#mystic messenger fics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sleepingdeath-light · 7 months

Text

red and the wolf ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 974

content ; sexually explicit content, dirty talk, slight praise kink, penetrative sex

fandom ; mystic messenger

pairing ; hyun ryu / zen x gender neutral reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

When your boyfriend had called himself 'a wolf' in the bedroom you'd just brushed it off as a joke about him having a high libido (which your perpetually aching thighs and few dozen pairs of ruined underwear could attest to). But now, with him looming over you in with those sparkling, perfectly white teeth, and glimmering red eyes, and that deep voice that sounded like something between a growl and a whisper, you couldn't help but think he was being far more literal than you'd initially given him credit for.

Not that you were complaining, of course, it was nice to be manhandled every once in a while — even if all of the filth falling from those beautiful lips of his was starting to drive you mad.

Zen urged you to be loud, to make as much noise as you want and more — leaning down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear and whispering in that heavy evening voice of his to ask if you can be 'louder' for him. Practically begging you to keep making all of those 'pretty noises' you know he loves. And every whimper and moan and gasp earned you a cuss, or a grunt, or a perfectly angled thrust of his cock straight into that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. A reward for your obedience punctuated by wet, messy kisses to your lips that were more tongue and teeth than anything else (oh how swollen your lips would be tomorrow, marred with the indents of his teeth and your own, bitten so deeply that you could already taste your own coppery blood on your tongue despite how young the night still was).

He downright worshipped your body between thrusts: groping at every ridge, and swell, and dip, and scar — complimenting each part of you with an earnestness that you knew better than to dispute. Calling you 'hot', 'sexy', and 'all mine' as he sucked, bit, and marked his way along your throat and jaw. Tenderly lapping at your pulse point and chuckling when he felt it jump after a particularly playful slap to your backside. He playfully calls you his 'little pet'; the 'red' to his 'wolf' — and he mouths wet promises against your throat of not stopping until the mattress is hanging off of the bed and you're both too tired to go on (and with his stamina, well… you'll surely have a long night ahead of you).

He then effortlessly lifted your trembling thigh with one hand to wrap it around his waist, feeling the muscles of his abdomen pressing into your skin as he pressed his muscular chest down against yours. And in that same husky voice, Zen praised you for taking him 'so well' tonight, words that barely reach you as you’re far too close to climax to notice much beyond how good it feels to have him touching you and the waves of pleasant heat washing over your body as you start to mount your peak.

Clearly he’s not too far behind as you can just about see him gritting his teeth through your hazy vision as he tried his best to last out for you. Pace quickening and deepening as he eagerly chased your high and chased your lips with his own with the same amount of ferocity you’d come to expect from him, calling you 'perfect', and 'made for me', and telling you how you feel 'so fucking good, babe,'. Each broken phrase an island of coherence amongst the endless stream of growls, and moans, and grunts that slip from his lips as he pounds his hips into yours and fills your hole with his dick in that way you love (and how could you not?).

Long strands of white hair fall over his shoulders and out of his up-do, tickling your nose and sticking to the sweat covering your body and face as you started to rapidly approach your climax. But by now you're too distracted by the way it felt to be stretched out on that pretty cock of his, and the distant sensation of him slipping one of those large, soft hands into yours and holding it tightly — grounding you in the same way that he was kept grounded by the sharp stinging pain of your fingernails digging into the toned, pale expanse of his shoulders and back — to care about anything like that. Even the fuzzy sound of his voice praising you, and cussing, and grunting and moaning against your lips (and jaw and cheeks and throat, always moving and marking and loving you) was too distant to your muddy mind for you to truly notice or understand beyond your short responses in the shape of moans and whimpers.

Then something snaps and the world around you comes crashing down, washed away with what remained of your coherent thoughts by the torrent of burning pleasure that wracked through your body. Kept in that blissful, whited-out place by his soft lips, and endless flirting, and expert thrusting as you lost yourself in the pounding of your heart, and the aching of your lungs, and the intense sensations that left your whole body limp and trembling, and your entrance pulsing and fluttering around your Zen. No longer able to do anything but moan, and gasp, and whimper until your throat was too hoarse to do even that.

And Zen (your Zen, your wolf) followed soon after with a loud cry (howl, even) of your name as he filled you completely with his seed. Pressing his sweat slicked forehead against yours as you both try and catch your breath. Completely messy and blissed out and in love; red and their wolf, basking in the musky afterglow before going straight back into the fray the moment you had both come back down to earth.

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #minors dni #minors dont touch #minors fuck off #smut #smut fic #mysme smut #mysme x reader #zen smut #zen x reader #mystic messenger smut #mystic messenger x reader

165 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

195 notes · View notes

kirbyskisses · 1 year

Text

kirby’s kinktober (twenty-eight)

camera//saeran choi

sometimes 707 thinks you forget that he can see and hear everything in your house at all times with his constant security measures.

silly little scenes of you sneaking a bag of his honey buddha chips right after chastising him for eating too many. you singing a guilty pleasure song while walking to the bathroom.

this is not one of those times. this time he is absolutely sure you know he’s watching. because your soft eyes are directly on the camera. and your fingers directly in your pussy.

you give a choked moan of his name. his real name. he almost chokes as well, breath caught in his throat.

“saeyoung.~”

you shivered as his golden eyes inspect the screen. you’re kneeling on the bed for him and god your skin looks so soft - there’s a deep urge in him to walk down the hall to you.

but another part of him doesn’t want to ruin the show you seem so desperate to, and calculated in, giving him.

besides, never been one to match though sexual confidence or somebody like zen or even jumin, he’s about 89% sure he would be a blushing, shaking mess, with his face as red as his hair by the time he’d even open your door.

he wouldn’t want you to laugh at him so he grips his knees and looks closer, not prying his eyes away from the monitor.

you pull your panties aside, and he can’t quite tell if it’s just camera grain but - no, that is most definitely a wet spot over your clit.

he feels dizzy, like his head is going to explode.

positioning the head of a vibrator against your clit you bite you lower lip, eyes never leaving the lens through which he stares down at you.

the little toy shakes on low speed, and slowly teases the tip over your clit causing soft moans slip from you mouth.

“saeyoung. oppa, it feels” you gasp again, “so good”.

so wet already. so turned on, that you slip the tip of the toy down to your entrance almost immediately, moaning deeper as it pressed inward.

just the tip.

his hand almost reaches into his pants before he makes as conscious decision to make a fist. he knows any second now you’re going to beg for him and he has to save it all for you, no matter how uncomfortably sticky and hard he gets.

you wanted him to enjoy the tease, pushing the vibrator with gentle and shallow strokes in and out to start with. just those little, teasing thrusts, the slow rumbling vibrations adding to the sensation as you briefly slip the tip back up over your clit.

clear strands of precum still connect it to your opening, and it shines with his favorite shade of red.

"oppa…” you whisper.

“sae, you feel so good. please, seven. i can't hold back any more...i need to cum for you - please come here and let me cum for you!”

that purr goes straight to his cock. and your next whine forces him out of his seat and to the door, his embarrassed flush be damned.

#mysme #mystic messenger x mc #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger #mysme x reader #707 #luciel choi #707 x reader #luciel x reader #luciel x mc #707 x mc #full fic #smut #kirby’s kinktober #mysme saeyoung #saeyoung x reader #saeyoung x mc

903 notes · View notes

wildelydawn · 7 months

Note

“I’m telling you, Chay! You gotta download this dating sim! It’s so fucking cute!” Ohm scrolls a bit and shoves his phone in Chay’s face. “Look at him!” An angry, but very hot man in a full suit and pony tail is on Ohm’s screen.

Chay bats Ohm’s phone away. “Why do you even play those games?”

“Oh, please. You would eat this shit up. Between that nasty stuff you’re writing instead of taking notes and the spank bank you have on your wall- OW!”

Chay nudges Ohm again. “Keep your voice down!” Chay leans in, whispering furiously. “Writing about WIK is private. This is a stupid social media game.”

“You used to play dating sims all the time!”

“Yeah! And then I realized real dating is nothing like a video game!”

Ohm sends him a referral code. “Come on, give it a shot. It’s fun. And it’s not like you’ve got any dates lined up.”

“Ugh, Ooohhhhm.”

“Just click on the link and make an account! So I can get the coins! Then you can delete it.”

“Fine, but not now. I’m busy.”

Later that same night, Chay receives a text from Ohm, reminding him yet again to make an account for A Ravishing Romance!, the newest and hottest dating sim on the market.

According to the lore, the player is the protagonist who is visited by Nya, a “cat tamer” who whisks the player away to a secret island, The Meowland Marshes, where cat boys are running rampant. The protagonist has to romance each catboy, cat girl, or cat-person (depending on the settings the player chooses) and prepare them for the Adoption Party that’s happening in a week. If the protagonist fails to romance all the catboys in time, the Adoption Party doesn’t happen, and the Meowland Marshes are lost to the antagonists, the Kittjinn, evil spirits trying to take the catboys and make them their personal minions. If the player successfully dates all the catboys, brings them to the Adoption Party, gets all of them “adopted,” then the player successfully wins the game, and they get to choose the catboy they want to adopt.

The game sounds so bad that it could be good.

There’s a free version and a very adult version for some money.

Chay is not going to spend 400 baht on a dating sim. But the coins are important to Ohm, so he downloads the free version, starts up the app, makes his gender neutral character named WIK, and begins the prologue to the game.

The game…. Is really something.

Nya, the catboy who’s going to narrate the game, is a blue-haired, pale skinned, lean looking man with a black crop top, choker, tight leather pants, and blue jewelry and accents. Anndddd he’s sporting the whole cat ears and tail and teeth thing. After explaining the prologue (Nya picked you, the protagonist, out of the other 8 billion people on earth because you wrote the most Kudos!’d catboy fanfic on Database of Our Own), Nya whisks you away to Meowland Marshes.

There, Nya basically traps Chay’s character in an apartment and tells him he has a week to romance all five catboys on the Marsh. Nya gives you a weird looking whistle that attaches to your phone; blow on it, and you can call Nya for help, access the catboys you’ve already romanced, or take yourself to the Pawwwn Shoppe, where you can buy treats, outfits, catnip, leashes, and other weird cat (and kinky) stuff to lure the boys.

Chay clicks on one of the grasslands first because allegedly, one of the catboys is there.

Whisked away to the grassland, Chay encounters his first cat boy. He’s dark haired, wearing a white button up that is definitely not anywhere close to being buttoned up, with some maroon pants. He has his maroon blazer hanging on his shoulder, and his tail is up and ears relaxed.

“Hey there. Did you happen to find a watch here?” the cat boy asks.

The game gives Chay two options:

“Uh, no. Sorry dude.”

“No, but I can definitely help you look for it!”

Chay sighs. He needs to find at least three catboys to reveal the rest of the map and to get Ohm his bonus coins. He clicks on the second option.

“Oh, thank you! I was being chased by some rabid dogs, but I think I dropped it somewhere. I can’t leave it behind. It’s like a collar.”

*You and the catboy look around the tall grass. He captures three mice, scratches behind his ear, meows in a pained voice before you find the watch.*

The catboy goes from sad to elated. Now Chay can see his thick forearms as he punches the air. Pink hearts erupt on the screen. “Thank you! You’re a really nice person! This watch means a lot to me. But since you were so kind, I’ll let you have it.”

The game gives Chay two options:

“No thank you! I have a phone that tells time already. I’d love your number though! ;) ”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you. I’ll cherish it forever, Mr…?”

Chay rolls his eyes and clicks the first option.

The catboy goes from elated to coy, his thick eyebrows raised. “Wow, you work fast. My name is Kinn, but I’m not that easy. Come back tomorrow and I’ll think about answering when you call.”

The screen lights up and Chay’s character’s phone rings. Chay clicks it, and now Kinn’s number is there. There are three options: CALL, TEXT, ASK ON DATE, and all three of them won’t be available until tomorrow.

Chay sighs. He opens the map and finds another location: a spa. Why would cats go to a spa? No idea, but this game makes so little sense to Chay, that he just clicks on it anyways. The sooner he finishes these first quests, the sooner he can delete the game.

A high pitched musical note signals that Chay’s character has landed in the spa. There, he finds another cat, but this one has a mischievous grin on his face. His ears are twisted back, like he’s ready to pounce on Chay’s little character. The only weird thing is that his legs are in the water… his fully clothed legs.

“Aren’t cats supposed to be afraid of water?” Chay muses. He clicks on the catboy.

“Ah, did you bring me my red wine?”

The game gives Chay two options:

“No, but I have these extra large condoms and some harnesses if you really wanna relax.”

“No, but you shouldn’t drink. It’s only 1PM.”

Chay clicks the second option. The catboy goes from passive to annoyed, a little vein popping out.

“Who cares what time it is? I’m at the spa! Go find me a glass of wine and put it under my tab: Vegas.”

A sad face pops up on the screen. Apparently, Chay has met Vegas the Catboy, but hasn’t secured his number. So Chay must try again tomorrow.

“That’s irritating,” Chay sighs.

The final place that’s open to explore on the Meowland Marshes is the park. Chay clicks there and the same high pitched sound transports him there.

On a bench, surrounded by flowers and bushes, another catboy sits, with a guitar.

Chay’s jaw drops.

This catboy looks suspiciously like WIK. As in, real life singer WIK who’s currently promoting his second album on a sold out tour. The catboy is wearing a gray t-shirt and light-washed jeans, and lots of silver jewelry. His hair is longer towards the back, and his ears and tail are slightly droopy. He has a notebook next to him on the bench.

Clearly, the game developer is keeping up with the times.

Chay clicks on the catboy.

“Oh. Hello. Am I making too much noise?”

The game gives Chay two options:

“No, you sound great!”

“No, but you sound stuck. Want some help?”

Imagine helping WIK with writing a song? Chay thinks. Only in his dreams. He clicks on the second option.

The cat boy’s tail perks up immediately. “You write music too? That’s great. Can you tell me how this sounds?”

Suddenly, a really slow guitar starts to play. The tune is melancholy and sweet at the same time.

Sort of like WIK’s music.

When the tune plays, the catboy says: “What do you think?”

The game gives Chay two options:

“It’s perfect! Don’t change anything!”

“It’s really good, but maybe change…” *give basic music advice.*

Chay laughs. He clicks the second option.

The catboy’s face changes to a soft smile. Pink hearts fill up the screen, which didn’t happen for the other two catboys. “Wow, that’s good advice. I should get lessons from you. Do you come to the park often?”

The game gives Chay two options:

“Yeah, I love smelling the flowers. How about you?”

“Yeah, I love birdwatching. How about you?”

Chay clicks the first option.

More pink hearts fill the screen. The catboy’s smile gets even bigger and the guitar goes from his lap onto the bench. “Me too. I hate being at home, so I stroll through the park a lot. And flowers feel good when I touch the petals. I wish I could rub my face in them.” The cat boy goes from smiling to shy. “My name is Kim, by the way. What’s your favorite kind of flower?”

The game gives Chay two options:

“Uh, I don’t know the names, but the pink ones?”

*take a pink flower from the bush and put it in Kim’s hair.* “You.”

For shits and giggles, Chay hits the second option.

Red hearts appear on the screen while Kim the Cat boy blushes and touches the pink flower in his hair. “That…” There’s nothing else on the screen before the game gives Chay another two options:

“You look pretty like this.”

“I want to spend my life with you.”

Chay clicks the second option.

Suddenly, Chay’s phone becomes warm. Then hot. The app goes black and his phone shuts down, but now it’s burning in his hands. With a yelp, Chay drops his phone, and a silvery white beam erupts from it, blinding him. A strange breeze sweeps up the papers off his desk, and it picks up speed as Chay covers his eyes and feels his shirt billow against the gusts of wind.

There’s a loud thud, a soft groan.

Chay uncovers his eyes as the light dims.

A man in a gray shirt and light wash jeans is heaped onto the floor. With a flower in his hair.

Not a man.

A cat boy.

Chay feels faint as the man-cat-boy hybrid stands up and dusts off his pants. “Your life… with me?” as if Kim is continuing the same conversation from the game.

Chay can hardly breathe. “What the fuck is going on?” he whispers.

Still looking shy, Kim the man-cat-boy hybrid repositions the flower carefully. “I think it’s too soon to move in with each other. Maybe we can…” He looks up towards Chay. “I’m hungry. Do you… do you want to go get some noodles?”

#personal #my fics #myfics #lmao hi shou #this was fun to write #KimChay #KimPorchay #DatingSimAU #Shou-jpeg #ask #answered #i'm so sorry i'm so srryus #long post #no i did not play hunnie pop and mystic messenger obsessively what do you mean???#There's a Shugo Chara easter egg here for any magical girl girlies #Dawn's Ficlets

112 notes · View notes

password-door-lock · 2 months

Text

Lately I can't stop thinking about sharing a bed with Saeran.

GE Saeran sleeps on his side (as evidenced by the CG where he’s sleeping on his side lol). If you also sleep on your side, then he probably wants to be the little spoon (unless you have a strong preference to the contrary, in which case the two of you can alternate) but if you sleep in the fetal position or something like that, then he's perfectly content being the big spoon, as well. If you sleep on your stomach or your back, then he'll curl up against you with an arm draped over you. The most important thing for him is being close to you, and he can be flexible as far as what that looks like. I do think that if you end up as the little spoon at night due to your sleeping position, you'll probably end up as the big spoon a lot more when the two of you cuddle during the day. Also, the shark plushie is going to be present while the two of you are resting— if he's holding you, Saeran probably won't be able to also hold onto the shark, but it'll still be in the same bed. Maybe you might even be the one to hold onto it some nights! Although physical touch is something he really enjoys, if you’re not feeling up to it for whatever reason, Saeran totally understands! He might elect to wear one of your sweatshirts to bed instead (and let you wear one of his if you’d like to) or cuddle with one of your plushies. Ultimately, what’s most important to him is that both of you feel safe and comfortable while you get the rest that you need. He likes having two or three really plush pillows and only minimal blankets, since he doesn’t get cold easily during the night— he probably won’t even notice it if you steal the covers from him in your sleep. Even though Saeran wakes up occasionally in the middle of the night, he doesn't worry about it too much. He knows that he's still getting rest as long as he's laying there, even if he isn't technically asleep, and of course, he cherishes the time with you.

Ray also sleeps on his side, but unlike GE Saeran, he's very, very nervous about accidentally upsetting you or unknowingly crossing your boundaries. He’s new to this, and he can’t imagine that you would actually want him that close to you. Even if you tell him it's okay, Ray probably wouldn't want to initiate any physical contact at first, though of course, he daydreams about holding you close. He'd probably stay securely on his own side of the bed, taking care not to bother you in any way as he falls asleep watching you rest— he’ll allow himself to turn to face you. To him, being able to look your way while he falls asleep is pure heaven. If you don’t want to be touched, Ray totally understands that— the last thing he wants is to cross your boundaries, and besides, he’s happy enough just seeing that you’re resting well. If, however, the two of you have been together longer and gotten more comfortable sharing a bed, then he'll be over the moon to cuddle up with you if you’d like. Ray really likes being held— if you sleep on your back, he'll rest his head on your chest. If you sleep on your stomach, he might try sleeping on his stomach, too, and you can drape your arm around him. If you sleep on your side, he wants to be the little spoon. If you sleep in the fetal position, he'll probably figure out some creative contortion that allows him to be held by you all night. But, of course, if you'd prefer to be held instead, then he'd be happy to do that sometimes, too! He doesn’t really like to be under the covers at all, and he’s not used to using a pillow, so he doesn’t have any very specific pillow preferences. Although his body won’t let him sleep for more than three hours straight (he has nightmares, and his circadian rhythms are skewed anyway), he’s worried about waking you up, so he’ll stay with you for as long as he’s able to justify putting off his work, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

Suit sleeps on his back. It's the way that he feels the safest— he's able to look around the room and see everything as he's falling asleep and if he's woken up. If, for some reason, you find yourself falling asleep in the same bed as him before his apology (which is very unlikely), it will likely be your idea. First, he’ll laugh at you for even suggesting something like that, and then, if he decides to humor you, he'll probably just pose you on your side, curled up against him, with his arm around you possessively. It doesn't matter how you normally sleep— you're his toy, and he's already being very generous by letting you rest in the first place. He sees sleeping when one could be working as a sign of weakness, so he’ll probably do his best to stay up even if you fall asleep in this position, and he may even taunt you for being so clueless as to show him such a vulnerable side of yourself. In actuality, he has no idea what to do once you’re actually beside him, and he might end up getting frustrated and pushing you away. However, after his apology, he'd be even more nervous and awkward than Ray— but Suit, too, ultimately does like to be held. He'd let you curl up next to him with his arm around you, rest your head on his chest, or even lean against him, depending on how you’re the most comfortable. Even if he can’t understand why on Earth you would even want to cuddle up with somebody like him, he has no intention of causing you any more discomfort or pain. If you're a stomach sleeper, though, he might end up with his arm at an awkward angle all night to accommodate you, so be warned and adjust accordingly! That being said, if you’re not someone who enjoys physical touch, the last thing he wants to do is cross your boundaries again! As much as he likes being held, he'll be just as content to lay beside you without touching and listen to your calm breathing as you sleep. He likes firm pillows, and he feels much more secure laying on top of the covers in his suit than snuggling up under them in flimsy pajamas. He’s too hyper-vigilant at Magenta to fall asleep easily, but he’ll set an alarm for one hour just in case he does manage to drift off for a bit. Whether he’s taking a break from hacking the messenger or hiding from the believers, Suit does not have time to lay around with you forever.

Unknown doesn't really like to sleep very much. Sometimes, he falls asleep at his desk— whether you happen to be sitting on his lap or not. He doesn’t care at all about his own comfort— the only reason he ever sleeps is because his body is forcing him to, and the way he sees it, a stiff neck is worth it if it gets him even a little bit closer to his revenge. The rest of the time, he uses the couch that's been brought into the intelligence room so that he doesn't have to waste time walking to his room and back during the night. On those nights, neither one of you has many options other than to sleep on your side— Unknown likes to have you facing him, with your head resting against his chest. Pressing you close to him like that gives him a weird sense of comfort that he can’t really explain. Besides, he doesn’t like the idea of you looking at his monitors while he’s asleep if you lay facing away from him, so he tells himself that it's not like he really has a choice. If the two of you actually end up in a bed, then that means he's too exhausted to argue that it's a waste of time— he might end up sprawled across the mattress however he falls on it, taking up most of the available space and leaving you to slide in wherever and however you'll fit. It’s been so long since he’s had a proper night’s sleep in a proper bed that he’s probably going to be a bit awkward about it. If he's awake enough, he'll pull you close and hold onto you for more of that strange comfort, but he might be too tired even for that. If you don’t want to be touched, there’s a really simple solution for that— you can just sleep at a different time from him, or in a different location, and he’ll give you work to do while his body is forcing him to rest. He doesn’t care where or how or if you sleep— he just cares that you’re getting your work done, or so he claims, at least. He doesn’t see any point in using pillows or blankets when he can sleep just fine without them, and he honestly thinks you’re kind of spoiled for wanting things like that. Because he regularly pushes his body to the limit, when he does allow himself to rest, he sleeps very heavily for a fairly long time. If you’re in his grip, then you’re not getting out of it anytime soon, and otherwise, you’d best leave him alone.

SE Saeran also sleeps on his back, and his thoughts on sharing a bed are... complicated. He likes to be close to you, but he often has nightmares, and he knows that he kicks sometimes in his sleep. You’d have to be very, very close to him for Saeran to allow you to see him in such a vulnerable position, and even then, he’d still be nervous about inadvertently doing you harm. After all, he’s tried sleeping with plushies before, and he always wakes up to find that he’s thrown them onto the floor during the night. What if he pushes you off the bed or something? What if he lashes out, erroneously thinking that you’re one of the monsters from his past? The first couple of times you stay over, he doesn't sleep at all— he just lays beside you, feeling calmed by your peaceful breathing, even if he's anxious. Then, after that, he'll try out sleeping with you in the same bed but not touching him at all, and when he finds that he doesn't accidentally kick or elbow you in his sleep, he'll start to feel more comfortable with the idea of getting closer. Sometimes, he’s content to fall asleep in your embrace, whatever that might look like. Sometimes, he wants to cuddle with you for a while before separating to sleep on separate sides of the bed. Sometimes, though, he might decide that he doesn’t want to be touched at all, and the two of you might stay on opposite ends of the bed all night, or you’ll go home early and video call him from your own bed, instead. Naturally, on nights when you have similar issues, Saeran will be just as accommodating. He’s not picky about pillows, but he’s strongly opposed to having any kind of covers over him, and he often sleeps with a fan because he feels like the bunker is too hot. If you like having lots of blankets, he’ll keep them in his room for you, but the pair of you will have to work something out to ensure that he doesn’t get too hot during the night. Sometimes he gets up in the middle of the night, but he’s always sure to be extra careful when getting in and out of bed so that he doesn’t disturb your rest.

#“short and sweet little headcanons” that somehow expanded to nearly 2k words #I've been thinking about this a lot a lot lately #I wanted to include headcanons for an MC who doesn't want to be touched too #Because as much as I love the idea of cuddling with Saeran sometimes I just. cannot #Also I realize that I've never really explicitly said anything about the intelligence room couch I've just added it to all my fics so #Here it is again #mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanon #choi saeran #saeran choi

45 notes · View notes

xelasrecords · 7 months

Text

Tea! Would You Like Some?

Han Jumin x Reader

Jumin Week 2023 - Day 3: Quality Time @juminweek2019

High-quality time shared between two people highly stupid about their feelings. And for each other.

My x reader comeback after so long! Had a meet cute recently so y'all get a lighthearted crushing stage fic for once :)

Words: 3.9k

Masterlist Read on AO3

How soon you could come had no correlation to Jumin's expectation of seeing you materialise in his living room. At least, that was what he told himself. His traitorous fingers told a different thing. They had typed out a message asking where you were, if there was any problem with your ride, if you had input the correct address in your map, and if he needed to send out a search party if you didn't reply in the next five minutes, but that, he felt, would be too drastic.

Jumin erased the last part and sent the text. He sighed, fingers drumming on the arm of his white sofa. Contrary to Zen's belief, he was not one to blow things out of proportion. He always did just enough and everything else was simply a precaution.

Perhaps a five-minute grace was not precaution enough. Four minutes. He could wait for four.

The second his doorbell rang, Jumin leapt to his feet. He never considered the distance from the living room to the entrance too far, but now he doubted the interior design of his penthouse. Large spaces allowed him to breathe—until you took it away just by not reneging on your promise to visit. You were someone he had only met a handful of times, always with the other members and never at his own place.

Today was special. Today he decided to ignore his fear of being left behind by his loved ones and let you in.

You could be someone he loved. You could be the one who stayed.

Jumin composed himself and opened the door, and there you were, standing with your hands deep in your pockets, waiting for him.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you. Despite being mussed by the wind, your hair fell beautifully around your face like a divine frame that accentuated your features. Your eyes were bright, your smile was wide, and you were wrapped in a coat that must be your favourite. He never saw you without it. He wished he knew more about your fashion sense so he could gift you clothes that you would like. He also wished he was close enough to see himself in your eyes' reflection, but that time would come later. Everything had its order, and patience was a virtue that had been drilled into him since childhood.

"I have been waiting for you," said Jumin, not bothering to hide the relief in his voice. "Did anything happen on your way here? You didn't reply to my text."

"I was rushing." Your smile turned apologetic. "Didn't check my phone, sorry."

Jumin stepped aside to let you in. The fact that your hand could have grazed his had you walked nearer to him did not escape his attention. "No matter. It's all right now that you're here."

Leading you to the white plush sofa where he had waited with perfect calmness, he felt tense and oddly exposed, like he was anticipating a foreboding that might come to pass. He did not feel like Han Jumin. This was an iteration of him that he had not been acquainted with.

"Did I make you wait too long?" you asked.

"No," Jumin said. "You didn't have to hurry. You were not yet late." He hoped the sofa would be good enough for you. He had asked his housekeeper to clean off every speck of dust he could detect, twice over.

You sat down and stared at him with a look that he couldn't discern. "I wanted to be early."

Jumin took a seat beside you, careful to maintain a respectful distance despite his heart's protest. "You possess an excellent sense of time management. We will get along well." Compliments flowed out of him easily when it came to you. If you let him, he would graciously point out your strengths one by one.

But was that disappointment on your face?—though it disappeared before he could probe further. "Yes, I love time and managing stuff." You sighed. "That's why I'm the assigned party coordinator."

Now that you were at the spot where he had cast secret spells to summon you, Jumin wasn't sure what to say. He was desperate to know if you shared his jitters. You were motionless, spine straight and hands clasped on your lap, studiously watching the black television screen. There was nothing save for the blurred reflection of both of you sitting in a similar position. He had been imagining all sorts of exciting conversations with you, but your presence had flung them out of his head. This had never happened before. An MRI scan was in order after you went home.

It was possible that you were growing bored, though your affable expression had not indicated so. But it might not mean anything, for you always seemed pleasant. You were very, very pleasant to look at. It was also possible that he was the only one with an insatiable curiosity towards you. For all he knew, you could be with a partner and merely accepted his invitation to hang out with him as a newly anointed member of the RFA. And you were a member. This was a friendly meet-up, nothing more.

"Tea," said Jumin suddenly. His voice echoed in the silence.

Startled, your head snapped to him. "What?"

"Everyone in my family learns to brew tea," Jumin explained. "The tea leaves in my pantry are directly imported from China, obtained from the only six three-hundred-year-old Wuyi trees in existence. The legend of this tea can be traced back to the age of emperors and dynasties, and it has become extraordinarily rare over time. It has the best quality in the world."

"How did you get it if it's so rare?" You were trying to hold a smile back, but it was not a mocking sneer. There was a certain fondness in it that made him want to let all his guard down and pull you into his arms.

"Auctions," Jumin simply said. "You ought to try it. It will keep you warm." Only then he noticed that you still had your coat on and was promptly filled with horror. "My apologies. I seem to have lost my manners." He outstretched his arm. "Leave your coat with me. It can't have been comfortable sitting in that."

"Shame." You handed it over. "I was planning to take a nap in this."

"Is that how people normally sleep? Or is it a tradition unique to you?" Jumin folded your coat into a perfect half over his forearm. "I'd appreciate it if you could teach me your ways."

"I was joking, Jumin. Should I teach you how to make one?" you said, in a tone so kind that he was taken aback. People tended to laugh at his face or look away politely when he failed to understand a joke.

"There is no need. I already have a handbook for it." Jumin was unable to keep smugness out of his voice. "It includes a list of one hundred jokes that you can make to both family and work colleagues alike. I have made good use of it when I need to break the ice."

"But does it include learning how to take one?"

"Unfortunately, I have yet to encounter a book for it."

You squeezed his shoulder, and the warmth of your touch penetrated all layers of his clothing that he had carefully planned. Navy blue suit, black tie, complete with a beige waistcoat and white striped shirt. Everything was new. "Don't worry," you said. "It just means the joke isn't funny to you. A good joke will make you laugh naturally."

"I see." Jumin fixed his tie. "I promise to laugh at your next joke."

"I said naturally. Honestly, Jumin. Please don't plan for it. You're going to give me performance anxiety."

"Then I look forward to your performance." He smirked, and you groaned. Something about you brought out the childlike side in him that he didn't know was still alive. "If you would wait here for a moment. I shall brew you a cup of tea. It won't be long."

Without waiting for your response, Jumin stood up, hung your coat on the silver coat rack by the hallway, and headed to the kitchen. Something was wrong with him. A smile kept threatening to break out of his face and there was a palpable beating in his throat when it should stay underneath his ribcage and he felt giddy about something. He was sure that this was abnormal. Was he finally living up to Zen's senseless claim that he was a strange creature? Jumin stowed these additional symptoms away for his next doctor's appointment. Forget MRI, he needed a full-body checkup.

Jumin heard a soft padding behind him as he turned on the kettle. Your footsteps were quiet, almost drowned by the gurgling of the boiling water and it reminded him of the elegance of Elizabeth the Third. He'd introduce you to her when she decided to make an appearance. The thought of the two of you getting along put a smile on his face.

"I thought you would've offered me wine before tea. Are you really Jumin?" you teased, peering from behind him. He was scooping oolong tea leaves into the strainer in a precise measurement when his muscles turned rigid. Your chin was nearly perched on his shoulder. He regretted that you didn't.

But Jumin dearly wished he knew either. He paused and looked over at you. Now he could see himself in your mischievous eyes. Now he saw how happy he was. The opportunity came sooner than he was prepared for. His breath hitched. "Would you like some wine instead?" he asked, keeping his gaze steady. "I have a wide variety you can choose from in the cellar."

"Tea is fine," you said. "I'll take anything you give me, really."

"Beware," Jumin said dryly. "You have not known me long. There could be poison in your drink."

It took a second for his joke to register, but when it did, you started to laugh. Jumin was stunned, then relaxed when he realised you were not under any pretences of politeness. He felt as if he got a high score for a competition he had unknowingly participated. He never used to put high importance on winning. As someone who consistently broke his own records, achievements were just another thing that his office and father would hold a customary celebration for.

But you were different. Your laughter was a prize he wanted to win all the time. He liked seeing you in joy, and liked that he was the source of it. It was a high that he never wanted to come down from.

"Did you copy that joke from your handbook?" you asked.

"I came up with it on the spot," said Jumin proudly, and your grin widened.

Your eyes flitted to the only china cup laid out on the marble countertop. "Aren't you making another for yourself?"

Jumin shook his head. "I'm not in the mood for tea."

You lifted a brow. "I am so surprised."

Jumin's forehead furrowed in genuine confusion. "Why would you be?"

You flailed your arms about. "Is tea not your passion?" you said. "You were fired up when you talked about it. That's all you've talked about. If I didn't know you better, I'd think it's your favourite drink in the world."

"I merely wanted to keep you warm, and a cup of tea was the fastest way to do it." Actually, Jumin thought being embraced by him would be faster, but he doubted you would accept his advanced advances. "You're the one who has been on my mind, not tea."

"Not tea," you repeated.

"It's nothing compared to you," Jumin affirmed.

"Oh." You pressed your palm against your cheek. "That's nice. You're nice." You gave a perfunctory sweep at his polished monochromatic penthouse, sparse but efficiently filled with the essential household items. "Your place is also nice."

But you were looking at everywhere but him, and that didn't feel as nice. "You might be the first person calling me nice besides V," Jumin said, deciding to focus on the positive. "And V is exempted as he is my closest friend. I'm not sure how to feel about this, to be honest. I'll have to think about it later."

"Take your time," you said, finally looking at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Quietly, Jumin poured hot water into the teacup and stirred sugar into the steaming amber liquid, allowing the clinking of the teaspoon to fill the space he couldn't. For all his desire to have his interest in you reciprocated, he could not picture the reality if you did. He wouldn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to invite you into his mind, yet was frightened by the thought of you being repelled after knowing him.

"Careful, it's hot," Jumin warned as you lifted the teacup to your lips. "Tell me, how do you find it? Is it to your taste?"

You took your time sipping the tea. He suspected you did it to keep him on his toes, and had to admit that it was part of your intrigue. Jumin could never guess your next move. Anything he predicted you would prove him wrong in the most delightful way possible.

You looked up from the rim of the cup. "What if I say it isn't?"

A connoisseur in understanding your jest now, Jumin replied, "I shall melt into a puddle and lie on the floor until you give me an honest review."

"I will mop your puddle and wring it out the window."

He looked at you thoughtfully. "I'd say I'm offended, but I heard that committing murder is an expressway to one's heart."

"Sometimes even literally," you agreed.

Jumin's eyes widened. "The double meaning escaped me. You are a genius."

You set your cup down on its saucer with a delicate clink. "But is murder the only way to your heart?"

Jumin forgot the mechanism of speaking. Due to his years of experience with women whom he never spared a glance for, he could detect the act of flirting when he saw one. And you were flirting. With him. He was eighty-nine per cent sure of it. You deemed him worthy to be flirted with. Jumin almost slid down to his knees.

"No." He managed to get a full sentence out. "No," he tried again, "but you don't even have to try. Whatever you're doing, you are doing it well." Two better sentences. Magnificent.

"That's too bad," you said. Jumin noticed that your hand was still wrapped around your cup, steam unfurling on the top of it. You must still be cold. "I've been waiting to hack through your chest with an axe."

Jumin walked towards the heater controller and turned it on. "Is homicide the only thing in your mind?"

"It's more of an ad break from the thoughts of you."

At that, Jumin turned around. You had been thinking about him. He knew how impossible it was to stop thinking about you, and your admission was making him lightheaded. Did you ever dream of him and then scramble for your phone the first thing in the morning just to hear his voice? Did you ever yearn to talk about him to your friends the way he did, except his only friend was doing his habitual disappearance and the loneliness was more profound now that you were his constant excitement but he had no one to tell it to? Did you have anyone you hold dear to your heart? Were you open to considering him as one someday? It was not yet appropriate to be so upfront with his questions, he knew.

But one question should be fine. "How long have you been thinking of me?" Jumin asked.

You leaned against the counter and crossed your legs. "I talk to you every day. So, every day." He wondered if your composure was a facade, the way his was.

Jumin nodded. "We share the same habit. I can't quite recall what I used to think about before you entered our lives."

"Your darling white cat, the cat projects that generate a steady loss for your company, and some new cat-friendly inventions? Jaehee's nightmares, basically."

Jumin chuckled. "You know me well. I must say I'm surprised." It wasn't so bad to be known. He could get used to the feeling. "Assistant Kang doesn't appreciate the fine things in life. It's a pity that Elizabeth the Third is hiding somewhere right now. If you see her, you'll understand why I do all those things for her."

"You love her," you said kindly. "I understand that enough."

Jumin stared at you. You kept saying the right things and he kept falling, falling, falling.

"You've finished your tea," Jumin noted, but not without regret. He dreaded having to let you go.

You studied the empty cup. "Wow, I think I inhaled it. You were right, it was the best tea I've ever tasted. Thank you."

"I hope you will stay longer. Do you have other arrangements for the evening?" Jumin, who had arranged his whole weekend around your visit, calmly inquired.

"I don't," you said, with just as much calmness.

"My collection doesn't stop at drinks," he said. "I have a brand new record player and an array of classic vinyls. You can peruse them if you'd like. A three-star Michelin chef will be flying in to prepare dinner and you can request anything you want, provided that you do it three hours prior. There's also a gym on the second floor, though exercising is probably not the best activity since you don't bring a change of clothes." He paused. "You don't happen to bring one, do you?"

"Jumin, I—no. But I could wear yours if I so desperately need to shower here."

He thought he saw your eyes suspiciously glittered, but it was gone when you blinked. "I don't have clothes that would fit you perfectly." He frowned. "They're all tailored to my body, you see. I'm afraid you wouldn't find much comfort in them. Now, would you like to sit down? I've made you stand for too long." He guided you to the kitchen island, fingers light around your wrist, and pulled out one of the brass bar stools. "Please excuse my bad manners today. Something must have come over me. I don't tend to be like this."

You settled in your seat only to swivel back to meet his towering figure. Your knees nudged his legs, and Jumin was stunned, unmoving. He thought an attraction was supposed to burn him alive, to light him up from the inside. What he felt now was akin to petrification. It crept up on him from the ground he stood and incapacitated his ability to form coherent thoughts.

"Jumin," you enunciated his name with great care. He had never thought his name was beautiful until it lulled out of your mouth. He wanted to brand it into his memory.

"Yes," he said, because it was the only thing his mouth could form.

"Your house sounds like a treat."

"That's because it is. You can entertain yourself here. Whatever you want, I will do my best to provide it for you."

"Other guys could give me those too. There have been some, you know," you confessed, and Jumin was torn between wanting to know more about your past and quelling down the illogical jealousy it spurred. "Gold-dipped bouquets with diamonds, fancy restaurants where they ordered for me without asking about my preferences, jewellery that I wouldn't pick for myself." Your voice was tinted with slight distaste, but it was gone in the next instance. "Do you think I was swayed by them?"

Now Jumin's gaze turned sharp. This was a test, he realised. Your intention was not to compare him to other men, nor was it to flaunt how desired you were. Jumin knew the latter well without needing you to prove it to him. He felt the torrent of his desire all the time. It threatened to wash him ashore and pull him back into the raging sea, never letting him be at peace until he could be certain you wanted him back. So what would you get out of your question? Whatever your goal was, he knew what he was supposed to do. You favoured honesty, just as he did. That was one of the many things he respected about you.

"I doubt you were," Jumin said. "Your affection isn't the kind that could be bought. I may not know you intimately, but I know you would not budge under insensitive bribery, and your tale reeked of one. What they did was foul and not driven by the best intentions. That's not how you, or anyone, should be treated."

Your expression softened as you reached for his hand. "I know you're not trying to impress me with your wealth. I'm sorry if I made you think so. I meant to show you that I'd be here even without you throwing those things at me. You called me just to meet up and I came right away. If I stay back, it's because I want to spend more time with you." You averted your eyes. "Did you have to make me say all that?"

Emboldened by your hold that you hadn't let go, Jumin tilted your chin and you leaned forward by a fraction. "You enjoy my company," he said, assessing your earnest face. He could hear his racing heartbeat in his ears. "But will you stay?"

"You'd really like an encore to embarrass me," you grumbled. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"You phrased it as a hypothesis. I cannot be sure that staying with me is what you want unless you state it clearly," Jumin pressed. Though he was always surrounded by people, no one had ever bothered to stay. Not for long. Not for the person he was.

His fear and desperation must have shown on his face, for you let out a small breath and gently squeezed his arm, before trailing your sight to the empty cup waiting on the counter. "I think you should refill my tea," you said slowly. "I need more if we'll talk into the night, won't I?"

The warmth from your hold spread throughout his body and a smile broke through Jumin's face, his uncertainty receding. Someone as beautiful and brilliant as you, a gem rarer than his tea—for those tea leaves could be reproduced but you were one of a kind—wanted him as much as he wanted you. It was the first real smile he wore in a while. "We can switch to something stronger after dinner," Jumin suggested.

"Wine," you guessed. Oh, how he loved that you could read his mind. "I knew it. You always default to wine. Farewell, tea. His affair with you has been short but memorable."

Jumin was all too eager to agree. "Farewell."

Jumin hoped it would be a long, long time before his relationship with you could end. If it would ever end.

The footnotes that I thought would be an occasional extra but they just won't go away:

This fic is inspired by good dates and bad dates and that early crush feeling when you don't quite know the person yet so everything feels exciting and scary.

Don't worry, Jumin's tea rambles didn't deviate from canon. On day 8 he wishes you to learn tea brewing since all his family does it. I thought it'd be fun to highlight his nervousness by making him do something unexpected, especially since he's the type who would randomly do something out of pocket while still maintaining his gravitas.

The tea's legend is based on Da Hong Pao, a very rare, government-protected Chinese tea that you can only get if the president honours you some and from auctions. I didn't think I'd research that deep for accuracy for a mere fic but what am I if not committed.

The header is made to seem like a cheeky ad in the spirit of Jumin's tea endorsement. Contemporary fun with a touch of antiquity is what I was going for to capture the fic's mood and Jumin's preference. The challenge was to make a dynamic animation without looking flat or too complicated but still fit the time, format and size constraints. People still need to be able to immediately read the text, which means no over-the-top entrances and transitions. Truthfully, I die a little bit inside whenever I have to sacrifice aesthetics for function but it is what it is!

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

#jumin week 2023 #jujuw23d3 #xela writes #jumin han x you #jumin x reader #jumin han fluff #mysme jumin #jumin han #mm jumin #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #jumin han fic

101 notes · View notes

natasha-in-space · 28 days

Text

Alright, it's the start of a new month, and as I am getting back into my writing groove, I might as well post my art for March in the meantime! First things first, a birthday gift for a friend ☆

They are glasses buddies.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #mystic messenger saeyoung #mysme 707 #luciel choi #saeyoung x mc #i think imma post them gradually instead of dumping it all in one day 🤔#just to have something while i am getting back to my danger ray fic

38 notes · View notes

luc606 · 1 year

Text

Seven doesn’t understand you. Or, rather, he understands you too well. He knows what it’s like to be stubborn and want the best from people only to be disappointed. He knows what it’s like to wait for something that never comes.

- i just wanted to write about cutting saeyoung's hair don't mind me pairing: Saeyoung/MC (gender neutral 2nd person) canon 707 route timeline read on ao3

Seven doesn’t remember his last haircut. He’s sure he got fed up with his hair falling into his eyes and drove to a random cheap salon. He’s sure he paid in cash, that he tipped plenty, that he barely spoke to the hairdresser. He thinks he might have thought about sending a selfie to the RFA chatroom, but he’s sure that he decided against it. He knows that there were times before, when he was deep in hiding and in work from the agency, where he cut his own hair. He’s learned not to trust himself with it, though.

His last haircut must have been at least a few months ago—before the hacker, the apartment, and the fight with V. Before you.

Seven’s hair has grown unruly, falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision. Deep in his work tracing the hacker, he pushes his bangs back with his headphones like a makeshift headband. He’s sure that he looks ridiculous and hopes that you don’t wake up to see him like this. It doesn’t occur to him that he shouldn’t care what you think of how he looks.

You’re curled up on the couch, asleep. Seven recalls, with some indignation, the declaration you made before staying on the couch. How you accused him of not getting enough rest, how you refused to go to bed until he took a break.

The fight ended in a stalemate and then in soft breaths from the couch beside him. You had fallen asleep, phone in hand, watching him work.

He sighs, rubs his eyes, and removes his headphones. This keeps happening—his thoughts building and building until he finds himself unable to continue working.

Fine. He owes it to you to take a break.

Seven ruffles his hair back into place. He washed it earlier and it air-dried, revealing the little cupid curls that he thinks make him look boyish and cute. The way his red hair coils around the nape of his neck reminds him of how adorable his brother was when they were both little. It also reminds him of the passage of time and of the mother who gave him the curls in the first place. The overall effect is bittersweet, like anything else within reach of Saeyoung Choi.

There’s a slight change in the pattern of your breaths, then Seven sees you shift, dropping your phone to your lap and rubbing sleep from your eyes. Seriously. It’s like you’ve got sixth sense just for him. He hadn’t even made a noise.

“Go back to sleep,” he says, barely a whisper. He doesn’t sell it, though. He wishes you would go all the way to the bed on the other side of the room and curl up out of his sight. Then, at least, maybe he would be able to concentrate.

You make a sound that’s somewhere in-between a groan and a huff. You’re not fully awake yet, but you’re awake enough to be disagreeable.

“Seriously…” Seven rolls his eyes. It’s almost funny, the lengths you’re going to just to spite him. He wishes he had it in him to laugh and call you silly. Caring for him to the point of exhaustion seems completely absurd.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You pick up your phone again, frowning at the screen. It’s nearly four in the morning. You’ve been asleep on the couch for two hours. “You’re taking a break, though.”

In a way, you’ve got what you wanted. Seven is resting his eyes and stretching his neck. You’re probably thinking that it’s better than nothing and counting a tiny win for yourself.

Seven sighs again, fluffing his curls out of his face with a shaking hand. He can’t imagine he’d be able to sleep even if he had the time.

“Is your hair bothering you?” Your voice is softer than usual, more timid. Seven recognizes an unfamiliar trepidation and cringes. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for shouting at you earlier. “You mentioned in the chatroom before…” You trail off, worrying your hands in your lap. “About needing to cut your hair.”

“It’s fine,” Seven says. “Don’t worry about it.” He feels a bit like a robot, programmed to self-isolate. He’s got a limited number of useful phrases; go away, leave me alone, don’t worry about me, I’m fine, let it go…

“I could trim it if you want. It really wouldn’t take long.” You straighten on the couch, squaring your shoulders at him. “It would be easier to work without hair in your eyes.”

As much as Seven wants to turn you down again, he sees the utility of it. His hair really is a nuisance, and the sensory overload of it is impeding his work.

“Fine,” he says, before he can change his mind. “Sure.”

You’re off the couch in an instant, flying to turn the lights in the living room back on. He can tell by the way you hide your face that you’re trying not to look too surprised that he’s accepted your offer. You don’t say anything as you pull a chair into the bathroom and a pair of haircutting scissors out of the sink cabinet. Seven follows, mesmerized by how quickly and effectively you spring into action. It’s like you’re a kitten, leaping from the shadows onto an unsuspecting ball of yarn.

Briefly, Seven wonders whether the haircutting scissors are yours or Rika’s. He’s already decided that it doesn’t matter when you say, “These are mine,” as if you’ve read his mind.

“Do you cut your own hair?” he asks.

You nod. “I trim my own bangs.”

Seven chuckles, a little of his old self coming back to him in his nervousness. “So, I’m in good hands, then?”

When you smile, Seven realizes that he’s missed seeing you at ease. It’s not as though it’s been very long since he’s seen your smile, but, still, he realizes that he’s been longing for it. Even when you’re right in front of him, he can feel the distance he’s put between the two of you. It’s an oppressive feeling of loneliness, like being lost in space with limited oxygen supply.

“Of course,” you say, playfully snipping the air, “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Seven follows your instruction to sit. After some hesitation, he shrugs off his jacket.

“Do you want to…” You trail off, biting your lip, looking worried. Seven is more attuned to your facial expressions now, perhaps overcompensating for how he’s hurt your feelings. He can’t stand thinking that you might be scared of him, even if that’s exactly what he needs you to be. Desire to keep the walls between you in tact is in constant combat with his desire to put you back at ease in his presence.

“Are you okay?” He sounds a bit like you, timid and sugary-sweet. His voice seems to echo with the memory of yours from the past few days. Half of the conversations he’s had with you have begun with your voice asking this same question in the same tone.

He watches you in the bathroom mirror as you nod your head, then shift on the balls of your feet. “Hair gets in your shirt collar.”

“So?”

You duck momentarily out of the frame of the mirror. Your voice behind him is half-hearted, like you’ve run out of steam. “Never mind.”

That’s when he realizes what you mean, and his mind becomes an overheating CPU again, whirring out of his control. He imagines taking off his shirt so that tiny hairs don’t stick to him when they fall. His muscles are a surprise to anyone that knows his habits, so he imagines seeing that surprise on your face. Warmth creeps across his neck at the thought.

“It’s okay. I have other shirts.” He already feels exposed enough without his hoodie, but it’s equal parts freedom and vulnerability. He sits a little taller, as if the weight of the jacket pressed his shoulders down when he wore it. His arms, though, feel stiff and too long without familiar pockets to rest in. He hasn’t made eye-contact with himself in the mirror once, but he knows he looks a little clearer.

“Sure.”

It is in this moment when both of you realize the situation you’re in. You haven’t ever touched him before deliberately. There was one time when your elbow bumped his while you were eating with chopsticks beside him, followed by a hurried apology and a shuffle away. You seem a afraid of your hands being in his hair.

Seven clears his throat and tilts his chin up so that his head is perfectly straight. “I’ll try to keep still.”

“Alright, yeah.“ You take a section of hair at the back of his neck, pinching little cupid curls between two fingers. “Be still.”

The first snip takes away almost nothing at all. Seven can tell that you’re easing into it. Really, he wouldn’t care if you did a bad job. He can only worry about so much at a time, he reckons that a bad trim wouldn’t even be a blip on his radar. The second snip is a little more sure.

Seven has never had an easy time staying still. He’s always bouncing his legs or rocking in his chair or typing imaginary lines of code with his idle fingers. For you, though, and for the sake of his cherry-red curls, he puffs out his chest and counts slow breaths. He keeps his promise, only moving when you direct him to tilt his head one way or another.

You do your best to minimize falling hair as you cut, throwing pieces into the bathroom trashcan instead of letting them fall. Still, Seven can feel little tickles under his collar. He tries to ignore them, along with his rising internal temperature. As well as your hands combing his bangs to one side and then the other, your warm breath against his neck when you lean in to trim beneath his ears. You study him like a sculptor smoothing details into clay, leaning close as you measure pieces of hair against each other, aiming for perfection.

“Do you usually go to a hair salon to get your hair trimmed?”

Seven is startled when you break the silence, but he’s careful not to show it. He takes a breath. “Yeah, it gets away from me, though.”

A lot of things get away from him. For his entire adult life, Seven has been tossed around by the agency and V, treading water all the time. Before, when he still believed Saeran was safe, it hadn’t been so bad to let himself be used. Knowing that it’s all been for nothing, though, Seven finds a new feeling of guilt and loss at having led such a terrible life with nothing to show for it.

��Are you alright?” you ask, for the millionth time in a day. The words seem to fall from your mouth without thought.

Seven frowns, wondering how he could even begin to answer.

“Don’t answer that,” you say. It’s obvious that he’s not alright. “Sorry.”

It’s a mercy when you’re finished. You ruffle his curls one last time and step back. Seven sucks in a breath and slumps against the chair. His shoulders muscles ache from the tension he’s been holding.

“What do you think?” You take a step back and cross your arms.

Seven has to stand to fully see his face in the mirror. Really studying himself like this is something he tends to avoid, but it becomes easier in the moment than looking back at you.

“It looks good,” he says, and he isn’t lying. You’ve only done a utilitarian trim, keeping his normal hairstyle completely in tact, but it looks about as good as a professional haircut. A bit more of his face has been revealed by his bangs being trimmed back, again making him feel simultaneously more vulnerable and more at ease.

You put the scissors back into the bathroom cabinet. It’s clear by the way that you scoot around him to the door that you’re avoiding his eye contact as much as he’s avoiding yours.

“You probably want to shower,” you say, “the little hair pieces…”

“Right, yeah.”

Seven realizes far too late that you’ve tricked him into almost an hour away from his computer. He doesn’t mind, though, because he nearly shudders at the thought of hot water hitting his swimming head and sore back.

You nod, then leave him alone, closing the door as you go.

Out of necessity, Seven uses your shampoo. He scrubs his shoulders with your soap and the steam carrying your scent envelops him like a blanket. The corners of his eyes prick with tears at the foreign tenderness you’ve shown him. Not just in cutting his hair in the middle of the night, but in making sure he’s eaten and slept, in trying to reason with him and being understanding when he’s pushed you away.

Seven never cried as a child. It was important for him to be strong for Saeran, and he didn’t like letting his mom know how he felt, no matter how terrible she was to him. There was power, then, in hiding away. Everything he was able to keep for himself was a luxury.

Until a few days ago, the same principal applied. All of the secrets about his past were like the expensive cars in his garage, tucked away in the dark, completely under his control. Everything was compartmentalized into boxes labeled with his three identities.

He imagines the name tags on them. Luciel, the martyred angel, 707, the secret agent, and Saeyoung… Saeyoung doesn’t need an epitaph. The syllable he shares with a lost brother is enough.

When he finishes showering, he wraps himself in a towel and drops the clothes he was wearing into the hamper. He notices that the hamper is empty, meaning that you secretly did his laundry for him even when he told you not to worry about it. He heaves a half-frustrated-half-adoring sigh.

“Do you feel better?” you ask him when he returns to the living room, wearing a clean pair of black sweatpants and a new red t-shirt. He puts his jacket back on and returns to his place in the corner. You have curled back up on the couch next to his workstation with your phone, tapping away at a text to someone in the RFA app. Seven wonders if you’re telling one of the members about the haircut you’ve given him.

Seven drops down to the floor. His hair is still damp, pieces of it sticking to his ears and his face, but it’s no longer in his eyes or tickling his neck. He feels like a new man. “Yeah.” He unlocks his laptop and picks up right where he’s left off tracing the hacker. “Thanks.”

“You’re going to work more?”

“I have to.”

“Right.”

He watches as you get up and retrieve a spare blanket and one of the pillows from the bed. You set them on the couch and, for a moment, Seven thinks you might demand that he sleep there.

Instead, you settle back into your spot and pull the blanket over you. “If you get tired, take a nap on the bed.”

Seven sees no point in arguing, your tone is so matter-of-fact. He only nods. “Fine. Go to sleep.”

“Goodnight, Seven.” You reach out a hand and ruffle his hair. The gesture is so nonchalant that, by the time he’s registered it, your hand is already tucked back into the blanket.

Seven sits there for a moment, listening to your gentle breaths beside him and the soft whir of his laptop’s fan cooling the CPU. He’s in another stalemate with you, exactly where he started.

“Goodnight.”

258 notes · View notes

ticklygiggles · 6 months

Text

[You & I event - entries closed!]

A/N: This was requested by our most amazing @otomiyaa before the catastrophe *sobbing quietly*, so I hope you enjoy it baby! We love one trust fund kid! Fem!Reader for this one!

Jumin Han was a busy man.

That was something everyone knew. Meetings, business trips, business parties, conferences; he was in all of them. He had already become more than accustomed to that busy life. Elizabeth the 3rd was waiting for him at home and it was all he needed to feel happy and rested, but something had changed. A small factor had been added to his life and now all those activities that he did almost without thinking, became tiring and tedious. Now the only thing he wanted when he opened his eyes in the morning was for the day to be over so he could return home and find what had changed his life.

Or rather, not a 'what' but a 'someone'.

"Welcome back, Jumin."

There you were. As charming and beautiful as ever. With that warm smile, bright eyes and reddened cheeks. There you were. Receiving him with your most comfortable clothes and with open arms. There you were. His beloved wife, the person who had come to change his life in the best way possible.

"Hello," he said sheepishly, stepping out of his shoes in a hurry, making you laugh softly.

"I'm right here, take your time- oof!"

Jumin ran to you like a kid seeing his mother after school. He held you tightly in his arms and pressed you against his chest, and suddenly, all the stress and problems from work that he had been dragging behind him disappeared and he could only feel peace and tranquility while breathing in that delicious fruity smell of your shampoo. Why were you so warm, so fragile, so small and so beautiful? Did you even know what you were causing in his heart and mind?

"Did you have a good day today?" You asked with your kind smile, searching his face that refused to leave your neck. You laughed and his heart jumped with joy. "N-Now, Mr. Hahan, you're tickling mehe."

A spark of childlike joy settled in his chest and with a playful smile that he made sure you couldn't see, he grabbed your waist and squeezed it, making you jump with a giggle.

"Dohon't stahahart thihis!" You said laughing, squirming in his arms as he squeezed your waist again and again. "Juhuhumihihin!"

"Yes, my love, I'm listening," he said, finally bringing his head up to look at your face.

Oh, what a wonderful sight. Your pink cheeks were red as you giggled, trying to push his hands away from your body. Jumin chuckled, easily following your every move.

"Look at you, my love. I don't think I will ever stop."

"You ahahalwahahays say sohoho!"

His cheeks blushed and he chuckled again. "Is that so? Are you saying I do this often? Well, it is your fault because you are this ticklish and your smile is just so beautiful."

You shook your head and your laughter increased when his hands moved lower to your hips. His thumbs pressed firmly, but gently in your hipbones and you legs almost gave up on you.

"Huh, I think you are expectionally ticklish tonight, love. Why could that be?"

"Lihihies! Juhuhumihihin!"

He was exceptionally teasy that night, but as soon as he heard your bubbly laughter he just couldn't stop tickling you. He also had missed you a lot more that day, having you giggling and laughing like this had him feeling at ease, relaxed even and he knew you didn't mind this at all.

"AHAHA, n-not thehehere!" You cackled when his fingers moved up towards your ribs and to his surprise, you were able to escape his touches and without a second thought, you ran away from him, first making sure Elizabeth was safe in her small bed. She barely paid attention to you both, even when her master started chasing you around the penthouse.

You squealed with laughter, "no chahahasing! Bad Jumin! Bahahad!"

Jumin laughed, hot behind you. "Why are you running away from me, love? Don't you want my love? I missed you so much today!"

Jumin laughed wholeheartedly when he caught you and you let out a loud shriek. Thankfully for him, you had caught yourself in your shared bedroom and he was quick to push you into the bed and start tickling you all over.

Your exquisit laughter ringed in his ears once again and as he found all your weak points, he couldn't help but think that he was a lucky man. He never thought he would find someone like you: someone who would make him sincerely happy even by doing the most mundane thing like tickling.

Oh, how he loved you and even though some days his insecurities were stronger than him, Jumin knew that you also loved him as sincerely as he loved you and that every day you spent together was something worth remembering forever.

#you & i event #mystic messenger #jumin han #reader #jumin x reader #ticklish!reader #tickle fic #mia's things #ginnycakes

69 notes · View notes

mxsticmess · 26 days

Text

se saeran is such a comfort character to me esp in fanfics where his daily struggles r shown like!! yes i feel bad and mentally ill and like everything’s falling apart but this guy went through some shit and got through it and i think he’s pretty cool

#idk how to put into words what i mean without projecting or venting a bunch but.#idk in some of my favorite fics he’s witty and sarcastic and caring deep down but just doesn’t know how to show it. but there’s days where #he still breaks down and shuts everything out and hurts himself but he still gets taken care of because he’s not a burden to saeyoung #and yeah idk he’s a good character #this is a lot of words to say nothing sorry #mysme #mystic messenger #saeran choi #saeran #mysme saeran

34 notes · View notes

tiresomeimagination · 9 months

Text

The Demons in the Details (707 x Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's note: This is an entry for @mysticmessengerenglish's fanfic contest. The theme was weddings and I had an idea to try playing with. Hope you enjoy! ^^

You paused in your inspection of the current venue and glanced back over at Saeyoung to gauge his reaction. He looked deep in thought as he scanned the building. You wished you could hear his thoughts… He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

~~~~~

Wedding preparations are always tiring. They become even more so when expectations or standards are a bit too particular. Saeyoung was by no means a very picky person. In fact, you often had to nag him about keeping his preferences quiet for the sake of others. So it was a bit out of the ordinary to find that Saeyoung was so critical of every venue you visited. There was always something. It was too public of a spot, it was too closed off, it didn’t have enough exits, and the list went on. Nothing was quite right. You got the feeling that if it were solely up to him, he would just have the whole thing in his bunker.

His mind was racing with every possible worst-case scenario. He had to. After all, he had finally gotten everything he ever wanted. He was reunited with his brother. He had found a new family in the RFA members. He had even found the love of his life. He had…everything to lose. With his father and the agency still out there looking for him, he had far too many enemies to take any chances.

Finally, Saeyoung seemed to reach a decision. “Hm…yeah…this place is nice and all, but I just don’t think it’s us, y’know? I mean… we can definitely do better,” he said with a slight chuckle, attempting to keep his voice light and casual.

You couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. “This is the fifth place we’ve seen today. We’re kind of running out of options…” You tried to point out as gently as possible.

Saeyoung let out a small sigh of his own as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. “You’re right, you’re right. How about we just…sleep on it for now? I have some more research to do anyway.”

You knew this ‘research’ probably involved running background checks on all the venue’s staff that would even breathe in the general vicinity of the event.

“...Okay. Yeah… It’s getting late anyway. We might as well go back,” you relented. You wanted to try your best to be accommodating. You knew that he had to do whatever he could do to feel safe.

Spirits were low as the two of you returned to the bunker. There was a certain unspoken tension that neither you nor Saeyoung wished to address. You both made light small talk about the day as you had dinner with him and Saeran as usual, but you could tell Saeyoung was still worried. As much as you wanted to try and talk through things, you didn’t want to push him before he was ready…. And so, even as you retired to the guest room for bed, the topic was avoided entirely for the night.

You awoke a few hours later. After a quick glance at your phone to confirm that it was indeed the middle of the night, you decided to get up and check in on Saeyoung. Experience told you that there was a good chance he got caught up in something and would need to be talked into actually going to bed. However, rather than a chance for playful teasing between you two, what you found when you peeked in was much more concerning.

Saeyoung sat on the edge of his bed, hunched forward with his head in his hands. Without thinking, you entered and quickly crossed the room towards him.

The sound of your footsteps jolted him out of whatever state he had been in and his head whipped up to lock eyes with you. “…Y/N…?” He asked quietly as if your presence had surprised him.

“Saeyoung! What’s wrong?? Did something happen?” You asked worriedly as you came to a stop by his side.

He took a moment to register your words, still lost in his thoughts. “...Um…yeah…I-I mean no.” He stammered out, pausing to rub tiredly at his face and try to recollect his jumbled thoughts. “Everything’s fine. I just…had a weird dream, hah…” He breathed out quietly.

You frowned deeply and sat down beside him, placing a light touch on his arm. “Do you want to talk about it…?” You asked softly.

He didn’t answer, so you continued. “Whatever it is…you can talk to me. We promised to handle things together, remember? You don’t have to talk about it right now, but I can tell you’ve been worried about something and it’s more than just whether we get married someplace with or without windows, so-”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Saeyoung suddenly interrupted your ramble.

“...What…?” You replied, caught off guard by his words.

Saeyoung took a deep breath in and let it out before he looked over at you. “Things aren’t going to be easy, you know. Living with me…won’t be easy.” He paused, glancing down at the engagement ring you wore on your hand. A sign of your connection to one another.

“...What? What are you talking about?”

He sighed again and gently took your hand in his. “I still have a lot of enemies. You could get caught in the crossfire of any one of them.”

“Saeyoung…”

“Every time I close my eyes… I see everything that could go wrong. And every time I open them again I think about how I’m not ready. If I fail to account for even one possible threat, you could get hurt…or worse…"

"Saeyoung." You called out a little louder, hoping to get his attention off of his spiraling anxious thoughts and back onto you. When he looked back up at you, you continued. "You don't have to bear everything alone anymore. Everyone in RFA has your back. Saeran and I too. We're all in this together. And if dealing with Mint Eye has taught us anything…it's that we're stronger together." You said with a soft smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

You brought your other hand up to gently touch his shoulder. "And to answer your question…yes. This is what I want. You are what I want, and nothing will change that."

The both of you were moments away from tears. Saeyoung quickly pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face into your shoulder and sniffling softly.

"I love you so much, Y/N." He murmured, his voice muffled by your shirt.

The second half went unspoken but you could hear it loud and clear. He was afraid of losing you. No amount of mere words could quell those fears entirely. They lived so deeply in his heart and you couldn’t chase them all out no matter how much you wanted to. All you could do was try to support him.

You let out a sigh as you hugged him back and let your own tears fall as well. "I love you too.”

Your happily ever after wouldn't be as easy as the fairy tales made them out to be…but you two would be okay so long as you stood together. You weren’t about to let go, and by the looks of his grip right now, neither was he.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger x reader #mm 707 #saeyoung choi #707 x reader #saeyoung x reader #707 x mc #reverse hurt/comfort #mmed #possibly not my best work but eh I was pressed for time and did me best #this went through several different draft iterations hhh #credit to sapphyra for giving me the idea needed to help me reorient my approach and get the fic flowing better #whew it's been a while since I've written for my boi #hope I'm not too rusty #anyways #back into the void I go o7

76 notes · View notes

brighteststar707 · 6 months

Note

OMGGG CONGRATS ON 2 YEARS OF THIS BLOG !!!! I can't believe it's been that long already, I'm so excited for you and I'm SO excited your requests are open !!! 💖💖💖💖💖

I would love number 18 : hello/goodbye hugs that linger with Zen and an afab Reader 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖 if that's okay !! Thank you for everything you do, and we're all so excited for you !!! I hope you have an awesome day bestie !!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

Mandieee! Thank you so much for the congratulations <333 Seeing you on my dash is always such a highlight to my day, I'm so grateful for you <33 I hope this fic is everything you hoped for and more!

Hugs That Linger

✦Zen x fem!Reader ✦ Words: 1310

Zen is a touchy person by nature around people he cares about. It’s something he’s often teased about by the other RFA members and something often speculated about by the members of his fanclubs. Was the arm he offered to his latest castmate as she descended the stairs on those treacherous heels chivalrous or romantic? Surely it had to have meant something more (it didn't). It didn’t stop the speculations running wild, though.

He loves to throw his arm over his friends’ shoulders when they’re laughing over something ridiculous. After a few drinks, he always slaps Yoosung’s shoulder and gives him life advice that he insists is important (despite Yoosung’s protests). He hugs everyone in greeting when he sees them and throws around affectionate nicknames like it’s nothing to him.

She is no exception. From the day she started working with the RFA, he has been calling her cute nicknames and hugging her and patting her head when he’s proud of her. Little things that have slowly accumulated into a little collection in her mind that she often runs through (most often subconsciously before she falls asleep).

But she is sure that she isn’t making things up when she catches him looking at her with a warmth and affection that makes her cheeks burn, or when he holds her hand when they’re leaving the theatre after another successful show. It can’t just be his playful nature catching her off-guard, can it?

She wouldn’t know what to do with herself and her growing feelings if it turned out to be true.

The crowds at the stage door every night are getting bigger. Everyone is carrying little gifts for Zen or photographs they’d like to be autographed. She stands in the middle of the crowd with everyone else, hoping to surprise him. She managed to get tickets for tonight's show by chance and didn't have time to tell him she'd be there. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers, just a small token to show him how proud she is of him.

When he finally emerges, the crowd cheers his name and she can just about make out the bashful pride on his face as he greets his fans. This is what he was made for, the life he was always supposed to lead, she thinks. And yet, there’s something flat about the look. As if there is something he’s missing.

He starts greeting the fans at the front of the crowd one by one, taking a moment with each to ask for their names and to sign an autograph for them (she remembers just a few days ago he was absentmindedly signing a piece of paper during an RFA meeting, trying to get the flourish of his pen just right).

He hasn’t spotted her yet – she doesn’t blame him. The crowd is big and everyone makes the most of the time they spend in his presence. And to his credit, he gives everyone their moment to shine. He thanks them individually for supporting him, repeats their name back to them (which never fails to make them smile) and flashes them the unforgettable Zen smile.

He also gives each of them a quick hug or a shoulder squeeze. A quick touch of contact as if to say this is real. She finds herself mentally taking note of these moments as they pass. How strange.

Eventually, he gives the crowd a quick scan again and spots her amongst the fans.

All at once, his expression brightens up and turns into a look of unbridled excitement. It fills out that last thing that was missing from his expression, makes it look finally complete. He calls her name and urges people to make way for her to get to him. She quickly joins him at the front of the crowd and, without hesitation, he pulls her into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around her waist, palm holding her body close to his, and the other behind her head, supporting her as he lifts her off the ground slightly. She still holds the flowers in one hand, but he hasn’t noticed them yet.

All she can do is wind her arms around his neck and hold on and enjoy the warmth radiating off of him. She feels safe, wrapped up in him like this, trusts that he will hold her safely until he chooses to set her down again. And then, absentmindedly, as she is noting the smell of his shampoo still lingering in his hair, she realizes that for all the hugs he has given today, none have been like this. He holds her like she is something precious.

“I’m so happy to see you, babe,” he murmurs into her hair.

She pretends that his statement doesn’t set off a million tiny fireworks in her stomach.

She isn’t sure for how long the hug lasts, only that it is over too soon, and that it felt like both an eternity and like a second (and that she wants to hug him again the second he sets her down).

Finally, she is able to present him the flowers, and he beams as he takes the bouquet gently from her hands. Before their exchange ends and he has to go back to greeting his fans, he turns to her and says, “Will you wait with me until it’s time to go?”

As if she can say no to those eyes.

“Of course, Zen.”

He grins. “Great, then I’ll walk you home!”

The rest of the crowd passes surprisingly quickly. You exchange a few words with some fans before they leave (and dodge some questions about your relationship to Zen that you don’t yet have the answers to). Every so often, he will turn to her with a look of disbelief on his face as if to say can you believe that this is happening? It’s contagious and by the time he is greeting and thanking the last fans, his smile is mirrored on her face.

Once the last fans leave, he throws his arm over her shoulders to pull her close to him again. It seems like second nature, as if he doesn’t even have to think about it. She, on the other hand, is thinking about it (a lot). Though, she tries to play it cool. She reaches for his hand that is resting over her shoulder and holds it there securely so he can’t slip away from her.

The walk back to her home is quiet, comfortable. They talk about the show, about her day, about everything they had missed out on since the last RFA meeting. Time passes without either of them seeming to notice and, even though they took the long way back to her house, they seem to arrive at her door all too quickly.

“Well…” he says, not yet pulling away from her.

“Well…” she replies, clinging to his hand harder. “Thank you for walking me home.”

“Anytime, Princess.”

He finally moves, but it’s not to pull away. He turns slightly, and pulls her close to him again, both his hands draped across her waist. Where the last hug was firm, this one is soft. Gentle.

She responds in turn, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and holding him tight. This hug definitely goes on for longer than hugs usually do, but neither of them seem to care. Before he pulls away, she takes a leap of courage. She is spurred on by the warmth of his embrace, by the lingering scent of his cologne and the realisation of how right it feels to be held by him this way. It all gives her the boost she needs to angle her face slightly and murmur into his ear, “Zenny, would you like to come inside?”

He shivers, and she feels every movement against her body.

"Yes," he replies, his voice husky.

#the cold has tried to keep me down but goddamn if i wasn't going to finish this fic #my writing #mystic messenger #mystic messenger zen #mystic messenger hyun ryu #mysme hyun #mysme hyun ryu #mystic messneger hyun #mysme zen #mandimegatron #blogiversary 2

47 notes · View notes

asterjennifer · 11 months

Text

“Can you draw a cloud next to the spaceship for me, Saeyoung?” Saeran asked mumbled tender as his older brother measured him.

Saeyoung found the tone of voice fitting for the face he's able to look at in peace for once. No tears to be found in these round eyes, neither fear nor sadness. It's not often his little twin stared up in awe.

He hummed then, nodding his head at the small request. “Sure! I can do that.”

The other squeezed his wrist in excitement. They've been able to spend most of the day together since their mother had to leave for an reason unknown. She didn't elaborate on anything, simply told them to stay put if they wanted to see the next day coming.

But like Saeyoung has always been in the soul, he took the opportunity for his brother and himself to get up and do all kinds of things they've only been talking about before. Like eating ice cream outside. Or going for a short, hidden walk around the house. Especially for Saeran was it nice.

His legs hurt at first due to the aching in his bones, that's when you're not used to walking his big brother explained. Taking his fear of stepping forward when holding onto his arm tightly for support. Soon afterwards they managed a round around the house.

The pride in Saeran's eyes in that moment after reaching the door again had been undeniable and ever so gentle. Saeyoung read another book to him as well considering they didn't find the right timing for it since it's an adventure book.

Saeyoung had promised to read it right; implying they needed the freedom to play with the action it contained. Luckily today's the perfect situation to finally open these pages together and read through them. Saeran often giggled and made big eyes whenever Saeyoung empathized sounds or actions with his hands. Like the gunshots.

“Bam! Bam!” His fingers formed a pistol, shooting into the air with an eye pinched close to aim. “They shot like that, grazing the enemy so very skillfully.”

Saeran titled his head at the display in front of him. “Do you like guns? They are scary, don't you think?” He asked obvious.

“Hm… well, they are bad. That's true.” Saeoyung had concluded, sitting back down next to his twin at the ground.

He looked at Saeran for a short while, who waited for an answer. The innocence written all over his features despite the hardships of the days they spend in that hellhole. The pain and suffering never changed his soft heart, Saeyoung thought. Feeling his own heart melt in love albeit regret.

Saeran flinched out of reflex as Saeyoung reached out to stroke over his hair. “It's just to make it exciting, nobody gets hurt I promise.”

The day flew by outside the window and by the time they sat outside for some sky gazing. Sunrays shining down at the rather uncolored earth around them, yet giving it the perfect color to have it appear all warm. They sat beside each other and enjoyed the sun to the fullest, not really talking that much anymore.

They didn't need to; both figured individually. It's the feeling that counted, just like the fact of calmness they're capable of claiming for themselves. The house's often hectical in the most negative ways, not that they could face it very much. They're forced to regardless. Letting these days become so much more brighter in comparison.

An idea popped into Saeyoung's head, then. Anticipating the willingness of his little brother to write their heights at the wall. Sometimes, when their mother wasn't in the condition to catch them doing their own thing, they would do the small actions that brought them immense joy.

Like measuring their heights and see how they've grown over the last time they marked down the results. It's a reminder they both treasured – telling each other they survive and get to become bigger and bigger until the day they finally could escape the house they're trapped in. Living together for the rest of all days.

A dream shared within their hearts since the moment they could think, it's something that connected them. This kind of strength outshone the hatred of their parents; they lived on because they got a goal to reach once the heights were enough.

“You look taller to me now…” Saeran's words caught Saeyoung's attention right away. Looking down at him, he saw the same expression from before.

However, it still felt slightly different. “Do I?” He asked as he raised an eyebrow. The twin continued rubbing his wrist.

Then he shifted his stare to the window. “You always have been taller, but I sometimes forget that you're a lot taller than me.”

The one wearing the black tank tops frowned by these words, unsure what to make of them. He took the pen off the paper as he closed it. “But you have grown a lot, too. Look!”

He pointed the end of the pen to the new line. Saeran took a step away in order to gaze at it before blushing lightly. His lips parted and yet no sound came out of him. For a moment silence dominated the air between the two.

Thus Saeyoung placed his hand to his shoulder. “I think you have a good height, you're not too tall and not too short.”

Both could tell Saeran didn't quite believe the statement. On the contrary, he shook his head almost unnoticeable. “I don't know…”

The sad hint inside that doubt left Saeyoung to swallow a bitter taste. What could he say to make it better? To assure Saeran it's not about how tall or physical strong someone was? That his warm hands and heart were the true definition of strength?

Saeran sighed, closing his eyes while trying to gather himself. He didn't mean to ruin the nice moment. Never was it his intention to make things worse, somehow his emotions always ended up doing the opposite though. No matter how much he struggled to repress them, they're always on his sleeve. Therefore he rubbed his eyes.

“I'm sorry…” The high voice husked. “I mean… I'm glad I grew. And I feel good to have a taller brother, too. It's just…”

His words cut off in the back of his throat, taking in the difference on the wall. It's true and he meant it when saying he's happy that Saeyoung was the taller one of the two. It felt more like safety that way, giving him a place to hide away behind without being seen by the dark things.

On the other hand it's leaving an itchy feeling to his skin. Being the smaller one, the weaker of two made him the easier target for misery. Their mother came a lot more at him because of that. Of course he didn't desire for Saeyoung to be in trouble instead, that's never the case. It's more about the weakness that's glued to his bones ever since he's been born.

He both admired yet worried about Saeyoung always being the stronger one. How should he protect him in return? Could he ever repay him in some way for standing up for him as well? He's uncertain about it.

Saeyoung put the pen aside, the noise bringing Saeran out of his circling thoughts. “We are twins, aren't we?” He said with the familiar confidence.

Saeran stiffed slightly when his brother rested both hands on his shoulders, giving him eyes between certainty and care. “You are me and I am you. We are the other and that doesn't get defined by our height.”

“Are you sure…?” He couldn't help the question, but Saeyoung didn't seem to be mad at it. He just smiled.

“Of course! We share the same strength in here.” He poked the chest of his brother, right there were his heart was beating underneath. Saeran blinked frequently for a few times and relaxed again.

It felt good, knowing he's not beyond saving. That there's a chance for them both when hearing a verbal confirmation that his depressing thoughts weren't the reality of their future and even their present. Saeran reached out without another word, putting both arms around his older brother.

Saeyoung's air left his lunges at first by the sudden pressure, quickly he returned the hug anyway. They stood there, unsure how much time passed while holding onto each other. Neither of them cared as it's been something that calmed both their souls.

“Before mom comes back,” Saeoyung said after letting go. “Do you want to eat cake? I got some earlier from the woman at the church.”

These amber colored eyes glittered with the mentioning of something sweet to eat, Saeyoung was aware how much Saeran loved food that pleased his sweet tooth. The young boy made two fists with his hands, nodding his head hard. “Really? Yeah! I'd love to eat it with you!”

“Then let's get to it now, I'm sure it's going to be even tastier when we eat it together.”

Happy early birthday, Choi Twins 💕

67 notes · View notes

introverted-scribblings · 5 months

Text

Cosplay || (Yoosung x Reader)

This was initially self-indulgent but I loved it so much that I'm sharing it here. I hope you all like it! This (can be) connected to my "seamstress MC" headcanons.

Notes: Fem!MC (w/ implied brown hair) and a love for the Legend of Zelda series. (wc: 1558)

“I totally don’t believe you,” one of his guildmates laughed through through the game’s voice chat. Yoosung couldn’t help the frown on his face and roll of his eyes.

Some of his online friends, the ones he met through LOLOL, refused to believe that he had a girlfriend now. However, in their defense, sometimes Yoosung himself found it hard to believe that MC was dating him. Of course, MC would flick his forehead and kiss his nose every time he told her this. “Hush, Yoosungie! I’m proud to be your girlfriend, okay? I love you so much!” She would pout.

This particular time, however, the disbelief was strengthened by Yoosung’s comment that MC wanted to cosplay with him. Apparently, the fact that MC shared common nerdy interests with him was “proof” that his girlfriend was fictional. “You’re just jealous,” he scoffed into his mic.

“Yeah, sure,” his friend laughed. “I’m jealous that you have such a wild imagination.”

Yoosung’s brow furrowed in frustration.

“Hey, someone is starting a raid!” Another teammate called out and the subject quickly changed.

It was a while later when Yoosung finally logged off, hanging his headphones on the little stand that MC had gifted him. “To keep them nice and the cord untangled!” she had told him.

Standing and stretching, Yoosung found himself walking to the little kitchen in his apartment where he found his wonderful girlfriend heating water for tea. “Yoosung,” she smiled when she saw the blonde enter. “Are you done for now? Would you like some tea too?”

“Sure! And yeah, I’m done for today I think. One of my guildmates was being annoying,” he sighed, causing MC to giggle.

“Do they still think I’m made up?” She laughed. Yoosung only pouted. He had complained about this to her before, and while she found it a little funny it was clear that he was feeling particularly upset about it this time. “Hey…” Her voice softened as she set another cup on the counter for him. “It’s okay, Yoosungie. I promise I’m very real and really in love with you~”

Yoosung could feel his cheeks burn. He couldn’t help it whenever MC said those things. “I know,” he sighed, watching her pour the boiling water into their two mugs. “It just bothered me this time because I told them you wanted to cosplay with me…” he trailed off but MC motioned for him to continue. “They said I was making it up because there’s no way I could get a girlfriend who has interests like that.”

MC scoffed. “Well that’s pretty rude,” she tutted. “They’re just jealous, Yoosung. Next time, I’ll get on the mic and chew them out!”

Yoosung laughed at the adorable pout his girlfriend wore. “It’s okay, MC. You’re right, I shouldn’t let them bother me. Their opinion doesn’t matter.”

MC smiled. “Exactly! By the way…” she pulled her phone from her pocket and opened it up. “I’ve decided who we should cosplay!” Turning the device, MC showed him a picture of the two characters she chose.

Yoosung recognized them of course. It was the green-clad hero, Link, and princess of Hyrule, Zelda. Though he didn’t play the games himself, he was aware that MC did and was a big fan of them. He’s listened to her talk about the games for hours, going into their lore and real life history. She was always so excited when she spoke about them, and he lived for the passionate sparkle in her eyes as she did.

“I thought Zelda had blonde hair…” he questioned. Not that he minded the choice, of course, he would happily be the hero to his princess.

“She does normally, but in the game Twilight Princess she’s a brunette,” MC explained with a grin. “Please, Yoosungie? You would make such a handsome Link and I’ve wanted to cosplay Zelda for so long! Please~?”

Yoosung’s blush came back tenfold at MC’s words. Would he make a handsome Link? He wasn’t sure but MC certainly thought so. Still, he’d already made his decision when she asked the first time if he would cosplay with her. “Of course, MC! I already said I’d dress as anything with you,” he chuckled, trying to ignore his burning cheeks.

“I know, but I want you to have fun too,” she said, tucking away her phone.

“I know I will,” Yoosung smiled. “I’m happy to be your hero, MC.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and she giggled.

“Thank you, honey~” MC turned back to their mugs of tea. “Go sit down and I’ll bring you your cup, then I’ll give you a crash course on cosplay.”

*~*~*~*

MC spent the next two months working on their costumes. Ordering pieces, buying cuts of fabric, stitching and restitching hems. The late nights Yoosung spent gaming, MC spent at her sewing machine. There were fittings and pinnings and measurements taken.

Yoosung couldn’t possibly be more impressed that MC was able to craft two intricate and detailed costumes in the short span of two months. Though he really shouldn’t be surprised, she managed to plan a big and successful party in only eleven days. She was a determined worker for sure and a true inspiration to him.

And when the costumes were finally ready, she asked him if he’d be willing to do a photoshoot with her. “My friend is studying photography and agreed to take pictures of us if she’s allowed to use some for her project,” she explained. “And I would love to get some nice pictures of us together!”

How could Yoosung possibly say no? He couldn’t. And he wouldn’t, certainly not after all her hard work. She was even loaning him her replica Master Sword for the photos! There’s no way he would turn this down. Not in a million years.

The day of the shoot came. MC’s friend was picking them up and taking them to a location they had scouted beforehand. As Yoosung got dressed in the handmade tunic, he felt a flurry of nerves in his chest. He hoped he would look good in the cosplay that MC had spent literal months on. With a deep breath, he looked in the mirror.

He never noticed it before, but with the pointed ears and colored prescription contacts that MC had gotten him, he really looked the spitting image of the hero of Hyrule. Twisting and turning, Yoosung tried to get a good look at himself from various angles. MC truly was a master when it came to sewing.

“Knock knock~” MC called from behind his bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

“Oh- Yeah! You can!” he called back.

Yoosung could feel the breath leave his lungs when he saw her.

If his tunic was well made, MC’s dress was absolutely perfect. “Wow…” he whispered. The crown on her brow shone like real gold, the delicate embroidery that ran along her dress gave her a subtle elegance as she moved towards him. Her hands, covered in long white gloves, held the sheathed replica sword. “I was right,” she smiled. “You do make a very handsome Link.”

Yoosung blushed and looked away, her beauty and compliments too much for him to handle. “Th-thank you… You’re a very beautiful Princess Zelda…” He wanted to say so much more. That she was the most stunning person in the world. That her beauty was there in and out of cosplay. That seeing her like this was enough to make his knees weak and his heart race.

MC smiled. “Thank you,” she giggled. “Here, it’s dangerous to go alone…” she placed the sword in his hands. “...take this!”

Yoosung laughed along with her at the spoken line before her phone chimed from her bag on his floor. “Oh!” she grinned. “That must be our ride! Let’s go take some pictures, Yoosungie~” Picking up her bag, she took his free hand and tugged him out of the room.

*~*~*~*

It was a few days later when MC’s friend sent her the polished up photos. Yoosung was in awe of how nice they looked. It truly looked as if they stepped out of the game itself and into the real world.

Among the poses they had done, there were a few candid shots that were taken that day. Including one of their gentle embrace after MC had fixed his hat, their eyes were closed and their foreheads rested against each other. They were smiling. Yoosung remembered that moment well, all the love he had in his heart for MC as she introduced him to something so fun. Something she was so passionate about that she wanted to share with him.

It was clear that MC remembered it too as that picture ended up as her phone wallpaper after she had sent it to the RFA chat. Everyone was impressed, even Jumin said something nice… well, as nice as Jumin could be.

Yoosung was very happy. Happy that he could do something so fun with his girlfriend. Happy that the pictures looked so nice. Happy that their friends liked the pictures. Happy that MC had fun. And of course…Happy to make his guildmates eat crow when he sent some of their pictures. Including a cute—maybe a little smug—picture of MC showing off her wallpaper of the two of them. His girlfriend was very real and very cool.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger x mc #mystic messenger x you #mystic messenger x y/n #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger yoosung #mysme yoosung #yoosung kim #yoosung x reader #yoosung x mc #fanfic #short fic #fluff #fluff writing #x reader #x you #x y/n

35 notes · View notes