#mysme angst

[pochipop]

＃MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — TALK ME DOWN (JIHYUN (V) X READER).

#. synopsis! — when things feel like they might come undone, jihyun doesn't have to deal with it alone anymore .

#. characters! — jihyun (v).

#. warnings! — vague references to past traumatic events (canon compliant) , non-graphic depictions of trauma responses .

#. word count! — 1.2k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Jihyun craves control in what feels like a necessary manner. He doesn’t like to have things thrust upon him without warning, doesn’t like to be out of the loop. It’s a matter of security, and that's why he scrambles to understand things at their very core. Even when he asks questions more than once, try to give him some leeway. He doesn’t mean to be overbearing or distrustful, —he simply craves details down to the marrow. It’s a tool he’s found that soothes his worries, and it’s a small price to pay for his peace.

“I’m sorry, it doesn’t seem like we have a reservation for that name,” the young woman at the front of the restaurant apologizes.

“Are you certain?” Jihyun asks, —and you can feel his grip tighten on your hand a bit, even as his tone remains incessantly polite. “I booked a table over a month in advance for our anniversary. . .”

She flips through the little booklet on the desk again, pursing her lips before shaking her head.

“I’m not sure what happened, but there’s unfortunately no tables available for this evening,” she replies. “You’re welcome to stay for a bit and see if anyone misses their reservation time, but that’s the best I can do. I’m very sorry.”

“That’s okay,” you assure her.

It’s not like she has anything to do with it. She’s just doing her job, and whatever happened, it likely wasn’t even her mistake to remedy. Moreover, it’s not like this was the end of the world. A block over there was a nice little steakhouse serving roughly similar menu items, and you’d been there on dates with Jihyun before. It might even be nice to go back and spend your second anniversary with him in a more familiar and welcoming place. . . But he felt like his head was swimming by the time he made it back outside.

His grip on your hand was unusually firm, —not painful, but more desperate than it had been a few minutes prior, and you could feel his palm getting clammy. Jihyun had always been a calm and reserved man, the type that took a while to warm up to people. At least, that’s how you’d always known him to be. Jumin told you he was a bit less reticent once upon a time, that he trusted more freely and cared more forwardly. But that was before, and things have clearly changed, and much of that change came at him in a sort of insurmountable way. It wasn’t the kind of thing anyone could prepare for, and bizarreness aside, Jihyun had by no means been afforded all the opportunities to feel safe and secure.

“Hey,” you say softly, looking up at him, “are you alright?”

The breath he utters is shaky at best, and he finds it difficult to meet your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he says quickly.

You barely catch the words as they spill past his lips in rapid succession.

He said them like he was sputtering out his final phrase, scared he might not have another chance to express it if he didn’t let it burst forth. 

“Sorry? —For what?” You ask, reaching up to cup his cheek in your free hand. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

When he looks at you, it’s like he’s seen a ghost. There’s a distant sense of fear and a few tears welling up, clumping together above his lashes.

“The table, it. . . I. . .” he tries, but the articulation doesn’t come to him.

He’s not sure what to say or how to say it, and he’s terrified of the fact that you’re being so calm, even when he knows he should be thankful for it. A part of him even thinks it might be easier if you just yelled and let him swallow your frustrations like the words he’s choking down. This gentleness is still foreign, even after all this time.

You walk with him a little ways, keeping your fingers laced with his. There’s a small community garden spot where everyone is free to come and admire the flowers, and it serves as an easy way to put some space between yourself and others strolling along the sidewalk.

“Jihyun,” you say, “it’s really okay. I’m sorry the reservation didn’t work out, but we can still have dinner down the block.”

But at this point, it’s less about any steak he’s missing out on and more about the fact that something has gone wrong in the first place. It’s out of his hands now, and he can’t stop thinking long enough to let himself drown in yours.

“I just wanted everything to be perfect,” he replies.

You kiss his frigid knuckles and look at him like he’s the only person in the world.

“I know,” you tell him. “And it might not help to say this, but I think you should know that it’s perfect to me anyway, no matter where we go. As long as I’m with you tonight, we can do anything, go anywhere, —I just love you, and as long as you’re here, I’m happy.”

Jihyun stills, and you can see the cogs turning behind his gaze, processing what you’ve said as if he finds it hard to believe. Sometimes, he forgets that this isn’t conditional. You know certain things linger longer than either of you would like, but it’s not really something he can help. Not right now. Two years doesn’t erase all the time he spent pining for forgiveness from all the wrong people in all the wrong places. Time hasn’t healed his wounds as well as he would have liked. They still pry themselves open and leave bloodtrails in his wake every now and again, and sometimes it gets on you.

He takes a breath and tries again.

“I booked the table,” he says firmly. “I remembered that you said you wanted to give the restaurant a try, but we could never find a good time, and I thought this would be the right occasion.”

You smile, because it’s sweet that he remembered such a small thing. It was a comment made in passing more than anything else, but he still cared enough not only to listen, but to keep it in mind.

“Thank you for trying,” you tell him in earnest. “But we can always book another reservation for another time.”

“It won’t be our anniversary for another year,” he explains.

“No, it won’t,” you agree, “but that’s okay, isn’t it? You brought me roses last month, and there was no special occasion for it.”

Jihyun purses his lips for a moment, then nods. He sees what you’re getting at, even though his disappointment is still palpable.

“You’re right,” he acknowledges.

“And you’re amazing,” you reply, pressing a hand against his warm chest.

He lets out a breath and pulls you closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. A wave of relief washes over you upon feeling some of the tension leave his body.

“I’m really sorry,” he says. “Things weren’t supposed to go this way.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you insist.

“Yeah. . . Maybe. I just feel like it’s my fault,” he answers.

“It’s nobody’s fault,” you mumble, pulling away just enough to cup his cheeks again, hoping he won’t mind the mild shock of your free hand’s chill. “Sometimes things just happen.”

A part of him wants to argue, but he loses that urge the moment you brush your lips against his so tenderly. It’s the kind of softness he craves when he gets a little too wound up, and you can almost feel him melt into your embrace where he stands.

“Happy anniversary, Jihyun.”

He smiles, and it reaches his eyes.

“Happy anniversary, my love.”

#mm #myseme #mm jihyun #mm v #mysme angst #mysme jihyun x reader #myseme v #mysme v x reader #v x reader #jihyun kim #kim jihyun #kim jihyun x reader #jihyun kim x reader #mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger jihyun #mystic messenger v #mystic messenger v x reader #mystic messenger jihyun x reader #mm x reader #mysme x reader #mysme reader insert

[anon-drabble]

wake up

whoops, got bit by that inspiration bug again.

some good old seven angst because why not lol. similar to the reset theory but also inspired by a few other sources that talk about multiple universes.

ao3 | ko-fi | twitter | masterpost

When will she wake up?

Once more, Saeyoung reset the app. One more time. Surely, she’d remember. This time, she would. 

He’d been repeating that with every reset. Every time the data was erased, he said those words to himself. Every time, he wished. But so far, she remained unaware. Maybe someday she would remember everything and remember him. But maybe she wouldn’t. That didn’t matter, though. He’d promised her that he would never stop trying. And she promised that she would remember him. It had been so long ago now, he almost forgot how she looked that day. 

Everything had gone wrong. Mint Eye had won, Rika had finally managed to get her wish. For everyone to be happy. But it wasn’t real. It was all through her elixir and that wasn’t true happiness. 

Saeyoung was in the prison with you. You two were the only ones left of the RFA. Unknown (who you now knew was Saeran, Saeyoung’s long-lost twin) had taken great joy in prolonging the torture Saeyoung was made to endure. At first, V had been there and had tried to save you and the rest of the RFA. But he’d been too late. In an ironic twist of fate, he simply hadn’t seen the signs in time. He was dead now. You and Saeyoung had witnessed it, watched the blood pool as his body went limp, as it slowly turned ashen. The floor of your cell was still stained with V’s blood. Saeyoung was kept in a separate cell beside yours. His stone floor was also stained but it was mostly his own blood now. Among other things. But he hadn’t been broken yet. Neither had you. You wondered if perhaps Rika and Saeran were going easy on you for some reason. After all, you had watched as one by one, each of the RFA members were taken and they slowly lost their minds. Became just another of Rika’s drones. Some of them took longer than others but eventually, they had all succumbed. At first, everyone had worked together to come up with plans for escape. But as their minds cracked, it grew more and more difficult. Saeyoung now was the only one left except for you. 

“I think tonight’s the night,” he murmured. You imagined him in his cell, on the floor, hunched over in pain from Saeran’s most recent attack. You were unhurt but Saeyoung was nursing at least a few broken bones, more bruises and cuts than you could count. You had no idea how he was even still alive. Whenever you saw him being dragged out of his cell, he had dried blood everywhere, his hair matted in clumps from it. 

You pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “Did he say something?” 

“No. But I saw the room set up for another ‘recruit’. I think it’s your turn.” 

That meant you wouldn’t be coming back this time. They’d turn you, just as they had all the others. You knew it was coming. Rika spoke of you often, boasting about how she’d use you. She had already used you once, leading you to that apartment. That was when you had met the RFA. You had no idea at the time that it was her apartment. But it had all been a trap, meant to lure the RFA to Mint Eye, back to Rika’s embrace. 

“What should I do?” you whispered in the darkness. 

“There’s nothing you can do. Not this time,” Saeyoung replied. 

“‘This time’?” you echoed. 

“I think… I think I have an idea. It won’t stop anything in this world. I think it’s too late for us. But this might not be our only existence. I think I can save us next time.” You heard him shuffle over. His hand reached through his bars towards your cell. One of his fingernails had been ripped off. You clasped his hand as well as you could from your cell. 

“Then we don’t have to say goodbye.” You weren’t entirely sure if you believed in other universes but he was trying to give you hope. And probably to give himself hope as well. That was in short supply these days. 

“Right,” he said. You imagined him smiling a little. You squeezed his hand and heard him wince but he squeezed yours in return, reassuring you. “This time… I couldn’t save you. But I won’t fail you ever again.” 

“You didn’t fail me,” you started to say, but he interrupted. 

“I found a way to save us. Not our physical bodies but ‘us’. Our psyche, personality, spirit, whatever you want to call it. I can save those so that next time…” 

“We can win?” 

“Right. We can stop this. We can…save everyone. And we can be together…” He trailed off. 

“How?” you asked. 

“They left me my phone. I think they meant it to hurt me more, to make me remember how I’d messed everything up. But I made something. A program. If there are other worlds out there, it can transfer us. And we can stop this.” He sounded almost excited now. Despite everything, you smiled. He was always happiest when he was working on something outrageous. Even now, at the end, he still had that side of wonder to him. 

“What do I do?” 

He hesitated. “Nothing. Once your mind here is gone, it will transfer to another you somewhere else.” 

“What about you?” You dreaded hearing his answer. 

“It will be the same. Once I’m…gone, I’ll transfer. I can save you then.” 

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” You could hear it in his voice. 

Again, he hesitated. “You might not…remember everything. I tried to save everything but there are some holes that I can’t fix.” 

“I won’t remember you? I don’t want that. I don’t want to forget you, Saeyoung!” you cried. 

“Try to remember. At the end. Just think of me, okay? It will help me bring more of you over. Just think about me.” 

You wiped a tear from your cheek. “I’ll remember you. I promise,” you said. 

“And I’ll bring you back. All of you. And we’ll be safe.” 

“Together,” you said. 

“Together,” he answered. 

It wasn’t until later that night that some cultists came to collect you. You were dragged from your cell. Saeyoung was at his bars, watching you. You could see him crying. You were crying, too. “I promise. I’ll remember,” you said again as you were ushered from the prison. You thought of him as they poured the elixir down your throat. You remembered his laugh. His cosplay. His self-hatred. You thought of how much you loved him. Even as the elixir was forced into your mouth, dribbling out the corners, you thought of Saeyoung. You thought of the times you’d had with him, short though they had been. You thought of his voice. His hand. His hair. His glasses. You thought about him. You thought…

The familiar screen and code flashed on his screen. Sometimes, it felt like she did remember. She said all the right things, she didn’t fall victim to Mint Eye’s traps. Sometimes she still loved him. But it wasn’t all of her. She never remembered their other lives. He almost didn’t want her to. He didn’t want her to know how he had been unable to save her, how he had been forced to watch her be carried away. At least she would never know what she had been made to do to him afterwards. That would remain locked in his own mind. But wouldn’t it be better for her if she didn’t wake up? If she didn’t have to experience those days again, even as a distant memory? But he had promised her. 

And she had promised him. And someday, that life she had promised was waiting for them. Where they would be safe and together. Even as the reset code scrolled by, he longed for that day more than anything. He wasn’t exactly the same him that he had been. This Saeyoung had never been tortured by his brother, not really. But the memories were as strong as though they had happened. He wasn’t the same him and she hadn’t yet been the same her but once she woke up, then they could be. They would be themselves again fully. 

Because Saeyoung could never truly be himself when he didn’t love you.

#mystic messenger #mysme #saeyoung choi #mysme seven #luciel choi #707 #seven angst #saeyoung angst #seven x reader #saeyoung x reader #mysme angst #mystic messenger angst #a writing egg

[kangjaehee]

may.

alright bitches and bros lets fucking go. mystictober day 1 - favorite character.

title: may.

character(s): jaehee kang

rating: general

word count: 1848

tags: angst, grief, guilt, parental death tw, character study, inspired by she used to be mine from the waitress musical.

Jaehee set her espresso down on the table, opened her work planner, clicked her pen out. The time of the month had come once again where she looked at her life for the next month, the ever-changing, ever-approaching deadlines, the projects and trips and cancellations and meetings, and put them all in a neat, visually recognizable square calendar, and then in dedicated pages on a daily planner.

She also pulled out her tabs, which she used for a color-coordinated task system: purple for personal appointments, blue for company affairs, red for Mr. Han’s personal affairs, and yellow for events, of which there were few. There also used to be orange, for RFA matters, but that color went unused ever since Rika’s sudden leave. 

Her planning system was complex and meticulous, something she’d developed and perfected over the years, and that she was quite proud of. She attributed whatever sanity she had to it; it was the reason why she wasn’t overwhelmed to the point of dysfunction by the quick pace of her environment. 

She wanted to laugh. When she’d first started as Han Jumin’s assistant, knowing what that entailed, she was worried she would not be able to live up to it. Yes, she was a top student of a top five university, an early graduate of their business school, and some even named her a prodigy– but this was Han Jumin of C&R. 

In the end, of course, she managed to do it, managed to pull through, like she always did. Her time management was still not flawless– she still barely had time for healthy, substantial meals, exercise, journaling, and other self-care activities that were necessary for both her physical and mental well-being– but it worked for her priority, which was her job. At least that always got done perfectly on time. And she was immensely glad for it. 

Taking out a few highlighters, and opening her monthly planner (which was ZEN themed, of course, a collection of his greatest postcards from musicals and modeling shoots, each pic more majestic than the last; not very professional but it provided a necessary boost of serotonin), she got to work to get this next month sorted out. 

May. Hell Note month– she should rewatch that when she has the time. The tail-end of spring, where the mid-year review had to begin its preparation to be presented in the first two weeks of June. There were a couple of office birthdays for which she had to buy gifts, a trip Mr. Han had to take to Italy, and another one to Houston. 

May. It’s crazy how the year has flown by so fast. The winter was slow. Mr. Han’s ridiculous cat clothing line project had made her suffer for two weeks before being canceled abruptly once he changed his mind, some sort of grace of the heavens blessing her for once. Rika’s death anniversary came and went with a quiet chatroom. And then Zen’s new show came out, and then it was spring, and then they were here. That had been quick. She hoped the rest of the year would be the same, or at least not too heavy… not like last year, with the meerkat thing… Oh God, she was going to be 25 this year. She decided not to think about that. 

May was also a month she was never exactly looking forward to. It was the month of her mother’s birthday and her father’s death. However much she tried, she couldn’t help but feel a little sad every time May rolled around. 

She usually kept busy enough to distract herself, with school finals and internship paperwork, trying to not get distracted by her resurfacing grief, which was a weak spot. She could not afford the paralyzing, stifling sadness– not then, not now, not ever. She’d put it on a little chest when she was seventeen and top of her class, to keep it out of the way. But this time… it looked like it was going to be difficult.

Both dates fell on weekends. Which Saturdays weren’t exactly a day off for her– she still had to show up to the office for half the hours, but almost always wound up staying full time or more if there wasn’t another activity. Sundays, though, were completely blank. She didn’t come to the office unless it was an extreme situation, preferring to reset in whatever way she could, or get started on new projects. She wouldn’t have anything to distract her from the memory of her mother, or at least it wouldn’t be the same as being there, in the middle of activity. No amount of paperwork or emails or even musicals would be enough for her to hide. 

She sighs. She knows she shouldn’t do this. She raced against her feelings and lost bitterly every time, crying at her desk late at night not knowing what to do. She always pushed through though, got over it and stood up and kept going, just like her mother had taught her to do. And she would this time too. She’d find something to cope with, find some way to let this near paralyzing grief not sedate her. She couldn’t afford that. 

Briefly she sat back and wondered what her parents would think if they saw her now. Not allowing herself to feel or to even breathe lest she let her guard down. Would they even recognize her now, buried in paperwork, short hair and glasses and all? What would they think if they saw her like this, living day by day, living for the little things, focusing on what’s right in front of her to distract herself from the fact that there’s really nothing much beyond that? Would they look at her and recognize the girl they knew?

No, she realizes with a pang to her chest. They wouldn’t. The woman she was now was barely a shadow of the girl her mother knew, and only embers remained of the girl her father knew. 

(She’s not too sure she remembers her well either, beyond the calm happiness she felt. It’s been twenty years).

Hell, she’s not sure she would even recognize herself. It’s been a lifetime since she was thirteen. Back then she was ambitious, driven towards great goals that she now can’t remember, oh my God she can’t remember. And now, she still has that same energy, that same capacity to endure, but it’s being applied towards simply keeping herself alive, and it’s a tragedy. It feels a little bit like a tragedy. 

That girl, bright-eyed, whip-smart, and intrepid, is not here anymore. The girl that stares back in the mirror is burnt out, dissatisfied, and so very afraid. 

Perhaps her mother wasn’t the only one who died in that car crash that fateful day. Whoever she used to be died too. 

And it’s not an easy truth to recognize, nor something that fills her with pride. She’s angry, actually, it’s that kind of anger that claws at your stomach and makes it bleed, because this is not who her mother taught her to be. She didn’t raise Jaehee to give herself away like this. Jaehee never would’ve imagined herself giving herself away like this. But circumstances change for the worse.

And it’s true, she’s never been attention’s sweet center, never felt like the protagonist of her own life, always like a neglected side character trying with all her might to be noticed and make do. The world never had a place for people like her. She’s had to assimilate, fight for her own. And with that, came sacrifice. But, even then, she still remembers that girl, with her bright eyes, sharp wit, and kind smile.

Imperfect, but hardworking. When something didn’t work out the first time, she tried again, turning her poisonous frustration into deadly retaliation. A polar opposite to now, where she can’t afford to fall back. She was hard on herself– always has been, that’s perhaps the only constant of her entire existence, always feeling like she didn’t measure up, that she’d be knocked down and sent reeling if she didn’t sit safely at the top or near it, and never, ever allowing herself to be dragged down by her feelings. No, she had to be strong, for her mother. For herself. 

(She was filled with so much fear, and so much guilt. For being so goddamn needy, so sad, so not the strong girl her mom needed her to be. She always felt so stupid for wanting love she knew she wouldn’t be able to get. And then, when she was on her own, sucked it up, because she knew no one would be able to give it.)

She never asked for help; no. Even when she needed it most, she’d figure it out on her own. She still does, although sometimes she wishes so badly to tear down her walls, reach her hand out of this wild ocean for anyone who sees it to grab it. Say hey, I am lost and don’t know for how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m falling into an abyss I won’t be able to come out of. I am mourning my old self more than I’ve mourned anyone. (I think I haven’t felt safe enough to be vulnerable in fifteen years.)

Because, all in all, she was a mess of contradictions: messy in the way teenagers are, yet kind; ambitious yet bad at planning-, guilty yet selfish, lonesome yet craving connection however much she denied it. All of that, mixed up and baked into a beautiful, unique cake. And now, she was just someone who had grown into a tall child, unable to recognize herself past what others needed her to be. 

There was a time when she belonged to herself. That time was gone. Mom, I am sorry, I would’ve let you down, you’d never let me go this far, but I had no choice. I had no choice. I hope you can forgive me. 

She’d do anything to get herself back… if she could, if it wouldn’t kill her to do so. If she had the chance, how she’d go back and change the ending, not let that girl die and her dreams be lost, not let her become this, whatever it was. Because now, there was nothing else to be done. 

Silently, she prayed, and she apologized. To her mother, to her father, to herself. She prayed for a light, perhaps, something to reignite that fire in her eyes that used to belong to her.

She looked at the mint highlighter on her left, didn’t take her eyes off it, and focused all her concentration on not crying. 

Oh my God, she was not about to cry over some silly, random, utterly uncalled for bout of sadness. She could not afford to waste this much time sulking in her feelings. There was a month to plan. Get it the fuck together, Jaehee.

So she chugged her coffee, swallowing her burdens deep inside her stomach, and picked up her pen. 

#MM_mystictober2022 #mystictober 2022 #my stuff #my writing #kang jaehee #jaehee kang #jaehee mystic messenger #mysme jaehee #jaehee mysme #mm jaehee #mysme angst #idk how to fuckin tag this honestly #tbh a Lot of this is based on my astro hc for her #which is that she's a virgo moon #lowkey this took a Direction i was a bit shocked by... lol #anyway enjoy :)

[ourstrawberryclouds]

Goodbyes part 2

Here's pt 2 next will be pt 3 ;-;

Warnings: it's still angst...^^"

Sadness? Disappointment? Resignation? All mixed together?He wants to ask, but it's obvious that she has something else on her mind now, because the smile she wears fades away and her brows knit together in deep concentration. After a few minutes she sighs. "It's strange how different things look from above."He blinks slowly.

What does that mean? "How so?"She glances down at the ground below them. There's a faint glow around her fingertips, and then she touches the roof of the building and the ground under their feet begins to tremble gently as well.When the tremor stops he sees that there' s nothing beneath them anymore, not even the rooftop where they just sat, nor the street either. There're just endless blackness stretching in all directions. A world he has never seen before.And yet there is something familiar about the scene in front of him. There's a faint echo somewhere in the distance.

He recognises it instantly. This is his own universe, right? Somehow this whole thing feels so familiar to him, and yet he is certain he hasn't ever been here before. The feeling of déjà vu is overwhelming and he feels slightly dizzy, as though he could fall through the floor beneath him any minute now. He can' t bring himself to believe it. There is simply too much strangeness going on to allow himself to think otherwise.

"Is this...real?"He hears her sigh again. "Of course." He thinks he must be imagining things, but he swears she smiles just a little wider. "Come on. Let's find someplace where we'll be safe, somewhere where we can really be together, our own universe Saeyoung."They walk slowly along the edges of the road, taking note of the direction each step takes them. Neither of them speak as they walk. There's no reason to, he decides. There's no one here for them to talk to anyway.

There are no cameras watching, no microphones listening, and there' s not much chance that anyone will come looking for them. No one else is supposed to be here, after all. So they have nothing to fear. Still, his skin pricks nervously as the buildings become more familiar and the buildings begin to change. Some look familiar; others don't. Others have been painted entirely over with graffiti, while others remain pristine white. A couple look like old mansions, whilst others look like abandoned factories and flats.

He wonders which one would have been home.They walk along until they're nearly at the end of town and suddenly there's a flash of light. "Ah, I guess my hope that I could join your world and bring you into mine was only a dream." That's when he remembered her name, her real name.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger angst #mysme mc #saeyoung choi #Mystic messenger fem mc #mystic messenger mc #Mysme angst #mysme 707 #mystic messenger 707 #707 x mc #707 x y/n #707 x reader #707 x you

[stxrrydreamss]

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

Warnings?: Fluff, angst, suggested breakup, and kissing

Summary: You are reninicising your first date after you two break up, thinking about how it came full circle.

This was inspired by my and ex and I’s first date. I thought you guys might like this as an x reader.

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

I quickly swivel my head towards the male beside me in my driveway. It was only the first date, but something made me feel so secure, and I was optimistic that he was clearly the one. He uttered words I wanted to hear my entire life and only thought happened in those little books and fanfiction I read online. I never once imagined that I could ever be in their shoes.

“Y-Yeah. More than I'd like to admit.” I respond quietly while adverting my attention to the bug crawling on the driveway below me.

“I can fix that.” He says quietly as his right arm snakes around my waist and pulls me into him. I could feel my heart beating inside my chest and my body heating up. This sensation I felt was new but very much welcomed. Everything about him and this date and his words were like a dream. I've never felt this way, and it was startling.

Minutes passed as he held me in his arms, both of us leaning against another vehicle in the driveway. We observed the stars above us with Star Shopping by Little Peep playing calmly in the background, murmuring about everything like we were old friends catching up.

“Can I kiss you?” He requests unexpectedly.

I was never the one to kiss someone on the first date, but everything felt so right, and I trusted him. He made me feel so safe and loved.

“Y-Yeah,” I reply nervously with a slight shake from all the intense feelings stirring in my chest. I closed my eyes in anticipation as he put a hand gently under my chin and tilted my head upwards before his lips gently met mine. There was no hunger, but passion felt through the kiss, and I went in for more. I knew then that I was smitten. When we break away, I smile all giddy and happy and embrace him with my face buried in his chest before I rest my head against it, looking up at him.

“You are so adorable, especially with those eyes.” He cracked up lovingly before kissing my forehead.

I was smitten, but, like all good things, It ended, and I was left feeling desolate once again, more than I ever had.

Eren, Armin, Jean, Senku, Tsukasa, Gen, Saeyoung, Zen, Yoosung, Saeran, Hawks, Hero!Dabi, maybe Aizawa. Izuku, Kirishima, Angel Dust

#my hero academia #mha #attack on titan #aot #Dr.stone #drst #mysmes #mm #mystic messenger #hasbin hotel #hazbin hotel #angel dust #angel dust x reader #angst #fluff #yoosung #jean #izuku #saeyoung #saeran #saeran x reader #saeyoung x reader #izuku x reader #jean x reader #yoosung x reader #zen x reader #zen #dabi #dabi x reader #senku

[onlinekitsune]

LET ME IN: SAEYOUNG CHOI (PART TWO)

"make your way to me through the waves"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, I can assume you heard everything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright… I’ll need some time.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

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

[nek0mars]

//tw eye strain

ANOTHER REDRAW this time, angst

#mystic messenger but make it angsty #wait isn't mm angst as is #mystic messenger #mm #mysme #saeyoung choi #707 #seven #saeyoung #I love redraws #MC #mm mc #find me once again mm fans

[mxsticmess]

something something the fear of being vulnerable

#don’t look at this for too long i’m feeling shitty about my art so i’m trying to draw and post more to get through it #if i had a nickel for every time i drew saeyoung handcuffed from saeran’s after ending i’d have two nickles. you know the rest #idk why i feel less like a perfectionist when drawing angst. idk maybe i think the flaws and concept are strong enough to carry it #as opposed to feeling like i have to make everything look Nice in other art #anyway my pathetic sopping wet meow meow #707 #saeyoung choi #my art #art #mysme #mystic messenger #mysme seven #mm seven #tw injury #? idk i’m not great at tagging this stuff #mm 707 #707 fanart #mysme fanart #meow :3

[diavolosbaby]

Can I ask for something with Jumin Han? Taking Jumin to therapy after his good ending and just how it ends up lmao. I feel like it can be a mixture of both a crack headcanon as well as possibly serious, up to you how you wanna write it! Thanks!

Sure :)

(Sorry this took so long, and sorry if it sucks it's my first fic after my hiatus from writing)

Taking Jumin to Therapy After His Good Ending

Characters: Jumin

Genre: Crack, slight angst but mostly crack and sillyness

Format: headcanons

Pronouns if used: they/them

-----------------------------------------------

- will be hesitant and will even straight up say no, but of course you convince him

- "hmmm no therapy? Guess that means no " physical " therapy either..."

- he changed his tune rather quickly

- he requested you be there with him, even talking to the therapist

- was very slow opening up and would often look at you to answer for him with his cat like wide eyes, even when you didn't know what the hell the answer was

"So...your mother...did she ever comfort you when you were sad? Did you ever show you were sad?" *he turns to you, expectantly* ???

- very very awkward, reaches your your hand or is always touching you. Is awkward, feels awkward. Doesn't like it, feels out of place.

- Always felt like therapy was for people who had problems, he never thought he had problems til you pointed them out to him

"Jumin, dont you think this overprotective nature comes from somewhere? Maybe you're insecure hon?" *confused wide eyed cat stare and hear tilt*

- just be patient with him, he'll get there

- the more sessions he has the more he'll open up and get it

- will eventually even stop needing you in there with him. When he tells you he wants to go alone, he's very proud. Be proud with him.

"No MC, I think I'll go myself this time. *smug smirk as he looks at you waiting for some sign of pride from you* (please be proud of him its a big accomplishment for him)

- when he does something sort of topic he'll rail it back and start monologuing about how his therapist talked to him about this. Will explain to you where it comes from and that he's working on it, apologizes

-toxic behavior reduces a lot less, mommy and daddy issues reduce a lot less, insecurities reduce a lot less

- ultimately, you won!

- remember, his toxic teauts are reduces but they are most definitely still there! Its him, after all

Again sorry this is so late!!!

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysticmes #mystic messenger x reader #mysmes x reader #mysmes headcanons #mystic messenger head canons #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger jumin #mystic messenger jumin han #mysmes jumin #mysmes jumin han #jumin han #jumin #jumin han x reader #jumin han headcanons #jumin han crack #jumin han x you #jumin han angst #mystic messenger requests

[xelasrecords]

As One So Half

Han Jumin x MC

Jumin goes to V's house after burying him, marking the first time he visits without his friend waiting on the porch.

Based on the Secret Ending with some changes, most notably the MC being romantically involved with Jumin instead of Saeyoung. How differently would Jumin grieve if he had someone by his side?

CW: graphic descriptions of death and grief

Words: 6k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Grief had hung upon V and him for as long as Jumin could remember. At times, it was a shadow lurking in the dark. Other times, it was a crushing weight that broke his ribcage in. From the moment Jumin crashed his toy car into V's house and V bargained for his friendship in exchange for forgiveness, they had invited grief to sit with them like a premonition. Their friendship started with an accident and ended with one.

The clamour at Mint Eye still reverberated in Jumin's ears. How his security guards broke through the cult doors and he caught a mop of turquoise hair on the ground, stupidly relieved that V was finally within reach and Jumin could ask him everything he had been holding back. How the relief was brusquely cut with terror when it dawned on him that it was V, sprawled on the floor, unmoving.

Jumin had rushed in and almost slipped in his own friend's crimson blood, finding purchase on his still warm hand and feeling for his pulse and came back with nothing. He had pulled V into his lap and saw V's head drop without resistance, noticed his chest not rising and falling and thought the sensation of it unnerving. He had pressed on V's gunshot wound, willing the blood to stop flowing. No words could come out of his throat. He closed V's clouded mint eyes with stiff fingers and both knees in the pool of blood.

The blood was warm and had soaked into his dress pants. He could still feel the fabric clinging to his legs.

When he registered the pandemonium around him, Rika was already keening below the gaudy throne and Saeran had crumpled into a foetal position, a gun inches away from him. Saeyoung had fainted and was hauled by a brown-haired stranger. The new party coordinator was scrambling at V's pants pocket, her cheek streaked with blood. She's alive, Jumin had thought dully. Saeyoung was wrong. V didn't betray her. Jumin could not reach for her despite his heart. His limbs had petrified on the ground V died on.

Jumin saw V dead over and over. He saw V in the shower where he stood underneath the water, diluting the blood from his three-piece suit and rinsed away what was left of V from him. He saw V in the bed where the fifth glass of wine had muffled his senses but failed to put him to sleep. He saw V at the funeral before they closed the casket, his face frozen in a serene smile as if there was anything peaceful in being shot to death.

That was how Jumin lost V for the final time. He would not see him again.

Jumin stood alone in V's living room now and he didn't know where to start. There was no user manual for clearing up one's dead friend's belongings. His hand hovered over the light switch before rendering it useless. The harsh tangerine sunset cut through the open windows and washed the rustic room aglow. It was enough lighting and a reminder that V was gone. V would have paused with awe on his face and took a photograph.

Jumin had come over right after V's burial, and restless silence had greeted him where V's earnest welcome should have. The refrigerator hummed from the dark kitchen, the grandfather clock ticked on, and the brine in the cool breeze pricked at his skin. The quiet was deafening, devoid of the laughter that he was used to.

It wasn't just the house. The anxious chitter in Jumin's head had deadened as well. It used to thrum without end when V started to disappear and come back as if everything was fine two years ago, but Jumin could always detect the nervous fiddling and the melancholy that weighed him down. He had begun to lose V since then. He simply didn't know it yet.

Two years was a long time not to know peace, and there was no peace in the aftermath. Only resounding emptiness remained. For two years, Jumin had been living with fear fused into his bones that he couldn't recall another way to live. Two years of being on high alert, wishing V would put an end to it.

V finally did now.

Jumin knew the logical conclusion was that he was grieving, but he was a distant observer watching his grief engulf him. Nothing was as heavy as this sorrow, as the tether of his soul being cut in half. He couldn't see the end to it, this grief that had started since V was alive. Each time V returned from his long absences, he was more damaged, more changed, and there was nothing Jumin could do to help.

He almost missed the days of fearing for V's safety when V was at least still alive. If Jumin focused on the well-being of the RFA and the mess Rika left behind, he could feel normal, as if nothing had changed. He could delude himself that none of this was real. It was easier to handle practical tasks than turn to his emotions, easier to care for others than himself.

Jumin walked past a line of small cacti on the bookshelf and headed to the brown leather sofa, grazing it with his fingers. He could almost hear V telling him to sit down, wait here, as he made a fuss in the kitchen over which wine he thought Jumin would enjoy the most. Jumin would then say that all wine was enjoyable with the right company and V was the best company anyone could have. V would modestly shrug it away, but it wouldn't stop Jumin from reassuring him that he was worthy of the title.

V was not here anymore, yet Jumin hadn't lost the ability to predict his moves like he could predict his own thoughts. No matter the secrets V brought to his grave, he was still the friend that Jumin knew. But if V had in him a semblance of the friend that Jumin was familiar with, shouldn't he have been able to read V's mind in the past few years?

He would never forgive V for leaving on his own.

Slowly, Jumin walked and stopped outside V's bedroom. Though the white oak door was wide open, he couldn't bring himself to take another step. He hadn't been aware that the last time he entered would be the last. V's arm had been slung around his shoulder as he hauled him into bed. Jumin remembered V chuckling drunkenly, hopelessly, pleading with him to keep it from Rika.

He had known something was wrong then, but assumed V would confide in him in his own time. Jumin had faith in his friend and clung to the hope that it was reciprocated. What hope it was. Some lessons you could only learn not merely after hitting rock bottom, but after you were dragged across the serrated surface and bled out alone.

Jumin leaned his head against the door frame, watching dust motes drifting above the unmade bed. He wished they had met up more often. He should have hunted V down for even one night of conversation over wine. However disappointed Jumin was in V, his yearning to tell him of his pain was even greater. For years, V had been the first and only person who came to mind when he wanted to talk, and that had not changed.

"You've abandoned me, V," Jumin murmured under his breath.

He could forgive V for almost anything, but not for leaving him alone in a world where he was already alone.

Suddenly, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, and he closed his eyes. For one second, he could pretend it was V about to tell him that his death was just another lie he concocted to cover up a greater evil. This lie he would forgive. He would give up nearly all his possessions for the one person who shaped all that was human in him, who then took it with him when he left. Jumin was only masquerading as a person on the outside; his soul had drifted somewhere he could not follow.

But the hand on Jumin was too reverent and not at all like V's. It was the hand that had brought him to his feet after the paramedics wheeled V's body away, the hand that held him tightly as if he would break if she let go. He would not. Not in front of everyone. He never learned how to, and there were people to take care of.

Jumin fixed his tie, braced himself for another wave of bad news, and turned around.

But the party coordinator cut in before he could speak. "Everyone got back safely from the cemetery," she said. In the shadowed room, the rings of exhaustion beneath her eyes were barely noticeable. She hadn't changed out of her black mourning attire—a silk ruffle blouse with sleeves that cinched at her wrists and a long skirt that flared down to her calves. "Rika went with Yoosung and Zen, Saeyoung returned to the hospital for Saeran, and I just got off a call with Jaehee. She was brewing coffee at her home."

Her method of mentally tracking the members was not unlike his. Jumin couldn't deny his gratitude for the familiarity and her concern for them. "And you're here at V's home," he commented. "I suppose this could be a safe place for you. I used to find it a sanctuary myself."

"Is it still?"

"One would think I'd hate coming back to my dead friend's place, but I can feel him here." He let the rough texture of the wallpaper scrape the pads of his fingers. There was a faint maroon stain against the beige where V had spilt his wine while laughing at Jumin's office anecdote. "He might have built this house for him and Rika, but everything here speaks of him, even the things he got out of devotion for her. They are still his devotion. In the safety of these walls, V lives on."

Perhaps he didn't come here to sort out V's belongings. His subconscious might have led him here to seek shelter from the disasters in the ghost of V's warmth. His spirit could even linger here. Jumin longed for a sign that his fascination with the occult would be proven true.

Her eyes swept through the house, taking in the mismatched antiques that V dearly loved. Jumin wondered what impression they left on her, if she could see what he saw and felt what he felt. "Do you think he's saying anything right now?"

"If he does, I cannot catch it. He's too distant from me to predict," Jumin said without inflection. "It wasn't always like this."

She studied him—not with pity, he noticed with a muted surprise—but sorrow. It felt too much like a burden that he had to change the subject.

"Have you ever had to bury someone you love?" he asked.

She faced ahead. There was a remote look in her eyes that pulled her from the present as if she was reliving a bygone time. At that moment, she felt almost as distant as V was. Jumin did not know yet how that would feel, but he realised with a pang that she had known unbearable pain, and wished he had been there for her. "Yes," she said. "I wanted to claw them out."

He did not quite share her feelings. Rather than unearthing V's corpse, Jumin wanted to revive him through the debt of unfulfilled promises, or necromancy. But here was someone who understood. He wouldn't take her for granted. He had lost enough in this life.

"It must be suffocating inside," Jumin noted.

She nodded. "It's probably good that he can't feel pain anymore."

Jumin didn't have to ask which he she was referring to. "I would've been happy for him if he didn't leave a mess behind."

"I heard what you said earlier when you blamed him for leaving without you," she said, watchful gaze seeking a change in his expression. "Did you want to go with him?"

Jumin's jaw tightened. "I want him not to go at all."

"He must have been special for you to love him that much."

Jumin scoffed. "He was definitely extraordinary, to have wreaked this much havoc in the RFA. V is—was complicated. Despite all the things he'd done, I can't see him as anything but a good friend, but the magnitude of his faults isn't something I can look past either."

"I think he tried to do good at the end," she said. "I was there when he tried to right his wrongs. I saw his sacrifices, but we can't neglect the casualties and how he dealt with things. I wish he understood that one poor decision could snowball into something too massive to handle alone."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions." It was an axiom that Jumin came across when he was young, but its meaning never dawned on him until he was forced to see it in V's downfall. "Trying to understand V is like reading a book you love upside down in a mirror. Deep down, you know the story is one that you keep close to your heart, but you struggle to make sense of it when the words are jumbled. It's hard for me to accept that V had changed so thoroughly without my knowing."

She rested her back against the doorframe, stretching out her legs until their toes almost touched. "It may be that he was neither good nor bad. It's impossible to box people into two rudimentary options."

Jumin laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, he was no doubt a bad parent to the twins."

She sighed. "A child should be loved and protected, and it's always more important that they feel your love. It's not their job to constantly convince themselves they're safe and loved. It should be easy for them to know how much love they deserve without worrying it would be taken away if they're not good enough." There was a frown between her brows that Jumin itched to ease out. "It wasn't just V, but Rika too. One through passive neglect, the other active violence." She put her hands into her skirt pockets, her voice softened. "Do you hate the twins? Saeran?"

The mention of Saeran was a blow to his gut, as it did whenever he imagined Saeran firing the gun at V, a scene that he never got to witness. Jumin was not sure if it was good that he never did, for now he was left to forever wonder how V felt in his final moments. The loud bang was all he heard when he stood outside the locked gates, and his desperation to get to V was the only thing that kept him upright on his feet.

"V failed the twins. Half of his failure is mine, and I consider it my duty to finish what he started," said Jumin in a tone that brooked no contradiction. "The RFA is family. That includes Saeyoung's lost brother. I have to protect them. You've seen how much danger they're in. I would've helped V if I had known. I have the power and resources at my disposal." His gaze strayed to the unopened Romanée-Conti bottle on the copper side table in the living room. Jumin had gifted the wine to V after a trip to France, but he never got to taste it. There were a lot of things V would never get to do. "I would have, if only he'd asked."

She unhitched herself from the wall and stepped closer to him. In all bewilderment, his breath halted. He had thought it impossible to feel anything but numbed anguish since V died. "You have a remarkable capacity for forgiveness and an even more remarkable heart, Jumin." She laid her palm on his chest, right on top of his beating heart. "I've always admired your compassion—I haven't forgotten how you flew back home the minute you knew I was living with a bomb—but you still surprise me with how good you are. Not everyone can do what you do, and you do them without being forced. Among all the people I've met, you're one of the kindest. No wonder V chose you as his best friend. I would too."

Her words were awfully gentle and soothing, urging him to pull her into his embrace and let down his armour. It was such an outlandish desire that Jumin found himself almost reaching for his phone to inform V about his latest emotional development, the realisation catching up a second late that V's phone was in his possession now, that it would just ring in his pocket and he wouldn't hear any more Jumin, it's you. How is Elizabeth the Third? and he wouldn't exhale in relief because V sounded fine, there was nothing wrong with him or their friendship, and he could finally sleep without relying on wine.

The deepest wound V left behind was the loneliness Jumin didn't know he was capable of feeling. He could not reminisce about V with anyone because no one knew him exactly like Jumin did. No one knew V used to have a spark of mischief in his eyes that he would cover up by feigning innocence and everyone but Jumin would fall for. No one knew V used to laugh with abandon when they snuck out of their childhood homes and raced to catch the sunrise breaking over Han River. Even Jumin's impeccable memory might not stand a chance against time. He might forget the sound of V's laugh as age corroded him. There would be no one to keep V alive after he passed.

Jumin put away her hand, not daring to indulge in the feel of her skin. "You give me more honour than I deserve."

"Because you don't give yourself enough."

Jumin stared at her with bleak despair. "Have you ever thought that I may not want to choose him back? That if I could go back in time, I may not want to begin this friendship with him, knowing how he would end?"

She tilted her head and watched him sadly. "V kept the contract too."

"The contract the two of you signed when you became friends. He kept it in his pocket." She carefully unfolded a yellowing paper from her pocket and handed it to him.

Jumin blanched. Whatever argument he was about to launch dissipated into thin air.

"What?" he croaked, the question scratching at his throat.

With trembling hands and quick strides, Jumin brought the paper to the windowsill. The sky above the slated roof was a fiery blaze that burnished their childish signatures with orange light. Jumin could feel the flames of fury licked at him, though for what he couldn't reason. It was V keeping yet another secret when Jumin thought he had lost his copy of the contract. It was the guilt of swearing not to forgive V when V had cherished him until his end.

Jumin bowed his head over V's barely legible handwriting, scrutinising every swoop and slant that dictated the start of their friendship. I hereby declare myself a friend to Han Jumin. At the end was a measly drawing of a toy car in green ink that had faded with time. There was dried blood staining the edges of the paper, blood both new and old.

"Why are you giving this to me now?" Jumin asked tersely.

She stood by his side. "I thought you wouldn't want to see it with everyone around."

Jumin couldn't peel his eyes away from the paper. The words were starting to morph into one another. It was the shortest contract he had ever signed. He had thought it effective. Now he wondered whether the contract length was directly and infernally proportionate to the period of their friendship. He should have included a clause to prevent his idiotic friend from doing anything that tempted death.

Jumin clutched the broken contract to his chest, hunching over it like it was V's lifeline, his breathing quickly becoming erratic. There was an awful pressing against his ribcage, a grotesque need to grieve with emotions bursting out of him as he had implored V to do when he thought V was mourning for Rika, but he couldn't. He had locked himself in this glass prison for as long as he could recall, and now he was paying the price. Thick, unscalable walls closed in around him. No matter how hard he pushed, he could not break through. He could not cry.

His best friend had died and he could not shed a tear.

"It's okay if you can't cry. It's okay," she muttered close to his ear. "You're not wrong for not crying. I know you're hurting. You don't have to prove that with your tears."

His breathing was out of his control. The sea air was choking him. He wanted to check on his cufflinks and tie clip and whether the tuck of his shirt was perfectly even on all sides. He wanted to fall to his knees.

He felt an arm around his shoulders and a hand gripping him, enveloping him with a warm, decadent scent that he always associated with her.

"I was supposed to go first," Jumin heaved out, words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

She stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"I was supposed to go first," he said. "When we were teenagers, V promised he wouldn't die before me. He'd always been reckless and I was afraid of losing him, so I made him swear an oath. I thought I could keep him alive if I tied him to me."

Her face contorted in pain. "It's not your fault, Jumin. You can't change his decision when it's not yours to change. V has chosen his path and you can't follow him. You can't."

But Jumin wasn't listening. "For years when I forgot how to be human, I only ever had to turn to V as my reminder. He was my mirror of truth. In the steadfastness of his friendship, I found the conviction in myself that I am human, that I am capable of being generous and kind and all the things you mentioned. I can only stand before you and be the person you admire because of V. I owe him my entire life, but it is not much of a life to live when he won't be there to see the end of it."

"It's still your life. That is important." Her fingers slid up his jaw and cradled his face with tenderness. It was the closest Jumin ever got with anyone, the most loving touch he had ever received. It made him want to simultaneously shatter into pieces and pull himself together. "I wish V knew how loved he is. I can see how much goodness he inspired in you, and you in him. I'm sorry you lost him so soon. You should have had more time."

"I thought we put in each other the same amount of faith," Jumin said. "I thought our shared history meant more to him. I knew he had secrets and trusted that he kept them with the best intentions. That trust was misplaced."

"You trusted him because he gave you no reason to doubt him. It is as you said. How could you have known that your closest friend went behind your back when all he had been was good to you?"

"I don't know." Jumin's reply was a whisper of a broken boyhood dream. "Twenty years I have called him my best friend and gloried in the truth of it right before my eyes. Now I don't even know how to be without him."

"Oh, Jumin." Her hands slipped to the back of his neck and held him close. Soft wisps of her hair tickled his cheek. "You will learn. It will be tough, but there's no other way. You just live through it, one day at a time. But know that I'm here with you."

There was no one who could see through him as well as V did, no one who could understand him with a single glance and infinite patience. Jumin wondered if he would catch V's exact shade of turquoise on anyone else's head. He wondered if he wanted to.

"Thank you," Jumin mumbled into her neck, allowing himself to stay in that position for five seconds, counting them in his head, before pulling away. "I must ask you something. How did you know that V had the contract on his person?"

She hesitated. "It fell out when we were locked in the cult prison and Saeyoung... hurt him out of anger. I saw V putting it back into his pocket. It was the first thing he salvaged when Saeyoung stopped. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him. I tried to shield V but Vanderwood dragged me back."

A bolt of pain struck Jumin when he realised it was how V got the bruises that he inspected on the cold metal table in the mortuary. And another when it hit him that she might have got injured during the commotion.

Jumin grasped her elbows and scanned her figure, wondering if the long sleeves and skirt were to cover up the bruises. "Were you hurt?"

She seemed startled but quickly recovered. "Not intentionally."

His stomach dropped with dread. "Then why did you intentionally throw yourself before someone who meant harm? Have you no concern for yourself?"

"I thought the kicks were getting too much for V," she said. "And for you. Your heart would break if you saw him so battered. He didn't even try to protect himself, Jumin."

"Neither did you, it seemed."

"Better I get hurt than him. He was already so weak. He couldn't anticipate the blows because he was blind. I don't think he even wanted to. He just lay there sputtering apologies and claimed all Rika's faults as his." The arch of her chin was a challenge, and in it, Jumin saw the quality that attracted him to her, not that he would mention it at the moment. "Tell me you wouldn't do the same."

He was starting to suspect he gravitated to a certain type of people. "That is hardly a fair comparison," he gritted through his teeth. "You don't know him like I do."

"Do I have to befriend someone to protect them?"

Jumin shot her a sharp look. "You should have known the danger you were in."

"And I know you love him!" she snapped.

Jumin was stunned. She was not one to lose her composure, least of all at him.

"You love him," she said again, lower this time, "so I looked after him."

"God." Jumin put his palms over his face, trying to ignore the convoluted pain that twisted and thrashed in his chest. Yet another person he failed to take care of, added to his list of failures. It was a short list, but the guilt would stay for a long while.

"Jumin," she said. "I know my limit. And it was Saeyoung. Beneath his anger was grief. I had to trust that he wouldn't do anything deadly to me. Besides, he's apologised and I've got myself checked up. Only bruises. Nothing fatal."

Jumin's hands fell to his sides. "Only?" he said incredulously. "He could have caused serious harm to you."

She lifted her brow. "Do you prefer V to take the brunt of it instead?"

Jumin stared at her in disbelief. "You can't do that. You can't be like him and sacrifice yourself recklessly to save people. Do you expect me to be grateful if my peace is paid with your blood?"

"It was quite strategic, actually," she said. "We split the pain between us. Not at all reckless."

"Don't you start."

She pressed her lips together, dissatisfied.

"I just wish to protect all that I care about," Jumin said. "I never want you or him to get hurt, but he did and now he's dead and there's only you left, so I can't"—he choked, pain lancing through him like wildfire—"I can't lose you either."

She closed her eyes briefly then took his hand, pressing it against her cheek. "You're not losing me. I'm alive, right here," she said. "When I was at Mint Eye, I could hold on because of you. I was thankful that you weren't there, that you were safely out of reach. And then you burst through the doors. I was horrified. I didn't want you to see V like that. I didn't want you to be near those elixirs and weapons." She kissed his knuckle, the softness of her lips sending shivers up his arm. "I'm just as afraid of losing you."

Jumin brushed a thumb across her cheekbone, guilt and helplessness roiled in him. "I'm sorry for getting angry. It isn't like me to lose my temper."

She shook her head. "You also just lost your best friend. Grief can pull out the worst in us and make us do things we don't normally do."

He sighed. "V has a salve here somewhere," he said stiltedly, unsure how to act in the face of kindness so unexpected in times like this. "Let me tend to your injuries. It's the least I can do."

She smiled. "Later. Let's not be too eager to get me out of my clothes."

Jumin nodded and placed the contract on the side table, tucking the edge beneath the Romanée-Conti. Somehow Jumin could tell she was being honest. She had never shied away from the cold truth, and it didn't seem like she was about to now. He didn't think he could bear it if she treated him like a fragile thing the way everyone around him seemed to.

A framed picture on the wall caught his attention. It was a photo of V and Jumin in their school uniforms sitting in the car, Jumin looking sullen while V sporting a wide grin. V was still an amateur photographer then, so the picture had more ceiling than boys.

Jumin remembered that day as vividly as the sting of chilli that had burned his tongue. V had been on a rebellious streak and dragged Jumin to ditch Driver Kim after school for a cup of tteokbokki by the street. While the rice cakes had a strange, pleasant chewy texture, their digestive systems were unprepared for the unhygienic street food.

It was the most horrendous stomachache Jumin had ever experienced.

After snapping the picture, V had fallen asleep on his shoulder while he recited his defence arguments for V, knowing only the harshest scolding was waiting for V at home. But V was stubborn. He would always pursue more adventures, and wherever V was, there Jumin was as well.

Jumin missed the weight of V's head on his shoulder, the feeling of V trusting and depending on him. They were always Jumin and V, V and Jumin, two inseparable boys who tried to make their gold-spun lives into something bigger than themselves but found solace in one another instead. They understood each other's familial pains and knew the right things to say when one was hurting. They made each other better just by existing.

"Did V mention me when you were with him?" asked Jumin.

"I'm sorry," she started, and he immediately wanted to stop listening. "He only blamed himself and talked about stopping Rika by giving himself up. But that doesn't mean he didn't care about you." She gestured at the contract. "That itself proves it."

Jumin thought he would be hurt, but there was only numbness inside him. "What were his last words?"

"Something about always being with Rika like the sun. How she was the love of his soul."

Jumin chuckled bitterly. Of course V would weave nonsensical poetry at his dying breath. He recalled his speech at the party a couple of days ago. Many people ignore the inconvenient truth for the sake of being comfortable, but true happiness only comes when one has faced that inconvenience. Now faced with the blunt truth, he found no joy to glean from it. He would never know V's final thoughts about him. In the end, even the truest truth couldn't bring V back alive.

"You said V has chosen his path," said Jumin, staring past the swaying grass outside, "but the path he walks on is a lonely one, and he walks it alone. Didn't he know that I would've carried his burden with him?"

But even as he spoke, he knew it was precisely why V couldn't confide in him. V, who would take every problem upon himself, who wouldn't let anyone suffer in his stead, whom Jumin wouldn't call Jihyun again because V hadn't permitted him to.

He could wait forever for a chance to call him Jihyun. He was still waiting for it.

"I'm confident he knew," she said. "He'd have to be blinder than he was not to see how selfless you are."

The corner of Jumin's mouth quirked up, but it wasn't a smile that reached his eyes. "V was the selfless one."

"It's not a competition."

He glanced at her. "Do you think he's reincarnated somewhere?"

The temperature was dropping as night approached. She shifted closer to him. "If he did, I hope he'd live a peaceful life."

"No," Jumin said adamantly. "He's done too many awful deeds to be reincarnated as a human. He should be an animal. A cat would be fitting."

She frowned. "I thought you liked cats."

"Humans and cats are two different things. I like cats. I have no desire to be one." His mind was set. V must be reincarnated. Only then Jumin could meet him again and forgive him. "I'll be on the lookout for emerald cats in case it's V. I'll provide him with everything he needs. He won't have to put himself in danger again."

If there was anyone Jumin loved more than himself, it was V. There was nothing he wouldn't do for him. And if V was threatened with a loaded gun, there was no saying that Jumin wouldn't take the bullet for him. How could he hate V for doing something that he would do himself? Perhaps they were more similar than he thought.

"Elizabeth the Third would welcome a green friend," she agreed.

"Of course." Jumin fixed the lapel of his black suit. V had bestowed Elizabeth the Third with her majestic name. There was nothing in Jumin's life that V had left untouched. "I need a drink."

Her eyes flitted from the childhood picture to him, her face mirroring the unending pain that wrapped around his heart, and he knew she had seen through him. "I brought wine," she said. "But first, dinner. I'll be disappointed if you let my cooking go to waste."

"You're caring for me," Jumin said. "You have been since the beginning. What an odd feeling. No one has ever cooked for me aside from my chef and V." He observed their elongating shadows on the hardwood floor, how they melded into the looming darkness in the room. "My utmost appreciation. That applies to your care for V as well."

She simply nodded and twined her chilled fingers with his.

Outside, the boiling red sky was dissolving into black. The sun hung low over the violent waves crashing against the cliff. She clicked on the light switch, and Jumin watched the light reflected off the picture frame glass, obscuring V's and his youthful faces. He followed her to the dining table, feeling like an intruder in his dead friend's home, listening to the ghost of their laughter over clattering plates from another time, silently willed him to come home, then pulled out a chair for her and ate in silence.

Footnotes:

Sunset as the atmospheric setting was logical and metaphorical. Timeline-wise, this fic is set a few hours after the burial took place at around noon. The metaphor comes from how V, the self-described sun, has died. The sun has to set now. It was a fun challenge to portray a scenic sunset alongside the dark theme of grief. But hey, beautiful and depressing are a perfect description of V.

This is the most planning and note-taking I've ever done for a fic because it closely follows the canon events! The bullet points, annotations, personal arguments and analysis are LONG.

It's also my most planned characterisation for MC. I usually figure out their personality as I write, but since I replayed the Secret Ending, I'd known I wanted to give Jumin someone who understands grief and loss and knows how to navigate the conversation without being too pushy. He's so lonely there. He doesn't know how to reach out and nobody can be there the way he needs.

My initial plan was to make this fic Jumin-focused without an MC, but then she entered the scene and from the way their interaction was going, it would've been wrong not to make them have feelings for each other for a while. I meant to show that love can coexist in your worst grief, and sometimes you find out how loved you are through those who stay after the external noise dies down.

Used Jumin's line at the funeral "he was a good friend, a good teacher, and a mirror of truth. I will never forgive you for leaving on your own" as a guide for his reverent and bitter sorrow about V. The usage of mirrors in his dialogues was also inspired by this.

I reflected on why Jumin directs all his resentment to V when Rika did even worse things, which isn't a very rational thing to do unlike what he believes, until it occurred to me that it's normal. Grief doesn't make sense. His emotions are bound to be all over the place when he just lost his closest friend whether he realises it or not.

Actually, I added Jumin and MC's argument during the later edits and it just felt right. We know Jumin is capable of outbursts when he's anxious, like when he confronts V on Jaehee's route or when he slams his hand against the wall to trap MC on his.

Jumin may think that as a kid, he was the one who followed V everywhere, but I think V would disagree. V craved friends and expressed it more than him. It was V who asked for the friendship deal after all.

Jumin tends to use metaphors i.e. the analogy of Yoosung watching V painstakingly pick apples and the concept of his dark threads, so I thought it wouldn't be OOC if he came up with the rock bottom and book-in-mirror metaphors. And, this man had been friends with V for decades—their linguistic choices were bound to seep into each other's to some degree.

The reincarnation idea came from the reincarnation trope in kdramas! I think Jumin, an avid soap opera/drama watcher, would find it fascinating.

Header Corner:

I caved. I've never put this much effort into a header. I wanted to find the balance between the raw grief and Jumin's modern sophistication, hence the strong gradients and sleek font. The movement is minimal, the text is small, the vast space is hollow, and the music is stripped down to 2 simple chords, all to instil the emptiness that Jumin feels.

The colours have double meanings: blue for the sea / deep sadness, and orange for the sunset / bitter anger and intense concern.

When the scene opens, the orange and blue lights take up the space, slightly touching before they part. It's Jumin's denial of V being dead, still calling for him while being anxious and miserable. Then the realisation sets in. Orange shifts to red in Jumin's stubborn refusal to forgive while blue disappears to make way for the dark, engulfing isolation.

Here are some alternative style frames before I decided on the current one!

Music credit: Sad Piano Music (no copyright) by Tushar Sharma

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.

#i've wanted to write about this since 2016 but didn't know how to approach it and do it justice until now #xela writes #jumin x mc #mystic messenger #jumin han #mystic messenger fanfic #jumin han angst #mysme #jumin han fic

[pochipop]

＃ MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — HEALING IS HARD (SAERAN X READER).

#. synopsis! — saeran is free, but healing isn't easy (for anyone) .

#. characters! — saeran .

#. warnings! — references to past trauma/past traumatic events (canon compliant) , non-graphic depictions of trauma responses .

#. word count! — 2.3k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

It’s been four days since Saeran escaped from Mint Eye. Jihyun and Saeyoung have worked tirelessly to preserve the young man’s safety, and in turn, yours as well. You trust them wholeheartedly, and you feel secure in knowing that without Saeran, Mint Eye’s intelligence network lacks the brainpower to do much at all. He was the key to their operations, the pillar that kept everything stabilized, —and now that he’s gone, they likely don’t even stand half a fighting chance. Even so. . . Healing isn’t easy. Moving on isn’t as simple as getting away. You were there for little more than a week, but you were scarred by the things that went down and the incidents you were forced to witness firsthand. It’s impossible to imagine everything Saeran has been through, and you aren’t sure it’s right to ask.

So you don’t. 

Jihyun told you early on that it’s best to let Saeran make his own choices and open up that dialogue himself when he’s ready to do so. He said the best thing you could do for Saeran is just be there for him, —let him know that he has a shoulder to lean on, because it’s been far too long since that was an option for him, and Saeran is likely feeling the brunt of it more these days as the drugs continue to wear off and leave his system.

He doesn’t like to be touched unexpectedly, but doesn’t like it when you ask either. It’s tricky territory, but you’ve found a somewhat middle ground. Hover your hand over his before you take it; let him register that it’s going to happen, then lower your fingertips first. Ghost them along his hand, then slowly transition into holding his completely. The same goes for hugs. Don’t go in all at once; give him the opportunity to internalize what’s about to happen, then read his body language to see whether you should back off or go in for the proverbial kill.

It’s simple enough.

But overcoming the past is not.

A younger version of yourself might have thought of Saeran’s insistent silence as attractive and mysterious; secrets just waiting to be uncovered by the bleeding-heart of a main character. But this is real life, and you know far too much to be romanticizing any of this into sweet fantasies now. The current version of you, the one who knows far too much about an organization you never signed up to be a pawn of, thinks of his silence as deafening, —a prolonged state of slow, tortuous, internalized processing.

The same younger self might have thought Saeran’s inability to say “I love you” (to you, to Jihyun, to his own brother) was endearing; just a little obstacle to overcome, to rise above. The present you knows enough to understand that it runs much deeper than humility.

You stay out of the way when Saeyoung visits, —which is often, and understandably so. It was exceptionally rough at first, but it’s slowly improving, as far as you can tell. The first time Saeyoung came over, Saeran snapped at you for letting him inside your shared apartment without his permission. You managed to take it in stride.

“I’m sorry,” Saeyoung had apologized to you in the wake of his brother’s outburst. “I know this must be hard, but please. . . Go easy on him.”

His request did not fall on deaf ears. You apologized, and Saeran took it well. He didn’t explicitly say sorry for yelling at you, but he took care of the dishes after dinner and ate seconds of the food you cooked, even when it was clear he’d been full after the first plate. That was enough.

The second day was better. Though you expected to turn Saeyoung away at the door, Saeran (begrudgingly) accepted him inside and they sat together on the couch. They didn’t say much, —or Saeran didn’t, anyway— but from the small glimpses you saw on your way from the bedroom to the bathroom and from the bedroom to the kitchen, you knew it was far better than nothing. Saeyoung brought popsicles with him: an entire bag that he had you stick in the freezer. It was the twin kind, the ones you can snap in half to share with someone else. You thought it was fitting, to say the least.

Even though Saeran threw his half away uneaten while his brother was still in the apartment, you watched him take one from the freezer right after dinner that evening, and that’s when you figured that everything was going to be okay. If not now, then eventually.

One day.

He slept a little closer to you that night: not touching, but within enough proximity to feel the heat radiating off your body. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t alone, which was different for him. He went so long only truly feeling safe when no one else was around that he figured it’d be difficult to adjust to living in such close quarters to you. That’s why this apartment has another bedroom: just in case. The both of you are yet to use it.

Saeran makes an effort to communicate, even if that means saying just a sentence more than he had the day before. He’s slowly getting used to expressing himself. You’re getting used to silence. He’s been watching you cook with keen eyes, attempting to learn how things are done without having to ask for help or directions. Being locked inside a room, typing away on a computer instead of learning basic skills has put a large portion of his life on hold. You move slower when you cook now, just so he can see the process better. 

Things will find a way of working themselves out eventually, you’re sure. Even if that means the thin line between Saeran and his twin snaps, and they’re left to argue it out. You can play both sides well enough to keep everything in order. At least, you think you can.

It’s painfully obvious that Saeyoung is doing his best. This is all new to him as well, and you’re sure he hasn’t quite gotten over the shock of it all. The little brother he loved so dearly had been brainwashed into thinking so little of him, had been manipulated and mistreated for heaven knows how long. . . And bridging that gap is not an easy task. They may well be twins, but as far as Saeran can tell, they couldn’t possibly be more different.

Saeyoung, on the other hand, likes to think they have more in common than Saeran might think. For better or worse.

On the third day, Saeyoung came bearing gifts for the both of you.

“I hope these’ll make this apartment feel a lot more like home!” He said, and you took the bags with a gentle smile and thank yous for both yourself and Saeran, who watched Saeyoung’s hands carefully. Almost investigatively.

You’re not sure that Saeyong’s presents made the apartment feel anymore like home, but they did make it look and smell nicer, so half of the goal was accomplished as far as you were concerned. The scented candles he bought were mild in fragrance, likely to accommodate his younger brother’s easily overwhelmed senses. Maybe Saeran didn’t take notice of that, but you certainly did.

The houseplant he included was worrisome at the start, but Saeran took quite the liking to it, even if it was a silent one. It sits on the window sill in your shared bedroom now, soaking in sunlight; basking in the care of your lover. Maybe it’s just that he sees himself in the little plant that’s yet to blossom with flowers, —or maybe it’s just that Saeyoung was the one who picked it out. Maybe it’s both. You’re not sure one way or another, but you don’t ask either. Some things are definitely better left unsaid.

A framed picture of Saeyoung and Saeran was included amongst the house-warming gifts. A part of you hesitated to show it to Saeran, but eventually chose to in the end because it felt like the right thing to do. He seemed reflexively disgusted by it, placing it on the nightstand face down. . . You understood why. It’s glaringly obvious that he hasn’t forgiven either of the little boys in that image; not the elder who ran off with no warning, and not the younger who wasn’t “strong enough” to survive on his own.

It was perched upright come morning, though. That had to count for something.

The fourth day came, and with it, the expected visit from Saeyoung who’s just trying to make up for all the lost time between himself and his twin. He smiles when he sees the presents he’d given yesterday being put to good use. Saeran bothers to greet him this time; little more than a low “hi,” but it means the world to the elder male who beams in its wake.

There’s an undeniable gap between them, but slowly, slowly, slowly, it’s being filled, —filled with the kind of unconditional love you’re supposed to give your little brother. Filled with new memories to replace all the old ones that were tainted and marred by the outside world. Filled with baby steps until Saeran is comfortable enough to make a leap.

Saeyoung stays for dinner tonight. He compliments your cooking, and you smile as you tell him that there’s plenty to go around so “don’t be shy and take whatever you like!” Saeran is quiet, but in his own way, he involves himself in the conversation you hold with his brother. He listens more than reacts, but it’s clear that he’s interested.

Dark topics are danced around for the time being. Talking about Rika, or Mint Eye, or anything even tangentially related to such subjects at the dinner table would likely spoil everyone’s appetites. Instead, Saeyoung asks how you and Saeran are liking the apartment, —all while he eats your home-cooked meal from plates and silverware he offered up just the day before.

“It’s nice,” you tell him. “The neighborhood is quiet, and everyone we’ve met so far has been kind.”

“I’m glad,” Saeyoung nods. “If anything ever goes wrong, you can call me at any time. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

While his sentiment was supposed to be generalized between both yourself and Saeran, it’s obvious that he meant it more for his sibling. You understand why. Even if he doesn’t put it that way, Saeyoung is overcompensating for everything he wasn’t, but now has the proper ability to be. Saeran says nothing in return, but you know he cares. You know he’s thankful. Even if he doesn't say it, he’s getting used to this; —to having you here, to having Saeyoung here. . . To being safe. 

He only flinches a little this time when you gently hold his hand beneath the table.

His palms are sweaty, but his grip is feather-like. He’s a surprisingly gentle man.

Saeran doesn’t eat one of the popsicles while Saeyoung is still hanging around, but the moment he leaves, he’s got one in his hand. He struggles to break it apart for a few moments, uncertain of how much pressure to apply. He’s sick and tired of breaking things, of messing things up over and over again.

You do it for him, and he only takes one side back, leaving the other with you.

It’s sweet.

That night, Saeran lies awake for a while. He feels a little funny, like he’s watching the world spin from somewhere far away. . . You shift a little in your sleep, the bed creaking ever so softly. He breathes out the stress, the worries, the anxiety, staring at the picture on the nightstand. It’s conflicting. One part of him wants to reach up and grab it, slam it to the floor and watch it shatter into little bits: wants it gone forever. Another wants to cherish it like some lost relic from another world entirely.

The boys in that picture were innocent, yet the both of them were contaminated by sin. Even still, Saeran vividly remembers the way he would cling to Saeyoung for warmth and comfort in their youth. The thought of it makes him equal parts sick to his stomach and warm and fuzzy.

It feels like so long ago that he was that little boy. He’s far from weak now. Most of the time, anyway.

Some old habits die hard.

Saeran sighs. Sometimes, when he looks at Saeyoung, he feels jealousy run heavy and hot through his veins. It’s not fair. Saeyoung is everything he’s supposed to be, —everything he’s supposed to look like. It’s like he’s looking into some cruel mirror that only shows what should be. Because Saeran’s hair doesn’t run in vermillion locks that curl ever so slightly at the ends. His eyes aren’t bright and golden anymore. His skin isn’t clear the way Saeyoung’s is; but marred by the mark of the woman who kept him a prisoner to her (and to himself) for far too long. 

It’s not that he hates Saeyoung. No, really. . . That’s not it. Saeran doesn’t know that he hates anyone. Or maybe he just hates everyone. That’s another thing he’s yet to figure out thus far.

He just wants to be Saeyoung, sometimes. He wishes he could trade bodies with him, if only for a little while, to know what it’s like to be in the appropriate skin.

He’s definitely thinking too much.

Turning to his other side, Saeran rests his gaze on the line of your shoulders. Your breathing is soft and shallow as you sleep, and for a moment, he feels a flicker of jealousy for the way you can rest so peacefully.

There’s nothing else he would wish for you, though. And he knows that.

In the end, all he really wants is for everyone to be happy. He wants to be happy, and right now, as moonlight filters in through the window, illuminating the houseplant on the sill, he’s not sure what to classify this feeling in his chest as. . . But happiness is the best guess he’s got.

#saeran choi #choi saeran #saeran x reader #saeran reader insert #saeyoung and saeran #choi twins #saeran and saeyoung #saeran x y/n #saeran x you #mystic messenger angst #mystic messenger reader insert #mysme angst #mysme x reader #mysme x reader angst #saeran angst #saeran x reader ansgst #mystic messenger x reader angst #saeran choi x reader #saeran choi x reader angst #choi saeran x reader #choi saeran x reader angst

[asterjennifer]

“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 💕

#mystic messenger #mm #mysme #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #saeran #saeyoung #mystic messenger saeran #mystic messenger saeyoung #choi twins #birthday fic #birthday cg #birthday #saeran & saeyoung #fluff #slight angst #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

[natasha-in-space]

Cruel Miracle

Saeyoung/gn!reader;

'Be careful what you wish for' is a saying Saeyoung never thought much about, not before meeting you. Perhaps, that is because he never wished for anything but Saeran's happiness. Is he allowed to dream of more? Unfortunately, the universe has already decided that for him. (Canon school ver. Saeyoung/reader thingy I wrote, done from his own perspective!)

If Saeyoung was asked to point out the one thing that he first took notice of about you, it would be your eyes. Regardless of the way you may have behaved in front of those happily bustling about around you, regardless of the countless masks you've carefully put on and off day after day, your eyes perceived the world with nothing but gracefulness and gentle warmth swirling deep within your thoughtful gaze. A gaze that has pulled him into you from the very moment you looked up at him from your desk for the very first time. And he noticed it all as he stood there, being forced to make a painfully awkward introduction to the group of complete strangers by the sickeningly cheery professor pushing him onward, despite his numerous grumblings and protests.

It was stupid, naive, downright childish even. Something that just could not happen to someone like him in the reality his life had become from the moment he decided to part ways with Saeran. And yet... His stubborn heart refused to listen to the cold reason his mind has meticulously established to keep his fragile soul intact. And, only to add more fuel to the fire that was leading up to an inevitable disaster, he could feel you staring at him constantly.  

He hated how amusing he found it to catch you eyeing him and watching, as you would quickly turn your burning face away from him, pretending like it was nothing more than a mere coincidence on your part. Well, unbeknownst to you, you were a really bad liar. But... All about this was wrong from the very beginning. And try as he might, this heavy cloud of fear and paranoia would drift over him just as quickly as the first tiny rays of sunshine would sneak through the dense shadows enveloping all that his eyes could see.

This is not how life works for someone like him.

He cannot allow himself to form any close connections and thus put not only himself but the people he grows attached to in the process at mortal risk. He cannot allow himself to leave even a single noticeable trace to remember him by. He cannot allow himself... to simply exist in this daily life filled with nothing but small mundane troubles as normal people do. Because he is not normal, and he could never dream of having even a semblance of a normal life, to begin with.

He is a mere shadow, and that's all he can ever be. Dreaming of something more than that will only torment him. Truth is, you were from two completely different worlds. One made of nothing but cold and darkness, and one filled with warmth from the gentle light shining down from above. And he could not allow his ugly, ruthless world to taint yours bright and hopeful one. No, instead, he will push these stupid feelings of his as far away as humanely possible, shove them into the deepest corners of his mind, and simply watch you from afar for as long as he's allowed to do that. That much, he can live with.

At least, that is what he had initially planned on doing.

"I know you found it hard to adjust here Chilyoung... But I have the utmost confidence in your abilities and Y/N's open-mindedness to create a winning team between the two of you. I picked them out of everybody to be your partner for a good reason, you know." He could only bite onto his lower lip as the professor spoke, refusing to listen to any of his requests to just let him work on this godforsaken project by himself. The pen he was clutching in his hand was starting to tap rapidly at the surface of the desk, picking up the pace the longer he sat there.

"I don't need to participate in any team-building activities."

"Even if you are staying with us for only one year in an advanced program, that doesn't mean you have to isolate yourself from everyone." She didn't even look up at him from her stack of papers, only making him feel more irritated with her persistence to keep pushing through his demands to pull him out of this. This woman was too stubborn for her own good. "You are a very smart and capable boy. But, you can't achieve much by being a lone wolf all of your life. You need to put yourself out there and find a support system that is going to bring you up when you fall down. I simply believe that you and Y/N can become good friends if you just give them a chance."

"Shouldn't I have the freedom to decide that for myself, Ms. Brown?" He said through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just get up and leave right then and there. "Just because I didn't make friends with anyone here, doesn't mean I don't have them outside of my studies."

It felt bitter, saying all of these empty statements as if anything he came up with on a whim was really true. Not only did he lack any friends or close acquaintances, but he also lacked the freedom to decide anything for himself. So, really, he was saying the complete opposite of the truth here.

How foul.

"Well, then I will be very happy for you." She smiled, finally raising her gaze to take a good look at him. Though, much to his disappointment, he saw no signs of her giving up any time soon. "But, this is still a group project by default. I already made an exception for you by allowing you to work in a pair rather than in a group. I won't allow you to work alone on this assignment."

Not much he could say or do to change these unfortunate circumstances. All he could do was do what he always did best.

Accept and adjust.

~~~

Saeyoung rested his chin on the palm of his hand as he watched you type, your eyes squinting adorably, all of your attention focused solely on the task at hand. A part of him felt guilty, seeing how hard you were trying to make this work despite his stubborn attempts to shut you out. No matter how distant or abrasive he became, you never got angry with him, never gave up, never left. God only knows why... Someone like you deserved so much better than this.

Still, you just kept on smiling at him, offering him snacks, asking about his interests, and trying to help him in whatever way you possibly could. He already told you that there was no real need for you to work on this project together. He could do it all alone, and you would never have to worry about getting a bad grade. Much to his disappointment, though, you adamantly refused to accept this convenient deal of his, insisting on working together and sharing your workload fairly between yourselves.

Just what were you thinking in that odd head of yours?

In truth, he was finished with his half of today's assignment about an hour ago. If he was to be thinking rationally, he should have left long ago by now, leaving you to finish up by yourself. Instead, however, he found himself simply observing you without saying a single word, his eyes carefully reading into every little move you made. Why were you so eager to work on this meaningless project with someone like him? It's not like it's so important for you to put all your blood sweat and tears into it. Some really stupid part of him hoped longingly, that it was because of him. Really, it was obvious to see that you were interested in him, be it as a mere friend or something more. He simply pretended like he didn't have a clue about your feelings.

What stung most of all, was the fact that his refusal to acknowledge it was as closest as he could ever get to accepting your affections. This was already much more than he could possibly allow. If he did confront you about it... It would be the end of your relationship altogether. He would have to leave and never turn back, for both of your sakes.

And, even if he'll have to do it eventually at the end of his program... He wanted to make the most of the little time he did have.

It was a bittersweet feeling at heart. Saeyoung could sense his thoughts wandering, those urges he usually ignored with relative success coming up on the front of his mind once again. He wanted to know how it would feel like to touch you. To put his hand on yours and watch your cheeks flush, just like they always did whenever he caught you staring at him. He wanted to make you smile and laugh until your eyes would start to water like your classmates had the privilege to do so. He wanted to know what makes you laugh the hardest and know that he's the one bringing you so much joy.

He wanted... to get closer to you. To know you. To be truthful with you. To open up to you.

But, such a miracle could never be brought into the cruel reality he lived in. No matter how innocent in nature his daydreams really were. The only way Saeyoung Choi could show his love for someone like you was by letting you go without hurting you. Without making you feel attached to him in any way.

So, then, why did his heart ache so much at the prospect of parting his ways with you...?

~~~

"-You're the one I like. That's... That's what I really wanted to talk to you about... I know you don't get along with anybody here, but I want to know more about you. And... I want you to know how much I care about you."

Oh, but the reality was always much crueler than he could ever imagine. It all felt like one big joke to him. He thought he had prepared himself for everything coming his way. He thought he was ready to let you go when the time came. He thought... He thought he could enjoy the time he did have with you without worrying about anything, for once in his life.

Was such a desire too selfish for him? Is this why the universe itself has decided to remind him of his proper place?

It... hurt. It hurt like hell.

Saeyoung has always felt grateful for every opportunity coming his way. He never took anything for granted and never regretted those decisions he knew in his heart were right. But, right now, in this very moment, as he heard you say those same words his naive heart longed for so firmly, he cursed this miracle with every fiber of his being.

For the very first time, he cursed his decision to throw his own right to exist in this world away. And, that realization hurt him almost just as much. Since, right after his initial burst of anger, came a crushing sense of shame, suffocating him from the inside. Shame for giving in to his personal desires and making you care for him so much. Shame for daring to look back on his decision to keep Saeran safe. Shame for being such a selfish human being to everyone he held dear in his heart.

It felt like his soul was being torn into pieces.

"You- No. No, you can't. This is... No."

He sounded angry, terrified, frustrated, heartbroken. Gone was the cold composure he has successfully kept up in front of everybody up to this day. Saeyoung could see the confusion, the hurt in your eyes, as you blinked at him at a complete loss for words. But, what hurt him most of all, was the genuine concern that was written so clearly on your gentle features. You still worried for him, and still reached out to him, just like you always did.

And, he had no choice but to throw it all away.

So, he ran. He ran from you, he ran from his own feelings and he ran from the cruel universe he had no choice but to oblige to.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeyoung choi #707 #mystic messenger 707 #luciel choi #saeyoung x reader #707 x reader #i either write tooth rotting fluff or heartwrenching angst when it comes to saeyoung #there is no in-between

[ourstrawberryclouds]

Goodbyes part 1

707xFem MC

My requests are open still ^-^

Warnings: Angst, I think there's comfort...I wasn't gonna read through it all again it's 10.1k of words not all of it's here there's part 2 up by now ^^

In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you - will have stars that can laugh.

The stars, however, are not laughing today.He is sitting on the rooftop staring up into the starry blue evening. His eyes feel heavy and his head feels heavy but he does not move. It's almost too peaceful in this place where there is no more light pollution to block out the stars. They are shining bright. He remembers how much it used to bother him that he could not see them from where he lived – but now that he knows there is still such a thing, it is easier to bear. The stars are still there for him – no matter what. Even after everything. It is not fair, really, but then again, life isn't fair.

There's something moving towards his left side. The boy doesn't think much about it until he notices a figure standing next to him on the roof. She turns her face towards him and he realises she looks familiar. Maybe he met her somewhere before? It's hard to tell; he cannot seem to remember where, or when.

"Hello." Her voice sounds odd to his ears. Like someone else's voice, though who he can't fathom. "Mind if I join you?"His gaze travels from the girl to the stars beyond their reach and back to the girl herself again. Is that possible? Are they truly connected? Or was he mistaken?"Do you need my permission?" he asks quietly.She smiles, small but genuine. Not like he's seen many people smile since...well, ever. It suits her. "Nope," she replies cheerfully, turning towards the horizon to the north. "I'm just trying to remember why I'm here – that's all.""Then I don't mind."The silence settles comfortably between the two of them once again and they watch in silence the way the universe unfolds before them.

"Are you lonely?" he finds himself asking suddenly.She doesn't say anything for a while, instead choosing to stare upwards, lost in thought. When she finally speaks, she sounds thoughtful rather than sad. "Yes," she agrees softly. "A lot of time has passed since we last saw each other."He tries to picture the young woman he'd known but he can' t. The memory seems to belong to another lifetime altogether. A life where she and he had grown up together, with parents who loved each other dearly. Where she and he had been friends, despite the differences in appearance. Where she and he –Where he had liked her."Why did you leave us?" he asks eventually.

She's silent for a long moment, long enough that he wonders whether she heard his question. Perhaps it hadn't been addressed aloud – maybe he should've been quieter. Maybe the whole situation would've been better if he had kept his mouth shut, if he hadn't said anything, if he hadn't spoken at all. But she didn't seem bothered by the interruption, if anything she seemed pleased. As if she'd wanted his question to break through the silence.

Eventually she turns to look at him again. "It wasn't your fault, you know." She speaks softly, almost tenderly. Almost as if she were speaking to an injured animal. "I'm not even from this universe, I'm sure you know that already though." As she laughs a bittersweet laugh he realises how she feels familiar, too familiar. It makes no sense. If he'd heard someone speak to him the same way she just spoke to him…He would have just shrugged them off and laughed, brushing off the fact that he was in a game where he could never meet her, no matter how much he wanted to see her for real and not with a screen in the way.

That was something the universe made no allowances for. He should've known. He should've known it was wrong, he should've known it couldn't last and that eventually things would go wrong. It should've been impossible.Except now he can hear her voice, and he can imagine exactly the expression that would have graced her features.

Notes: I wrote 10.1k words...I'll post the second part next ^^"

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger angst #mystic messenger 707 #mysme saeyoung #saeyoung choi #mysme mc #mysme angst #fem mc #Part 1 #707 x mc #707 x reader #707 x y/n #707 x you

[marshmallowprotection]

If there was one sensation he could use to describe the way he felt when he was trapped for hours in a basement, it was cold.

It was the same cold that haunted him in his childhood. That kind of cold was impossible to erase no matter how many layers you had. Simply speaking, because the cold was more than just the temperature. It was also the feeling of agony and isolation.

All that time he spent by himself without anybody to distract him from his pain made it feel like he was walking through the Arctic tundra. In a lonely and desolate environment, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and agony to carry him through. The only reason he made it to the other side had a lot to do with the fact that he knew what it felt like to have the sun on his face. If he never knew what that felt like, he never would have survived in the first place.

It was the few fleeting moments of sunshine that allowed him to understand what it was like to live in this world without the fear of a loaded gun against his back. Those memories... felt so far away at this point. It wouldn't matter how far he tried to stretch his hand up into the ceiling. He would never be able to see the sun again. Just the concrete walls of the basement because he failed once again. He failed to please his savior.

Ray had failed to give her what she wanted. There was a legitimate fear deep inside his chest that he would never live up to her expectations. She said that she would never abandon him no matter how pitiful he became, but with every failure, it felt like another dark mark on his heart that would slowly begin to make her hate him.

If she grew to hate him for being pitiful and pathetic just as much as the liar and the traitor, then she would eventually get rid of him and he would only have himself to blame. There would be nobody to blame but himself. The only problem in this world was him.

He was born a problem and he would die a problem someday.

He clenched his hand against his chest as the fire began to burn again. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since they gave him elixir, but it didn't matter. He wasn't good enough and every time they brought him down here, the concentration would be stronger and the interrogation would be longer. The fact was that he would never measure up. That was the reason why he was here.

He failed.

He was... the failure everybody expected.

He... was nothing more than a weed.

His nails dug into the concrete stone below them but it did nothing to study him. He rasped, gagged, and heaved. Agony. It was agony. There was no light or warmth. There was nothing. It was just a world of darkness. A world of darkness made for somebody like him.

Why couldn't he be good enough?

Why was he still struggling to be good enough? It had already been... months, right? Why wasn't he better? Why couldn't he do everything right? Why? Why? Why?

A whimper escaped Ray's throat, tears welled up in his eyes, and a sob broke him. If... If he just couldn't measure up fast enough, the Savior would take you away from him forever.

What was he supposed to do if you were taken away like that? What was he supposed to do if you were destroyed? What was he supposed to do if you were erased? What was he supposed to do if they changed everything about you?

What was he supposed to do if his dream of being with you forever was taken away from him?

What was he supposed to do if the Savior finally got through to you and convinced you that he was nothing but a nuisance instead?

"Don't leave me... Please... I'll do anything... I'll be anything... I can be the dirt beneath your heel..." he croaked, words seemingly directed towards you but you would never hear him from the basement. "Just don't leave me... Don't leave me... don't leave me like I know she'll leave me... Don't leave me like how they left me... I'm begging you... ack...! You're the only hope I have...!"

He could only pray to a God that never listened that maybe, just to maybe, you would be there if he survived.

#angst #mod kait #mystic messenger #mysme #mysticmessenger #mm #choi ray #ray choi #mysme ray #mm ray #ray mysme #ray mm #ray mystic messenger #mystic messenger ray

[mys-me-stuff]

requests?

hi friends, i'm hella late to the party but i grew up on mystic messenger and fanfic, and recently rediscovered a love for both of these things. with that said, i'm also very unsure of where to start.

will not write: anything that is socially unacceptable, pls don't even make requests like that. that's a wide range of things, i'm aware. just be normal, i beg.

will write: angst, fluff, (bad) smut, anything else within the realm of normal people requests that someone smarter than myself may come up with.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysmes #jumin han #yoosung kim #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #jihyun kim #hyun ryu #zen #angst #fluff #x reader #x mc #rfa #mysme rfa #jaehee kang #luciel choi #imagine #scenario #headcanon #headcanons #hc