#mystic messenger drabble | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysticmelove · 1 year

Text

Impatience

(Jumin x MC) [NSFW]

“Are you working tomorrow?”

Jumin couldn’t help but scoff at the comment. Maybe she was joking, he couldn’t quite tell with the distance between them, but it definitely wasn’t the best jest he’d heard. “When am I not?”

He heard her giggle to herself in the bathroom, the sound of the running water being shut off with it. “You never know, sometimes you get a day off.”

“Sometimes...” Jumin slowed down as he felt his phone vibrate at his side on the bed - another email. He sighed at the thought of doing any more work before going to bed, “Those times are few and far between though, aren’t they?” He knew he shouldn’t have opened the email but suddenly he was reading a list of very detailed concerns passed through one person to another. Another sigh. He’s was going to have to deal with this now or it was going to plague his workload more than he could possibly bear.

“What’s with all the sighing?”

“I have to go and tie some things up in the office quickly.”

“No,” MC was quick to protest, her brows furrowing as she poked her head around the doorframe of the en-suite.

Jumin’s eyes were still deep in his phone. “I know I agreed to come to bed with you, my love, but I really must—” his jaw fell slightly lax at the sight of his wife, now stood in the space of the room almost glaring through him. He huffed as he sat back on their bed, his free hand massaging the bridge of his nose as he found it impossible to shift his sight. It had been a long time since she’d played this game: stealing his clothes and teasing him wordlessly. In fact, it had been some time since they’d had any real alone time. “I was going to wear that one tomorrow”

MC fiddled with one of the sleeve cuffs before rolling her eyes, not joining in with his halfhearted joke. “So, are you staying?” she questioned, beginning to climb up on the bed one knee at a time, “Or do I have the bed to myself? Again.”

Her words were nothing but harsh on his ears, brash and unforgiving, yet she continued her crawl towards him. Jumin sighed into the air between them: “Don’t make me feel guilty.”

“I’m not making you do anything, Jumin.” She was practically in his lap now, her fingers tracing his jawline through her alluring gaze. “You can run away to that little office down the hallway,” MC had leant in even closer, making it impossible for him to breathe without inhaling her own warm air, “or you could come to bed with your wife for once, hm?”`

Temptress - that was the only word Jumin could muster in the moment to describe his wife. She’d snuck her way into trapping him with so little effort, her thighs either side of his own, encasing him effectively. Their lips locked in silence, moving against each other feverishly as she chased what had been so lacking. “You’re right,” Jumin broke their kiss with care, “I can do as I wish.” His fingers began to thread upward through her hair, all the while her eyes remained focused almost solely on his lips. “And I believe I know what should be done.”

MC hummed in delight, her eye-line following the path her fingers paved now, “Uh huh, and what would that be?” She couldn’t say she’d mentally checked out of the conversation but surely she’d gotten him now - she was a woman with a successful plan and she would most definitely reap the rewards. In her trance, her nails teased around the checked waistband of his trusted pyjamas all but ready to pounce when her husband would step in.

Without a word, Jumin took a grip around both her wrists, resulting in a very unpleasant and warning glare up through his other half’s brows once more. “Something needs to be done about this work before tomorrow—” he admitted with ease, taking a stronger grip as he prepared for her backlash. “But,” his face grew closer as his voice grew quieter: “I do think, at this moment, taking care of my wife is paramount. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Ah..” MC let out a breath at once, her body relaxing from its brink of outrage.

With a smirk, he kissed her parted lips. “‘Ah’ indeed, my love. You put some thought into this; it’d be cruel to ignore that fact.” Letting go of her wrists, his hands creeped around either side of her cheeks and up into her hair; graciously guiding her further up the bed to sit upright in his lap. All the while, their mouths didn’t dare to part, sly teeth pinching at her bottom lip. With her thighs either side of his hips, Jumin’s grasp definitely wasn’t slow to find it’s way downward and have him palming at her flesh which his shirt did the favour of leaving exposed. He was working blind as he fought to keep up with the goddess latched to his lips and his hand worked up the space, god was she even wearing anything under his cotton press?

MC whined fruitfully into his mouth, prompting another smirk. He could feel the firm pressure of the pads of her fingers edging their way up the nape of his neck and into his freshly trimmed hair, though this feeling was second to her hips grinding so desperately down on him. With a particularly lewd moan, he pulled away, almost laughing at how quickly she’d come apart following her prior annoyance. “We’re lacking in patience tonight, my love.” Jumin’s lips trailed to her jaw, then her neck where he’d nip for an illicit a gasp. “I don’t feel we’ll be here long. Will we, beautiful?”

MC couldn’t possibly contain her groans as Jumin’s lips wreaked havoc on her neck: lips, teeth and tongue bruising her skin with care. Her fingers weaved through strands of his dark hair, drawing him closer. “Good,” she breathed: “then you can make time for both your wife and work.” With a particularly hard bite, she moaned a gasp.

Jumin then pulled away, a low chuckle leaving his stomach as his gaze met her’s once again. “I walked straight into that, didn’t I?”

“Definitely.” MC nodded impatiently, her hands and eyes locked onto the buttons of her husband’s shirt encasing her chest. Though, she didn’t make it past the first before Jumin’s hands were wrapped around her wrists again.

“Leave it on.”

“But–”

“I don’t care,” he cut off her whining with that stern tone he was so comfortable with, “you put in the effort to steal it so don’t you dare discard it. And, my darling, you look so very delectable in my clothes.”

A curse passed MC’s lips at his words, her eyes a flutter as she was powerless to prevent him from laying her flat on the bed. One of his hands laid under her waist, the other guiding her thigh to one side to make space for himself, and his lips devouring the moans from beneath him. “You know,” Jumin began another mumble as his lips roamed once more to the crook of her neck, “I’d much rather… you chose a shirt I was less fond of.” He wasn’t expecting a coherent response, nor would he get one. Relentless fingers continued to message at the supple flesh of MC’s inner thighs, silently roaming their way closer and closer to what she craved. “It will be… incredibly difficult to wear the shirt again… I will only be able to think about my wife like this.” And an answer to his question - she had so tastefully opted for nothing under the shirt. Jumin rose to watch her shudder as his fingers ghosted over her, her hands flinching slightly to grasp at the bedding with a single trace of her clit. “Do you understand, my love?”

MC finally met his eyes again, half-lidded as her chest rose and fell with great desperation. What was he saying? Of course, she had become his distraction yet again. “Mm…” she raised a hand to brush away the stray hairs beginning to stick to her husband’s forehead. “You’re saying I’m—” With a guttural moan she had cut herself off, the unannounced insertion of Jumin’s fingers sending her eyes rolling into her skull.

“A harlot.” He took it upon himself to finish the sentence for his beloved. In a need to be closer, he moved to whisper directly to her ear - his lips grazing the hot skin while his fingers rocked away out of sight. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself when it comes to your beautiful temptations.” He could only hear a symphony of moans and gasps. “You know I’d give in to you every single time, my love.”

She whined frivolously, one hand clawing at his toned back and the other scrunching their sheets into thousands of creases. If her own grinding down to meet him wasn’t enough to lose all thought of her surroundings, the addition of his thumb rubbing rhythmic circles most definitely was. She needed to be fucked by him, she thought, but there was absolutely no hope she’d be able to hold out that long. “Jumin… please!” and so the mindless begging began.

“What is it, darling?” He questioned, lifting himself to see that wonderful twisted expression he was so effortlessly causing.

“Please!” MC cried, her neck now strained like her fingers crushing it’s trapped cotton.

“Shall I guess?” Jumin teased, maliciously increasing the pressure of his touch. In an instant, her back had arched and he continued his ruse: “You’re desperately close… You’d like my help to finish, correct?”

“Yes!” Their eyes met for barely a second before MC was writhing again. Her muscles tensed with a great, slurry of whines and she was helpless to keep her legs still. Jumin thanked his arm had not grown fatigued as he felt her end nearing and heard the sweet sound of incoherent begging, pleasure and love. “I’m- I’m… Jumin-”

“Just go ahead, sweetheart.” A small chaste kiss was all that could be managed before her back arched once more and moans streamed endlessly from her barely conscious mind.

She lay, panting for a minute, before Jumin concluded she was back with him. He removed his fingers and gently as humanly possible and watching the remanent shivers wash over his wife. “You ok?” He spoke softly, his clean hand brushing over her flushed cheek.

Silently, she smiled, her once clawed hands smoothing over his toned chest before she could lean up to return his kiss. “Perfect, my love. Perfect.” She jittered in her spot on the bed, though her expression dare not to falter and worry her husband. “I’ll wait for you.”

Jumin sighed, his brows furrowing at her suggestion. “You know I don’t like leaving you after: it’s improper.”

“I know.” MC moved for her thumb to barely graze his own cheek, the feeling a frail as how she looked before him. “But I’m giving you permission… So thirty minutes to go finish your work and then we may go to bed together.”

Had she not had the most reassuring smile Jumin wouldn’t dare listen to her suggestion. Still his concern was audible: “Do you need any help? Anything?”

“No,” she hushed him effortlessly: “Go ahead and I’ll be waiting.”

Jumin stroked her cheek once more, prompting a different type of flush from the one previously faded. “You’ll be asleep in five,” he laughed sincerely.

“I will not!”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Jumin.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger jumin #mysme jumin #mc mystic messenger #mc mysme #mystic messenger drabble #mysme drabble #mystic messeger headcanon #this was sat in drafts incomplete for years

115 notes · View notes

ynverse · 1 year

Text

01110110 01101001 01110010 01110101 01110011

SAEYOUNG x gn! reader | fluff

a/n: i wrote this mid work shift because someone got a yellow drink w/ red toppings... down so bad </3 also ! the title means “virus” in binary code

saeyoung knew he was calm and calculating when he needed to be. the world was just a bunch of 0’s and 1’s to him, his intellect locked behind a firewall he built for himself long ago. behind all his mischievous actions lay his true character, the pieces that operate himself when no one was there to witness.

he was always in a constant loop, the programming of his mind repeating like a software program caught in an endless loop he didn’t wish to stop; though even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to. his firewalls were meant to deter anyone from knowing who he truly was - and it was a shame his intellect was as high as it was. without even realizing it, he built his firewalls strong enough to block out himself as well.

yet against all odds, a new variable entered and broke through his firewall. like a virus made specifically for him, you started changing his perspective. suddenly the world was not solely 0's and 1’s but an open sandbox where he can use the binary codes as a foundation for what he wanted. he felt seen in a way so vulnerable that he couldn’t help but try and build more firewalls to defend himself. the world’s greatest hacker suddenly realized how it must have felt to have been hacked by him - yet you weren’t a hacker in a literal sense. you were someone inconspicuous, a person who would never be directly targeted due to lack of importance to the 1% of society. you were normal, far too normal for him to become angry at.

maybe that was how it was supposed to be though? an unassuming addition to his software that seemed like it would benefit him, only to be revealed as a program that wants to infect its host. out of everyone to fall victim to a virus, especially to willingly let it in, he felt he was the least likely. it damaged his pride and made him feel unworthy of his title. countless efforts to hide the binary code that operated on him revealed to someone as unassuming as you. somehow, though, he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of you.

maybe you weren’t infecting his software, but rebuilding the firewalls he had made to defend himself. for the first time since early childhood, he started to understand the operations that caused him to execute certain actions.

though, for someone of genius intellect, he still felt clueless whenever it came to you. his world started to take shape beyond its code but with you, it was as if there was nothing. it was comforting but unusual. his mind is a computer and it needed to undergo some processes for him to feel sane - yet he wasn’t sure what he was doing when he was around you. he didn’t understand why it seemed as if his heart was processing at a rate faster than possible yet his brain was at a standstill.

he needed to figure you out — figure himself out — before damage would be done to either of you. he didn’t mind a permanent change in whatever relationship you two have, whether you were truly a virus or not, but he couldn’t stand being in the dark. maybe the next time he subconsciously laced his finger with you and leaned closer to you, he would analyze himself better? or maybe he would analyze you further the next time you leaned into his hand that gently cusped your cheek, looking into your eyes as if they were somehow different from anyone else’s? maybe he would even confront the others if they felt the same way — like his mind unwillingly told him when he sees you happy with the rfa — that way he would know that you were in fact a virus?

a world of possibilities beyond the one he created, who would have known?

#drabble #mystic messenger #707 x reader #707 #saeyoung x reader #saeyoung choi x reader #defender 707 #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger drabble #fanfiction #fanfic

44 notes · View notes

antiochean · 2 years

Text

bleeding paint - banter #1

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's really didactic and on your face. Enjoy :D

Characters: CMC (Jake Park), Vanderwood

Setting: the cabin's porch, smoke break, at around what would be day 9

Word count: 758

[Rick Riordan, The Mark of Athena]

"So what do you do, aside from agent supervision?"

"Classified." They exhale smoke while squinting at the treeline. "I can tell you I do a fair bit of in-depth background checking, though. Psychological and personality profiling, too, kind of."

"Oh, hey, that's fun. What's my psychological and personality profile?"

"Hard to say unless I'm given specific guidelines. Like, why you committed a crime, or how to best..." a short pause as they gesture. "Get information out of you."

"You were gonna say torture?"

"Don't ask questions like that."

Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am. Was I offensive or was I right? Another short pause - awkwarder, this time. Then, they continue.

"Well, I guess there are a few things I ended up picking up from you. Out of habit. For example, I can tell you had a mostly healthy childhood. Like, you were never a social outcast or something. Healthy enough to have developed appropriate emotional responses, but unhealthy enough that you ended up an artist." I scoff. "Probably middle-class, happily remarried divorced parents or something."

"That's bullshit. Very pseudo-scientific."

"Well, profiling isn't exactly a science, it's more... pattern recognition through experience." And here I was, thinking I was so unique and complex. "Was way out of the ballpark?"

This is pretty funny. If only it were at anyone else's expense.

"...no. But I'll have you know I only have one happily remarried parent."

"The one you grew up with?"

"I hate you." I'm smiling.

They do the thing where they let a little bit of air out of their nose. "Maybe I should have started with something lighter. Let me think..." My gaze follows their cigarette as they take another drag. "I can tell you're a social and empathy-driven person."

"Empathy-driven, huh?"

"Yeah. It's how you process the world around you."

"I guess. I never thought about it, though. Isn't that true for basically everyone?"

"Definitely not. Just more often true for people in humanities and arts."

"Stop with the artist shit!" I laugh.

"You asked! You asked me about profiling."

And you love talking. All it takes is just a little prodding and you can run with any conversation. You say you're bored, but I think you're lonely, too. But unlike you, I'm apparently empathy-driven, so I know it wouldn't be appropriate to say that out loud.

"What are you driven by?" I ask.

"Paychecks."

I look over at them.

"Just kidding. Logic."

I shrug and take a drag. If you say so.

"Well, I mean, not exactly, but... Yeah."

"But you shouldn't talk about yourself?"

"Precisely. Thank you."

"You're welcome." You want to, though. You love talking so much. I prod. "Not that I would tell anyone, anyways."

They hesitate for a second, looking at me with furrowed eyebrows. Then, they bite. "Well..." Beautiful. "It's hard to tell when you're analyzing yourself. I'm definitely more logic-oriented than you..."

"Ouch. Thank you so much."

"Oh, don't start. Having emotional intelligence as an aptitude is just as valuable as an aptitude for logical thinking." I'm very surprised they think that way, even though I agree. "I'm more wired towards logical thinking than you are, which, big deal. But I've seen logic-based people, and I'm not one of those, either."

"You sound like an analytical people person to me. Like, you're... charismatic or whatever, but you have diagrams for social interaction." I'm reminded of Ray roughly explaining some lines of code to me. If parameter at X, then perform response Y. "You get things done."

"Exactly. Exactly. I get things done. I'm a practical person. I wonder if... 'material condition-oriented' would be a distinct enough classification to earn its own category. The way I interact with the world is... I have objectives, and I do what I have to do."

And yet, I can't think of one thing a person like you could gain from talking to a person like me.

"As opposed to what you want to do?"

"Getting deep here."

"Yeah. I'm such an artsy philosophical type, so you can count on me to take conversations in that general direction."

They press their lips together in acknowledgement. There you go - I've set the stage for you to ignore the question. You're welcome, again. I know not to take things too far.

They're a force of change. But not an idealist. Quick to accept things they deem out of their control. Maybe quick to deem things out of their control, too.

I bet they're good at taking orders.

Focus, Jake. What the fuck was that just now. Focus.

#vanderwood #mystic messenger #mm fanfic #vanderwood x mc #mysme male!mc #jake park #banter #fluff #mystic messenger drabble #vanderwood x male mc #bleeding paint #danaë #vanderwood route #my writing #mystic messenger headcanons #vanderwood headcanon

4 notes · View notes

marshmallowprotection · 7 months

Text

"I've got you, my love," his gentle voice never failed to find you at the lowest point of your day. "If you feel complicated, come lean on me... Please sleep peacefully in my arms."

You were never one to turn down the offer when it came up. After the day you had, no, after the long week you had, the one thing you could dream of doing was going to sleep for the rest of the night. You didn't want to deal with the rest of the world anymore.

You wanted to close your eyes and relish in the opportunity to be held by somebody who never made you feel like you had to explain what was bothering you until you were ready to talk about it.

Saeran never rushed you before you were ready.

If all you needed was a shoulder to cry on, he would always be there to offer it every single time you looked at him with those big, puppy dog eyes. You knew he would be there for you no matter what, just as you would be there for him no matter what. But there was something sweet about knowing just how quickly he would come to your side without you having to say a single word about it.

You could ask him to be there for you or he would be there waiting for you no matter what... You considered yourself lucky to be the person on the receiving end of the massive web of love in his heart. He would always be your one true love, no matter what happened in your life. It was as simple as that. He understood what nobody else did... or ever could.

There would always be time to talk about what made you upset. There would always be a chance to get around to talking about what made it hurt so much that you broke down in tears the minute you walked through the door. But, for now, the only thing you wanted to do was be held and the only thing he wanted to do was hold you.

"Don't worry, my love. I don't intend to go anywhere tonight. You are... my priority. I don't know what made you feel so overwhelmed. But, you don't need to worry about anything anymore. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I love you."

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #choi saeran #mysticmessenger #mm #ge saeran #saeran #saeray #drabble #saeran mystic messenger #saeran mysme #saeran mm #mm saeran #mysme saeran #mystic messenger saeran

188 notes · View notes

kaizdreamz · 7 months

Text

You'll be okay.

for anyone who struggles with those late night sad feelings. (Coughs. Me Coughs.), this one for you <3

Romantic || touch starved reader x your favs. || mentions of heartbeat, established relationship, cuddling, just really big comfort drabble ngl.

If you guys like this I'll do more of them! (W/ or w/o specific characters, it doesn't matter ^^)

" I've got you, sweetheart. "

" Stressful day? "

" Don't worry, I'm here. "

They'd pull you to their chest, brushing your hair aside, pressing a gentle kiss on top of your head.

"just rest for now..." they'd whisper, ever so softly in your ear. Twirling and stroking your soft hair with their fingers, gently hugging you to their chest. "It's okay."

You shift and turn to be comfortable, yawning softly as you rest your ear against their chest, the soft white noise of the fan in your room drowns out any silence there would've been. You close your eyes sighing gently as you attempt to fall asleep.

You hear the gentle thud and pulse of their heartbeat, your face flushes as you press your ear against their chest more. Your tired eyes open to meet their closed eyes, presumably they fell asleep holding you close.

Your eyes weld with tears, sometimes life just left... absent. But right now? Right now, your lover is holding you close, their gentle pulse, beating calmly and relaxed muscles holding you against them underneath the comfort of your blankets. You don't feel dull, you don't feel disassociated from the world, you feel real, they feel real against your body. You feel Safe.

You close your eyes, the warmth of your tears roll down your cheeks as you listen to the calming rhythm. Their hands held you from your back, you felt every inhale and exhale they made as they slept peacefully. It made you feel comfortable, safe, Real.

your heart calmed to a slow, soft rhythm, your breathing evened out as you slowly relaxed again, letting sleep wash over you. Limbs intertwined with your lover and a soft smile on your face.

I know this is short, and probably unexpected lol. I was listening to ASMR and I normally don't like it bc it makes me have anxiety but this specific one helped my heart rate calm down so yeah—

#junesl1ght_#gn reader #male reader #female reader #comfort fic #comfort drabbles #Dan heng #Xiao #Lyney #Alhaitham #Kaveh #fluff #Hsr comfort #Genshin comfort #reader x character #Mystic messenger comfort #Idk any other character to tag #I hope this made someone happy #<3

193 notes · View notes

natasha-in-space · 3 months

Text

Every so often, I can't help but think about all the dirty jobs Saeyoung had to do during his time as an agent. I'm not talking about the usual digital crime stuff he feels comfortable enough to mention openly. I'm talking of those missions he'd rather just shut up and never speak a word about. What about all the missions that went wrong for him, back when he was still young and inexperienced?

The fact that he has blood on his hands is apparent to us. But, do you ever think about whether or not he was forced to kill an innocent? Be it by some cruel accident or by direct order from the higher ups he had no choice but to obey? Have you ever thought of him having to make a quick elimination on yet another corrupt member of society, only to realize that his family, who has nothing to do with this, had seen him?

Have you ever thought about him doing everything he can to fix this: coming up with shaky lies on the spot, attempting to fabricate evidence, eventually resorting to pitiful begging that goes nowhere. But there should not be any witnesses. It's too late to turn back now. He got sloppy. His DNA is already on the scene of the crime. If he refuses, he not only puts his own safety at risk, but these people will get eliminated regardless. The least he can do is make it quick and painless. Have you ever thought of him still having to come back to his sad parody of a home and pretend like everything is fine? Like this was just another Tuesday, and not one of the most sickening things he had to do and witness?

Have you imagined him sitting down, staring at his bloodied hands with a blank and glassy look to his eyes, his weapon still in his grasp, and his ears ringing from every shot he has fired? Have you ever thought of him feeling so utterly disgusted and ashamed of himself that it almost seems like the silver cross on his neck that has always brought him a sense of security, is burning through his clothes and straight into his flesh? He won't take it off, no matter how heavy it feels. He wears it as a constant reminder of the sins these hands have committed. He knows that God has seen it all. He knows that, much like Lucifer, he will never be allowed to step foot over the Heaven's Gates. His soul is too sullied. Too dirty. Too sinful.

I feel like these are the days when he goes complete MIA. He tells everyone in the RFA later that he just slept through these few days.

He maintains contact with V, just in case. But, really, he spends these few days just... in a daze. Luciel has no remorse for selling his entire life away to guarantee his brother's happiness. He does not regret sullying his hands in the darkest sins this world had to offer, if only it means that Saeran's hands will get to do all the good things he has always dreamed about. He does not regret forsaking his own childhood, because he never thought of himself as a child in the first place.

But, in these moments... as the events of what he has done continue to unfold in his head over and over again, like he never even left, he feels it. Regret. Guilt. Disgust.

Luciel harbors a deep hatred towards his parents. He hates his joke of a mother, who has brought nothing but endless torment on her own children for ruining the life she foolishly destroyed all by herself, something he despises with all his heart. He hates his father for forcing them to live in constant fear and paranoia, just for the unforgivable crime of being born into this world. He hates every bystander who has done nothing to correct such an unfair act of pure cruelty unfolding right in front of their eyes.

But, as his vacant gaze keep drifting back to the equipment he has stashed away in one of his many drawers, a grim thought claws at his insides, tearing him apart piece by piece like a vicious parasite feeding on his flesh: is he... really that different from them?

Vanderwood ends up being the one find him, slouched in his seat, his hands still caked and crusty with blood. They just sigh, already knowing what happened. It's something they all had to go through. They just sit next to him, letting the younger agent know he's not alone. And, once Luciel's shoulders start to shake with choked, painful sobs, they don't say a word. They just let him break down into their arms.

It's one of the rarer moments of tenderness between the two.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #mystic messenger 707 #luciel choi #i have.... thoughts.#this is something i definitely want to write a full drabble about #exploring saeyoung's trauma in the agency is something i think about a lot

131 notes · View notes

fishsticksloser · 1 year

Text

TikToks

RFA & Minor Duo

Warnings: cringy content, possible swearing, links added

A/N: I just got bored. Some of these are pretty old, I've been collecting them

Zen

He's on theatre kid TikTok, of course

He sends you videos of people singing, ones that made him get goosebumps

He sends you dancing videos as well, sometimes goofy ones

Examples:

Link. Link. Link. Link. Link.

Yoosung

Gaming things

Funny clips from streamers he does and doesn't watch

Sometimes game release dates.

Snapcube dub complications

Examples:

Link. Link. Link. Link. Link

Jaehee

Those videos where they make pages dedicated to one thing/color

ASMR videos (kind of go hand in hand with the above)

Coffee videos

Examples:

Link. Link. Link. Link. Link.

Jumin

Conspiracies he thinks are real (because he believes pretty much everything in the internet)

Cat videos

I don't know how to describe some these so here are just some examples:

Link. Link. Link. Link. Link.

Seven

Memes.

That's it... Just memes...

Examples (there's a lot):

Link. Link. Link. Link. Link.

Link. Link. Link. Link. Link

Art

Any kind

Photography, pottery, paint, whatever

Examples:

Link. Link. Link. Link. Link.

Saeran

Cooking videos.

Ones with soft music

Mostly pastries and desserts

Examples:

Link. Link. Link. Link. Link.

181 notes · View notes

rfaromance · 9 months

Text

"It's too much."

"What is?"

"All of it."

Saeyoung knew that feeling. The feeling as though the world were crashing around him, every second of every day. He would patch one crack just to see another wall crumble further.

He had no choice but to keep up, as he'd only ever lived in a world where if he faltered for a mere second, the meager supports holding the world up would all collapse at once and crush him. He had to move fast, think fast, react fast.

For years now, he'd accepted that his body was powered more by adrenaline than by blood or oxygen.

But he didn't want them to live like that. He would never wish this anxiety on anyone, least of all the person who restored the stars to his eyes and made him believe in fairy tale endings again.

"It hurts."

"What does?"

"All of it."

He knew they wanted to handle everything on their own. They had that same meddlesome habits that he did: take care of every task without any help, lest you be a nuisance. Take care of every task on your own, because nobody else can be trusted to do it correctly. They'd work themselves into the ground because they were too afraid to burden others, and they were too afraid of important matters being done sloppily.

"It's okay if you need to cry."

"No time."

"I swear to G-d above, on my love for you, to the patch of earth that's been waiting to become my grave since the moment I was born. If you need to lie down for a moment... to relax your shoulders, to unclench your jaw, to punch, to kick, to claw, to sob... I'll be your Atlas, and keep the world standing until you're ready to face it."

#saeyoung choi #luciel choi #707 #707 x mc #gn!mc #saeyoung x mc #mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #self indulgent drabble... have a really rough week ahead of me

43 notes · View notes

animeomegas · 2 years

Text

A messy collection of drabbles that come into my head randomly :D

Some are n-sfw or n-sfw themed, be aware, no individual warnings, read at your own risk

1. ITACHI - nsfw

“Good boy,” you whispered, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumb.

His hazy and unfocused eyes glanced up at you as you spoke, his lightly swollen lips maintaining his suction around your cock. His hair was loose, spilling over his shoulders, sticking to the sweat on his neck.

Itachi purred as you caressed him, sending pleasant vibrations through to your crotch. You hissed in pleasure.

“That’s it,” you said gently, eyes closed in pleasure. “You’re so perfect, Itachi, you’re my good boy.”

Itachi whimpered, resting his head on your thigh and nuzzling as much as he could without letting you slip from his mouth. A couple of tears slid out from his closed eyes, but you wiped them away before they could properly fall. His breathing was getting a little shaky as well, his breaths stuttering in his chest.

“Shh,” you soothed, petting at his hair now. “You’re okay, ‘tachi, I’ve got you.”

...

2. BAKUGOU - sfw

“A very interesting match here folks!” Present Mic’s voice rang out across the stands. He was commentating at the UA sports festival. “You’ll recognise both students from the previous years festivals I’m sure, but what you might not know, is these two are intended mates! How dramatic!”

Neither you or Bakugou paid much attention to the commentating, automatically filtering it out as you stared at each other from opposite sides of the ring.

“Can these two love birds put aside their relationship to fight? Or will they find the fight too much to bare?!”

The crowd ooh’ed and ahh’ed, but again, you and Bakugou only had eyes for each other.

“Don’t hold back,” Bakugou said, clenching his fists by his side, voice fierce.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it,” you smirked back, fiddling with your weapons on your belt.

The grin Bakugou sent you back was borderline feral in it’s glee.

“BEGIN!”

“This is it folks! Let’s see how these lovebirds- oh... they’re-”

“Beating the crap out of each other,” Aizawa’s voice cut off Present Mic’s.

“Yeah! That! There’s no punches pulled here folks! Quite literally!”

...

3. ASMO - post n-sfw

“How are you feeling?” you asked Asmo quietly, brushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Can you tell me if anything hurts?”

Asmo made a little whining noise that stuttered and broke in the middle. His eyes stayed closed and his body still, apart from the shaking from his overexerted muscles.

He’s just finished a three day heat and he had absolutely no energy left. Asmo probably had the most intensive heats in existence, fitting for the avatar of Lust perhaps, but exhausting for him nonetheless.

You felt more exhausted than you had in a long time, and you knew Asmo had been using toys on himself during the periods you’d been asleep, so he must be twice as tired at least.

Distantly, you tried to remember if you’d seen him sleep at all for the last three days and drew a blank.

Asmo started whining again, this time with a more desperate edge. He was calling out for you.

“I know, I’m here,” you reassured, scooping up the limp demon from his bed to cradle on your lap. His whole body was relaxed and pliant in your grip, his head flopping onto your shoulder and staying there.

“‘pha,” Asmo croaked into your ear.

“Shh, my precious mate, don’t try to speak, I’ll look after you.”

He mumbled something unintelligible, but it must have been an agreement of some sort because his body gradually got heavier and heavier against you until his breathing evened out completely.

Your eyes scanned the room, wincing as you noted the amount of pillows and blankets that would need a thorough washing, sex toys and food wrappers everywhere.

Now you just needed to find a way to keep Asmo relaxed and asleep while you tried to clean up.

...

4. SHIKAMARU - sfw

“You came back!” Shikamaru wailed, so unlike himself, clinging to your legs as you stood in the doorway, newly returned from a mission. “You- you -you.”

Shikamaru couldn’t seem to get any words out through his hyper-ventilating and sobbing. His eyes were wild and crazy looking, his hands gripping onto you so hard it hurt. He also looked a mess; his hair was messy and unwashed and he’d definitely lost weight since you left.

You suddenly realised Shikamaru’s father was standing in the living room doorway, watching. He looked just as exhausted as Shikamaru. It was only when he waved a hand at Shikamaru that you were broken from your stupor, realising that your intended mate was distraught and that you, his obsession, were the only one who could help him.

You dropped all of your bags on the floor and then knelt on the ground with Shikamaru, pulling him into an embrace that he eagerly and desperately accepted.

“You can’t go,” he insisted, crying on your shoulder. “I won’t let you go, you can’t-”

“Okay, okay,” you rushed to reassure him, holding him as tightly as he was holding you, one hand cupping the back of his head while the other looped around his waist. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll stay right here for as long as you want.”

Shikamaru was drinking in your scent like he was drowning without it. He crawled as close to you as possible, shuffling onto your lap and wrapping his legs around your waist.

“What happened?” you demanded, addressing Shikaku.

Shikaku looked at your for a long moment before answering.

“His teacher died.”

Oh. You understood his reaction now. Someone he loved and respected died and you weren’t here. In his grief he had tried to reach for you, but you were gone, setting his instincts on fire. His behaviour reminded you of when you were going through separation training. It hadn’t been this drastic in years, but you understood.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, peppering kisses on his heads. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

Shikamaru’s crying picked up and you held him tighter.

Wordlessly, Shikaku walked up the stairs, nodding at you on the way past. He was trusting you to take care of his son and it meant a lot.

“I’ve got you,” you promised. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

...

5. YOOSUNG - n-sfw implied

You and Yoosung were having to do long distance for a month while you went on a trip abroad and it was definitely eating at you both to be away for so long. Seven had complained multiple times already about you both commandeering the chatroom to talk constantly, but you thought that was rich coming from the spam king himself.

Yoosung: I miss you <3 :(

You grinned at your phone, your heart feeling warm as you read his message on the chat. You quickly typed out a response.

MC: I miss you too baby <3 but I got you a special souvenir today!

Seven: Did you get me one too??? :D

You ignored Seven’s message and waited for Yoosung’s response instead.

Yoosung: Yuo got me soemthing?????

Zen: Typos...

You hesitated a little before sending the next message, but decided just to go for it.

MC: Of course I did, but you have to be good if you want it ;)

Immediately, Yoosung’s blushing emoji popped up on the chat, Seven’s heart eyes one popping up soon afterwards, and Jaehee’s unimpressed sigh emoji followed. You laughed a little at the exchange.

Yoosung: What do I have to do to be good...?

MC: Hmm... bark for me, puppy <3

Yoosung: I’m not a dog :(

Yoosung: ....

Yoosung: Bark, bark...

MC: Good boy!!!

Yoosung’s blushing emoji popped up again and you giggled to yourself, clutching the phone and imagining the way he was reading the chat.

Zen: ...

Jaehee: ...

Jumin: ...

Seven: ...

Seven: Kinky.

Oh, yeah, you forgot your friends were here for a second. Oops!

#drabbles #mystic messenger #bnha #mha #naruto #omegaverse #a/b/o #n-sfw #hcs #x reader #gender neutral reader #alpha!reader #alpha reader #gn reader #yoosung #bakugou #itachi #asmo

323 notes · View notes

password-door-lock · 5 months

Text

“How the hell did you get out?” Saeran demands, standing in the doorway to the kitchen with all the imposing presence he can muster. After the morning he’s had, he is practically vibrating with rage.

He was already in a bad mood after talking to the believers, and when he noticed that his CCTV feed showed your room completely empty, he certainly didn’t cheer up. It only got worse when he discovered that you’d broken out— he was barely distracted for a few minutes, but in that short time, you managed to open the window and climb out into the garden. Now that he’s finally found you, after several frantic minutes wasted searching the grounds of Magenta, he’s beyond livid. He’s fuming, but the scary face he knows he’s making doesn’t seem to have much of an effect on you.

“Oh, hey!” You greet him with a smile, like you don’t know who he is. Like you think he’s going to let this behavior slide— if that’s the case, you’re even dumber than he thought, which is really saying something. His expectations for you were charitably low to begin with, and your behavior thus far has only given him reason to lower them further. “You’re just in time.”

He’s going to get you for this one. He doesn’t know how, but he’s sure that he’s going to— granted, he’s been trying for the past several days to break your spirit, and his efforts have remained entirely unsuccessful, but you are going to fucking pay. He’ll make sure of it. “Answer when I ask you a question, toy!” He screams. The sound of it is feral, nothing like the booming warning he was going for.

Even that fails to impress the reality of your situation upon you. “Okay.” You aren’t even looking at him. Instead, you’re focused on the pan that you’re carefully tilting over a plate, onto which you drop some savory-looking concoction which smells… No. He doesn’t have time to worry about how it smells. He has to do something about your behavior. “I climbed out the window,” you explain, as if it’s nothing. Truth be told, Saeran didn’t think that particular escape route had occurred to you— did it really take you days to figure it out? Maybe it only took you days to grow desperate enough to actually do it. But if that’s the case…

“Why the hell did you come back?” Saeran demands. That’s the real question, after all: if your positions were reversed, if he were the type of fool who could actually survive away from Magenta, and if he got his feet on the ground outside— he’d never look back. Not that you could run very far in those pointy-toed shoes that Ray gave you, but anywhere would be better than here, especially for someone like you.

Now, you do look at him, as if you’re amazed by how little he understands about the world. As if you feel sorry for him. How fucking dare you? Who gave you the right to pity him, when you’re the one trapped in such a shitty situation? Saeran is strong and doesn’t need the pity of someone who can’t even figure out how to escape properly. “Last night, I asked if you were eating well,” you remind him, “And you didn’t answer, so I got worried.”

“Ha!” Despite the situation, Saeran barks out a laugh. “You’re insane. Something is seriously wrong with you if you actually think—”

“It’s going to get cold. Come sit down,” you try to coax him over to the small table in the corner of the kitchen, dusting off the seat of the hitherto unused chair with the corner of your apron. Who gave you an apron? For some reason, that makes him angrier than anything— not only did you come back here after leaving, not only do you claim that you did it for his sake, as if he needs it, but you didn’t even have the decency to pretend to be afraid of him. You’ve clearly taken your time with this, going out of your way to put on an apron to protect your clothes— how arrogant. In the scheme of things, maybe Saeran shouldn’t be surprised.

The dish you’ve prepared looks damn good. He doesn’t need to taste it to know that he’s never had anything so delicious… he can tell just by the smell of it, the fact that you poured so much dedication into it. The fact that you cared enough to cook for him, even after all he’s put you through. The fact that you care about him, even though he doesn’t deserve it, even though anybody with a lick of sense would see that he wasn’t worthy of such affection. You really do have a serious problem— and now Saeran has to retaliate, to make sure that this never happens again.

He has to make sure that you never, ever put him in a position where he needs to make a decision like this. He has to break your spirit so you stop telling him sweet things, stop trying to fill his head with pretty lies. He has to condition you to ensure that you don’t step out of line again, that you don’t end up in the basement; you’re lucky that the Savior doesn’t know about this yet, because if she found out, Saeran’s intervention would mean nothing. He has to make sure that she never learns of your latest petty transgression, because the mercy she would show you wouldn’t really look much like mercy, after all. What the hell kind of trick is this, anyway? You probably poisoned the food, Saeran assures himself, or spat in it, at least. That’s what he’d do to himself, in your position. His brain is screaming that you’re different, that you’d never do that, that you might be the only person on this planet he can really trust, Savior included— he attributes these thoughts to Ray, despite the fact that they come at him in his own voice.

“You made this just for me?” He coos, mocking your affection. Anything to make you stop looking for the good in him. It’s none of your goddamn business, anyway— whether he’s a closet saint or a devil to his core, your fate will still be just the same. “Aw, thank you, prince(ss). I really appreciate your consideration.”

Your face lights up. Can’t you tell that he’s making fun of you? “I didn't know what you would like, so I just made something simple, and I hope it's—”

Saeran picks the plate up and throws it onto the ground. It shatters, sending little bits of rice and cut-up chicken everywhere, along with vegetables that look suspiciously like mushrooms and several bulky shards of porcelain, all of it covered in some kind of sauce. Of course you had to use one of the Savior’s good plates, too— it’s like you’re trying to do as much damage as possible, to cause as much trouble for Saeran as you possibly can. He couldn’t fucking care less, not about the mess and not about your motivations. The believers can clean up the former, and he will deal with the latter. “You’re going back into the toy room. This time, I’ll paint that window shut so you can’t get out. And if you were smart, prince(ss), you would take the hint that I’m so generously giving you and figure out how to stay put.” Hopefully, the juxtaposition between ferocious growling and sickly-sweet cooing will throw you off your rhythm enough to make you actually listen.

You stare at him with this pathetic, hurt expression on your face. For a moment, Saeran thinks he’s won. He allows himself to believe that this will be the end of it. Then, you open your mouth and ruin everything, as you always do. “Okay, I guess you don’t like mushrooms,” you laugh at your own lackluster joke. “Noted. Same time tomorrow?”

Saeran squeezes his eyes shut, not ready to contend with the thought of going through all of this again. Why do you keep trying to help him? Can’t you see that he doesn’t need your help? All he needs is for you to stop challenging him, to let him sit with his worldview and continue to believe that Magenta is a paradise for everyone but himself. Why do you insist on ruining things? “Let’s go,” he barks, pulling you across the room. He won’t even think about it, he decides. That’s the best way to resist your tricks. But his own voice keeps reminding him that if you wanted to trick him, surely you would find a smarter way to do it. If only Saeran were an airhead, like you— then he might be able to ignore the reality of his situation.

#Lately I've been thinking about Suit a lot #In my opinion we don't get enough time with him in canon #Like I just!! wanna!! show him!! how loved!! he is!!#I want to look after him and make sure he's doing okay!#mystic messenger #mystic messenger drabble #choi saeran #saeran choi

52 notes · View notes

space-wedding · 2 years

Text

Jumins Notebook

Inspired by this conversation i had with @marshmallowprotection

You find Jumin’s notebook on the kitchen table. You take a peek and it’s contents shock you, in the best way possible.

Just a cute and fluffy self-insert drabble/one shot, suitable for all readers~

gnc!mc

You wake up around your usual time on a sunday morning. Wanting to cuddle with your beloved, you reach over to the other side of the bed. Your hand touches something soft, warm and fuzzy. “Ah Elizabeth”, a sigh escapes your mouth as you remember that Jumin must have already left, for an important meeting with a distillery owner.

Your stomach is starting to growl. You stretch. One of those morning stretches that cracks every bone in your body. After getting up, you lazily make your way to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Still half asleep you reach into the fridge for some overnight oats that were prepared yesterday.

Sitting at the table to enjoy your breakfast you notice a notebook laying there, titled “Of The Most Importance”. “Ah, Jumin must have forgotten it”, you think to yourself. While eating your breakfast, you can’t help but keep eyeing the book right beside you. You’re definitely not one to snoop around as you trust your husband fully and he trusts you too. But you just couldn’t help it as curiosity took over.

You open the book, slowly, anticipating of what could be so important.

The title reads:

Y/N

“Huh? Me?” You wonder, “Is this notebook really about me?”

- Y/N mentioned this book called (title), i should purchase it, so I can read it as well. - Y/N seems to really like forget-me-nots, I will get them a bouquet on my way home. (Beside that, a dried forget-me-not is sticking to the page) - Y/N scrunches their nose when they think really hard. Cute. - Y/N sometimes baby-talks Elizabeth. They don’t know that I’ve heard them do that before. This always brings a smile to my face. (A printed out picture of you, cuddling Elizabeth, is glued beneath that) - Y/N snort-laughs when they find something exceptionally funny. I love it when they do that.

You catch yourself snort laughing at that comment. You cannot believe that Jumin Han, CEO and chairman-in-line, has a scrapbook. A scrapbook about YOU. “Is this real?” You think to yourself, “ There is no way. Is there really someone, who loves me so much, to have a whole notebook filled?!” A million butterflies swarm in your chest as you continue to read.

- I don’t actually really like (show title), but Y/N seems to love it. So I always watch it with them. Maybe I should get them merchandise of it?

“Oh what a sacrifice~” you say, sarcastically, even if there is no one to hear it. You chuckle. “How is he so darn cute?”

- Saw Y/N looking at a suit in the window as we walked past the clothing store. Going back later to buy it for them. (glued beside that is a printed out picture of you wearing said suit.) - Y/N always grunts when they pick something up from the floor, even if it’s not heavy at all. Very adorable, makes me chuckle. - Usually I wake before Y/N. Watching them sleep beside me fills my heart. It brings me peace and makes me feel safe. - Catching myself thinking about the future with Y/N often. Will we have children one day? I hope so. (Beside that is a stick figure drawing of two grown ups, both holding a smaller one’s hands)

“He’s thinking of having a family with me one day?”, a heat rushes to your face as you feel yourself blushing. Your thoughts are starting to drift off. This man makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. Everything he does, everything he sais, makes you fall in love even more. His presence is so warm, calm... safe. A love, a bond, that cannot be described with words alone.

*ring ring ring*

The startling noise of your phone ringing brings you back to reality. You grab it. The words My love <3 light up on the screen. Of course you pick up.

“Hey, Jumin!”

“My darling. How are you? Did you sleep well?”

“I love you so much. So much I don’t even know how to express it.” You say, very excitedly, smiling from one ear to the other, you declare “Also, yes! I do want to have a family with you one day!”

“Ah, I see. You’ve found my notebook that I’ve left.” He chuckles. “Hearing you say that makes me incredibly happy. I love you too, now and forever.”

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin han mystic messenger #mysme jumin #my writing #drabble #one shot #self insert #mc

123 notes · View notes

tiresomeimagination · 2 years

Text

Since you and Saeyoung have seriously started your relationship, you've started looking for little ways to help him improve his self-care habits. A lot of his bad habits are pretty deeply ingrained from all his time working alone, so you have to try small things rather than expecting huge change right away. First order of business is his diet. Having you by his side does encourage him to take an interest in setting aside time to eat with you, so you don't have to twist his arm too much...unless he gets engrossed in his work. If left to his own devices, Saeyoung tends to get sucked into a project and you might not see him for hours on end. One thing you can do to make sure he gets at least one good meal in for the day is to pack him a lunch and leave it on his desk.

~~~~~

Saeyoung was headed back to his workstation, ready to get back to his coding. To his surprise, his workspace wasn't exactly how he left it. In front of his computer sat a bento box with a note attached. He curiously picked it up to read it.

"Good luck at work today, Saeyoung! ^3^ Don't forget to eat some lunch today. If this bento isn't emptied by dinnertime, I'll know ;P"

He couldn't help but smile, his heart warming at the sweet gesture. He was never going to get used to this...Having somebody care about him this much. It was still so surreal that he could hardly believe it.

"Uhh...Y/N?" He called out, poking his head out into the living area.

"Yeah?" You called back.

"You know you don't have to pack a lunch for me, cause I'm not actually leaving the house, right?" He asked, a mixture of confusion and amusement in his tone as he pondered your logic.

"If you don't have something ready and grabbable in your line of vision, you'll be working with nothing but chips and soda in your system. This way you can't forget!" You said with a laugh.

You were too busy focusing on the TV to notice Saeyoung come up behind you until he placed his hands gently on your shoulders and pressed a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You chuckled and leaned back to look at him.

"How'd I get so lucky...?" He murmured under his breath, looking down at you with pure adoration.

You smiled up at him with an equal level of affection in your gaze. "I'm the lucky one, silly. You deserve to be spoiled a little...and I won't let you forget it!" You said firmly before stretching your neck up in an attempt to reach Saeyoung's face.

You missed his lips due to the awkward angle and kissed his chin instead.

You both giggled, wrapped up in your own little world together.

A small exasperated sigh came from across the room as Saeran averted his eyes from yet another display of affection and refocused his attention elsewhere. He vaguely wondered if you two ever got tired of doing that. Probably not. His brother was clearly nothing if not committed.

106 notes · View notes

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.

40 notes · View notes

suspiciouslybluemilktea · 2 years

Text

He squished your cheeks firmly within one hand. It was easier to belittle you with that dumb pufferfish look on your face.

“That’s because you��ve been making stuff up about me in your head, haven’t you? I bet…I bet that you comfort yourself by twisting up the reality of your situation. You’re rather pathetic.”

There was a peculiar intensity in Unknown’s eyes, and his voice seemed to teeter on a fine line between a waver caused by red anger…or something else.

“In your head…you think that I need you. You work yourself up silly convincing yourself that I have weaknesses within me which make me vulnerable here like you. But no, here I am king, and you my dog. I feed you, not the other way around.”

You allowed him to continue his spitfire.

“You bend yourself to my whims and I don’t even have to do anything to manipulate you, do I? And that’s because you do that all on your own. You’ve made me your saving grace within your ideal paradise.”

Only after hearing that rubbish did you finally push his hand away. Your lack of fear only caused him to want to spurn you further.

“Don’t like the truth, hmm? Look at you…all curled up in my lap now, when at first you could barley stand the sight of me. Is it because you now judge me as safe to be around after the slightest change? Is that why you think it’s ok to always behave this way?”

If someone were to describe the way the two of you stared so intensely at each other in moments like these, they’d say it was a vicious dance of dragons. Unknown was difficult to get to, laborious to reach as the current queen already had so much ascendancy over him. She pointed and he’d scorch to ashes only in accordance to what he was told. He had no mind of his own, really.

“I grow tired of your insistent barking as I try to take care of you. For someone who so eagerly wished to teach me that you’d be the one keeping me safe under your wing, you sound so displeased to finally have my trust and service, boss.”

“I won’t have you treating me like I’m weak, or like you’re some kind of life line for me. Don’t think that I can’t see the way you daydream me to be the type who meets you with roses in hand.”

“Unknown, the you I court has a gun, not roses. I know that you’re fine on your own, but what you need to do is accept that I can make you better. No monarch has ever ruled truly alone. What do you think all of those advisers were for?”

Deep down, you knew you could stick your claws into his brain to shuffle it around same as she did. The poor boy was easily swayed if situations appeared to be for his benefit, and you intended to make use of that.

Unknown looked ready to burst like an over ripe berry at your challenging words, which only continued to keep coming.

“And if you’re king, does it make this shitty office chair your throne?”

You adjusted your position to run your fingertips through his corse hair, sitting in a rather odd manner still in his lap.

“Kings don’t work tirelessly day in and day out. Kings rest in large beds with silk sheets, getting plenty of sleep and stuffing themselves silly knowing the rest are starved. You, my love, are a pawn like me.”

Unknown had never hit you before, but from the look he wore that was about to change if you didn’t do something to adjust the atmosphere. Now that you’ve successfully awoken the side of him that was more hasty with little rationality, you’d once again deliver that golden message you tried to get him to start parroting in his own mind. You wanted him to start believing it was the rightful path he deserved.

“I don’t believe I’m the one twisting up our situation here…and I certainly don’t view you as weak.”

“Don’t say any more shit to me, unless you want to spend a week in the dungeons!”

“You’re my king, but that woman doesn’t allow you any power outside of this room. You’re the strongest out of all of us, and this operation wouldn’t even be possible without you. Can’t you see she’s locking you away…and it’s all because she knows you’re the only threat around here to her. As we speak there is a banquet feast tonight and you, her right hand, aren’t even allowed to be by her side to become a familiar authoritative face. She hasn’t even saved you a plate-”

“What are you getting at, pathetic pet!”

“Revenge would go a lot less slow if this was your show, Unknown. Things would actually get done around here without the tiptoeing fuss, and you’d get the treatment you deserve for all that you do for us.”

You tenderly cupped his cheek, ignoring the way he appeared as if he’d bite your hand off, inching your face closer to his.

“I’m tired of being the only one around here who seems to care about you. That woman doesn’t clean your elixir laced vomit or worry that you haven’t eaten all day. She doesn’t know the way you suffer or bother to ask, and she doesn’t kiss your forehead after you collapse with exhaustion each night or wrap you with blankets. But I do.”

The way you hovered your lips so close to his worked to slightly nullify his rage. Your forehead pressed against his helped to give him some of the affection he lacked in his life, and you sensed this touch was foreign to him long ago. It’s what gave gentle caress it’s power.

“I propose…that you become not just my savior, but everyone else’s. You care for me in ways she’s never cared for any of the believers…you’re fit to rule more so than any of us here. You’re brilliant, and you’d look so beautiful dripping in the golds of the savior. Our brothers and sisters deserve someone real to bow their heads to and honor as they strive for paradise, and there is no better fit individual than you. You know better than anyone how hard the work load is, she only pretends to sympathize. I haven’t been making up stuff in my head about you, I only know reality. Can’t you see, Unknown? I only want what’s best for you because I love you.”

Brushing your fingers along his bare shoulder which bore the symbol of the eye, you let your end goal slip through a breathless whisper.

“And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty…”

#saeran x reader #unknown saeran #unknown mystic messenger #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #BE Mc Drabble #sorry unknown you’re getting lady Macbethed bro #bad savior ending style that is #savior unknown would be interesting….#tried to incorporate some royal themes hope it’s not too cheesy

92 notes · View notes