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shewrotesomething · 8 months

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Saeyoung - The Day He Realized He Wanted to Marry You

There were 3 moments for him. The first 2 were times when he, out of nowhere, just quoted a meme reference and without missing a beat you responded.

But there was a moment he vividly remembered.

It was at a party. They had decided to increase the capacity of the guest list, and though you never expressed it, there was a bit of pressure on your part as the planner. He tried his best to help but he was occupied with work and his brother settling in.

You took it like a champ, but the nerves really set in on the morning of the party.

He watched you that day clean, moisturize, and exfoliate every inch of your skin. Saeyoung didn’t dare bother you during the ritual.

Finally, the party came. Normally, Saeyoung would drive you to the venue, but since his brother wouldn’t be attending, he wanted to make sure everything was in order before he left him. And so, you headed to the venue earlier.

When he arrived, the party was already well underway.

His eyes searched the crowd for your familiar stature with a half-jesting apology already forming on his lips.

He spotted you by one of the tables speaking to the owner of a small jewelry business. The woman seemed to enjoy your company. She was inviting you to the new store they opened in the mall. It was their first expansion and you looked just as elated as she did.

A younger woman was beside her. Immediately, your demeanor shifted. You were a bit cheerier, a bit less formal. She was talking to you about a dating sim you both played. You laughed at something she said. Something about tragic backstories and how writers knew how to hurt their readers.

And he found himself pausing at the sight… at the normalcy of the scene.

His midnight thoughts crept up in his moment of hesitation.

Perhaps this is what you really needed. Normalcy. Idle chatter about going to the mall. Playing video games to pass the time. It should be this and not…

Not waiting for hours on end to make sure he comes back home in one piece

Not dealing with sleepless nights because you got woken up by the screaming

And certainly not putting up with… him.

With his skillset, it would be a simple thing to disappear. To retreat into the crowd and wipe the entirety of his existence from your life.

You got pulled into this life because of him and now that you’re with him…you’re even deeper.

No, you don’t deserve this. You deserve a normal life. A peaceful one.

His mouth suddenly dried and the half-jesting apology dissipated on his tongue.

He took one step back. And before he knew it, he was walking away from the scene… from you.

His heart hammered in his chest. Taking hold of his breaths. Thoughts ravaged in his mind.

He’s doing it again. He’s pushing you away.

No, this is the right thing to do.

Wait, just… he has to calm down. This isn’t the answer.

But it is. The only thing he’s going to give you is trouble.

No, that’s not true. You love him. You’ll always love him.

But he doesn’t deserve that. And you… you don’t deserve all the shit he’s got with him.

No, it’s going to be okay. Just calm down.

No. Disappear. He has to leave right now. Before you fall in deeper.

No. Stay. Just stay.

No. Leave—

Arms snaked around his waist. His fight or flight instinct flared up. He fists clenched but before he could do anything else, a voice halted the torrent of his thoughts.

“Caught you!” you yelled with a giggle.

He turned his head as you rested your chin on his shoulder. “H-h…hey,” he answered in a low voice. You smiled at him. His heart slowed at the sight of your face. “You look beautiful.”

Your eyes narrowed in a jesting glare. “If you think flattering me will get you out of trouble you’ve got another thing coming, mister. Don’t think I didn’t see you running away while I dealt with Mr. Dokgo. That was seriously cruel.”

His hands reached up to touch the arms holding him in place. “Sorry. I didn’t think you needed me.”

“And where did you get that idea? I’ll always need you and because of that,” your glare became sharper and your voice dropped an octave, “I will always find you.”

Something in those words and the jokingly ominous manner you phrased it unlatched something in his chest. And with it, a warmth washed over his stature and he felt his mouth spread to a grin. Then, catching onto your jest, he faked a sob. “There will be no escape for me. This is my life now. Trapped and helpless.”

“I’m glad you understand your unfortunate circumstances. As punishment, you are sentenced to feeding me honey buddha chips while we watch the best or arguably worst bollywood film I can find.”

He chuckled. “Okay.”

“And… and you have to buy me and Saeran our favorite ice cream flavors.”

“Roger that.”

“We each get one pint.”

“Hm. You’re really milking this aren’t you?”

“Oh! And you’re taking me to a cat cafe as soon as you’re available.”

He nodded with equal parts of sincerity and resignation. “Yes, ma’am.”

The two of you paused when you heard a sigh. In front of you, Zen stood with a bored expression. “I mean, I know you guys are in love but really? In front of the guests?”

A blush coated your cheeks. A real one. Not the kind that your makeup gave you. You released him immediately and the urge to distance himself has all but dissipated.

“It’s time for your speech,” Zen informed.

You gave Zen a mock salute before walking off. “Hey, I’ll catch you later, okay?”

He smiled. Softly. Knowingly. This was his life. It's you and him against everything. And he wants it for the rest of time. So he yields to his fate and answered, “I’ll be waiting.”

#mystic messenger #mysme headcanons #mysme imagines #rfa headcannons #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x reader #mystic messenger saeyoung #saeyoungmysticmessenger #mysme saeyoung #mysme fanfic #mysme 707 #luciel choi

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shxtodxroki · 6 months

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𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙼𝚎!

Summary: Saeyoung manages to convince you to join him in going through a haunted corn maze during the Halloween season. Then, as if the attraction itself isn’t spooky enough for you, he decides to prank you a bit and give you a fright of his own making as well.

Flufftober Day 6 Prompt: Corn Maze

Warnings: Swearing, reader playfully smacks Saeyoung once (not hard at all), reader is described as scared of a haunted corn maze attraction

Pairing: 707 (Saeyoung Choi) x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

Your hands tremble slightly in your boyfriend’s strong hold, hoping he doesn’t notice the sweatiness of your palms as you stare at the slowly shortening line in front of you. And even if he does, you reason that it’s all his fault for bringing you here in the first place, his adorable begging face just too persuasive for you to resist. So really, it’s his fault entirely that he's in this position now, and he doesn’t get to complain about how nervous you are now when he was the one who brought you here in the first place.

“See babe?! Listen to the sound of those screams!” Saeyoung turns to you excitedly as distant screams echo from the corn maze attraction in front of you, his face lighting up while your blood runs cold in comparison. “This is one of the best Halloween attractions in the whole city, it’s gonna be a blast!”

You wish you could share your boyfriend’s clear eagerness and excitement with him, you really do. You know that you’ll ultimately be able to handle the attraction even if you are scared, and you’ll probably come out of it happy that you went in the end. But right now, as you slowly inch closer and closer to the front of the line and entrance to the attraction, the anxiety emanating off of your body is palpable to all around you as you squeeze his warm hand tightly in your own to help ground your fretting mind.

“...Hey, no need to be so nervous, babe.” Saeyoung continues in a slightly softer voice when you don’t respond, noticing how tense you are. “I told you, I’m right here. I used to be a big scary hacker, so I’ve seen way worse than whatever this place has in store for us. I’ll protect you, I promise.” He grins, squeezing your hand back as he teases you to try and lighten up your mood. You instantly lean into his touch, wrapping your hands around his arm and holding him close as the two of you take one step further, only about five spaces away from the front of the line now.

“Y-yeah, okay…” You nod, your voice a bit shaky as you press yourself into him. He laughs as you bring him closer and closer to you, though he doesn’t object in the slightest, always one to enjoy physical touch with his lover.

Realistically, you know you have no reason to be this nervous. Most of the stress is coming from the fact that this is your first time at this attraction, so you have no clue what to expect or just how frightening the scares will be. And the actors aren’t allowed to touch you at all, that much Saeyoung made sure of beforehand to ensure that your personal boundaries wouldn’t be crossed. But there was still a sea of unknown variables swimming within the haunted corn maze, and because of that, you were unable to hold back the jitters throughout your body as you clung to your boyfriend as a lifeline.

A mere ten minutes later, after listening to Saeyong’s various attempts to take your mind off of the scares you know are near in your future, you find yourself at the front of the line as you practically shake in your winter shoes and wait for the attendant at the entrance to let you into the maze. It’s big, meaning that once you go in there, you have no clue how long you’ll be lost amongst the stalks as you try to find your way out. With scares around every corner, of course. You can’t seem to make yourself forget about that part, no matter how hard you try.

“Alright, you two are all set to head in! Have fun!” The attendant’s smile is bright and friendly in contrast to your pitiful, wobbly one, and Saeyoung squeezes your hand tightly once more as he leads the way into the maze.

“Let me be in front, babe. They can scare me first, I don’t care. Just try not to act too scared if you can, or they’ll go extra hard on you.” His willingness to go ahead of you, to protect you from danger even when it’s only imaginary, makes your heart beat just a tad faster, and calms you down the slightest bit as your feet hesitantly lead you behind him into the maze of nightmares you had been dreading all evening.

As expected, the first scare actor of the evening meets you two with an equally theatrical and sinister grin the second you turn a corner, instantly meeting a dead end and sinking your faith in your boyfriend’s navigation abilities very early on in this adventure. The actor, dressed as a zombie with a pitchfork, sneakily drew all too close to you as Saeyoung tried to block you from his sight. He didn’t say much after his initial startling shriek, simply leering at the two of you as you backed away to go down another route in the labyrinth the two of you had (somewhat) willingly walked into.

Saeyoung seems to be at least a bit luckier this time in his choice of a new route, hastily pulling you through a long stretch that thankfully doesn’t end the moment it begins. The walk still isn’t barren of the advertised frights though, as two girls dressed in similar zombie attire pop out from within the walls lined with corn, giggling and shrieking at the two of you as you squeeze on to your boyfriend for dear life. Even as your heart rate picks up and your anxiety levels spike, though, your mind easily recognizes that you’re not truly in danger as Saeyoung attempts to make quick, friendly conversation with the girls before rushing off towards the next corner of the maze. You’re quickly beginning to realize that this isn’t quite so bad, and that being scared in an environment like this where you know nothing is real can actually be quite fun.

Saeyoung notices the slow change in your attitude as the two of you make your way through several twists and turns within the maze, though he doesn’t say anything about it at first. He merely smiles to himself as he feels the way you squeeze onto his bicep less and less each time another actor pops out from some hidden location to give you a scare, and he feels his heart swell a bit when you even begin to tease him with a grin of your own for constantly leading the two of you to dead ends and begin to make a few of the choices on where to turn for yourself.

This change of heart of yours also leads Saeyoung to a rather sneaky decision, though. Now that you seem more at ease with the frights this corn maze offers, and seem to have fun with the prospect of being scared, he can’t help but want to do a little scaring of his own as a plan quickly begins to hatch in his overworked brain, firing on all cylinders for such a simple task.

It takes a while for him to put his plan into action, as he waits for you to take charge once more and attempt to lead him around another corner after too many dead ends on his accord. A distant scream from another far-off patron of the maze eventually manages to momentarily distract you, as Saeyoung pretends to drop his phone, his hand slipping from yours while his body simultaneously blends and melts into the surrounding corn stalks. He’s not going far, of course. He’s just going to keep an eye on you from within the corn, making sure you don’t get too genuinely scared without him by your side as he waits for the perfect moment to strike.

Your unease immediately grows a significant amount the moment you notice your boyfriend’s absence, eyes frantically darting around for him as the teasing tone in your voice immediately drops. “Saeyoung?” You call out for him, voice sounding shaky but not genuinely scared enough for him to call off the prank. You wait for a few moments, hoping he’ll return to you from wherever he’s gotten himself lost, but when a full minute passes with no response from him, you hesitantly begin to push forward through the maze yourself. Your steps are much lighter and smaller than before, eyes vigilant around every turn and corner as you hope in vain that Saeyoung will at least be waiting for you at the end of the maze when you make it out despite his poor directional skills.

And luckily for him, it doesn’t take long for opportunity to strike for the man in the maze, his hair and yours raising as the sound of a chainsaw suddenly whirs through the air and begins nearing closer and closer to you who stands frozen up in realization. The most terrifying part of any haunted attraction was now staring you straight in the face as it ran towards you, and you let out the loudest shriek of the evening so far as the (chainless, for safety purposes of course) chainsaw was aggressively thrust uncomfortably close to your face.

Saeyoung eagerly watches this interaction, biding his time and waiting around the nearest corner as he watches for the events he knows will play out. And they do, just as he predicted.

With the chainsaw inching closer and closer to your skin (though you knew it would never actually touch you) you sprint faster than ever in the opposite direction, only to let out an even louder shriek than before as a pair of arms emerges from the abyss within the corn and tackles you to the ground, a hand pressing against the back of your head to protect you as you both fall. Your heart beats a mile a minute and you feel genuine fear strike through your being for the smallest moment, before catching a glimpse of bright auburn hair in front of your eyes as your jaw falls open in shock. “Saeyoung?” You ask in confusion, before your brows furrow up in an annoyed glare as you’re met with the sight of your boyfriend’s signature glasses and bashful smirk.

“You asshole!” Your fear vanishes in an instant, melding into annoyance as you gently smack his arm. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“That was kinda the point, babe.” He teases in response, accepting your hit graciously as he stands up before offering you a hand in aid. You nearly refuse to take it out of principle, though it’s clear you’re not actually mad at him as you fight off a slight grin while taking his hand and standing up beside him. His arm instantly moves to wrap around your waist once you’re standing strong once more, pressing a quick peck to your cheek in remorse. “I’m sorry for scaring you though, babe. Don’t worry, you’re safe with me once more.”

You cling on to him tighter than before through the rest of the maze as retribution for his prank, practically attached at the hip as the two of you face jump scares and staged horrors throughout the remainder of the maze. All in all, it takes you about an hour to get through the entire attraction from beginning to end, as you eventually take the reigns and lead the two of you successfully through the labyrinth of stalks while pointedly ignoring any of Saeyoung’s navigation suggestions. And once the two of you are finally freed from the maze of terror, Saeyoung treats you to a shared candy apple, his kisses tasting like sugar as he thanks you for indulging him in his dream holiday date.

Request - Anonymous said: hello! for flufftober, please consider writing something for gojou (jjk), saeyoung (mysme) or keigo (bnha) ):

A/N: Ahhh I’m so excited to be posting my first piece of writing on here for Mystic Messenger! I actually have another MM/707 writing that I was working on before Flufftober but haven’t quite finished yet, and I know I’m way late to the game so idk how big the fandom is on here any more, but I just got into it this past summer so I was really excited to get to write for some of these characters for this event! :D This entire event has been so much fun for me so far so I hope you guys are enjoying this as much as I am, because I honestly haven’t had this much fun and excitement while writing in a long time! My requests are also currently open, so if you have a request feel free to send it my way!

Taglist: @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

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keii · 2 years

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yoosung hasn’t attended uni in two months and he’s asking to copy your notes before the final next class.

#my man is NOT a muscle daddy alright cheritz #he moans like a woman in bed but his libido is of the same endurance an 5 year gold winning olympic athlete #will i finish this.. prob not but feels nice to sketch yoosung again LOL #everything about how i portray yoosung is a projection of how i imagined him to be #and then i see the official cgs and i'm like ah yes-- that's the loml right there LOL #art #fanart #mystic messenger #mysme #yoosung #yoosung kim #killamonart #digital art #artists on tumblr #sketches #bummie

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distinguisheddingus · 6 months

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Imagine how badly Zen would react finding out how Suit!Saeran treated you during the 8th day of Ray's route... pushing you to the ground, insulting you and leaving you starving. I'm so sure that he would explode.

He'd be like "Screw V, screw Seven, the intelligence and Jumin's security unit! I gotta save my Jagiya."

And he would literally blow up the entire Mint Eye, all by himself.

No one can treat his MC like that.

#mystic messenger imagine #mystic messenger #zen mysme #mysme zen #mystic messenger zen #zen x reader #hyun ryu #hyun ryu x reader

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momomallowart · 9 months

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He misses you~ ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔっ💌

#I'm actually so proud of this #i had a lot of fun with the background #CSP assets store comes in clutch every time #this man is DOWN BAD #look at his lil face #hes so pretty #god i love him #i imagine this is exactly what happened after that kiss in the garden #bro is PINING #anyways #saeran choi #mysme saeran #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger unknown #my art

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xelasrecords · 1 year

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Thank You for the Food

Han Jumin x Reader

Living alone is fun and liberating until you fall sick and there's no one to ask for help when you're too tired to cook or fetch your own food. This is a lighthearted wintry story for anyone who needs a holiday pick-me-up.

In Another Story, when Jumin texts you "text denied", you can get a heart from him if you reply with "denial denied". That's when I know this man got verbal sparring potential, which is to say, my kind of man. The banter here is 100% powered by that.

Words: 3.5k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Jumin likes you. You don't know this yet, and perhaps his feelings haven't grown that deep to be labelled as love, but he has a very strong inclination towards you.

Jumin wants to do almost everything for you. You're an important member of the RFA, as he likes to remind you, so he wants to cook for you when you fall sick. It's a reasonable thing to do, so please don't read too much into this.

Jumin is atrocious at cooking. His list of experiences consists of making instant pancakes, and that's it, really.

But it's late and he's here after a hectic work day, arranging the steaming soup he'd personally packed from home on your dining table. He's here, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, winter coat hung by the door, concern knitted into his face. He's here, standing as awkward as the bare Christmas tree in the room that you haven't had the chance to decorate, but you don't feel uncomfortable because he's here. He's here, he's here.

Your heart makes way for him.

Jumin sets down a spoon by your hand. "Is your headache persisting? If you need to see a doctor, I can refer you to a specialist in the area."

You shake your head. "It's fine, I just need to rest. I'm only like this because I overworked myself. The holiday season is always rough. And yes," you say, holding up a hand before he could protest, "I've taken a break from work." If you don't stop him in time, you know you'd be subjected to a slew of nagging, fully backed up with scientific research.

"How about your fever?" Jumin asks while sliding into the chair opposing you. After a beat, he leans across the table with an arm stretched out. "May I?"

It's an opportunity to engage in physical contact with Jumin, and you are an opportunist when it comes to him. Your hand reaches for his and presses it to your forehead. Your skin burns against his cold palm, but the fault isn't entirely on your fever.

Jumin stands up immediately and places his other hand on the side of your neck. "Your temperature is still very high. Are you sure you can take care of yourself like this?"

You give him a pointed look. "If it's low I'd be a corpse."

"If it's lower you'd be normal."

"Are you saying I'm abnormal, strange, odd, peculiar, et cetera?"

"I'm referring to your current biological state. Only with a healthy body, you can function with optimal productivity." Jumin is very determined to share his wisdom. "If you'd like a caretaker…" he trails off, frowning. "Actually, I'm available to stay over if you need me to," he enunciates his offer carefully, letting it hang like a question.

Though every cell in your body screams in agreement, you set your hopes aside. He could have meant nothing by it. He could have only been extending his hospitality as a friend, nothing more.

His hands are still on you for longer than necessary.

"I'll decide based on how good your masterpiece tastes." It was a safe answer. As you shift your attention to the soup in front of you, Jumin pulls back, seemingly too aware of what he has let happen.

The soup is still hot, its swirling steam brushing your face. It has a muddy texture and a stuffy aroma with a note of coarseness, which you doubt it's how it's supposed to smell, but you're willing to give Jumin the benefit of the doubt.

"Masterpiece? Well, I suppose it is." He straightens his vest and slides back into his chair. "My chef said ginseng chicken soup is an effective remedy to fever, so I would have to thank him later."

"Wait." Your mouth hangs open, spoon hovering. "This is supposed to be chicken soup?"

"Yes."

You blink. "Then where's the chicken?"

"I burned it." Jumin clasps his fingers on the table. "I didn't have time to boil another one, but I'm sure its essence has seeped into the broth. Chicken essence also has medicinal qualities, I heard."

"Medicinal," you echo. Perhaps you should retract the benefit you extended to him.

Jumin gives you a confident nod and you smile hesitantly, raising the spoon as a cheer then take a sip. Then fight back a cough. Then fight to keep your expression straight.

Not to be dramatic, but it tastes like death. Did Jumin pour the entire ocean tainted by factory waste into this soup?

His creation should be on the Guinness record. It's a miracle how it can be excruciatingly salty and bitter with none of the usual earthy sweetness from the ginseng. This is best served for your worst enemies, except you aren't sure if your current worst enemy is the soup or Jumin. If he told you this is an elaborate plot to worsen your health to prevent you from returning to your hellish routine, you would probably believe it.

It would be an insult to thank the chef for this.

But Jumin's watching you eagerly and you can't bear to stomp on his spirit, so despite how your stomach is very much stomping in protest, you force a wide grin. "It's very unique and flavourful! I can still taste the chicken on my tongue. It's like its poor burnt soul had never left the pot. The power of phantom chicken, truly." You cover your mouth, attempting to hide a cough. "Did you follow the exact recipe?"

Jumin seems relieved at your reaction. "Actually, I took some liberties. I may be a beginner, but it would be boring if I followed the chef's instructions precisely, so I put my own twist and innovated a brand new dish."

This innovation could invent a new illness in people.

"Wow, I didn't know you're creative too. Good for you!" You can feel your grin evolving into a wince, so you quickly scoop more soup into your mouth. Better finish it fast than let it grow cold. Who knows how it would taste then.

"May I give it a try? I'm curious how it managed to warrant such high praise from you," he asks.

Your throat is as rough as asphalt when you croak, "You didn't try when you made this?"

"I was rushing to get to you. As you already know, I'm good in all my endeavours, so I was confident this would turn out well." Jumin sits back with arms crossed, a smug smile tugging his lips. "It appears that once again, I'm right."

Look where over-the-top lying and grade-A bullshitting got you.

"No," you briskly say.

His smile turns into a frown. "No?"

"No! You're not suggesting we share a spoon, are you? That'd be unhygienic."

"Surely you have another spoon at home?" He looks around the kitchen and sees the cutlery rack. "Oh, it's there. Please sit down, don't exert yourself. I can get it on my own."

As Jumin walks towards the rack, you quickly jump off your chair while ignoring the pounding headache that follows. "Jumin, wait." You grab at his arm desperately. "You made that soup for me, yes? That means it's mine to finish. Don't even think about stealing my food."

He turns to you almost just as fast. "Don't jump like that. Are you all right?" He holds you by your shoulders, grey eyes flitting up and down to examine you. Only when he's reassured of your wellbeing that he relaxes. "I find it surprising that you don't want to share food. When have you changed?"

"Since you made that soup with your whole heart." You motion at the bowl beside you. "It's mine, all right?" Without waiting, you swipe it off the table and try to gulp down the rest.

Keyword: try.

It's a fantastically failed attempt. They say the more you grow, the more you know yourself. Well, it's true. The questionable things you'd do for a crush know no bounds. Turns out, it's you who deserves an award for being the best fool in love.

You're about to finish when you begin to choke, and what a sight it is. You, trying to dial back the coughing to a minimum to avoid spreading the virus and embarrassment, yet visibly cringing from swallowing the contents. Jumin, his whole body frigid in alarm before switching the bowl out of your grasp with a glass of water, which you gratefully gulp down.

So much for pretension.

"Okay, fine, it's horrible," you give in, tears blurring your sight. Would it be too much to declare your taste buds to be damaged?

Jumin's expression is a slow-motion picturesque of horror. "You lied to me."

"I can't mock your hard work to your face," you hurriedly say. "I love the, um, texture? It's soupy. Transported me to the seaside. Very refreshing."

If the seaside is engulfed by a tsunami, that is.

"Soup is supposed to have the texture of soup," he says.

"It could've gone worse! It could've been so lumpy it's chewy."

Jumin looks affronted. "Has the fever gone to your head? What kind of liquid is chewable?"

The salt has.

"The fever is in my head. And in my other body parts. Don't you know how fever works?" You cross your arms. "And, insinuating me of delirium and therefore incapable of forming coherent thoughts just because I'm slightly sick only makes you sound all the more condescending. Maybe your soup has transformed me. Maybe your soup has dissolved my brain into mush. Maybe your power of cooking has transcended science."

"Then stop eating it if you hate it so much. Just how bad could it be?" Jumin fetches a spoon from the cutlery rack and tries it himself.

To no one's surprise and probably Jumin's only, he instantly sputters it out. You watch him. Then, with an attitude fuelled by a hundred I-told-you-so's, you calmly pass him a glass of water.

"Why," he gasps, "would you put your body through this? This is inedible."

You pat the edge of his lips with a tissue—a wonderful disguise to touch him again—and decide to test him. "Why do you think?"

"If you're doing this to spare my feelings, you're only wasting your energy. I don't get easily offended and I'm excellent at receiving feedback. I would've improved this soup if you had told me the truth."

You wrestle the bowl out of his hand and place it on the table. "Jumin, from the bottom of my heart, I'm begging you not to do anything more to it. Ever heard of what doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result means?"

"The very definition of improvement means implementing different methods to make it better."

"Not when those methods have one thing in common: you."

"You seem to have lost your pleasantries, but I'll excuse it since you're ill," says Jumin, tone totally pleasant.

"Do you know how aggravating you can be?" you retort, not at all pleasant.

Jumin nods solemnly. "I've heard Zen accusing me with more colourful insults. It also appears that Assistant Kang often shares his opinion." Then he puts on a neutral expression so carefully crafted that you know it's anything but. It's an expression designed to boast. "Of course, I'm one of a kind. It's natural that not everyone can get along with me. It'd be a privilege to gain my courtesy."

And yet here you are in my house. "I wouldn't say it's a privilege to be personally poisoned by you."

Jumin grunts. "That's not what you implied when you doled out those high compliments."

"If you'd read into the subtext, you'd know I wasn't praising you." You pick up the bowl again and sigh. "Let's move on to something else after I finish this."

"Are you serious?"

You mimic his deadpan tone the best you can, "I'm always serious."

"So now you drink poison."

You shrug. "You said it, not me."

This time, Jumin touches you first. His fingers splay out on your arm, halting you from doing another stupid thing. As you proclaimed earlier: the best fool in love.

"Pardon me if I still can't comprehend why you're so adamant to finish that," he says. "Unless you're trying to prove that the fever has infected your brain?"

You aren't going to let Jumin push you to confess first. Not when you're in your worst shape, complete with ashen lips and bird-nest hair from lying in bed the whole day. Your nightmare before Christmas has arrived too soon.

"Are you asking because you really have no idea or are you looking for confirmation?"

Jumin tilts his head. "What are you insinuating?"

"Don't play coy, Jumin."

"I'm not playing anything. It would be cruel to play with a sick person."

Sometimes, a person could get a sharp zing of epiphany and it would feel like this is it, this is what you're meant to do. And sometimes, that moment comes when the man who stirs up a flurry of emotions in you is so infuriating that it has become your new mission to make him confess first.

The visit, the food, the dancing around the truth. They all click. The fever has not gone to your head.

Who visits a random woman's place on a freezing night, during peak season at work, when the said woman is only felled with a mild illness, nothing medication and rest can't cure?

Not Jumin.

"Let me ask you one thing. Why are you here?" you prod.

Jumin looks at you as if it's something you should already know. A common answer to a common question. "You need to eat a proper meal and no one's around to take care of you. I'm not going to let you drag yourself out for food when it's a blizzard outside."

Glancing out the window where snow is falling rapidly, you won't deny that trudging alone in that weather would be a poor survival method. Zero out of ten doctors would suggest it.

You snort, eyeing the soup at hand. "And this is a proper meal?"

"Accidents happen, but my intention remains the same."

"You could've ordered something for me, sent over a chef, or asked Jaehee to check on me. Aren't you too busy to waste your precious time like this?"

"No time is wasted if it's spent on you. You're an important person to me, so I needed to make sure with my own eyes that you're all right." Jumin's forehead creases with worry. "All I could think about at work was you. I was afraid you might faint and no one would be here to help."

You don't bother to hold back a small smile. "Well, you're here now, so what's your assessment?"

At least he has the decency to look contrite. "Moderately alarming upon first look, worse after consuming my soup. My alarm is on full blare now, so please, stop this madness." Jumin pries the bowl out of your hand and sets it back on the table before fixing his posture. After a moment, he pushes the bowl farther out of your reach for good measure.

You shake your head at how adorable he is. "I also have an assessment on my own."

"Go on."

"I think the things you said and did are a roundabout way to confess your feelings for me. You like me."

You let it float between you, trying to gauge Jumin's reaction, but he's still, too still for your liking. You know you aren't wrong, but could this be the wrong time to poke at his feelings?

"And would it bother you," Jumin asks slowly, "if I tell you that you are correct?"

Bother you?

Bother you.

Jumin must think that his feelings could disrupt your peace, but if they could, then you don't want to know another moment of peace. He's the one who gives you the sense of calmness that you long for. His mere presence brings you comfort. He's the one you rely on to lift your spirits. It's appalling how your feelings that are so palpable to you could be invisible in the eye of your direct affection.

You take a step closer, studying him. Black hair thoroughly mussed by the wind, ruddy cheeks, and a tender expression that you've never seen him wear with other people. "Do you really think you're the only one with a crush?" you whisper.

Jumin stares at you in disbelief, but it slowly morphs into relief when the truth dawns on him. "I didn't want to be," he murmurs. "Truth be told, I've had my suspicions since you insisted to eat that cursed dish, but I couldn't be sure until you give me a clear sign."

"So you admit that you're searching for a confirmation." A smug grin appears on your lips. "I literally swallowed poison for you. If that isn't a clear enough sign, then I don't know what is."

He clears his throat. "I wouldn't go so far as to call my cooking poison. It was a beginner mistake at worst. Can't you spare some mercy on my first trial?"

You gawp. "To hell with mercy. I was your experiment subject?"

"I thought it'd be more special if you were the first person to try my cooking."

"It was certainly nothing like anything I've tasted before," you say.

His lips pressed into a smile. "Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I was responding to your sarcasm with sarcasm. Do keep up." Jumin's eyes twinkle with mischief, and it makes you want to strangle and kiss him at the same time.

You rake your fingers through your hair. "Should I kick you out?"

He raises his dark brows. "You wouldn't want to do that."

"I want to do a lot of things to you, Jumin." You hoist yourself up the table and smirk at him. "Shame they'd have to wait until I recover."

Carefully, he slots himself between your legs, arms kept to his sides so he won't touch your bare thighs by accident. It's endearing how cautious he is. "Is there anything I can do to make your illness go away faster? I can't wait to see what you've got planned."

You laugh. "You'd be scandalised."

You close your legs just a bit more so they brush against his trousers. Jumin's breath hitches and you arch a brow, a silent dare for him to make his next move. He chuckles, then settles his hands on your thighs. A light touch that turns into a reassuring grip.

"I doubt they could rival my desires against you." His tone takes on a sultry cadence that draws your body in.

"Stay the night. You made the offer earlier, and the weather is too harsh to go home. So, stay."

Jumin lights up at your request, and you feel giddy with how transparent he is. Look at the joy you can spark within him. "Are you going to pour wine for me while putting on the records too?"

You crack up laughing. "I can't believe you just quoted 'Baby, It's Cold Outside'!"

"Paraphrased," he corrects. "It's unfortunate that they don't mention wine in the song. Didn't they know wine is the most fitting drink for the holidays?"

"You think wine is the best fitting drink for any occasion."

"Red wine contains antioxidants that are helpful in preventing coronary artery disease and has been proven to reduce stress and anxiety. It has countless qualities that are beneficial for your health," says Jumin.

"Like your ginseng chicken soup?"

He sighs. "I see you're fond of reminding me of my failures."

You make a show of cleaning invisible dirt on his shoulders. "I'm fond of seeing you admitting defeat," you say. "And you haven't given me an answer. Will you stay or do I have to belt out the whole song to persuade you?"

The corner of Jumin's mouth twitches up. He's always been fond of your theatrics, and now, finally, he knows that you want to be with him as much as he does. "Of course I'll stay, I'd be a fool to turn you down. In any case, I'm glad everything works out."

The triumph in your chest transforms into suspicion. "What works out?"

"My overnight clothes are packed inside that briefcase." Jumin gestures at the leather briefcase on your couch.

"You planned for this?" you ask, partly in awe, mostly in surprise.

"I simply prepared for all the possible scenarios."

"And one of them is to sleep with me."

Jumin rubs his lips. "I never mentioned anything about sleeping together."

You roll your eyes. "Fine, but don't ask me to sleep with you later, because I won't."

"Is this the game you want to play?" Jumin braces his hands on the counter, trapping you between him. You have to keep reminding yourself not to make out with him when you're still sick. "Very well. For your information, I never lose. If you don't want to sleep with me, then don't." He leans in, lips nearly brushing your ear. "See how long you can last."

But just because you're ill doesn't mean you've lost your touch. You tilt your head to meet his gaze and smirk. "Game on."

Footnotes:

Wanted to title this "Jumin's Bullshit" as a reference to Tyler's Bullshit from the film The Menu, but alas. Holler if you've watched it tho!

Went with ginseng chicken soup because it's a traditional Korean healing food and I thought Jumin would want to cook something with a homemade feel to comfort you. Also, I was craving it.

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

#jumin's naïve borderline unhinged side is the highlight of his character actually #mysme jumin #jumin han #jumin x mc #jumin x you #jumin x reader #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger imagines #jumin han fluff #mm #jumin han fic #xela writes

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libra-kirishima · 11 months

Text

#I'm coming out of retirement to write some mysme headcanons and it had me wondering this so I'm taking it to the court of public opinion #mystic messenger #mysme #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #zen mystic messenger #jumin han #707 #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #v mysme #v mystic messenger #saeran choi #ray mysme #unknown mystic messenger #not imagines

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married-to-google-translater · 4 months

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Yandere Jumin Han headcanon

Jumin would be a possessive and controlling yandere.

He would have a trust issue with people who say they "love" him.

Jumin believes that they all just want money or power.

But Jumin is not blind.

He immediately sees that you are different.

And because of this, he really falls for you

Your courtship would start normally.

Lots of dates and time spent together.

Jumi just can't seem to get enough of you.

He wants more.

And at the same time he becomes worried.

What if something happens to you and he can't protect you?

What if you just disappear from his life?

Jumin wouldn't let that happen.

He would have no desire to share the person he loves with the world.

Instead, he would lock you out.

and preferably throw away the key.

Jumin gets what he wants.

Of course he would like you to love him yourself.

But he is NOT above blackmail.

When you "live" with him, Jumin would still be protective and possessive.

You get very little freedom at first.

but not so much that you slip through his fingers.

If you behaved, you would also get lots of gifts and love.

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heyheydidjaknow · 7 months

Note

wake up babe heyheydidja let their creative brain juices flow and posted a fic

And on that note here’s another fic— longer this time— about another character I have written for exactly once. This time for the otome game! It’s been sitting in my drive for 2+ months and now it’s going to see the light of day. We’re breaking down fanfiction author stereotypes this week.

Existential Horror

Luciel had been introduced to horror as a genre fairly early on all things considered. He had never been partial to classic literature— he was not really partial to literature in general once he fell into the rhythm of his new life and allowed himself to enjoy the World Wide Web and all its associated horrors— but in those early days spent waiting on bated breath for instruction from above, he had spent his time— rather, the time that was not spent worrying about his brother— reading whatever books his handler happened to have picked up and tossed aside. Vanderwood’s tastes rubbed off on him to an extent; by the time he had enough regular work to keep himself too busy to sit down and read a book, Seven had a thorough appreciation for the genre. But they did not enjoy their novels in the same way; when Vanderwood would ask Seven about them to break the suffocating silence that hung around him like a heavy fog back then, he was completely unable to engage in meaningful conversation with him about books they had both read. Luciel attributed this to Vanderwood’s lack of connection to the text. Vanderwood enjoyed the books, as far as he could tell, because he got a kick out of interacting with stories about people losing their minds to things beyond their control. Luciel was too close to it, the words too intimate and personal for him to see as anything but a perfectly rational articulation of a feeling he had always felt, would always feel. It was comforting, knowing that someone else— fictional as they may be— understood him.

It was still a challenge, years later, to articulate how he had been informed of his position. He imagined it would be a bit like a child trying to explain gravity; the mechanics were beyond him, but the truth of the matter was indubitable. He supposed it was in his programming to understand only in this most basic sense. He supposed it would be problematic if he understood more than he did. He doubted knowing beyond what he did would do him much good.

Your arrival— your avatar’s arrival— made things make sense. He knew as soon as he saw her face what her role was, and understood intrinsically who she was to him, to the world. A remarkably unremarkable yet decidedly beautiful woman so naive as to follow the words of a stranger on the internet to Rika’s apartment: she played her role as a stand-in beautifully and shined in all her hazy glory. Her words were perfectly intelligible yet decidedly lacked character, her visage was without distinguishable quality and was yet undeniably appealing, her voice stuck in the mind only in the same way the characters in books’ voices did and she did very little outside of sit, answer emails and make simple conversation. As she was destined to do, she caught the attention of every single member of the RFA— himself included. She would shower the members in praise and affection for the eleven days they had together, enter a relationship with them, enjoy domestic bliss for a nebulous period of time— he had given up trying to nail down numbers a long time ago— before the memories they had formed together gently disintegrated. All traces of her would be scrubbed from their lives and she would be reintroduced as a fresh face for the group to fawn over once again. When she was with Seven there would occasionally be a longer grace period in which he was allowed to reunite with his brother for a time before the cycle repeated itself but the ending stayed the same regardless of who she attached herself to.

Oddly enough, he did not mind the routine itself. It was hard to hate something so inherently sweet, something that felt— despite the objective reality of the situation— so simple and innocent. You— the nebulous you he knew to exist— were not acting maliciously. You were playing a game that he and everyone else happened to be a part of, and you had not, in your play, acted maliciously. You had made mistakes and encouraged behaviors that he and the other members of the RFA should not have engaged in, but you were never cruel. It was hard to hate you not only because of his position but also because you were genuinely hard to dislike, and while that was sometimes more frustrating than just hating you outright he could not help but continue to be drawn to you and your replacement by proxy.

He had memories of you. They were distant, but he swore had them. They were near indistinguishable from his memories of your proxy– which, themselves, were hardly concrete– but if he stayed up until his eyes could barely take it he could swear to know the echo of your smile, your voice, your fingers.

He tried not to think of you much. He liked to think he had more important things to worry about.

The night it started was normal enough. Everyone was in the RFA chat room late at night— odd in general but standard for the beginning of a route— and a stranger entered the chat room. There was general distress around the stranger’s arrival, Seven pretended to do a background check on the stranger— he had stopped bothering the third time through— and everyone else introduced themselves. The beats played themselves out, words flying by at the same pace they always did as the stranger explained their position and what they were doing in an allegedly dead woman’s apartment. Jokes were made, hits replayed, and everyone went to bed or back to whatever it was they had been doing before the stranger appeared. He had seen every single combination of words that she could send in response to the various threats and propositions you received; he barely bothered to read the wall of text that flew by. Nothing happened on the first day; no need to reread events already decidedly set in stone.

His first tip that something was up was when he went to text her. After her admission into the RFA, she was always a bit nervous– understandable, given the circumstances– so he always made the move to message her, to make her feel more comfortable even though it did not matter much in practice.

He introduced himself. He asked for any updates regarding the hacker. He welcomed her.

Her response was new.

‘It’s a pleasure, Seven. Sorry for freaking everyone out; hope I haven’t given you too much work lol’

He took his glasses off, wiping them on his shirt. He took a deep breath, put them back on, and reread the text.

It was the same as it had been a second ago. He reread it again.

Again.

The text did not change.

“You planning on staring at your phone all night?”

He sat straight up as though shaken awake, head snapping back to look at an otherwise undisturbed Vanderwood.

He did not bother to look up from the file on his lap. “If you’ve got time to dick around on your phone you have time to work. You know the deadline you were given wasn’t a suggestion, right?”

The laugh that came from Seven sounded forced even to him. “What, seriously?” He set his phone down on his desk face down, wiping his shaky hands off on his jeans. “I could have sworn I read somewhere time is relative.”

“For as high as you seem to be half the time you’re not orbiting the Earth yet.” He crossed one of his legs over the other. “Your tone isn't inspiring confidence either. Something happen?”

His heart was pounding in his throat. “Nothing,” he smiled brightly. “RFA got hacked is all.”

Vanderwood whistled.

“Right?” He swallowed. “I guess it serves me right not checking my work; guess that’s what I get for not having a good work-life balance!” He shrugged. “But it’s nothing serious; I’ll find who did it after I’m done with this.”

He reached down to grab his coffee. “You’re awfully chipper.”

Seven looked back at his computer. “You sound surprised.”

“For as much as you freak out about that server, I am.” He took a sip, setting it back down by his feet. “You lose your mind over the emotes not working but a security breach is no big deal?”

“Security breach, shemcurity breach.” He waved it off, fingers typing away at the keyboard. “If you stress everything that goes wrong you’ll never have time to live.”

“Those would be wise words coming from someone else’s mouth.”

Seven leaned back in his chair, beaming at his handler. “I have my moments.” He sat back up straight, grabbing his phone from the desk and shoving it into his pocket. “I’m going on a soda run. Want anything?”

“Bought some earlier.”

He stood up, kicking his chair back into place. “Then I’m grabbing dinner. Do you want anything?”

“You don’t eat dinner.”

He grabbed his keys. “Then I’m going to an undisclosed location for an undisclosed amount of time where snacks and food will be available, my true intentions known only to me. Do you want anything?”

Vanderwood looked up at him, giving him the same once-over he supposed most parents gave their older children. It had been a while since he had that look on his face, mild concern mixed with justified suspicion; the last time had been when he was still a kid.

Seven broke eye contact first. “I won’t be long,” he promised begrudgingly. “Three hours, tops. Just been inside too long is all.”

There was a long pause.

He sighed, looking back down at his file. “Bring back cream; I forgot some while I was out.”

Luciel was on the main road. The nearest gas station was an hour out. Luciel was not going to the nearest gas station. Luciel was going to the little grocery store an hour or so out from where she was. Luciel was also taking the long way and following all posted and implied traffic laws. Luciel wanted this to be a long trip. Luciel wanted it to be light out by the time he got back.

Twenty minutes in, he pulled over. Alone on a dark road in his silent cat, he pulled out his phone again and reread the message.

It had not changed. It was real.

Saeyoung knew she knew her position. He did not know if she knew the same way that he did what her role was, but he knew that she knew at least what she was meant to do. She acted the way she was meant to every time like clockwork, had said the same two things every time he had sent that first message. It had felt right every time. He knew in his bones that she had said exactly what she had been meant to every time from the very first reset. He knew how she texted. That was not her.

The original chatroom had been deleted. For whatever reason the first one always was. The profile of the new member was the same as it always was. A quick review of the CCTV footage— the same brief, unbothered look he always gave the footage at the beginning— showed that she was at Rika’s apartment. The person on the other end of the line, in theory, was her. All the same, he knew she was not.

He was meant to call now, at this time. He always did after she was done talking with Yoosung about LOLOL and his barely disguised predator-prey kink. He was never nervous to make the call— it was a stupid call, a joke call that did not and should not matter— but the thought of it going to you— not the woman sitting in his apartment but you, the real you— made him lightheaded. He barely knew how to process the idea that you might have access to the messenger. He could not even begin to comprehend how you could access the messenger directly considering your position; the idea was so far-fetched it bordered on unbelievable. But if you had…

He let his head fall against the steering wheel. The issue had gone from an abstract, quiet horror to a pressing matter of real consequence. You were not God, but you were closer to it than he was; you may not have created the universe, but your proxy and her presence did have a profound impact on their world. It was hard not to be taken aback by the prospect of interacting with a higher power. He barely knew how to process the confirmation of your existence— if this was a confirmation— let alone wrap his head around the mechanics of someone like you interacting with someone like him. You operated on a completely different plane than him. None of this should have been possible in the first place. How could he possibly—

Your profile picture showed up on his phone. You were calling him.

His thumb hovered over the accept button, fingers tingling. It was late. You should have been asleep. He should have been able to call you and not have you pick up. He should have been able to think this through further, to come up with a game plan.

He sank in his seat, pulling his headphones over his ears. He held his breath. He answered the call.

“Hello?”

Saeyoung had received his first pair of glasses eight years before. For most of his life, he had been largely unable to see anything further than his hand stretched out in front of him. He had been reluctant to see an optometrist when V had suggested it, had barely even noticed that he was unable to see because he had no other frame of reference. His brother, he had insisted, just had exceptionally good eyes; he could function perfectly fine without going through the trouble. V had insisted and had offered to pay for a sturdy pair out of pocket, and after much resistance, Saeyoung had agreed to it. Getting medical confirmation that he could not see was something of a shock, but not totally surprising. To see the world the way it was in pictures, on the other hand, to really know— to know in the basic sense as opposed to the intrinsic one— that trees were composed of intertwining limbs and leaves you could count as opposed to big masses of color had been revelatory. He had known what things looked like. He could point at a tree before he got glasses and identify it as such. But that was nothing compared to what he had when he could finally see.

It was about the same with you. He had known intrinsically what your voice was in the same way he knew that trees had leaves and branches: common sense mixed with grounded assumptions. He assumed— correctly— that your voice vaguely sounded like hers, that there was some element of you in her that attracted him. Your voice was not hers, though. It was similar in the way that all sweets taste sweet; her voice was so indistinct that your voice was similar by default. Your voice, to him, was what he had liked about her voice in a concentrated form, distinctly you and decided in its identity, and this concentrated dose of you— not the watered-down shit he got through her, but you, the person he was born to be in love with— was almost more than he could take.

You were talking. You were speaking English, mumbling obscenities about a button not working and how he must not be able to understand you because of the linguistic difference. “Maybe if I hang up—“

The words were out of his mouth before he could think what he was saying. “I speak English.”

Your laugh— nervous as it was— was yours and it was perfect. He had never really heard her laugh so he had little to compare it to, but the sound seemed to soothe an ache he had not known existed. “Holy— wow, that is good.” You cleared your throat. “You know, I wasn’t sure what you’d sound like, but you sound almost the same as you did before. It’s totally cool.”

A grin spread across his face. You liked his voice. You had told him that you liked his voice. “Thank you,” he said lamely. “I’m glad you like it.”

“That’s good. That you like that I like it, I mean.” You were cute. “I would be a bit bummed if you— well, not bummed, but I don’t know how I’d react if you disliked that I like your voice.”

At least you were nervous too. He had no idea why you of all people were nervous, but it made him feel less pathetic for being so on edge. “I don't know that I’ve ever been complimented on my voice before,” he admitted, trying to fall back into his usual rhythm. “But I don’t think many people would mind someone saying they like their voice.”

“I hope not.” There’s a cracking sound on your end. “It would be totally awkward if I called you something out of left field.”

He relaxed in his seat. As the shock of the situation wore off his brain kicked back into gear, the gaps in his mind beginning to fill themselves with this new information. He had never really considered the idea of meeting you, but he was unsurprised to find himself more comfortable like this– talking to you– than he had been speaking with the woman he had asked to be his wife in some distant memory. “Don’t worry; Vanderwood’s given me a thick skin over the years.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, not pointing out his slip up to his relief. “How long have you known her?”

He considered it. “Five, six years?”

“That’s a while.”

“Sort of.” He shrugged. “That’s twenty-five-point-two percent of my life give or take; in the grand scheme of things, that isn’t all that long.”

“In all fairness,” you point out, “it’s a bit unfair to count a few of those years; nobody remembers the first couple.”

He tutted. “Gotta disagree with you there. Just because I don’t have very many memories from when I was little doesn’t mean they shouldn’t count in the total.”

“Why not?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” He fiddled with the string of his hoodie. “I mean, just because someone gets blackout drunk doesn’t mean the time they spent blackout drunk didn't happen, right? And even if I don’t remember some stuff that’s happened,” he continued, a lump forming in his throat, “or I don’t have a good grasp of when things happened, they still happened, didn’t they? My memory can’t be the only thing that determines whether something’s happened, right?”

“Sure it is.” You did not seem to catch onto his mood switch; he was thankful for that. “I mean, photos can be doctored and videos can be faked and records altered; not to get philosophical on you, but what else can we trust besides our memories?” You sighed. “But then again, memories aren’t tangible and the human brain is famously unreliable, so maybe we’re all fucked and doomed to try to hold onto false memories and will them into being.”

He took a slow, deep breath. “Fair point.” He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “I wish I took more photos; I should ask V to show me how.” His eyes softened as he tried to swallow the bad taste in his mouth. “At least if I have physical photos they’d be harder to alter, right? It’d be nice to have confirmation that my memories are trustworthy.”

“I guess if you have a place to keep them safe.”

He had tried taking pictures a few reboots in on a polaroid camera he ordered online. He had taken a photo of her and Jaehee and kept it in his phone case. It had disappeared when she reintroduced herself a while later.

You cleared your throat. “What do I call you? Seven? Luciel? Or would you rather something else?”

‘Do you remember?’ That was the question you meant to ask, whether you and he held the same bond as he did with her. In truth, the memories he had of his time with her were only a bit more tangible than you had been. They were recollections of dreams he knew to be true, fantasies played out by another version of himself. He had little idea of what their relationship– the one between him and her and her and you– meant to you, but he felt as strange about her calling him Saeyoung as he did about you doing the same.

“Seven’s fine.” He forced himself to relax, smiling into the receiver. “Or Seven O’ Seven. Or Supreme Defender of Justice Seven Zero Seven if you want to show your reverence.”

Your smile sounded more natural than his. “How humble of you.”

“One of my many virtues.” He twisted his headphone cord around his finger, stopped. “What should I call you?”

You told him your name.

He tried to compare it to her name in his head. He did not know if he had forgotten it or if he had never known it in the first place. He repeated it back to you, committing it to memory.

You moved your mouth closer to the receiver, signing heavily into it. “How’d you come up with your name? Seven Zero Seven, I mean; what’s its significance?”

“Oh, loads of things.” He looked out the windshield into the night sky. “It’s an area code, an error code, an angel number, a pop culture reference– it’s got layers.”

It sounded like you were on a bed. “Walk me through them.”

He sat up a bit in his seat. “Seven Zero Seven is the area code for the northwesternmost part of California, which was where I stayed to learn English before I started school. Seven Zero Seven is also an uncommon error code that I struggled to get down, which I thought was funny because the code itself is an error code for partial data retrieval.” He swallowed. “Seven Zero Seven in numerology is supposed to be symbolic of spiritual awakening– you can guess why I liked that– and seeing it a lot means you’re supposed to take time to focus on yourself instead of your relationships with other people, which was…” He trailed off. “Well, you can guess.” He cleared his throat. “And Seven O’ Seven is a play on Double O Seven, aka James Bond, which is also pretty cool.”

Your voice was soft. “You thought of all that?”

“I had a very long car ride.”

You snorted.

“It’s true!” He crisscrossed his legs on the seat. “I was in a ‘93 Oldsmobile Cutlass with a broken air conditioner in late September; I was going nuts sitting in the car so long so I told myself to finally decide on a name before we got to San Mateo for something to do and all the pieces just sort of fell together.”

“I’m not doubting that it happened,” you insisted. “I’m just– it’s really in character, you know? Like, it’s such a you thing to do.”

“Is that an insult?”

“Not at all.” You sounded sincere. “I really like you; I like learning more about you.”

His cheeks warmed. “Don’t get too used to it,” he warned, half joking. “I’m a very secretive person.”

You were a dream. “It’s funny; I feel like I know you so well already.”

“Maybe you did in a past life.” He closed his eyes, trying and failing to picture you, to make you real in his head. “Maybe you do know me and I just don’t know you.”

“Do you want to know me?”

His heart ached. “More than anything.”

“You have my permission, if you’re looking for it.” You swallowed. “I don’t know if I’m worth knowing, but you’re more than welcome to if you want.”

“You are.” He hoped he did not sound as earnest as he was. “I promise, you are.”

“You sound very sure of yourself.”

“I am.”

Your answer was polite, if nervous. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

His sighed. “You don’t believe me.”

“Not because I don’t trust you,” you insisted quickly. “I just don’t know how you’d make that call, you know?”

“I have good intuition,” he insisted.

You laughed. “Nobody’s intuition’s that good.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do. Besides–” You caught yourself, scrambled to recover. “Well, in any case, I don’t know how well your intuition can work if you can only talk to someone through a phone.”

“You’d be surprised.” He sat up straighter. “I bet I can tell loads about you from your online presence.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. “Lay it on me, then.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re… lonely,” he decided. “That’s why you showed up in our lives, why you haven’t left yet. Maybe not all the time, maybe not around people, but in some capacity, you feel alone or felt alone and you feel better being here than dealing with your own loneliness.” He swallowed. “But you’re kind. You care about things and people even when their problems don’t directly affect you. You have a good sense of right and wrong and try to make do with the choices you’re given, even if they aren’t great.”

A pause, then, “You make me sound like a better person than I am.”

He smiled. “I have a feeling you’ll have more options than you’re used to this time around,” he teased. “If I’m right– which, not to brag, but I usually am– that means you’ll have plenty of opportunity to prove me wrong if you want.”

“I guess so.” Your voice sounded softer now. “I hope I’m not too much of a disappointment.”

“You won’t. You aren’t.” He checked the time. “Are you falling asleep?”

“A little.” You yawned. “But I’ve got to pay every time I make a phone call so I want to keep this going as long as possible.”

He rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep,” he urged. “If it’s that much trouble, I’ll call you, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

“But then you need to pay for the call.”

“I could stop working today and never have to work a day in my life; I can afford to call you.”

It was hard to tell if the worry he heard was real or not. “You promise?”

“Cross my heart.” He fixed his glasses. “Before I leave, though, can you understand what we type alright? I think I might have installed a translator a while ago for Yoosung to use to study but I don’t remember if it actually worked all that well.”

You hummed contentedly. “Works like a dream,” you promised sleepily. “Google Translate can eat its heart out.”

He chuckled. “Good, good.” He picked his phone back up, thumb hovering over the call button. “Well,” he supposed, “this is where I leave you.”

“So it is.”

A pause. His finger stayed where it was.

You snorted. “You are so you.” There was a rustling of blankets on your end. “Goodnight, Seven.”

“You too. Oh,” he started, “and one last thing?”

“Yeah?”

His face flushed. “Thank you,” he said. “For showing up, I mean. It means a lot.”

He hoped he did not imagine the affection he heard in your voice. “It means more to me, I promise.”

You hung up.

It took him a second to get back on the road.

A while ago, Luciel had taken the time to sit down and really, objectively consider his situation. He had come to the conclusion that if he were to assign a genre to his life he would call it an existential horror. You were an entity greater than himself whose whims he was held victim and whose intentions were barely understood. His limited understanding nearly crippled him, leaving him alone and stuck in a constant haze of half-formed memories he had no way of grounding. In any other life, he would have hated you. In any other circumstance, with any other person, he probably would wished for your death so he could at least have the chance to hold onto something permanent.

But he was not alone anymore.

You remembered. He had you.

And if the price of having you in any capacity was for him to live the way he did, he would.

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serede986 · 1 year

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Husband Saeyoung HCs~

Has to have his arm around your waist at all times in a public setting. If you deny that sign of ownership, he'll be sad for all the while he's there.

This was unsaid, but he's the in-charge of meal prep and cleaning the kitchen

Runs to hug you the moment you step inside the home and refuses to let you go before the 5 minute mark. Not that you're complaining.

His scents have evolved from the boyfriend stage. It's an acquired taste, molded just for your liking. Very proud when he hears you sniffing in his scent and snuggling into his hug just after.

Has planned a relaxation routine for both of you for every weekend, that includes bubble bath, deserts and snuggling on the couch with the softest blankets

Is very smug about getting married first in the RFA, to the point he randomly pops up to you and says

"Hehehe you know I got married first in the RFA," getting you all squinty

"But I also got married first from the RFA..."

"*Gasp* says who?!"

"Our marriage certificate baby."

"Oh.." que a very red and shy Saeyoung.

Has your name saved in his phone as Mrs. Choi.

"Mr. And Mrs. Choi."

Saeyoung giggles>>

How does he refer to you when talking to Zen and Yoosung?

- I gotta go, my wife is waiting for me.

- me and my wife are planning on a BBQ night with the RFA..

- my wife

Family dinner with you, him, Saeran and Vandy is compulsory.

Very close to your friends and family. You have a common friend circle.

Prefers to snuggle on top of you with his head on your chest, with a blanket around you both.

Has a big grin on his face when he sits on the husband chair while you shop around. Although he'd like to give his opinions on your selection, the husband chair was calling for him.

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shewrotesomething · 10 months

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The Day He Realized He Wanted to Marry You (Unknown)

Marriage was a distant thought to Saeran. He never really considered it. With everything that’s happened, really, it’s the last thing he could even begin thinking of. That was fine, you never pushed him to jump into anything he wasn’t ready for.

He could remember the day he changed his mind though, or at least, felt a shift in his heart.

At the time, some days were better than others. And when they weren’t… they really weren’t.

His brother had to be out of town for an entire week, and so, the two of you figured to stay at your place for a few days.

He had a terrible time falling asleep. Too many thoughts in his head. Thoughts such as, if you wake up one day and decided you didn’t want to bear his burden with him, well, he wouldn’t blame you. Thoughts such as, the longer he spends with you, the more he’d ruin you. Thoughts such as, he wanted to be okay. Just for a day. To be okay so you wouldn’t have a hard time.

A nightmare came for him that night. Nothing gruesome. Or perhaps it was. He couldn’t remember anymore. All he knew was that he grasped for your presence, only to wake up and realize you were gone.

His heart leapt to his throat and he ripped his sheet away to reach for his phone on your nightstand. A text message read: Heeeey, I had to leave super early. I have to deal with an emergency. Didn’t want to wake you. Tell me when you’re up though!

He was frustrated, immediately. First, at you, for leaving so early, then at himself, for thinking such things. It’s fine, he’ll deal with it. He had to learn to deal with his emotions by himself. He had to learn to be stronger for you.

His mood didn’t improve throughout the day. Even when he did some work to get his mind off of it.

Saeran slammed his laptop shut and leaned back on the couch. From his seat, he spotted the trash can. It was filled to the brim. Not only that, it couldn’t even close with how much trash there was. He remembered telling you to take that out 2 days ago, why is it still there?

The door clicked open then and you strode inside with a bag of groceries. “Oh hi, you’re up. Didn’t you see my text?”

He did. He didn’t really want to reply.

His lack of reply didn’t deter you. “I ran into an old classmate on the way home, she’s inviting me to a party, but honestly we weren’t even that close so I don’t know if I should go. I remember she once told me I had weird legs…”

As you narrated your day, you organized the groceries.

Saeran was only half listening. The other half was sitting in a boiling pot of anger and frustration.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you asked when you noticed his unnatural silence. “Sorry that dinner is taking so long, do you want to eat something while you wait?”

Saeran rolled his eyes. “You know what I want? I want you to take out the trash already. It’s been a full 24 hours since I asked you to take it out and there it is. I can’t believe you can live in this kind of mess!”

“Oh, well I—”

“You’ve been walking around in the kitchen for nearly an hour, you don’t notice how the trash doesn’t even close anymore? You remember what your aunt said about your shirt 3 weeks ago but you can’t remember to take out the trash you see everyday? Grow up!”

He watched the expression on your face melt from surprise and confusion into quiet vitriol. Your breath heaved. His throat tightened. Then, came the tears. Your lips quivering with words you refused to release. Only then did he realize he’s gone too far.

Without a word, you put the potholder down on the counter and pull the trash bag out of the can and tie it off nicely. You crossed the room.

“MC, I—”

You held a hand up to stop him before grabbing your wallet and keys. “I love you, but I need a moment,” you told him before you walked out the door.

Saeran’s heart dropped to his gut when he heard the door shut. This was bad. This was really bad. You’ve had arguments before but this was the first time he’s seen you so angry you couldn’t even speak.

He should go after you. Wait. No. That would be worse. You’ll be back. Right? What you said earlier definitely means you’ll come back.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Saeran bolted out the door. Looking both ways on the street. You were nowhere to be found.

He messed up big time. Why is he like this? Why her? Of all people why her?

Walking back inside, he tried not to panic. He should call you. His eyes jumped to the couch where his phone sat. He dialed your number only to discover that you had left your phone on the dinner table.

His fault. His fault. His fault. He’s shit. His fault. His fault. You left. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Not your fault. Not your fault.

Saeran curled himself up on the wall next to the door.

He doesn’t know for how long he sat there. This wasn’t the first time this has happened. He’s snapped before…but… you always stayed.

You always stayed…

The door clicked open and he sprang out of the ground.

There you were. Despite your insistence to look indifferent, the spot of redness under your eyes betrayed you. He did this to you. His fault. His fault.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it, I promise. I…I’m not okay… I’m not okay. It’s not your fault. I took it out on you and I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave again.” Tears started flowing down your cheeks and nails dug into his heart. He wanted to touch you. Was he allowed to touch you? Please just don’t leave. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say. I’ll do anything, just… I really didn’t—”

THWACK!

A cold object collided with his chest and landed on the ground. Saeran looked down and it was a packet of popsicle ice cream. He bent down to pick it up. When he looked up at you, you had wiped away your tears and had a pout on your face.

“Just eat your ice cream.”

Saeran hasn’t heard a louder I love you.

#saeran x oc #saeran x reader #saeranmysticmessenger #saeran choi #mystic messenger #mystic messenger unknown #mysme saeran #mysme fanfic #mysme imagines #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger headcanons

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shxtodxroki · 6 months

Text

𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜

Summary: You’re cuddling with Jihyun, but he’s oddly quiet, as if he’s listening to something specific. And when you eventually ask why, you learn about your boyfriend’s biggest joy in life (aside from you, of course).

Flufftober Day 8 Prompt: Rainy Day

Warnings: Mentions/hints towards depression, mentions of V slowly losing his eyesight

Pairing: V ( Jihyun Kim) x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

The room is silent, almost eerily so, as you sit beside your boyfriend with curious eyes and a mind full of wonder. You’re cozily cuddled up to his side, the fireplace running as you wrap both of your arms around one of his and press your cheek into his sweater. But for some reason, neither of you have said anything at all for the past ten minutes, your lover silently staring at the roof as if listening for something, or perhaps listening to something? You’re not particularly sure, but he seems more at peace than he hardly ever does, leaving you hesitant to disturb his clear serenity and risk wiping the soft, barely-there smile clean off his face.

Though you don’t wish to interrupt the silence of the room, you do slowly begin to sneak one of your hands down towards his palm, carefully linking your fingers with his. He lets you without a second thought, always open to your touch even when he’s not particularly paying attention, though your movements don’t seem to draw him out of his thoughts or his listening in the slightest as he remains quiet and stoic. Your cheek nuzzles against the fuzziness of his wool sweater in search of warmth despite the fire going at the other end of the room and the blanket currently being shared across your two bodies, as his warmth is like none other to you. A blanket and a fire can only warm your surface, but he’s able to get rid of the chill in your bones, able to make your soul feel light and airy to your core even with his own demons.

The fingers of your free hand slowly begin to dance up his sleeve, mindlessly playing with the soft fabric in your hands as your eyes turn up to his face. You could study him all day, you really could. He’s a living work of art, a being somehow painted perfectly, or photographed by an eye even more meticulous than his own. There’s not one feature of his that you don’t love, from his striking, vibrant hair to his soft, plush lips to his short, gentle fingernails that he lets you paint whenever you ask. He’s more precious than diamond or gold to your aching heart, and as he stares at nothing at all and finds himself lost in sounds unbeknownst to you, you find yourself thinking that he looks even more statuesque and gorgeous than usual as he sports one of his increasingly rare grins.

Though you’re desperate to hold his peace, to let him ruminate in this happiness that he’s so visibly experiencing for once, your curiosity eventually wins out as you ponder what could possibly be enrapturing him so much. Your hand gently squeezes his as you silently plead for his attention, gently snuggling into him once more as you look up at him and meet his gaze with soft, questioning eyes.

“What are you thinking about, love?” You ask quietly, careful to keep your voice low in hopes of preserving this moment’s serenity. “You seem really lost in something, but I can’t quite figure out what.”

Jihyun can’t help but let out a soft chuckle to your words, his free hand gently moving to trace along your knuckles as he responds. “....Can you hear that, angel?” He asks with a soft smile, and when you stop to listen, you can’t seem to hear much aside from a small, distant pitter-patter.

Tink. Tink. Tink. The sound barely echoes through the room, and for a second you think that can’t possibly be what your boyfriend’s referring to. You have no clue what it even is, how could it be significant enough for him to comment on?

But then, like a strike of lightning in your neurons, you realize that the sound is the soft patter of rain against your roof, your eyes glancing towards the window as you watch the droplets race down the glass panes and fill the sky with a grey smog. You had never known your lover to be particularly fascinated with the rain, but many people enjoyed the sights and sounds of fresh rainfall, though you were still curious if there was a deeper root as to why he seemed so utterly lost in the echoes of the downpour.

“The rain?” You ask for confirmation, your fingers squeezing his hand once more as he wordlessly nods in response. “I suppose I can, it’s pretty quiet though. I didn’t know you liked the rain so much….” You mutter, prompting him for further elaboration, if there was any to discuss in the first place.

He doesn’t answer right away, simply giving you another soft smile as he pulls you closer than before. He was being awfully generous today, showing off the beauty that is his smile more frequently than he had ever since you had met him, and the mere sight makes your heart swell to the brim. You suddenly find yourself incredibly thankful for the rain, your gratitude for the way it’s brightened your lover’s attitude pouring out of you and rivaling the steady downfall outside even if you can’t understand it. Until he finally explains it to you, the best he can, and gives you a window into his mind.

“Well… my eyesight is nearly gone now.” He starts with a sigh, though he doesn’t sound as melancholy as he typically does when the topic is brought up. That mention instantly piques your curiosity further, however, and you listen with rapt attention as he continues as the pads of your fingers mindlessly grip his sleeve. “So I can’t enjoy many of the things that used to calm me down before. The sight of flowers in a vibrant garden, the fireplace flaring up on a cold night, the thrill of getting to photograph a precious sight… honestly, I was starting to think I had nothing besides you that made me feel relaxed anymore.”

Of course you knew he had been suffering as the deterioration of his eyesight progressed. Anyone in his position would, and you had witnessed firsthand the simple pleasures of nature in his life slowly decreasing as his vision went more and more. But you hadn’t realized just how bad it had been mentally wounding him until this moment, and your heart aches for him as you patiently wait for him to continue at his own pace.

“But…. I can still enjoy the rain. Rain has never been about the sight for me, unlike most things that soothe my mind. It…. it’s more about the sound of the rain hitting the house, the smell of the mist in the air…. I guess I’m just happy that I haven’t lost all of my favorite parts of nature. That I can still enjoy things like this with the senses I do still have.”

Though your heart still holds a crack in response to his troubles, you feel tears of relief begin weighing down your waterline as his smile grows wider than it’s been all day. You suddenly shift your weight to meet him eye-to-eye after taking a moment to compose yourself, taking your sweet, fragile man’s precious face in your hands as you stare at him with a cheesy, lovestruck smile.

“You know, I think you’ve made me love the rain too.” You whisper, before leaning in and connecting your lips in a tender, gentle kiss. It’s brief, a few seconds at most, but he’s able to understand without words just how thankful you are for this moment. How thankful you are that he’s smiling again, that he’s found something besides his lover that still brings him joy. You’ve had to watch him lose so much along with his eyesight, sticking by his side through all of his worst moments along this journey, and through this kiss he realizes that you dream of him never losing joys like the rain ever again.

You’re unable to resist the urge to brush your thumb against the soft skin of his cheek as you pull away from this kiss, your finger slowly tracing along his sharp jawline as you press another peck to his cheek. “If it makes you happy, then I hope it rains every day. Anything to see you smile. “ You tell him with a voice full of fondness, and right then Jihyun knows that he could lose every other pleasure in life - rain included - and still be perfectly satisfied, as long as he still had you to love and hold throughout the rest of his life.

Request - Anonymous said: hello, darling! how are you? for your flufftober could you write something for v from mysme, please???

A/N: Ahhhh so sorry for my absence during my school-related slump, but I am STILL going to catch up these next few days because I REALLY want to see this event through to the end since I’m having tons of fun with it! Honestly I don’t know much about V (haven’t been down his route yet, and there’s been very little about him in the routes I’ve been down so far) so I hope this is okay! I think it turned out really sweet at least, I’m pretty proud of this so I hope you guys enjoy it as well! :> Also my requests are currently open, so if you have any requests for any fandoms I write for feel free to send them my way!

Taglist: @flufftober

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