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#agent vanderwood
mc-and-elise · 1 year
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SE Saeran around someone he likes? Shy, 'i-it's not like I wanna hold your hand! You'd g-get lost if I don't hold onto you!' or 'I got you some flowers. No, it's not because I like you! I j-just thought your house needed some color!' vibes. At least at first, once he finally acknowledges his feelings he'd become kinda lovey-dovey in private. He isn’t used to people wanting to be around him, and those who he thought had wanted to had betrayed him in the past. Plus, he’s still trying to understand who he is, so understanding other people is too much for him. Once you get through that outer shell, he’s a bit more gentle, less stand-offish.
He isn’t comfortable showing a bunch of affection in public. You’ll get some hand holding, sitting closer to him than most people, maybe a kiss on the head. In private? He’s sitting back to back with you, reading or sketching while you do whatever beside him. He’s more open to being touched when alone, and this boy is touch starved but denies it so much. You can play with his hair, trace your fingers on his skin, cuddle him- Saeran loves it. Very few people are allowed to touch him at all, so consider yourself lucky to be one of them.
Vanderwood around someone they like? Denial. A bit of a tsundere as well. If they get upset with you doing something risky or if you get hurt, it’s less that they’re mad at you and more that they’re angry at themself. They want to protect you, how could they let you get hurt! You thought Seven was bad when he tried pushing you away during his route? Vanderwood is worse. The more they realize they love you, the more they deny and try to push you away. They think they don’t deserve happiness- their soul is so tainted and their hands covered in blood that they think seeing you happy with someone else is what you deserve, what they deserve.
If you get through the walls they have up, especially following the SE or AS endings, they still retain some of their tsundere-ness, but are a lot more affectionate. Similar to the twins, they’re very touch starved. Expect to have them holding you in their arms a lot. You’re also like the only person who can touch their hair or jacket- for the longest time, the only things they had control over was their hair and clothes, so being allowed to braid their hair or wear his jacket means a lot. Vanderwood is very domestic once he settles down, but you’re allowed to help them cook.
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lenniahkaks · 2 years
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-slap-
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anne-chloe · 1 month
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Agent 666
Mystic Messenger
Seven/707 x F!Agent!Reader
WIP | Summary : Agent 707 made himself infamous in the Intelligence Agency by being the youngest and most successful hacker, being able to complete tasks set to him in half the amount of time expected. However, Seven finds himself in a difficult position when a newcomer joins, posing as his biggest rival yet. Agent 666.
Alternative Title: Rival
“Agent 707.”
Seven tugged off his headphones and swivelled round in his seat, a look of curiosity upon his round face as he engaged his superior face-to-face. He wasn’t so concerned with the fact that his superior was speaking with him, but more so that it was in person rather than through a senior colleague.
“Yes, sir?” Seven asked awkwardly, clearing his throat as it cracked on a few syllables. Having not spoken for a few hours, his throat was feeling somewhat dry and uncomfortable.
However, Seven’s attention then diverted to the young girl standing at his superiors side. She looked to be about his age, with long [hair colour] hair and piercing [eye colour] eyes. The girl seemed distracted as she glanced around the room, which happened to be full of computer monitors and various other agents busy with their assignments. There wasn’t much noise other than the tapping of keys.
“I’d like to introduce you to Agent 666,” the man said coolly, gesturing politely to the young girl at his side. Seven straightened in his chair, confused and curious all at the same time. He stuck out his hand and watched as the girl hesitated in shaking it; she eyed him skeptically before accepting the friendly gesture. “Agent 666 has joined our ranks and will be within the same unit as you. Seeing as you are both of similar age…”
Seven raised a brow in question, urging his superior to continue. But his superior stopped and cleared his throat, then stepping back and patting Agent 666’s shoulder in encouragement. “Agent Vanderwood will be around shortly to hand you off some assignments. In the meantime, allow Agent 707 to keep you company.”
Bewildered with the fact that he was being lumped with a newcomer, Seven continued to stare at Agent 707 with the deepest set of confusion. It wasn’t uncommon for new starters to randomly appear, but it was most unlikely for someone of his age to appear like this.
Agent 666 fiddled awkwardly with the sleeves of her shirt, shifting on the spot and avoiding Seven’s eye. They both remained quiet like this for a while, with nothing but the sound of clicking keys and tapping noises to accompany them. There were a few questions on the end of Seven’s tongue: Why was she here? How old is she? Where did she learn to hack? Is she good at hacking? What was her backstory?
Seven knew a lot of these were personal questions, and everyone at the agency had hidden secrets. Nobody knew one another’s true identities for the sake of keeping themselves safe from a life they ran away from. The work at the Intelligence Agency was extremely dangerous, and nobody wanted their personal life tied in with that. Seven had a lot of secrets too, many that he wanted to forget about but couldn’t.
But he couldn’t help his curiosity.
“Luciel, I see you’ve met our newbie already.” Agent Vanderwood approached from behind, smirking arrogantly. In his hands he held a stack of documents, which Seven knew to be case files based on the coloured wallet placed on top. “Agent six-six-six,” Vanderwood said slowly, coming to a stop in front of the new agent. He extended his arms and the girl took the documents in a very robotic motion. “Did you both get to know each other?”
Seven shook his head slowly. “No…”
Vanderwood chuckled, proceeding to nudge Seven’s shoulder in a playful manner. Seven tensed at the action and tried to play it off, but he was just as awkward as the new girl, if not more so. Considering Seven had been at the agency now for a couple years, he should have settled in better, but in reality he hadn’t. It was a life he struggled to adjust to.
“Never mind. Come along Agent 666,” Vanderwood called, gesturing for the new girl to follow him.
Seven caught Agent 666’s gaze before she walked away, leaving Seven to watch in slight discomfort.
“Did you hear?”
“About what?”
“Agent 666—she’s incredible! She brought down that black market in seconds! Our team was struggling with that one for weeks…”
After returning from a quick toilet break, Seven found himself eavesdropping on someone’s conversation. It was a group of middle aged men, all of them experienced agents and talented with hacking. However, their gossiping caused Seven to pause by the water fountain, where he found his eyes widening in surprise at the new girl’s abilities.
The case involving the black market had been something the Intelligence Agency were tasked with bringing down months ago. The case had swapped hands multiple times, with each agent involved explaining that the assignment was too deep rooted to get into. Seven wasn’t given the chance to even look at the document itself, which he found surprising.
“Excuse me.”
Seven flinched as a small voice called out from behind him. Turning around on his heel, Seven felt his heart hammer at the sight of Agent 666 standing there rather awkwardly. Her shoulders were squared and she looked uncomfortably stiff; her eyes were ducked downwards as she spoke, as if she didn’t want to make eye contact with Seven at all.
“Oh, you…” Seven mumbled, feeling himself fluster with nerves. He couldn’t understand why his heart was beating so strangely, nor why his cheeks were burning up like this. Seven cleared his throat, his hand flying up and scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh… I heard about your success in bringing down one of the black market assignments… congratulations.”
Agent 666 peered up shyly. She then quickly looked away as Seven caught her eye. “Um… thank you…”
Silence consumed them both. Seven took this opportunity to properly look at her. She wore a large black hoodie, which was definitely several sizes too big on her, and a pair of worn looking leggings with a small hole in one of the knees. Her hair was long and looked like it hadn’t been brushed, so there were knots and tangles.
It seemed as though that Agent 666 had been brought straight to the agency from wherever she had lived before. The neglect of her was glaring, and it reminded Seven of how him and Saeran used to look to others before he joined the Intelligence Agency—before Jihyun and Rika helped him escape from his home.
Seven blinked slowly at Agent 666. She was still standing in front of him, looking awkward and nervous and rather fidgety. Seven couldn’t understand why she had approached him like this if she wasn’t about to maintain a conversation—because isn’t that what she’s supposed to do if she approached him first?
“Are you… are you getting water?” She finally asked after stuttering so much. Agent 666 pointed at the water fountain behind Seven.
Seven’s mouth dropped slightly in surprise, and then embarrassment consumed him. Agent 666 hadn’t wanted to speak with him at all, she just wanted some water. It was then that Seven spotted the empty bottle on her hand, and suddenly he felt like a complete idiot.
“I… no, I’m not, sorry,” Seven mumbled, stepping out the way. Agent 666 said nothing else as she finally began filling her bottle, and once that was done she made a swift exit without even glancing at him. Seven could only contain the urge to bang his head against the wall.
“She’s really good, you know?”
Seven scowled slightly as Vanderwood appeared from behind, now leaning against the wall and grinning mischievously at him. “You’d better watch out seven-oh-seven, she’s coming for your title.”
Seven stiffened at the very idea. “What?”
Vanderwood, pleased that he caught his attention with such bait, merely hummed. “Nervous?”
Seven straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest, suddenly feeling protective of his position as the youngest and most talented amongst the agency. This was the beginning of rivalry, whether Agent 666 knew it or not, and Seven wasn’t about to relinquish his title to some mysterious girl.
“No,” Seven declared through gritted teeth. “Not at all.”
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coolbies · 1 year
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Hi here's a bunch of saeyoungs.. I was gonna finish this.. erm... I didn't tho.. I only got to the lineart and sorta flat color stage.. I'm sorry 707 I have failed you..
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kumeko · 1 year
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A/N: For the @doubleagentzine! I’m pretending Vandy’s 2 years older than Seven. I wanted to do a little peek through the years as their relationship changes.
15.
A kid. Vanderwood blinked once, twice, thrice, but the short kid next to his car didn’t disappear or morph into an adult. No, the boy was still standing there awkwardly, staring at him with unblinking golden eyes that barely peeked out of his unkempt red hair. This couldn’t be right. Pulling out his phone, he checked the coordinates.  The blue dot blinked innocently up at him, marking their exact spot. Glancing at the boy, he asked reluctantly, “You’re the package?”
The boy nodded. His back was hunched, his body curling into itself slightly as though he was trying to take up the least amount of space. For a kid, there was something unnaturally quiet about him, like he’d just fade into the background if Vanderwood stopped looking.
This still didn’t feel right. What could the company gain from this? Rubbing his forehead, he muttered, “You’re just a kid.”
“Fifteen,” the boy corrected quietly.
“Seriously?” Only two years younger than him? With that height? He wasn’t sure if that made it worse or better. Quickly, Vanderwood texted his handler. The package is a kid?
Yes. It took all of five seconds for the response to return. Protect him, you’re his handler now.
The hell. Was that a promotion or a demotion? Vanderwood had barely managed to make a name for himself in the field, and now he was going to have to leave it to take care of some kid? His brow knit and he unlocked the door. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “I’m not a damn babysitter.”
“I can take care of myself.” Slipping into the car, the boy buckled his seatbelt. His frame looked all too tiny on the passenger seat and Vanderwood tried to remember if he’d been that small two years ago. Maybe the kid was underfed. Or having a late growth spurt.
“Tell that to them.” With a sigh, Vanderwood gestured at the glove compartment. “If you get hungry, eat the chips in there. They’re buttery as hell but better than nothing. It’s a long ride.” Checking his mirrors, he pulled back into traffic. “What’s your name, anyways? I’m Vanderwood.”
“…Luciel.”
16.
Blood pooled around Vanderwood’s feet, and he took a step back before his shoes got any dirtier. In the dim light, he could make out his murky shadow on the dark red blood. His lips curled in disgust. This wasn’t a clean hit at all. The worst missions were the ones with clean up, and it was bad enough he had to scrub his shoes for the fifth time this month. “Let’s get the solution…”
He trailed off as he noticed Luciel’s state. Eyes wide in shock, fingers still shaking as they hovered over the trigger, Luciel couldn’t tear his eyes away from their victim. No, to be precise, from his victim. His skin was pale, with a sheen of sweat over it. Walking around the blood, Vanderwood hesitantly called out, “Luciel?”
For a long moment, Luciel didn’t say anything. His breathing was ragged, shallow gasps filling the air as he slowly turned away from the scene. Swallowing, he answered, “Y-yeah?”
“Are you—” Vanderwood caught himself before he could ask the question. He’d seen that expression before. Had that expression before.
It was the kid’s first kill.
He should have realized that earlier. Luciel had fired guns before—for practice, for warning, for defense—but the bullets hadn’t actually hit someone until now. There was no way to prepare for someone’s final cry, for the ragged breath they take before they die, for the way the light fades from their eyes. For the realization that you had caused this and nothing could ever change that. Biting his cheek, Vanderwood gently pried the gun out of Luciel’s hands. “You did good today. Drinks on me.”
“I can’t drink,” Luciel replied automatically, his usual response, and that was a good sign.
“We’ll make an exception for tonight.” Vanderwood pocketed the gun and gave a lopsided smirk. “It’s your birthday, right?”
17.
“Luciel.” Vanderwood dug his fingers into his arm, trying very hard not to yell. He tightly squeezed his eyes shut before reluctantly opening them again. Nope, no changes at all. The garage remained brightly lit. The vehicle in front of him defied all expectations. Still, he had to ask, “What is that?”
With a proud smirk on his face, Luciel stated the obvious: “A car.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Vanderwood resisted the urge to rub his forehead. He was going to have a headache from all this, he just knew it. “That’s a Porsche.”
“Yeah, it is.” Once more, Luciel only admitted the obvious truths. What had happened to the shy kid he’d met two years ago? Since when had he gotten to sassy and witty and full of pranks and—oh shit. The rebellious years. They were totally going through the rebellious years.
Vanderwood was only 19. Why the heck did he have to deal with parental grief? He didn’t sign up for any of that. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Vanderwood tried to keep his tone as calm as possible. “Why did you get a Porsche?”
“You told me to get a car,” Luciel pointed out, before covering his mouth in mock shock. “Unless you didn’t mean that?”
Alright, there was no point in even pretending to be calm. Luciel was clearly after a reaction and Vanderwood couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I said an inconspicuous car! Do you even know what that means?” When Luciel merely cocked his head, a perplexed expression on his face, Vanderwood gestured at the vehicle. “No one ignores a car like that. And it’s in neon yellow, of all colours!”
“Isn’t she a beaut?” Luciel petted the hood of the car, completely ignoring everything Vanderwood had said. He’d also been doing that more often these days. “I even put a little extra and…” With a sheepish smile, Luciel gestured at the steering wheel. “And went for the leather finishings and...” he pointed at the license plate now, that same embarrassed smile on his face, “got a custom plate.”
Was that something he had to look so bashful about? Vanderwood genuinely needed to know. The way Luciel was showing off his car, you’d think it was his first child. Maybe it was. The agency warped people, after all. Maybe they shouldn’t be recruiting fifteen-year-olds for bloody missions. Or maybe Vanderwood was the warped one and everyone around him was normal and he just didn’t realize it.
“I…see.” Vanderwood stared at the Lucky 707 license plate coated in rhinestones. Yeah, they were definitely not going on any missions in that car.
18.
“Did you just get another car?” Vanderwood asked, pushing his way into Luciel’s living room. Arms stuffed with groceries, he could barely see where he was going. Only muscle memory ensured he didn’t trip over the pizza boxes littered about.
His foot almost slipped on an empty chip bag, and Vanderwood flailed as he tried to regain his balance. His shoulder banged against the wall. It felt like the garbage in Luciel’s place had increased since the last time he visited. Anymore and it’d gain a life of its own. “Do you ever remember to clean?”
Strolling in, hand deep in yet another chip packet, Luciel blinked in surprise as he spotted Vanderwood. He pulled down his headphones as he took in everything. “You okay?”
“No!” Staggering back to his feet, Vanderwood grumpily poked his head around the grocery bags and glared at Luciel. “Do you know what cleaning is?”
“Yeah.” Luciel nodded sagely, rubbing his chin with his clean hand. “It is something you do.”
“I…what…you…” Vanderwood sputtered, unable to find the words. He was a good handler. Really, he was. What had he done to deserve this hell? Resigning himself to his fate, Vanderwood moved toward the kitchen when he noticed the phone in Luciel’s hand. “Who’re you contacting?”
Luciel grinned brightly. “You know who.”
And he did, but Vanderwood had hoped that, for once, Luciel would actually listen to him. Setting down the bags, he turned back to his ward and crossed his arms. “We talked about this.”
“We did,” Luciel acknowledged, still typing quickly on his phone.
“You can’t join a charity,” Vanderwood growled, stomping forward. “You know what we do. You know the risks. And even if you don’t care what happens to us—which you should, especially about the shit you get me into—at least you should care what could happen to them.”
His fingers froze. Good. Maybe the words were finally getting to him. Quietly, Luciel replied, “I’ll be careful.”
“Careful’s not good enough, with us.” Vanderwood rubbed his forehead. Maybe he should have actually taken those parenting courses.
“But…” Luciel looked away, his fingers digging into his sides. His voice wobbled, his eyes slightly teary, and he pleaded, “I’ll be careful. Please.”
“I…” Vanderwood was being played. He could feel it in his bones. It was a great performance that followed every step in their training to exploit others. Gritting his teeth, he slowly shook his head.
Luciel’s eyes grew bigger, if possible, and crap.
Craaaapp.
“Fine,” Vanderwood snapped, unable to handle it any further. “Just…don’t let anyone know.”
“Of course not, who do you think you’re talking to? The number one god hacker, 707!” Luciel grinned broadly, making a victorious ‘V’ with his fingers. Gone were his crocodile tears, the act over. “No one’ll ever catch me.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Vanderwood groaned, covering his face with his hand. Peeking through the cracks between his fingers, he watched as Luciel went back to his phone, already furiously typing away. He was in the RFA’s chatroom again. He was certain of it. Luciel only ever made that expression when he was on it.
Maybe he should have stopped him two months ago, when Luciel had first joined it. But…there was something almost normal about his expression, something that made him almost look like the teenager he could have been. The teenager Vanderwood could have been. They could be killed for this, but he didn’t want to wipe away that expression.
No, that wasn’t quite right. Luciel could be killed for this. A shiver ran up Vanderwood’s spine at the thought. If he got an execution order for Luciel, could he do it? Could he point a gun at him?
He was afraid the answer was no.
He was afraid the answer was yes.
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elvendara · 1 year
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MYSME-FICTOBER 22 OCT '22
Bat Cave
October 22nd 2022
“Are you sure about this?” Vanderwood asked again. The darkness beyond the entrance was oppressive. Practically physically heavy. His gun was already out, honey coloered eyes scanning from cave wall to cave wall, including the ceiling and ground.
“Yes, how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t you trust me?” Seven chuckled, securing his backpack and taking out a flashlight. “I’ll lead the way, just try and stay quiet.
“Sure sure, go ahead, I’m right behind you.” The man kept a watchful eye on the younger man, making sure he didn’t set off any possible traps. Although the young agent was good at his job, he was annoying as a human being. Always teasing and getting under his skin. Vanderwood had tried several times to change his assignment, babysitting had never been in his career plans. Seven had only been 17 when Vanderwood had been assigned to mentor and protect him. 707 hadn’t been his first mentee but he had been the youngest.
A teenager needed different handling than an adult but Seven wasn’t the typical teenager. He was focused and driven. It had been an easy assignment. Because of his age, Vanderwood had stayed with him and a few years later, the boy changed. He was still skilled and did the best hacker work Vanderwood had ever seen, but he suddenly began to rebel, to sneak away, to begin playing pranks on his mentor. The older man had chalked it up to puberty/teenagehood catching up to him, but it had never subsided and now he felt stuck with a perpetual, immature, teenager with no sense of self preservation.
“Uh oh.” Seven whispered and knealt, Vanderwood stopped his reminiscence, berating himself for not staying alert to any dangers around them. However, he could see none.
“What is it?” he asked just as quietly, his neck swiveling around.
Seven turned his flashlight off, the sudden darkness made Vanderwood’s skin crawl with the encroaching blindness.
He heard Seven rummaging in his bag, then something hard jabbing him in the belly. “Put this on.” He fumbled with the item as he still held onto his weapon. Holstering it he finally held the item in both hands and could tell it was a pair of night vision goggles. Smart thinking, as always. He slid them over his head and turned them on. Seven’s greenish outline appeared, and he pointed upwards. Following the line of his finger he looked up to the cave ceiling, a small gasp escaped his mouth before slapping his hand over it. The ceiling was covered in bats. Sleeping of course. They made his skin crawl just looking at them. The thought of them waking up and surrounding him made him sweat. A sudden thought entered his mind, and he quickly switched his gaze to the young agent. Sure enough, even through the visage of the night goggles, he could see Seven’s grin from ear to ear. If it wouldn’t waken the wrath above them, he would tazze that insolent smirk off his face!
Seven simply shrugged and stood, continuing further into the cave. Once this mission was over, no matter that 707 was an adult now, he was going to take him over his knee and teach him once and for all, not to mess with his mentor!
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adoranoia · 1 year
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thinking abt how vanderwood was/is probably the one (1) informant that could/can keep up with seven, and deal with his more 'annoying' traits.
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natasha-in-space · 2 months
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Every so often, I can't help but think about all the dirty jobs Saeyoung had to do during his time as an agent. I'm not talking about the usual digital crime stuff he feels comfortable enough to mention openly. I'm talking of those missions he'd rather just shut up and never speak a word about. What about all the missions that went wrong for him, back when he was still young and inexperienced?
The fact that he has blood on his hands is apparent to us. But, do you ever think about whether or not he was forced to kill an innocent? Be it by some cruel accident or by direct order from the higher ups he had no choice but to obey? Have you ever thought of him having to make a quick elimination on yet another corrupt member of society, only to realize that his family, who has nothing to do with this, had seen him?
Have you ever thought about him doing everything he can to fix this: coming up with shaky lies on the spot, attempting to fabricate evidence, eventually resorting to pitiful begging that goes nowhere. But there should not be any witnesses. It's too late to turn back now. He got sloppy. His DNA is already on the scene of the crime. If he refuses, he not only puts his own safety at risk, but these people will get eliminated regardless. The least he can do is make it quick and painless. Have you ever thought of him still having to come back to his sad parody of a home and pretend like everything is fine? Like this was just another Tuesday, and not one of the most sickening things he had to do and witness?
Have you imagined him sitting down, staring at his bloodied hands with a blank and glassy look to his eyes, his weapon still in his grasp, and his ears ringing from every shot he has fired? Have you ever thought of him feeling so utterly disgusted and ashamed of himself that it almost seems like the silver cross on his neck that has always brought him a sense of security, is burning through his clothes and straight into his flesh? He won't take it off, no matter how heavy it feels. He wears it as a constant reminder of the sins these hands have committed. He knows that God has seen it all. He knows that, much like Lucifer, he will never be allowed to step foot over the Heaven's Gates. His soul is too sullied. Too dirty. Too sinful.
I feel like these are the days when he goes complete MIA. He tells everyone in the RFA later that he just slept through these few days.
He maintains contact with V, just in case. But, really, he spends these few days just... in a daze. Luciel has no remorse for selling his entire life away to guarantee his brother's happiness. He does not regret sullying his hands in the darkest sins this world had to offer, if only it means that Saeran's hands will get to do all the good things he has always dreamed about. He does not regret forsaking his own childhood, because he never thought of himself as a child in the first place.
But, in these moments... as the events of what he has done continue to unfold in his head over and over again, like he never even left, he feels it. Regret. Guilt. Disgust.
Luciel harbors a deep hatred towards his parents. He hates his joke of a mother, who has brought nothing but endless torment on her own children for ruining the life she foolishly destroyed all by herself, something he despises with all his heart. He hates his father for forcing them to live in constant fear and paranoia, just for the unforgivable crime of being born into this world. He hates every bystander who has done nothing to correct such an unfair act of pure cruelty unfolding right in front of their eyes.
But, as his vacant gaze keep drifting back to the equipment he has stashed away in one of his many drawers, a grim thought claws at his insides, tearing him apart piece by piece like a vicious parasite feeding on his flesh: is he... really that different from them?
Vanderwood ends up being the one find him, slouched in his seat, his hands still caked and crusty with blood. They just sigh, already knowing what happened. It's something they all had to go through. They just sit next to him, letting the younger agent know he's not alone. And, once Luciel's shoulders start to shake with choked, painful sobs, they don't say a word. They just let him break down into their arms.
It's one of the rarer moments of tenderness between the two.
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zennryu · 7 months
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In your care — 707 x reader
Note: Am I addicted to Saeyoung Choi and the sick reader trope? Yes. Yes I am.
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"Y/n?" was all that the members kept asking in the chatroom as they wondered where you went. You were in the middle of explaining the theme for the next party before you just...stopped replying.
"Shit." Seven muttered as he glanced at your passed out body from the cctv. Not even bothering to change from his pajamas and bed hair (or think about the consequences aka Vanderwood), he hurriedly drove to your apartment using the fastest among his babies.
"Y/n..?" he called out once getting inside Rika's apartment only to find your body still passed out in the same place he saw minutes ago.
He rushed to your side immediately checking your pulse and breathing. His moment of relief was short-lasting as he realized you were down with a heavy fever.
Carrying you over to your bed, he immediately looled around your kitchen for anything he could prepare for you before beaming at the sight of cup noodles (yes. thats the best you're going to get from his cooking skills)
"Saeyoung?" you called weakly as you caught a glimpse of a blurry red figure approaching you. "Oh good you're awake. Come on eat up." he motioned as he handed you your cup noodles.
Feeling too tired to eat, you immediately shook your head and covered yourself under the covers. "Agent 606 you need to eat!" he exclaimed.
"Come on~ The world needs your help agent! The plane is gonna crash!" The playfully exclaimed as he motioned the spoon of soup towards you like an airplane.
"Left them all die for all I care!" you whined. "Come on save atleast a few~" he insisted but you kept your mouth shut.
"Muah!"
You felt his lips on your forehead and gaped at him in shock as you felt your jaw drop. Grinning to himself, Seven entered the spoon inside your mouth before lifting your chin to close it. "Mission accomplished agent 606! Good job!"
You felt your cheeks grow warmer as you swallowed the soup.
"I know you're busy Saeyoung. Thanks for taking care of me." you mumbled as Saeyoung lifted the blanket higher to cover your neck.
"You really are...pretty handsome.." you mumbled tiredly as you looked at him one last time before dozing off.
Seven felt his inner programming start to malfunction at your words and suddenly felt his cheeks heat up. Why is it suddenly so hot in here?
.
.
.
"It's cause you have a fever!" you exclaimed as you woke up to a heavily sweating Saeyoung by your side and checked his temperature.
"Wear a mask next time alright!" You exclaimed before letting him lay on your bed.
"Achoo! But then you won't get to see my handsome face!"
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brighteststar707 · 13 days
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To Disappear Under the Sun
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✦ Character: 707
✦ Words: 3062
This is me expanding on this call from day 6 of 707's route! Warning: agent angst ahead.
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“Status check, Agent 707?”
“All clear, Agent. Withdrawing now.”
“Time estimate?”
“Ten minutes at most. You have permission to withdraw.”
“Copy.” The little voice crackles then cuts out completely in Seven’s earpiece and he is left in silence. It’s hasty for Seven to send him out, but this mission has been going so smoothly, he sees no reason to have him out there any longer. 
He is deep in the basement of a corporate building, a cockroach scurrying under the polished shoes of the oblivious corporate workers upstairs. So far, the mission has been going suspiciously well. He managed to slip into the office of his target unnoticed, steal all the information he needed, and get out again without alerting a single person. Though, none of this has done anything to ease the tension he has felt since entering the basement. With its fluorescent lighting and nearly-unnatural silence, the whole place has a liminal feeling that Seven is keen to be rid of.
And he’s close now. He can feel his heart thrumming in his chest and a strange buzz in his fingers that tells him that his adrenaline rush is wearing off. He is more than ready to get out of here.
One turn. Through another doorway, careful to stay out of view of the cameras he knows are positioned there. Another turn.
As he moves down one of countless dark hallways, he hears the little voice in his earpiece confirm that they have gotten out safely. He’s the last one left. Only a few more minutes and he’ll join them. He has the route memorized. He just needs to go up a staircase, through the door to the basement, and out of the back entrance. Vanderwood should be waiting there with the car to get them out of there.
He is about to start climbing the stairs when the door at the top of the staircase opens and he comes face-to-face with someone who definitely shouldn't have been there. It was supposed to be guarded – was guarded up until a few minutes ago – by another agent. Seven curses under his breath. There is a moment of silence, each of them weighing the options. Then, Seven makes his second mistake: he runs back into the basement, the way he came.
He hears shouts from behind him, the person calling for backup, and the thundering of steps on his heels.
But he is faster. He always is.
He works his way back down the hall, mind working through possible escapes at breakneck speed. There is no way past them. Anyone who could have helped him is gone. He tries anyway to call out the emergency code over his earpiece, but he gets no reply.
Three turns and through two more doors, and he comes across a door with a heavy-looking handle and a big warning sign on the outside.
KEEP OUT
AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY
Based on Seven’s experience, doors like this usually come with heavy-duty locks. And, if anything, the sign might convince his pursuers to look elsewhere. Either way, he’s running out of time. He tugs it open and quickly disappears inside.
The room is noticeably a few degrees hotter than the hallway outside. As his eyes adjust to the light, he can see why: he has found his way into the building’s boiler room. All around him there are pipes leading up into the rest of the building and against the back wall, there are three big boilers.
A piece of good news: the machines are making enough noise to cover up anything he says or does.
He takes this opportunity to test out his radio. He tries reaching Vanderwood, but he doesn’t receive a reply. Whether it’s because he doesn’t have any signal this far down or because they’re all gone, he can’t know.
Well then, he will just have to wait.
His eyes adjust to the darkness and he takes in his surroundings. The room itself is small, with nothing more than the boilers and pipes to take up the space. The pipes run across every wall in the room, hot to the touch, and he does his best to stay away from them. 
The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and he is starting to feel the injuries he must have sustained during the chase. His lungs ache from running and somewhere on his leg a cut smarts. But he’s alive.
Already, the heat in the room is starting to weigh on him. He is panting from the chase, but breathing does not bring him relief. There is a stubborn tightness in his chest that doesn’t ease and his heart is still racing, even though enough time should have passed for him to calm down. Despite the room being big enough for him to walk around in, he is feeling claustrophobic. He has to fight the urge to throw the door back open and run out into the hallway. Luckily, he is still rational enough to know that it would be suicide.
Instead, he raises his arms over his head and stretches, trying to force more air into his lungs, holding each breath for a few seconds before releasing. It’s a struggle at first, his mind fighting furiously against his body’s urges, but he eventually manages to slow his breathing down.
He can still hear the footsteps of his pursuers roving up and down the hall. Despite still being too antsy to relax, he forces himself to sit down. It won’t do him any good to exert more energy than he has to in this state. He leans back against the wall, tilts his head back, and shuts his eyes. Sweat beads on his upper lip. The back of his neck is damp. He is already thirsty. But he does not think about it.
He waits.
⋆  *  ✩   *    ⋆
He idly stares at the wall opposite him and allows his mind to wander. He has paced the room back and forth (and found himself worryingly tired after a few laps). He has counted each of the pipes, even attempted to touch them a few times just out of curiosity (they’re terribly hot). This is far from his first time staking out like this. Every hour or so, he tries to reach the agents outside, but he never receives a reply.
He listens to the voices outside as they come and go. It sounds like the building’s regular security patrol was called in. However, if his target is as paranoid as he seemed to be during Seven’s research, they won’t be the only people on guard.
Time drags by, painfully slowly, and Seven focuses on his breathing. He still feels the urge to run out of the room; he has the odd sense that he’s being cooked from the inside out. Once or twice, he gets up and goes to the door, he finds himself with his hand on the handle before forcing himself to step away. There is no way out of this basement with so many people on guard. Even he isn’t that good.
He has to wait.
⋆  *  ✩   *    ⋆
Isolation is a strange thing to endure. Seven is no stranger to spending time alone, but this is a different beast all together. He is cut off from the outside world, slowly losing track of the stakes and all things that might have existed outside the door and its bright safety label. While he is very used to his own company (and often prefers it), his is a presence he’d do anything to escape right now.
He is painfully aware of just how dry his mouth is. It takes immense mental strength to not think about his fridge back home, fully stocked with crisp cold Dr. Pepper cans and water bottles. His whole body, by contrast, is uncomfortably damp. His clothes cling to his body in the most frustrating way, his hair is plastered to his forehead, and he has given up on pushing it out of the way. He can feel as sweat rolls down his skin and can do nothing to make it stop.
It is still hard to breathe. Each breath has the opposite effect and reminds him just how humid the room is. He imagines water filling his lungs with every breath, imagines drowning while dying of thirst. It’d be terribly ironic.
He makes a conscious effort to take deep breaths, but he can’t keep it up for more than a few minutes before he forgets. There is a dull throb starting in his head that he knows is just another sign of dehydration.
It has been around 24 hours since he first got into the boiler room, and it is starting to mess with his mind. Whether it’s the darkness, the heat, or both, he is starting to lose his grip on reality. With nothing else to distract him, his mind turns worryingly dark.
Seven’s identity and existence in daily life are tenuous at best. He is wrapped in so many lies and elaborate facades that he’s not there there’s anything left underneath it all. In this basement, cocooned in concrete, he is completely severed from the outside world. It is easy to imagine that he doesn’t exist at all.
Easier still when he can still hear the frustrated voices of the second round of security guards called in to search for him. They’re starting to doubt whether there was anyone ever there to begin with. It’s starting to sound more and more convincing even to him.
He’s too scared to let himself sleep, but as the hours pass, exhaustion starts to creep up on him.
⋆  *  ✩   *    ⋆
He startles awake. A quick glance at his watch tells him he has only been unconscious for two minutes, but his heart is racing like he’s been dreaming for far longer. His eyes shoot to the door out of pure habit. This has been happening every few minutes. It’s extremely exhausting: he exists in this terrifying delirium where he is constantly on the brink of death with no way of escaping.
Nothing feels real. Not the outside, not the threat of being caught, not the work he finished. All that exists are these four walls and the oppressive heat that is pushing hard on his chest. Each breath is strained. In between dreaming of being caught, he dreams of deserts. Sand that’s hot to the touch, beautiful mirages that slip away before he can touch them. He dreams of slipping out of his skin just to feel the cold air again… his head lolls downwards as he drifts off again.
His eyes snap open. Nobody has burst through the doors yet. He is leaning to the side, neck at a painful angle, face dangerously close to one of the exposed heating pipes. He’s one wrong move away from a nasty burn. He pulls himself back upright and shakes his head, as if to throw off the exhaustion. His mind runs in increasingly frustrating circles.
He must not fall asleep. They will eventually find him if he is not vigilant, and God knows what they’ll do to him if they get their hands on him now. Nobody would ever hear from him again. Worse; he’d be a failure. He’ll never see Saeran again. He must not fall asleep.
Then again, if Saeyoung vanishes off the map today, who would mourn him? Sure, his friends might worry for the caricature he created, but what do they know of the person he is underneath it all? There is no name attached to the work he has done for the agency; nobody will ever know what he did. Nobody will know who he died for.
His head pounds.
He must not fall asleep.
He mutters an incoherent prayer, words slurring together until they’re just a stream of consciousness like water, Saeran, please… eyelids already halfway closed again. His head lolls down again…
His cheek hits the pipe.
He lets out a startled cry and leaps to his feet, still half asleep, narrowly missing bashing his head on another pipe. He immediately presses his palm to his mouth, as if to undo the noise he just made, but it’s too late. His outburst has caused some commotion outside. He can hear feet pounding up and down the hallway, the voices of men shouting to each other to search every corner of the basement.
Luckily, the noise of the boiler room has covered up the exact source of Seven’s voice, but it has put them all back onto high alert.
He wobbles, dizzy and uncertain of what to do. His hand probes his cheek to check if the pipe left any lasting damage. His skin is sore, but he’s hoping it’s nothing more serious than that. The last thing he needs right now is a burn to worry about.
He clumsily lowers himself back to the floor – the sudden exertion of him jumping to his feet has made his headache significantly worse – and plants his head firmly between his knees. Sweat drips off his forehead onto the concrete floor. The shock has sent a wave of nausea through him and his limbs are too shaky to be of any use. He has never felt cool in his life. If the guards ever give up searching for him, he doubts he’d have the energy to get up and leave. Maybe he will just sit here until the dehydration or heatstroke take him. Nobody would ever know what happened to him.
It’s almost a relief. He has tried to be invisible for most of his life. It feels like a final gift that he might just disappear from the earth without anybody having to know.
⋆  *  ✩   *    ⋆
Sand, as far as the eye can see. Saeyoung, wobbly on his feet, head pounding. A crackly voice in his earpiece, calling his name.
“Status check, Agent Seven?”
His throat is too dry to speak.
“Remember your task. You have ten minutes.”
“Copy.” His voice comes out as a rasp. 
The sun overhead, unforgiving and blindingly hot. His hands shaky, a feeling of dread in his gut. He knows he isn’t going to make it out on time.
He isn’t sure where he’s supposed to go, where to find the office that he knows has the information he needs. There isn’t a single building in sight. He stumbles a few steps forward, but moving makes the world spin dangerously under his feet. He is too dizzy to do more than shuffle a few steps forward at a time, the sand only hindering him.
His body aches, and he's sure he can hear footsteps around him somewhere, though there's nobody around to make them. He mutters a prayer under his breath. Whether to escape or to just be put out of this misery, even he isn't sure.
He only manages a few steps before he stumbles and falls. His skin stings where it hit the sand, but he doesn’t have time to recover. He needs shelter, and he needs it fast. He starts to crawl forwards again, desperate for something, anything. 
He can't find purchase in the sand. It starts to pull him down deeper, like quicksand. The heat in his body is unbearable. He sinks into the sand, palms then wrists then forearms being swallowed up by the heat.
There is no escape.
He looks up to the sky desperately, when suddenly a shadow is cast over his face. Someone is looking down on him, and he can’t muster up the strength to tell them to get out while they still can. He waits for his eyes to adjust, sun in his eyes, and then gasps.
It’s Saeran staring back at him. A face remarkably similar to his, hair lying just a bit flatter on his head (Seven’s hair has always been more unruly), though just as vibrant as his own. The only thing that surprises Seven is the look of disappointment in Saeran’s face. It's a look he has never seen, and would do anything to never see again. He looks down at Seven like he has already failed him.
“Wake up,” he says. His voice is strangely deep, familiar somehow.
“What?”
“Wake up. Is this what you left me to do? To die all alone? It's pathetic.”
“No- I…”
Saeran leans down so his face is close to Seven’s. He enunciates every word slowly so that Seven’s addled brain can keep up.
“Then. Wake. Up.”
Seven puts all his energy into opening his eyes. It’s the hardest thing he has ever had to do.
“Ah, thank God you’re not dead. C’mon, wake up.”
“Huh?”
Vanderwood stands crouched over him in the boiler room and is shaking his shoulder. Already, there is sweat beading on their forehead.
“I’m getting you out. You want to die here?”
“You found me.” His voice is as hoarse as it was in his dream.
“Obviously. You think I want to deal with the boss yelling at me for losing his best agent?”
Seven can barely keep up. He’s sure he’s hallucinating.
“Huh.” Is all he can say.
“Ugh. Come on.”
Vanderwood heaves Seven off the floor while Seven can do little more than groan at the pounding in his head.
The only thing that somewhat revives him is the first taste of air outside the boiler room. He takes his first full breath in three days. Slowly, Vanderwood half-carries him up the stairs and out of the building and loads him into the car.
Seven is barely conscious (Vanderwood won't let him sleep again) but it hits him: he survived. He exists outside the confines of the concrete and desperate, suffocating heat.
Saeran's dream words come to him again in his delirious state. Is this what you left me to do? To die all alone?
It had never occurred to him before. The agency work had always been vaguely for Saeran's sake. But this was not how it was supposed to end; dying alone and nameless without ever being able to get word back to his brother. He knows this now, suspects that he has always hoped so.
Despite how badly he may wish to disappear back into the earth, it seems that something bigger is awaiting him still.
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just-mysme-headshots · 11 months
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Could I request C13 w our dearest maid, Vandy?
Ur art has me on my knees
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Looking good today, Agent Vanderwood.
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mc-and-elise · 1 year
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Random Vanderwood headcanons I came up with
Vanderwood is nonbinary, and goes by "they/them" and "he/him"
Prefers they/them
Is from Great Britain. They refuse to say where exactly.
Their full name is Marion Vanderwood. After Saeyoung makes them a new identity, it becomes Marion Stark Vanderwood.
Knits and crochets in their spare time.
Will never admit it, but more or less adopted Saeyoung (and later, Saeran) as his brother.
When flustered/upset, their cockney accent slips out
While they threaten Saeyoung a lot, would never hit him. Taze? Sure, but physically beat him when he didn't get work done? Hell no.
Grows their hair out as it's the first thing they ever had full control over
Gets a job at C&R as one of Jumin's bodyguards and the occasional night guard after the SE
Lives with the twins at the bunker
Eventually becomes an unofficial member of the RFA, providing security at events
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thevoidlord · 4 months
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Mixed! Messenger AU
I came up with a Mystic Messenger AU! I have no idea if this already exists lol It's sort of a role-swap for the characters, but based on mixing the duos/trios, mostly (but not completely) based on story grouping. Here's the list of who is swapped with who:
MC swapped with Rika
Jumin swapped with Seven
V swapped with Saeran
Yoosung swapped with Zen
Jaehee swapped with Vanderwood
It's still an AU-in-progress, so it still needs some things fleshed-out, but here's some random things I thought about for each character: Yoosung: - a new, young voice actor - still very cute - has voiced characters in (usually indie) videogames primarily - wants to work on bigger games, but spends too much time gaming when he should be applying for bigger voice acting positions Zen: - college student who changed his major several times and failed a bunch of classes, but still doing his best - still a narcissist - working several jobs to pay for his tuition because he refuses to accept financial help, wanting to earn it on his own - loves musicals!! (he'll one day realize his dream to be a musical actor, but he has yet to realize...) Vanderwood: - works for CEO-in-line, Saeyoung Choi, as his assistant (and maid) - constantly reminds Seven to take his job seriously - is very confused why Seven has so much money yet doesn't take care of his health (Seven still primarily eats honey buddha chips) - annoyed when Saeyoung calls them his housemaid when clearly they're his assistant Jaehee: - secret agent (and catsitter for Jumin) - overworked by the agency AND Jumin and needs a break - cat hair everywhere, send help - has to beg Jumin not to involve cats into his or their missions - still loves musicals! (not a fan of Zen as an actor tho since he's not an actor yet) - once sat next to Zen during a theatre showing, but never kept in contact (was in awe from his beauty, but knew she needed to keep her distance due to agency work) Jumin: - hacker and secret agent - still has Elizabeth the 3rd, and claims that her wisdom has helped him crack many codes and solved many missions - great at his job otherwise - still has the same personality as before, except hacker Seven: - CEO-in-line who works hard but also loves mischief! - definitely has produced some hilarious marketing campaigns - may or may not have made some secret loophole scams to snatch more money for his babies (his cars) - still wants to play with Elly - can actually afford to go to the moon V: - used to be best friends with Jumin before joining Gold Eye under MC - loves art, but doesn't have enough time to make any due to hacking and cult shenanigans - instead of a garden, Gold Eye has an art gallery where V likes to spend his time - will do anything for MC, even learning to hack and worshipping her every move Saeran: - leader of MC's Fundraising Association (MCFA) - specializes in floral photography and gardening - lives with his brother in a penthouse - has a large garden in their backyard with all sorts of flowers and plants - he and Saeyoung still grew up with that abusive mother, but, eventually they learned their dad (who isn't the prime minister in this) was rich, so they escaped, found him, and convinced him to let them live with him - loves MC and has been desperate to find her after she vanished Rika: - no, she is not getting the option to date like in the game; she's just there trying to fix everything and make everyone happy - never hosted a party in her life, but is determined to try - never dated V - struggles with mental illness and trauma, but is actively seeking therapy and is improving - joined MCFA after MC left (Yoosung recognized her immediately, but everyone else does not know her) MC: - cult leader of Gold Eye - obsessed with bringing MCFA into her cult as her harem - looooooves bad endings - didn't fake her own death, but did mysteriously cut contact one day and took V with her - the true mastermind in all this EVERYTHING IN THIS LIST IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE!! I just thought this would be a fun AU concept idea lol I made this while sleep deprived lol I'm gonna go to sleep now
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anne-chloe · 1 month
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Agent 666
Mystic Messenger
707/Seven x F!Agent!Reader
WIP | Summary : Beloved Agent 707 is struggling to finish his case assignment on time, so he approaches his rival for help!
Alternative Title : Make A Joke
“This is impossible.”
Seven had finally hit a brick wall. In all his years of hacking and infiltration, he had never come across something that had stumped him this hard. He was seriously beginning to question his abilities at this stage as he stared at the coded screen in despair.
How many days did he have left to gather the information he needed? Seven checked the assignment log that rested on his desk, and he felt the colour physically drain from his face.
One day.
Seven couldn’t prevent himself from dropping his head forwards onto the desk. His forehead slammed into the keyboard, causing a bunch of error codes to fly up on the screen. The young teen groaned in pain before sitting up straight again, rubbing his hand tenderly at the spot where a mark had appeared.
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Seven peeked around the room to check if anyone had witnessed his moment of weakness. Luckily, everyone seemed too focused on their own tasks to notice the awkward reaction from Seven.
And that’s when he accidentally locked eyes with Agent 666 from across the room. She had glanced up from her computer at that very moment, as if she had somehow known that Seven was going to look at her. Seven felt his face burn a bright red and he instantly looked away. If this were a cartoon, Seven was sure steam would be blowing from his ears.
Agent 666 had joined the agency three months prior. Already she had taken the Intelligence Agency by storm, impressing all the superiors with her talents for the hacking world. She joined multiple projects and brought statistics up fast, just like Seven had done when he joined a couple years prior.
Seven wasn’t jealous. No, he wasn’t jealous at all. Why would Seven be jealous of another agent’s achievements? It didn’t make sense to be. But, Seven couldn’t help but constantly check on Agent 666’s progress, knowing that she was always busy and swamped with work, just to see how she coped with the pressure of it all.
Would Agent 666 crumble under the pressure of this assignment?
Seven involuntarily groaned aloud at the very thought. He tilted his head back and shot a small glare of frustration at the air vents in the ceiling, wanting to blame something for his difficulty in completing this case. Truthfully, there wasn’t anyone else to blame but himself—clearly he wasn’t as good as he thought himself to be.
‘I need help…’ Seven thought, finally admitting defeat on himself. ‘Maybe I should speak with Vanderwood about this?’
But that seemed like a stupid idea. Agent Vanderwood loved to tease Seven at any given opportunity. He was an annoying pest that always hovered over his shoulder to check his progress, and he always had some sort of smart ass comment to make. If Seven were to admit to Vanderwood that he was struggling, Vanderwood would no doubt make his life a living hell with jokes.
Though, who else could Seven request help from? The senior agents were far too intimidating to approach, and they sometimes had a snarky attitude when it came to Seven due to his age. They would also think less of Seven if they heard him asking for help on a case that they found tricky. Seven didn’t want that.
Then, an idea came to mind.
‘Would Agent 666 be willing to help me?’
There hadn’t been many conversations between Seven and Agent 666. It wasn’t that Seven didn’t have the chance to speak with her, but rather the fact that he didn’t know what to speak about with her. She was very reserved and kept herself distant from everyone; she had yet to smile or laugh, and she just seemed plain miserable despite being an expert at her job. Seven knew he could relate with Agent 666 somewhat, especially seeing as they were both of the same age, but how was he supposed to strike up a conversation?
Seven pushed aside his doubts and opened a private messaging system between himself and Agent 666. It only took a few minutes to do, but it would be effective and could easily maintain his dignity in case she rejected his request. If that were the case, Seven could easily destroy all evidence of him even asking.
707 : i have a question
Seven nervously leaned back from the monitor and began playing with his hands. He watched eagerly for a message to appear, and he nearly fell out of his chair with excitement as a response appeared.
666 : what’s your question?
707 : I’m struggling with my assignment. I can’t infiltrate the system properly without being located. Are you able to take a look?
666 : …
Seven held his breath.
Would she reject him?
666 : okay.
Seven couldn’t help but grin widely as he began sending over the details for Agent 666 to look at. As soon as he hit send, he discreetly glanced over his shoulder to gauge her reaction, and he was in awe to see how focused she appeared while reading the uploaded documents.
30 minutes later, Agent 666 replied to the private log again.
666 : the code is *** ** ***** * ***. you’ll have less than 5 minutes to retrieve the information before the server resets and kicks you out. the algorithm changes every 15 minutes.
Seven clapped his hands together and wasted no time in diving back into the assignment. He typed as fast as his fingers would allow him to, and only briefly stopped to adjust his headphones back onto his head. Once into the server, Seven began downloading files from every section possible, ensuring that nothing was left untouched.
The last file finished downloading before the server became corrupted and forced Seven out. However, Seven was deeply satisfied and set to immediate work in decrypting the files he had stolen. Within 15 minutes, Seven had required all the information, plus extras, to complete his assignment. Everything was sent over to his supervisor, and if it could be wrapped in a neat little bow then that’s what Seven would have done.
707 : thanks for your help, I really appreciate it
666 : it’s no problem… I was surprised that you even asked for my help to begin with, I thought it was a joke
A joke? Seven frowned.
707 : jokes can cost us our lives here, I would never joke about something so dangerously important
666 : I see… then would I perish if I made a joke now?
707 : what joke is it?
666 : well…
666 : they call you the God of hacking…
666 : … so I must be the Devil
666 : 😈
Seven felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards into a smile. He chuckled humorously. Seven turned his head in Agent 666’s direction, and he smiled even wider upon seeing that she was already looking back at him. She gave a small, shy wave, which encouraged Seven to wave back in a similar manner.
God, why was his heart beating so fast? Seven concluded that it must have been the adrenaline rush from completing the assignment on time. He was cutting the deadline rather close, after all.
707 : haha, you’re funny 😁
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xelasrecords · 14 days
Note
Which Hogwarts house would you assign each MM character to?
This is gonna be fun. I'm assigning them based on what they value the most, not the house values because that's how the Sorting Hat decides.
From the perspective of a Ravenclaw:
Jumin: Ravenclaw
I teetered between Ravenclaw or Slytherin. He knows how to use his good looks and wiles to charm women into working with him, only to discard them once the business is done. But is that what he values when put under duress? It's knowledge. It's his mind that he's confident in. He doesn't immediately resort to manipulative tactics, he cleverly plans as he goes. His curiosity is also endless, shown through his interest in black magic and his way of showing love.
Jihyun: Hufflepuff
He embodies all of Hufflepuff traits—loyal, patient, dedicated, unafraid to toil away. And just. Yes, even though it's a warped, self-sacrificing sense of justice, in that he believes he deserves everything bad because he's unworthy.
Yoosung: Hufflepuff
Some might think he's not hardworking enough to be in Hufflepuff, but his "laziness" is a product of grief. He used to be an all-star student with numerous extracurriculars under his belt, and he becomes a vet in his GE! You have to really commit to pursue a medical career.
Saeyoung: Gryffindor
Sure he's a clever agent with slimy ways, but he's not afraid to go rogue and ditch everyone else for Saeran. His love for his brother is his driving force in all routes.
Zen: Gryffindor through and through
Is there anywhere else more fitting for his chivalry and reckless bravery in the name of love, be it romantic or platonic?
Jaehee: Hufflepuff
She values hard work and dedication over learning for the sake of it. She's dedicated on every task she's given, and even more so with her hobbies. I considered putting her in Ravenclaw, but their vital traits of prizing individuality and wisdom aren't her.
Saeran: Gryffindor (I'm using GE Saeran as reference)
Have you played his AE? This is where he belongs. If Saeyoung's courage is fuelled by anger and fear, Saeran's is driven by altruistic love.
Rika: Slytherin
Her unstoppable ambition to turn everyone she deems weak to be her followers without a regard to their feelings because she fancies herself their saviour is all the proof needed.
Vanderwood: Slytherin
His loyalty is to himself first and foremost. Would and has betrayed Saeyoung to save himself from grave troubles. This isn't to say he's a bad guy—he eventually sides with Saeyoung again—but he does use his cunning to get what he wants.
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pastelsapphy · 1 year
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Inferno
"I wanted to bring here everyone that should get on their knees for Saeran. Me, that woman, and V..." Saeyoung Choi is not a man of mercy. He is a hellbound force of retribution with nothing left to lose. Those who hurt his brother will pay for it in blood. What if Saeyoung had brought V to the cabin too? Warnings: Major character death, murder, suicide, arson, death by fire, unhinged Saeyoung. Read on AO3 A/N: "Hey Luc, didn't you post this already?" Yes. And then I edited the post fifty times and added an AO3 link, so I wanted to make a neater post. Anyway, I wrote this at midnight because the thought wouldn't leave me alone. I wonder what Saeyoung's plan was if he'd gotten all three of them to the cabin like he'd wanted in VAE. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be pretty. And I think seeing both of the people he blamed Saeran's death in front of him... the thought that Saeran wouldn't want revenge wouldn't stop him. Not this time. The world needs more unhinged Saeyoung. Let him be angry and terrifying. I'm normally not a fan of unhappy endings, so maybe a miracle happens. Maybe Saeyoung ends up with a cool scar to match his brother's. Maybe not. Who knows.
There is an old clock in the cabin. Saeyoung isn't sure how it still works--it's not like anyone who comes out here is about to change the batteries or anything. Yet it works, filling the tiny wooden building with a steady tick, tick, tick as the seconds go by.
It's fitting, really. It's as if the universe is counting down the minutes. How many more does he have? Maybe it's only a few. Perhaps as much as an hour. Certainly not much more than that.
Tick, tick, tick.
He had already sent Vanderwood outside. Well, forced them out might be more accurate--they could tell something was wrong with Saeyoung. Of course, they knew about his brother by this point; they knew he was going to grieve, and grieving people do weird shit to cope. And Saeyoung is a weird guy to begin with. But something was just... off. It was a feeling in their gut. Something snapped in that kid's brain and Vanderwood wasn't keen on leaving him to his own devices.
"I'm not leaving you by yourself so you can do something stupid," Vanderwood had said.
"I know exactly what I'm doing, Vanderwood." Saeyoung did not shift his gaze away from the cabin's other two occupants. "It's in everyone's best interest if you wait outside."
"I told you I'm--"
"Get the fuck out!" Saeyoung snapped, briefly looking away to shoot a glare at the other agent.
Vanderwood had been momentarily stunned into silence. They yelled at Saeyoung on a regular basis--the kid had caused them so many headaches over the years--but never had Saeyoung snapped back like that. He would make smartass remarks, god knows he was full of them, but he never yelled. If he had ever been truly angry with Vanderwood, he had never shown it.
There was a long silence, broken only by the ever-present tick, tick, tick of the old clock. Then, Vanderwood had sighed and stood from their chair. "Fine. But if I think you're about to do something that will endanger both our lives, I'm coming back."
"You don't have to worry about that. Just wait outside, Agent."
Something about the way he said that sent a chill down their spine. Maybe it was his tone, now constantly laced with barely-restrained rage. Maybe it was the fact that he called them Agent. Maybe it was instinct. But after another moment's pause, they stepped outside the cabin. They reached into their pocket for their cigarettes, only to find them gone, along with their lighter. Must have left them in the cabin. By the time they turned around to check, Saeyoung had already latched the door behind them.
So now it's just the three of them, three people tied together by one unbreakable thread. Three people who weren't human anymore. Three monsters. Three killers with blood on their hands. The worst kind of scum, all responsible for taking the life of an innocent--someone too kind and pure for this world.
Saeran may have been the one to detonate the bomb that destroyed Magenta, but the three who sit in the cabin--Saeyoung Choi, Jihyun Kim, Rika Kim--are the ones responsible. They all killed Saeran. Saeran's blood coats their hands and would never, could never, be washed away.
Tick, tick, tick.
V, ever the mediator, is the first to break the silence. "Luciel--"
"Why?" The word tears itself from Saeyoung's throat, finally pushing past the lump of rage and guilt that threatens to strangle him.
"I'm sorry, Saeyoung," Rika says. "I'm so sorry for everything that happened. If I could go back, if I could trade my life for his--"
"You have no right to say that." Saeyoung spits, standing abruptly. "You have no! Right!"
Rika falls silent, her hollow-eyed gaze dropping to the floor. Saeyoung hates it. Her demeanor only angers him further. How dare she play the victim? Maybe the 'it's all my fault, I'm the worst, I deserve retribution' thing would garner sympathy from other people, but not Saeyoung. He, in fact, wholeheartedly agrees. It is all her fault. She is the worst person in the world. She does deserve retribution. The same goes for V and himself.
"Luciel--" V tries again.
"And neither do you!" Saeyoung's venom now turns to him. "Don't you dare say anything about sacrifice. It means nothing. It won't bring him back. It won't change what you did to him."
Tick, tick, tick.
"I trusted you," Saeyoung says. "I. Trusted. You. You promised me--you swore to me that you would protect him! How could you--" his voice cracks. "How could you do that to him? Saeran was good. Saeran was innocent. Saeran was kind, and gentle, and he deserved to be loved. But you--you--"
He lets out a frustrated noise, unable to turn his thoughts into words. His mind is nothing but a loop of rage, rage, rage. Rage and vengeance and shame and guilt.
"You killed him," he finally growls. "Both of you killed him. And... so did I. Every one of us is responsible for what happened to him."
"Luciel," V tries again. "We--" he sighs. "Please, Luciel... if anything, do not blame yourself--"
"How?" He snaps. "How?! I trusted you both to look after him. To care for him. To treasure him. And instead, you manipulated and brainwashed him. You tortured him just like our mother did." He feels a twisted sense of satisfaction at the pained gasp Rika lets out, as if she's been stabbed through the heart.
Saeyoung decides to twist the knife further. "Actually, you were even worse than our mother. At least she never lied to us. We knew from the beginning that she only wanted us to get money from our father, that she never loved either of us. But you? You lied. You promised to protect us, to help us. But in the end you were just the same. You gave us hope only for your own selfish needs.
"Saeran spent every day of his life living in fear while you beat all the kindness and gentleness out of him.
"And you--" Now he speaks directly to V. "You did nothing to stop her. Fuck all your excuses. I don't care about your sacrifice. You were only ever concerned with her. You were only ever protecting her. If you had really wanted to protect Saeran then you would have saved him from her. You can martyr yourself all you want, it won't make you any better than her."
Tick, tick, tick.
The air in the room shifts abruptly. It's charged, thrumming like a livewire. The explosive anger evaporates in an instant; it's replaced by something far more terrifying.
"All of Saeran's killers must be held responsible for what happened," Saeyoung says. His anger is no longer a raging inferno. Now, his anger is like ice. It's calm, now. No less intense, but calm. As if he had long ago decided a course of action.
Tick, tick, tick.
Saeyoung crosses the room and reaches for something behind one of the chairs. He wonders, briefly, what his brother's last moments were like. How did the bomb detonate? Had Saeran simply pressed a button and ended it, or was he forced to sit there and listen as a timer counted down his last minutes on Earth?
Tick, tick, tick.
Rika does not react, but V's eyes widen when Saeyoung lifts a large, red plastic canister from behind the chair. "Luciel, what are you--"
Saeyoung unceremoniously upends the container in the middle of the cabin's main room. The liquid quickly soaks into the carpet and the wood flooring, and the heavy smell of gasoline fills the room.
Tick, tick, tick.
"Luciel! Wait, let's talk about this--" V has risen to his feet, but freezes when Saeyoung pulls a beat-up zippo from his pocket.
"Talk?" Saeyoung says, laughing. "Talk?! You had years to talk, V, but you stayed silent and let Saeran suffer. The time for talking has long since passed."
Tick, tick, tick.
He flicks the lighter open with a small metallic clink.
"Saeran wouldn't want this," V tries. His half-blind, once-honest eyes are wide and desperate.
"Don't you dare speak his name!" Saeyoung shouts. "You don't deserve to say his name."
"Please--"
"It doesn't matter anymore what he would have wanted."
It's then that V notices the tears running down Saeyoung's cheeks, the tremble in his voice. Had he ever seen Saeyoung cry before?
"He's gone. And he's never coming back. And those responsible need to pay for it.
"Heh... you know, this is the first time I wished I could get into Heaven," Saeyoung continues, voice breaking. "Just for a few minutes. Just long enough to apologize to Saeran. For everything. For not being able to protect him. For leaving him. For being a terrible brother. For betraying him. For failing him. Beg for his forgiveness. All of us should."
Tick, tick, tick.
Saeyoung lets out a low chuckle. "Knowing Saeran... he would probably forgive us. Not that any of us deserve it. So perhaps it's better this way."
Tick, tick, tick.
"Take your revenge, Saeyoung." Rika's voice is hardly above a whisper, yet it seems so loud in such a small space.
Tick, tick, tick.
Saeyoung lowers himself to the ground, thumb on the wheel of the zippo. The gasoline soaks into the legs of his jeans. His head feels light, and he's not sure if it's from the fumes or if it's a weight lifting off his shoulders.
Tick, tick, tick.
"You wanted us all to be a family, right?" He says.
Tick, tick, tick.
"Then let's go to Hell together."
Tick, tick,
Click
Tick--
BOOM.
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