“Thanks for getting us!” Jaehee sais.

To that Yoosung answers “I feel like I interrupted something here, I’ve been calling your names out for a while!”

Jaehee and you look at each other, blushing. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” You look at your girlfriend(?) before sending her a cheeky wink. “Besides, we can always continue where we left of.”

“Does anyone else smell something burning, or is that just me?”

“OH DAMN, THE CAKE!”

#jaehee kang #mystic messenger #jaehee x reader #jaehee x mc #mysme jaehee #writing by me #my writing #drabble #oneshot

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onlinekitsune · 11 months

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LET ME IN: SAEYOUNG CHOI

"struggling, but even if you sink, it's fine"

PAIRING, GENRE, WARNINGS ─ saeyoung choi x gnc!reader, so much angst, so much emotional pain and torment?, no warnings really but there's a part he snaps at you if that's something, not proofread

SYNOPSIS ─ after seven leaves the chat, you're reminded that this isn't some sort of dramatic drama. everything you've been told the past few days instantly started falling apart in a matter of a day. the person, you had fallen for, had fell apart in a matter of a day. all you wanted was to see him shine again.

WRITER’S NOTE ─ hi beloveds... i am once again posting after disappearing again. whoops! but to be honest, my interests have succumed to kpop and less of otome games... but exo's new single inspired me to write this soooo... this is inspired by day 6?? of seven's route, i'm not sure?? some of the dialogue was directly taken by it as well btw i will write a comfort side to this, but i'm nervous of not having enough room so... it'll be up eventually. as always thank you for reading, ily!!

all dividers by cafekitsune

The apartment was silent, for the most part. Except the various clicks of the keyboard from Seven. You looked down at your phone. It was still displaying the previous conversation, it was hard to process that you were even part of it. All the things you’ve been told over the past few days felt so very complicated now. The party. V. This hacker. It was all feeling so muddled with each passing second. Your eyes floated towards the window. The evidence of it being smashed in was long gone. It was like it never even happened. But the hacker’s voice and the feeling of his arms around your body still lingered. You were just lucky that Seven arrived at such a convenient moment. A sigh escaped his lips, hovering over the air. You couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt. You didn’t know how you’d even feel knowing that the hacker you were chasing turned out to be your own brother. Your heart ached seeing him so distressed, it was the very opposite of the Seven you knew in the chatroom.

“God Seven, God Seven! I sense that you are depressed, meow! I automatically turn on when I sense that you are depressed, meow!” A robotic voice called out. “The source of God Seven’s depression is bad service, meow! I analyzed, meow!” A robotic white cat carefully stepped its way towards him. It stopped right in front and even turned its head slightly as if it was waiting for something. Seven’s eyes peered from above his laptop.

“Please.” he began to mutter. “Just be quiet.” He turned his attention back to his screen and instantly picked up his typing. His fingers hit the keyboard a little rougher, trying to fall back in his almost tranced state.

“Cheer up, meow! Meowy doesn’t lose service, meow!”

“I said to shut it.” he snapped, furrowing at the small cat robot. “How did I turn you off before?” Seven carelessly picked it up, quickly scanning over it.

“Meowy needs to hear Seven meow!” The robot replied in a pur. You nervously bit the bottom of your lip. You noticed the look of desperation and frustration only doubled with each passing second.

“Oh, that robot… you made it.” You let out, in hopes of de-escalating the situation. Seven took a quick glance up at you. He made sure his gaze didn’t linger for too long but enough to acknowledge you. Another sigh fell from him. He sat the robot down in front of him.

“Doesn’t matter.” He replied. His voice was sharp and restrained from much emotion. Your heart sank into your chest, hearing how cold he could come across. “Meowy, go away. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I can’t leave until I sense your depression is gone, meow!” It cheered back innocently. Seven’s scowl instantly appeared on his face. He stared bullets into the robot. It was only a matter of minutes until Seven would completely lose his temper and take it out on it. You couldn’t let him destroy one of his creations, especially one that seemed so intricate.

“Hey… Meowy. Let’s just stay quiet for now, okay?” You whispered, giving a weak smile. It luckily obeyed your request without hesitation. The robot waddled back into the place it originally was at. A small sigh of relief fell through. You were glad you could get at least one thing in control for him. Seven muttered in response, going back to his laptop. You let the sound of the keyboard fill the air for a bit. You managed the courage to scoot closer towards Seven, who paid no attention. You slightly leaned over the edge of the bed. “Hey, Seven? Things didn’t go so great… with V. Are you okay?”

He looked up from what he was doing, scratching the edge of his temple. “Don’t worry about me.” He paused, seemingly going over his words in his head. “Just… don’t trust V, okay? I know I told you that you could but… you can’t.” Another silence filled the room, with a quick sound of keys pressing. Seven leaned back from his laptop and crossed his arms. "I don’t even think you should be involved with the RFA anymore. I’m sure V only logged in because Jumin told him I was here… He’s obviously worried about me being here. The alarms would only set off if someone like you were to open the drawers. But I’m not… There’s obviously something here he’s hiding.”

You winced just a bit, noticing how hurt Seven was by all of this. It was hard to see someone who was seeming so bright and full of energy be so dull and damper.

“Are you going to open them?” You posed, fidgeting with your sleeve. All these secrets swirled around in your head. They may have gotten the better of you. But, you couldn’t help but to be curious. You just wanted things to be figured out, to be normal again. The normal you quickly became accustomed to. You missed the silly night conversations with all the members, especially Seven. You would do whatever to see him happy again.

“Maybe I will. I don’t know.” He responded. Seven closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “It’s hard to keep myself contained, after my trust has completely shattered.” You went to move even closer to him, but he added more distance between you two. You paused in your place, furrowing your brows slightly.

“Seven..” you sighed. “Is there really nothing I can do to help you?”

He shook his head, taking another deep sigh. “No, I shouldn’t worry you. I’ll figure out a way to take care of it.”

“Seven-“

“Look, just forget about the RFA. Forget about the party. You’re only staying in danger by getting involved with all of this. Once I get this resolved… Please leave.” He urged, pulling his laptop closer towards him. The furrow on your face grew in intensity. Even imagining dropping everything you’ve done the past few days was enough to send your aches throughout your body. You had grown so close to everyone. For once, you even felt like you belonged somewhere.

“Why are you trying to decide this for me?” You called out. You understood he was worried for you. But, there was something that kept you wanting to stay. You wanted to see this to its end. You held onto your sweater sleeves tightly, trying to contain your composure.

“I know more than you do. Especially when it comes to this. This isn’t for someone like you to be involved in. You’ll only end up hurt.” He replied. “Let’s stop talking about this. If you need to know anything I’ll just reply to you in the messenger. Don’t bother me.”

“Seven. You’re being so one-sided, what about-”

“Didn’t I just tell you not to bother me? I don’t care.” He snapped, darting at you. Your breath got stuck in your chest. You didn’t picture Seven ever snapping at you, or anyone really. “You’ve been living with a bomb this entire time, and all you’re worried about is nonchalant stuff… really? At a time like this? Don't you care you’re in danger because of this? What kind of person replies to a sketchy unknown number anyways… don’t you know anything?”

His words pierced through you, and all you could do was to stare straight down. He didn’t know. As much as he thought he knew you, he didn’t. Or perhaps he forgot. You weren’t sure what he was able to find on you. “A person who has nothing to lose… clearly.” you managed to reply. Your lips quivered with every syllable. You felt your throat burn as you held in your emotions. “Did all those times in the messenger… really mean nothing?” The barrier you’ve put up started to waver and crack.

“No. They didn’t. How can you worry about that now? I don’t understand you.”

You didn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe him. Though those messages were just silly messages in a chatroom, they meant something. And not just to you. Your grip tightened, feeling the tears finally stray from your eyes. You were annoyed that you couldn’t hold them back. “I know you’re worried about me Seven. So, please stop avoiding me…”

You went out to reach for him instinctively. He dodged your hand and swept up his laptop. Even if it wasn’t a good idea, you couldn’t help but to feel hurt. You stood a bit across from him, just staring.

“Stop... after this is done, you’re not going to see me again. Don’t waste your emotions on someone like me.” he muttered. You couldn’t help but to look up at him. Your eyes easily glazed over seeing that he was completely avoiding you now. The moment felt like as if you two had been frozen in place. He took a second to pause, laptop in hand. Before taking a final glance at you before stepping past. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m going to work in the hallway, don’t bother coming after me. Sort your emotions.” He added and without a single word, the door closed. You turned to face it. Its barren face taunted you, knowing that he wouldn't be coming back in. You flung yourself back onto the bed, faltering back to the tears. Your body felt heavy as you let your emotions run through. Slowly but surely allowing them to guide you to sleep.

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bluejay-writes · 7 months

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Mystictober 2023: Day 7 - Voice like an Angel

You can read/collect this fic on Ao3 if that’s more your speed!

Rating: Teen (Swears, Sex References)

Prompt: Festival / Music

Characters: Zen, Jaehee, GN!OC = Garrett.

Wordcount: 2268

Summary: Garrett hasn't seen Jaehee since they quit school to pursue music. One fateful day at a festival, Jaehee hooks Garrett up with Zen. For music reasons and only music reasons.

Author's Notes: This fic was written for Mystictober 2023, Day 7. I really love how this turned out, and even I'm curious about what's going to happen with Garrett and Zen down the line. Certainly whatever it is, Jaehee will have all the gossip.

Also, I know that the fact that there's no relationships in this means that the vast majority of people won't read it. And I'm actually okay with that. But sometimes a story calls for an aro they/them OC, and not following the muse on that one is like tearing my own heart out.

Garrett was nervous. They weren’t usually nervous, not for concerts, not anymore. But it had been a long time since their little band had performed on a big festival stage. And by a long time, they meant like a decade. They’d been 16 and fearless the last time, and while it had gone fine, they hadn’t been invited back the next year, so who knew how “fine” it had actually been.

This year’s festival was sponsored by C&R International, and while their sponsorship was a surprise, it seemed that one of the C&R Directors was actually running the festival this time. Things seemed to be going well. Ticket sales were up, food stalls weren’t murdering the merch sales with impossibly high water prices because C&R was just handing out water bottles for free.

What that actually meant for Garrett was that they actually knew the person in charge of the stage they were playing on, and that - that - was what had them nervous. C&R’s Stage Liaison for the Cyclone stage was none other than Jaehee Kang herself. Garrett knew Jaehee from Cram School. Okay, from the cram school they’d dropped out of to pursue being a musician full time. And yes, that had worked out. Backing vocals and bass guitar in a band that opened for multiple sold out tours internationally was no joke. And sure, they could be lead vocals. Or in a band that headlined those tours. But they refused to downplay their own achievement by wishing for more.

Jaehee had, however, known them by their dead name. And certainly their visual presentation was no longer the demure girl with long black braids and braces, but an undercut mohawk and androgynous presentation wouldn’t stop the notoriously observant Jaehee from figuring out who they were immediately. None of the band had called them by their dead name in at least five years. But the minute the media caught wind of it, they were likely to be haunted by it again approximately forever but at least a few months.

“Oh my god, Garrett, just calm down.” J.T. said, laughing at them. “Your crush will remember you, I promise.”

Of course J.T. would tease them for that. When they’d tried to explain why they were nervous the other day, the entire band remembered how much time they used to spend studying at the library with Jaehee, and how worried they were about what the girl would think when they quit cram school. In the end, Jaehee hadn’t said anything, just nodded at them and went back to studying. If Garrett had been crushing on Jaehee, those hopes were, well, crushed.

“It’s not like that, J.T. God.” Garrett said, rolling their eyes as they set their bass case down, leaning it against the stage.

“Garrett!” A feminine voice called out to them, and they turned to look. Wait a minute.

“Jaehee?” They asked, uncertain if this glasses-wearing pixie-cut business suit was the girl they used to know, or if it was wishful thinking.

“Obviously.” She pushed her glasses up as she came to a stop just outside the circle of band members. “I thought that was you!”

“Oh. H-hey.” They said, stuttering awkwardly. They weren’t the most social person to start with, but seeing someone they hadn’t seen in a decade was… an entirely different situation.

“I am rather excited to see your show. I arranged for you to be on my stage - there was a bit of a battle between stage liaisons over your band, but honestly, all I had to do was state a preference and they weren’t even competiton.”

“What do you mean?” Garrett said, confused. “I mean, I did wonder how we managed to score the second largest stage in the entire festival, but…”

“Oh, well, being the executive assistant to the director in charge of the festival has its perks.” Jaehee said, and Garrett was sure if she had longer hair, she’d have flipped it over her shoulder.

“Sweet, Thanks for pulling for us, Miss Jaehee!” Arabella, their lead vocalist, practically yelled. “We’ve been hoping to play this festival again, and it finally didn’t conflict with a tour, and then here you are getting us prime real estate like a goddess. Garrett, dude, you totally owe her a date.”

Jaehee glanced at Garrett with a blush on her cheeks, and they spoke in almost perfect unison.

“I don’t date.”

“Absolutely out of the question.”

They shared a look, and J.T. just cackled.

“Aaanyway.” Garrett said, deciding to fix one awkward topic with another. “Jaehee, as much as I hate to say this, I really expected you to dead name me. How did you…?” They trailed off, wishing they’d figured out the end of that sentence before they started talking.

“How did I know your use name? Come on, Garrett. Do you really think the girl you studied with for all of those endless hours wouldn’t keep track of you after you ditched me? I’ve got all of your records. And no, I don’t just mean albums. I even have your first pressing.”

“Wait, you what?” J.T. was staring at her deadpan, and Garrett could feel themself blushing.

“Yes, of course the one with glitter in it.” Jaehee said, pushing her glasses up in a way that made them flash in the light. “I’m a professional fan, you know. When I’m a fan, I’m committed. There’s only one other artist I feel this strongly about, you know.”

“Oh?” Garrett said, trying desperately to deflect the conversation before Ara asked if Jaehee had the one with Garrett’s naked silhouette on the cover. “And who would that be?”

Jaehee’s face flushed instantly. “Zen.” She said, in a way that made Garrett instantly envious of the man.

“Isn’t he that musical actor who’s been recording musical covers on MeTube in his spare time?” J.T. asked, confused.

“The very same.” Jaehee said. “He’s truly one of the masters of our age.”

Garrett didn’t know who that was, but they knew they were going to look into him just to see what Jaehee liked that wasn’t, well, them. Then, Ara giggled, and Garrett knew they needed to change the subject quick before their frontwoman offended their staff contact.

“Sorry to derail. We’ve got all of our gear here, and we’re playing…”

The set had been long, and it was summer. Garrett felt like they were dripping in sweat, probably because they were. It didn’t take long to pack up their bass, and then they were leaning against the back of the stage again, almost as though they existed in two places. On the stage and off of it, ne’er the twain shall meet. Like a video game NPC.

They were relishing in the shade that the stage itself cast when Jaehee’s voice echoed from around the corner.

“I don’t know, they’re probably exhausted, Z—Hyun.”

“But you promised! And she’s perfect, Jaehee.”

“They.” Jaehee said, a sharp correction. “And I don’t know, it’s an abuse of power to…”

“Just ask them.” he said, pleading. “I will take no for an answer. You know I will. I’m not Echo Girl.”

“Fine. But if they stop talking to me over this I will take it as a personal slight, Hyun.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Garrett pretended to be looking at their phone when Jaehee rounded the corner. If they’d thought that Jaehee was talking about anyone else, the pronoun correction disabused them of that notion really quickly.

“Garrett?”

They looked up. Jaehee looked nervous, and surprised to see them back here already. “I… uh… I have a friend that really wants to meet you. He’s…”

Garrett simply raised an eyebrow and the woman caved immediately.

“He’s a good friend of mine, I promise. He wants to ask you something, and I don’t know how to say no to the man, would you be willing to…”

“Of course, Jaehee.” Garrett said, chuckling. “I don’t mind talking to a fan, especially one you’ve vouched for. J.T. and Arabella will still be a minute, bring him back here.”

Jaehee relaxed like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and turned to leave. “He’s just over here, I’ll be right back.”

Garrett tried not to listen in when Jaehee told the man he could come talk to them, but they were just so good at eavesdropping on conversations at this point, they didn’t know how to not.

“They invited you back, Hyun.”

“They WHAT?!”

“Don’t embarrass me.”

“Me, Zen, embarrass you?”

“I thought we weren’t using your stage name at this festival?”

“Shit. Right. I. Uh. Forget you heard that.”

“Anyway.” Garrett could practically hear Jaehee roll her eyes. “Come on, let’s not keep them waiting. You should have a few minutes to chat with them alone before their band mates finish packing up.”

“A-alone?” The man stuttered, and Garrett smirked, an expression that was still on their face when Jaehee rounded the corner with an incredibly attractive man with piercing red eyes.

“Garrett, this is Hyun. Hyun, this is the bassist you’re so enamored with. You two chat, I have to go make sure the crowd clears a bit so we can pack you out and the next act in.” Having said her piece, Jaehee turned on her heel and walked away, leaving the two of them facing one another.

Garrett, for their part, smirked. “Enamored with?”

Hyun just blushed and shrugged. “She calls it like she sees it.”

“Well, sweet cheeks, don’t get your hopes up, I don’t date.” Garrett said, and he waved his hands as if to wipe away the suggestion.

“No, no. It’s not. I mean you’re hot as hell, and not just in an “it’s summer and you’re outdoors” kind of way. But it’s your voice I’m in love with. Seriously. Why are you just backing vocals? You could be a real star with that tone, babe.”

“Are you trying to poach me? I’m not leaving the band.”

“W-well, no, I just… I was wondering if you’d be interesting in recording a few tracks with me while you’re in town? I need someone to duet with, and I’ve never met anyone with a voice so rich.”

“Duets? You in a band? Wannabe idol, or…?”

“Oh. OH. Uh. I’m Zen.” He said, and winked at them.

Garrett burst out laughing.

“Wait. Jaehee is a major fangirl for some guy she knows? I thought I was a bad enough case, oh my god.”

“You actually know Jaehee too? Not just because of the bullshit stage work that Trust Fund asshole has her doing?”

“Well, yeah, we went to cram school together like a decade ago. How do you know her?”

“We’re in a fundraising charity together. Have you heard of the RFA?”

“Oh, yeah, she wanted us to play for one of their Christmas parties a couple years back but we were in Canada at the time.”

“Haaah. That was you. She was so disappointed.”

“So, anyway. You want me to lay some tracks with you?”

“If you would. I’ve got some duets I want to cover, and I hope this isn’t offensive somehow, but I really think your voice would be stellar for the female lead lines.”

“Oh.” Garrett said, a bit taken back at just how considerate he was being. “No, that’s not offensive in the least. That could be fun, but I’d have to check with my manager about contract stipulations - our contract’s pretty tight at least until we release this album, so…”

“Oh, alright. How about I give you my number, and you can call me?” He looked uncomfortable, and now knowing who he was, Garrett didn’t blame him.

“Yeah, let’s exchange contacts. I’d at least love to get coffee with you and Jaehee sometime.”

Zen held out his phone - They typed in their number, and he turned his phone back to himself and typed out a message. They felt their phone buzz in their back pocket, and smiled.

“Got it.”

“Got what?” J.T. said, throwing a spare hand towel at their face.

“My number, hot stuff.” Zen said, with a wink at J.T., and then a wave in their direction without looking at them. “Garrett, babe. Don’t leave me waiting too long.” He’d put on this air of being incredibly too good for them, and strutted off like the hottest possible model.

Which, to be fair, he was objectively attractive. And subjectively hot as hell, Garrett thought.

“What was that about?” J.T. asked, eyeing them.

“Looks like Garrett got themselves a free ticket to a one night stand with a sexy groupie.” Ara said, smirking.

“Yeah, I’d hit that.”

“Poor guy’s going to be heartbroken when he realizes you’re aro, you know that right Garrett?” J.T. said, with a serious look.

“I promise, he’s not. It’s not…” Garrett sighed. They’d tried to play it up, really they had. “That was Zen. Jaehee knows him from that charity org. He wants to sing with me for his metube. I’m going to check with Mr. Kim about the contact and see what I can do - it certainly couldn’t hurt us to get our name out there a different way, you know?”

“Oh. Well now I feel like shit for insinuating that.” Ara said, sheepishly.

“No, he wanted you to think that, I guarantee it. Man’s a really good actor.” They pulled their phone out of their back pocket and laughed at the message before sharing it with the band.

Hey, it’s Zen. Or Hyun, if you’d rather. Hit me up, babe, you know I’m good for it.

#mystic messenger #MM_Mystictober2023 #Mystictober 2023 #Prompt-based fanfic #oneshot #aromantic #gender-neutral OC #mysme zen #mysme jaehee

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mammonprotectionsquad · 8 months

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It is currently 2am and this is actually something that happened today. So didn't proof read it because it's just a little rambled something to work through it in a way, I guess. Aka this is pretty much a self insert

The past couple of weeks had already been a whirlwind and stressful to no end. But life really had to one up itself all the time, huh?

You had a rather blank expression when you got home, doing everything on autopilot. And of course it didn't go by unnoticed by your boyfriend. He was used to hearing you announce yourself with a "I'm hooome!" so you being quiet, only accompanied by the door closing before shoes got unceremoniously dropped to the floor was uncharacteristic.

It didn't take long until Vanderwood stood in the doorframe, arms crossed and brows furrowed as he took in your appearance.

"What happened?"

You remained quiet for a moment, still trying to sort out your thoughts. Though at the same time you shuffled closer, until you were able to lean into his chest. His embrace comforting you in a way you hadn't noticed you needed up until that point.

"I told you about the friends group I had a falling out with 3 years ago, because of some shit my ex best friend pulled, right?" Vanderwood hummed on confirmation, so you continued. "Well... It seems that one of them died yesterday. Don't know how or any specifics. I only know because the one person from that group I'm still in contact with made a rest in peace post about him."

"... Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

You let out a long sigh, tilting your head back far enough to be able to look up at him and when he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear, you leaned into the touch.

"If I'm being honest, I don't feel much. He definitely didn't deserve whatever happened, he wasn't a bad guy. I mainly feel bad for his son now, because they were always, really close. Not other than that? I don't know... It's just weird to think he's gone now and also not knowing what happened."

"You weren't in contact for a couple years anymore, so it's not that surprising. Also, no. I know what you're thinking and it doesn't make you a bad person."

"But-"

"No but. It's okay to not be deeply affected by it."

"If you say so..."

For a while the two of you remained standing in the hallway in a comfortable silence. The brunette rubbing soothing circles into your back as you tried to make sense of your scrambled thoughts. Maybe he did have a point. Did you feel bad for him and everyone affected? Of course you did! But that didn't mean you had to cry your eyes out. Especially after distancing yourself so much from those people had significantly helped bettering your mental health again. It was okay to not be overly sad.

"Doing better now?"

"Hmm... Thanks for always listening to my bullshit."

Instead of getting an answer, you got hoisted up over his shoulder, followed by a pinch to your thigh, which made you yelp in surprise.

"Hey! What was that for now?"

"You know what that was for."

The usual playful bickering between you two helped ease the remaining tension out of your body and while you got carried into the kitchen, you couldn't help but think once again just how lucky you were to have that man in your life.

#mystic messenger #mysme #vanderwood #mystic messenger vanderwood #mysme vanderwood #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger oneshot #Vanderwood x mc #my writing

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xxghostly-emo-writerxx · 2 years

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Sweet morning Snuggles

Yoosung X wife!Reader

A Mystic Messenger Oneshot

This takes place 2 years after Yoosungs good ending

(This may contain minor spoilers)

💚 Light shines through your sheer curtains brightening your bedroom you shift awake turning away, your back facing the window as you waken you feel a pressure jump on the bed

you look to see that it's just Lisa your cat you smile at he then turn to look at your husband you smile at Yoosungs still asleep figure you put your arm around his torso snugging closer

Yoosung stirs awake he looks to you "Good morning my angel " he kisses the top of your head after saying so continues to look down to Lisa "Good morning to you too " he giggles at her kneading against his leg telling him to wake up,

she snuggles up between the both of you as soft purrs escape her, Yoosung looks to you with a content smile "How did you sleep last night honey " he asks raising his hand up to your cheek his thumb softly rubbing against it

You lean into his hand responding with"I slept well thank you sweetheart, how did you sleep? " you smile as he respons with "I slept well my dear but I'm better now since I can cuddle with you " he pulls you closer to him putting his arm under you

You put your arm around him softly squeezing him you give his lips a soft peck then laying your head to the crook of his neck you hear him humming a soft melody from LOLOL

you smile reminiscing at the 11 days it took to fall in love with him, you feel his hand softly rubbing your back in loving way Yoosung kisses the top of your head saying "I love you so much y/n "

You lift your head to look up at him, you smile at him with a loving stare and softly kiss his lips "I love you too Yoosung " you snuggle back into the crook of his neck smiling

you see Lisa walking her way to lay between the both of you, she plops herself right between your stomach and the side of his torso your hand moves to pet her as you do so

Yoosungs hand moves to pet the top of your head you smile continuing to per Lisa the warmth of your husband and purring of your cat lulls you back to sleep your eyes softly shut.

Hi I know that this was kinda short so I apologize for that but hopefully you enjoyed it and if not I'm sorry 😔

#mysme yoosung #yoosung kim #yoosung x mc #yoosung x reader #x reader #x y/n #y/n #mystic messenger #mysme #oneshot #fanfic #mysme fanfic

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antiochean · 2 years

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bleeding paint - banter #2

Hi! BP is the title of the rewrite of V's route and after ending that I'm working on, where V is not romanced. Posts tagged banter will be just that - drabbles between two characters that you can read in any order and nothing too plot-heavy happens. I do them to get a feel for the characters and they're a lot of fun to write, so I thought I'd share!

This one is mostly Jake. It contains one reference to banter #1 (the remarried parents line), but otherwise works as a standalone.

Pairing: CMC (Jake Park) x Vanderwood

Setting: the cabin, around what would be day 9

Warnings: swear words; baked potatoes heavily featured

Word count: 1,148

[Madeline Miller, Song of Achilles]

"You want to send..." one of Vanderwood's eyebrows is arched as they look at me. "Emails?"

"...Yeah?" I don't get the confusion. Every day I send emails. "I mean, I just wanted to know if one of the laptops would be free any time soon, if not it's absolutely no-"

"No, no, it's not that, it's just that..." Their eyes return to the laptop screen and their right middle finger skillfully goes about its business on the touchpad. "I mean, the cult's still actively looking for us, and you just got out of a hostage situation. People who get out of hostage situations usually want to, like, call their family..." could it be that they know this from actual experience handling these people? It's funny that their highly adrenaline-heavy and probably sketchy profession only comes up when briefly mentioned like this - and, just like that, it's gone again. "Not send emails."

I let out a short, weak chuckle.

"If you knew the amount of emails I had to send while the cult still had me," I slide my fingers underneath my glasses and rub my burning eyes. "You'd be horrified."

"That charity gala they're making you organize?"

"Mostly. But also college stuff. I'm more worried about the college stuff right now."

I have been confronted with the reality that the cult that kidnapped me is making me coordinate a charity party several times before. But I'd never heard those words coming from someone far removed enough from the context to really grasp the absurdity of it.

I feel almost... ashamed? Do I fear Vanderwood will assume I'm partially to blame for the absurdity?

Sometimes I wish I could pretend to be a little more normal in front of them.

I wish we could have met at the grocery store. Gone for the same box of cereal at the same time.

"Go ahead." They push the laptop away from themselves and get up. "I've been meaning to get some more sweet potatoes anyways."

"Yeah man, thanks. Go get your proteins."

They pass me on their way towards the kitchen and I take their seat. I hear the metallic sound of the oven opening up - I open incognito mode - and their voice coming from past the archway.

"Still. Your priorities surprise me sometimes."

"What, cause I'm still doing college stuff right now?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," I employ my mocking tone, "tell me you don't have Asian parents without telling me you don't have Asian parents. If I was still in the cult when the term started, my dad would still give me a hard time about missing it."

The caramel scent of the baked potatoes fills the room as they return.

"Wait - that's right," they take a seat on the table across from me, "you're on spring break right now." Two parted baked potatoes with spoons dug into their orange meat. One for them, the other set down neatly by the laptop. And I try my very best to hide the smile I feel coming up, because - what were their exact words again? 'You're pretty bad at pretending you don't care'? And the response that's been echoing in my mind ever since: it takes one to know one. God. I open my inbox. "Do they still have you do 'college stuff' while you're on break?"

"It's - uh - it's thesis stuff," I reply absent-mindedly while I scroll for the email containing the museum contact information. When I look up from the screen, their eyes are fixed on me, and I realize they're expecting me to continue. "It's - uh..."

"You don't have to tell me." They break eye contact. "I didn't mean to pry."

"No - hey, I pry into your shit all the time. It's only fair. I'm just kinda... slow right now." I blink hard. "Anyways, my thesis. Have I told you what it is?"

"You haven't."

"So basically... I'm building a timeline of autobiographical - I mean, basically it's letters and journal entries from the Vietnam War. Some museums and Estates hold those as like museum shit. Right? God fuck it I'm doing such a bad job at talking right now." I let out a nasal laugh. They smile. Like, proper, both corners of their lips curved smile. Their laugh lines become visible to me for the first time ever - they stretch downwards towards their chin a little, and I have to put conscious effort into not melting into my seat like a shoujo anime girl. "Uhm," Right, words. Verbs, nouns. I find myself rubbing my eye again. "Historical artifacts, is the term I was looking for. To be able to see some of them, you have to schedule viewings in advance. That's what I'm trying to do right now."

"You have to schedule viewings? Never heard of anything like that."

"Yeah. I've already had a couple of those, and the conclusion I've come to is that some families don't want word to get out about the war crimes they were doing just a generation ago."

"I see. You've chosen a pretty lighthearted theme for your thesis."

"Tell me about it." I stretch my arms over my head for a second. Then, I grab my sweet potato. "If I had to choose a topic today I'd have picked something infinitely more fluffy." I was a different person when I started working on this. A completely different person. "I wonder if you could write a thesis about - what're those books you like - A Song of Ice and Fire."

"Several."

A natural silence as we eat. The sun is almost completely covered by the treeline we can see from the window at this point. I put the half-eaten potato back down and wipe my hand on my sweater.

"Gross. Who raised you?"

"Happily remarried middle-class parents."

I rub my eyes - again. I gotta stop doing that, it's probably not good for you. They're really tired and dry and uncomfortable. I'm holding my eyebrows up just to keep them open long enough to finish this goddamn email business.

"Hey, look, you look like shit." Their tone of voice is completely neutral. Two in a row, though? Just say you have a crush on me. "Remember what I told you in the car."

You said I was being stupid and inefficient, and that I needed to take the advice I was giving to V about wearing yourself out while trying to help others. The bottom line was that you want me to eat and sleep enough.

"I do. Thanks, mom."

"You know what? That one was on me. I was too nice." With one elbow on the table, they lean over and seize my sweet potato. "No sweet potato for you."

And, 'you bastard,' I think. Because now i have no choice but to grab your arm to stop you, and I'll be thinking about it for the rest of the week.

#vanderwood #vanderwood x mc #mystic messenger #mysme male!mc #jake park #mm fanfic #drabble #oneshot #vanderwood x male mc #mystic messenger custom mc #my writing #banter #fluff #bleeding paint

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