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natasha-in-space · 6 months ago

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Hello Mia! I would really like to read a headcanon with suit saeran where he gets very jealous to see how he would react, please!!

"...I don't like them all ogling you."

Saeran's voice was a strange combination of a growl and a grumble, not nearly as loud and boisterous as you would usually anticipate from him. If you had not been standing just inches away from him, you would have been unable to hear him at all. Not with all the muffled chatter and music flowing throughout the vast ballroom and sneaking its way into your every sense. When you looked over at him, his face was turned away from you, his bangs framing his delicate facial features in a way that highly limited your vision from your current spot. However, the way he crossed his arms tightly over his chest was a clear indicator of his sour mood.

Which was... rather ironic, considering your circumstances.

A ball was not what you would expect to see in this place. Nevertheless, that's the closest term you could come up with to describe the odd event you were obligated to attend. Soft classical music was filling the large space you were all cooped up in. Shiny marble floors so clean you could see your own reflection in them staring back at you with all the confusion and unease that's been plaguing you for the entire duration of this odd get-together. Fancy suits and dresses twirling around the spacious room in an elegant, practiced fashion that looked almost fake to the eye. As if those were just dolls gliding about, under the mere pretense of being fellow human beings. All of it was as beautiful as it was uncomfortable, in a very subtle, anxiety-inducing way. You couldn't quite understand the importance or meaning of it all, but you weren't in the position to ask any questions in the first place.

You definitely wouldn't expect to see a ball, of all things, unfolding in this place. Nevertheless, that's the closest term you could come up with to describe the peculiar event you were obligated to attend. Soft classical music was filling the large space you were all cooped up in. Shiny marble floors so clean, you could see your own reflection in them staring back at you with all the confusion and unease that's been plaguing you for the entire duration of this odd get-together. The fanciest of suits and dresses twirled around the spacious room with elegance and ease that looked almost fake to the eye. As if those were just winded up dolls gliding around, only pretending to be alive human beings. All of it was as beautiful as it was also uncomfortable, in a very subtle, anxiety-inducing way. You couldn't quite understand the importance or meaning of it all, but you weren't in the position to ask any questions in the first place.

Saeran suddenly entered your room a few hours earlier without any warning - not that he would ever give you any - threw some clothing on your face, and demanded that you get dressed right away. He only left you alone for your privacy once you directly expressed the need for it. And you were pretty sure you could see a hint of red flush across his face as he stomped back out into the corridor, grumbling under his breath something about you having some nerve to order him around like that.

This man was a mystery that you still had to solve, it's certain.

It wasn't a surprise that the outfit he gave you was black. Despite this, it was still a noticeable contrast to Ray's undeniable preference for soft, pastel tones that would always complement the pinks and whites scattered all throughout your room. Saeran's choice, on the other hand, was a bold one. Standing out so sharply among the softer shades of your environment, instantly bringing your attention to its deep black hue, pulling you in. Nevertheless, it possessed both a stylish and formal appearance to it. The fabric was both thick and smooth to the touch, and the color gave it a sense of poise and elegance when you slipped into it. It was rather pretty once you did put it on and looked at yourself in the mirror. The outfit fit snuggly around your hips, hugging you in all the right places and exaggerating your figure in a way that left very little to imagination, but still maintained a subtle sense of humility to it nonetheless. Ray's tastes were quite different from this, with soft fabrics flowing freely all around you, almost drowning you in the light frills and lace. Saeran chose the opposite, whether it was intentional on his part or not.

Though, what was rather surprising to you is... the cut. Specifically, in the chest area. It wasn't anything straight out vulgar, but... well, denying that the neckline was of the lower variety would be rather stupid of you. Despite everything, you were very fond of how it looked on you. It fit you perfectly, and you certainly felt quite attractive as you looked over your own reflection thoughtfully. But it still made you think and ponder. The plunging neckline exposed a lot of skin, especially around your collarbones and teasing just the slightest of glances at your chest.

You contemplated whether it was intentional on Saeran's part or not. However, this would be a rather strange outfit for any normal believer. But you doubted you would get any earnest answers from him. And if he did choose this outfit specifically for you, he would never admit that, anyways. Over his own dead body, maybe. Still, the thought made you laugh to yourself.

Either way, Saeran's reaction once he did see you was... rather stilted, surprisingly. So far, he hasn't said anything to you much all throughout the night. It would have been less polarizing for you if he didn't talk your ears off whenever he entered your room to fill his boredom. Saeran was many things, but quiet wasn't one of them. Actually, he barely even looked at you. Besides the initial wide-eyed look he gave you when you first left your room, that is. For the past few hours you have been here, his face has been stubbornly turned away from you. Yet, he refused to let you wander off on your own either, always barking at you to stick close and grabbing at your arm to drag you after him whenever he needed to get somewhere.

It goes without saying that his gruff comment left you feeling rather bewildered. You looked around the ballroom again, trying to determine who specifically was 'ogling' you, as he seemed to say with such certainty. And aside from the occasional glances in your general direction, you didn't catch on to much. And, anyways, isn't it natural for people to look your way sometimes when you're at a party? Then again, Saeran seemed to lack any experience in parties.

"I... don't think anyone is paying much attention to me, Saeran," you acknowledged, peering over at him with a slightly raised brow, attempting to gauge his response. He puffed out his cheeks and tightened his arms around his chest, indicating that he did not really like your answer.

What was his deal today?

"Uh-huh. Sure," Now he sounded downright sarcastic and even a bit angry. This man's mood swings were incredible, that's for sure. He gave you a quick glance that seemed almost offended. Thus, only confusing you further, "I'm sure you are just ecstatic to finally get out of your room and have everyone staring you down like the prince/ss you are. Makes you feel all high and mighty to get all the attention, doesn't it? So much better than dealing with me, is it not?"

Well, now he has completely lost you. He was annoyed, that was clear, but why or what exactly did you have to do with it was way beyond your understanding. It's not like you even came here on your own volition. He was the one who dragged you out here without as much as asking you or informing you of anything beforehand. And now he's being all petty and even insulting you for that?

"With all due respect, Saeran, I have no idea what you are talking about. No one is staring at me, and it's not like I even had a choice on whether or not I should attend... whatever this is," you gesture around the ballroom briefly, your eyes squinting slightly because of the bright lights coming down from the shiny chandeliers above. Frankly, if you had a choice, you would rather stay in your room. Being around this many people you didn't know made you far too nervous for your liking. So him acting so accusatory with you for nothing did get on your nerves a bit.

After all, you may be patient and on the quieter side of things, but that doesn't mean you would let him unfairly disrespect you like that. If it came to it, you could stand up for yourself just fine, and he wouldn't get any confrontational response from you, either.

In a way, it almost felt like dealing with a needlessly snarling cat.

A low grumble rumbled deep in his throat, almost like a growl of sorts, but it seemed like he was much more subdued in his behavior at this event. It's possible that he didn't want to create a scene in front of everyone. Or, in front of someone specific in particular. Either way, the cold glare he shot your way could probably turn you into stone if he had the ability to do so. You remained calm and quiet despite his unspoken threat, meeting his stare with a calm and quiet demeanor. You weren't about to get angry and petty with him in return, but entertaining his blatant disrespect that seemed more like he was just dumping his sour mood onto you was not something you would just shut up and take, either.

You had respect for both Saeran and yourself.

For a long time, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes without moving or speaking. A scene that probably looked rather bizarre from an outsider's perspective, now that you thought about it. Especially with how increasingly irritated Saeran looked, wordlessly seething at your refusal to back down under his intimidating presence. While also not giving him a chance to lash out at you fairly, since you weren't doing anything hostile or outright disrespectful. From time to time, you seriously contemplated whether he actually wanted you to snap back at him for any reason or another. Well, whatever that reason may be, you were not about to satisfy those desires of his.

Eventually, his gaze lowered before yours does, traveling down your body, and you realized that he was, in fact, now staring at your chest. A notion that felt both bizarre and flustering in a way that made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks heat up significantly. But, you remained still. Mostly out of pride. Or maybe you had a deep sense of curiosity, wanting to see where this will lead you. It was Saeran who first backed off, which was unusual. You saw his throat bob up and down as he swallowed and took a step back from you, once again, turning away from you. For the countless time today.

You began to think that he was intentionally doing this.

"...You could have put on a jacket with that, you know," he muttered rapidly in your general direction without actually focusing on you. Then, he cleared his throat awkwardly, his hand tugging at his collar a bit, in a way that looked like he was merely adjusting it for more comfort. Only, you never saw him fiddling with his collar like that before. No matter how much of a tight fit on him it was.

That was when it dawned on you.

You glanced down at yourself, examining your outfit from your own perspective. Certainly, it was quite revealing. But definitely nothing extreme. However, it was, undeniably, the most amount of skin you've shown in front of him so far.

...Was he embarrassed, perhaps?

The idea seemed amusing to you. And, for some reason, his more reserved demeanor tonight gave you a small boost of confidence you don't usually possess around him.

"-Why? You told me to put it on, so I did as you asked. I figured you wouldn't like me putting my own spin on it," you smiled, leaning slightly closer to him, in a way that would let you lightly touch his arm. And the small shiver his body gave out in response to your action was one that did not escape your watchful eye, "You did say I have bad taste in clothes. Doesn't it satisfy you to see me following your orders with no issue?"

He tightened his jaw, giving you another pointed glare. He was even more furious than before when you called him out like that: "Don't put words into my mouth, toy."

Despite it sounding like a warning, it was a warning you intentionally ignored.

"I thought you wanted an obedient toy, no?"

Your jab seemed to be causing him to snap. He grabbed your elbow and started to drag you away from the bright lights and happy chatter you were bothered by beforehand, without giving you a chance to react. All you could do was yeep from surprise and stumble after him, though you did not try to put up a fight regardless. In fact, you found yourself... grinning ever so slightly as you followed him along, the flutter in your chest increasing in its intensity and making your legs feel lighter with every step you took. In a way, you obtained what you desired. A break from all the randevu you were desperate to escape from.

And maybe you were really a bit weird.

Suddenly, you're in a dimly lit hallway, your back pressing against the wall, and Saeran's breath warming up your cheeks from his hypnotic proximity. The party's muffled sounds reach you just over the door, but they feel like they're so far away at the same time. The party is the last thing you thought about when those cat-like mint irises of his were boring into yours inches away from you, making you want to drown in their alluring hue without a second thought.

"-Oh, so now you're suddenly all quiet," Saeran's words reached your ears with much delay, and your head went blank as you felt the intensity of his presence so close to you, clouding your every sense with him and him alone. He seemed to enjoy your frazzled state of mind, though, judging by the cocky smile on his lips that he gave you.

You gulped. Then, you found yourself saying the very first thing that came to mind without even thinking twice about it: "...Just enjoying the view, is all."

There was another pause where you two just stared at each other's eyes. This time, he seemed to be baffled as he blinked at you repeatedly and didn't have an immediate response to your little quip. You couldn't help but think of how pretty his long lashes looked as he did that.

He got you to act stupid for him exactly as he wanted, and he didn't even realize it.

"Don't be coy with me," Saeran eventually hissed out, seemingly deciding to take a head-on approach to try and hide his puzzlement with your behavior. He leaned even further into you, his chest now brushing over yours from his proximity, and some of his hair fell onto your forehead, tickling the skin with every tiny brush. A strong scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, making it impossible to focus on anything but him. He took up your every sense. Vision, hearing, scent, touch. He was filling all of it.

It wasn't as bothersome to you as he seemed to think.

"That kind of trick may have worked on Ray, but it will not fool me. So don't even try charming your way out of this, you brat," he carried on with his tirade, completely disregarding the impact he was having on you.

"-You seemed rather interested in my chest earlier, though."

You were clueless about what you were doing, God. It seemed like all the sense of fear and apprehension had disappeared. And while your mind did comprehend that you were probably getting too bold for your own good, you just... didn't really care at all.

Saeran's dumbfounded wide-eyed look was a sight to behold. Part of you had the urge to pull him even closer and kiss that look off of his face.

Maybe then he would finally understand how much you liked him, not just Ray.

"I- You-" The way he stumbled over his own words was almost endearing. You definitely surprised him with that one. But you did not push it any further, nor did you tease him about it. Instead you just watched him closely. Your figure was almost subconsciously glanced at again, and then his face flushed dark crimson and he pulled away abruptly, covering the lower half of his face with his palm and looking away. His reaction was so typical that it was almost cute in some strange way, "Y-You've got some nerve! What is there to look at, anyway!? It's just some skin. You must be very arrogant to think so highly on yourself."

The denial has arrived.

Surprisingly, you did not oppose it. You merely shrugged and gave him a small coy smile: "It's okay, Saeran. I would find myself staring, too, if I could see some of your collarbones peeking out. It's natural."

"-Don't be gross. And I know you're lying, anyways," he frowned at that, giving a look that seemed almost offended, in a way. He huffed, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked away from you again, seemingly not wanting to meet your gaze for whatever reason. You couldn't help but think that his posture looked less threatening and more closed off this time around, "I'm not like you. And I don't need you to pretend to fawn over me, either."

That caused you to frown a little.

Did he... not think that he could be attractive to you? That thought caused you to feel sad. Before you could think about it, you took a small step towards him and reached out with your hand.

"You are very beautiful, Saeran. I'm not lying," you said, your fingertips brushing over his tie just a slight bit. It's likely that he wouldn't even notice that touch beneath all that fabric of his suit. But it's the gesture that counted.

He stared at you again, for the countless time today. However, it didn't last long. With a small huff, he grabbed at your wrist and pulled your hand away from his chest. His touch was far gentler now, though, his fingers just slightly squeezing around your skin.

"You are an idiot," you heard him mumble, followed by a rustle of fabric as he let go of you completely. Before you could voice your rebuttal, a dark form flew into your face, making you squeak from surprise.

It's soon apparent that the mysterious form was not a ghost, but rather Saeran's suit jacket that was flung carelessly over your head. As you pulled the clothing down, you heard him grumble again, though this time in a more commanding tone: "Put that on. And I want you to wear it on you for the rest of the night, you hear me?"

As he got closer to you, his finger abruptly pressed into the center of your chest, making you slightly gasp.

"-That," throughout it all, he maintained direct eye contact with you while muttering, "-is only for me to see. Got it?"

You nodded without hesitation, feeling your heart beating in your chest like a million horses galloping down the race track: "Yes."

"That's a good prince/ss."

That smirk he gave you as he pulled away made you feel as weak in the knees as it frustrated you. You were planning to get him back for that. Your momentary obedience did not mean you were going to be some perfect doll for him. You were merely enamored by the brief but undeniable spark of connection between the two of you. He may have been a tough guy to crack, but you were persistent.

Though, as you went through the remainder of the night, you couldn't but ponder...

...Was that the first time he called you 'prince/ss', without it being a mockery of Ray's pet name for you?

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeran choi #suit saeran #mystic messenger saeran #saeran x reader #suit saeran x reader #WE GETTING BACK TO WRITING FOR MM WITH THIS ONE 🗣🗣🗣❗❗❗❗💥💥🔥#was super fun to write!! i love this grumpy little guy with all my heart #so i kinda wanted to make it more spicy #but #thing is #i interpret suit as the LEAST capable of making a move on you i'm sorry 😭#he's all bark and no bite #you'll have ray making out with you sooner than suit will give you a single peck #don't get me wrong #he's very infatuated with you #it's just that he's a tangled mess of emotions #also!!! i hope i made it gender neutral eugh #like if you're a guy he would appreciate seeing your collarbones too!!#guys' collarbones are so pretty u kidding???#all jokes aside you can imagine yourself in a dress or a suit - it's up to you!!

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serede986 · 2 years ago

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Boyfriend Jumin HCs~

Gets you a bouquet of roses on every date. When he first saw your excitement on receiving the first bouquet, he got addicted to your happiness, although he refuses to accept it.

Speaking of dates, he arrives exactly 30 minutes before meet-up time. You're not aware of it, so shhh.

He is learning new breakfast recipes from the chef for whenever you stay over. He would wake up early, and prepare to serve you breakfast in bed.

Matching pajamas are ordered for you, him and Elizabeth the third.

Drops Elizabeth in your care, whenever he's out for a business trip and he can't take you with him. He trusts you and no one else.

Neatly folds your clothes and keep it next to his, whenever you visit him for a few days or travel with him.

Will take your advice over every new merger his company makes.

Is obsessed with your voice. He'll listen to you talk for so long, you think he's not invested in your topic of conversation. But believe me, he is. Imagine that love struck look on him.

Loves it when you put his head on your lap and play with his hair or massage his scalp. Count to 100 and he'll be out in a deep sleep.

Kisses your forehead every time one of you leave to part ways.

Will read every favorite romance book of yours, just to learn how to swoon you.

"Elizabeth the third, we need to talk about when your mother comes over. You're precious to me, and so is your mother. But your mother has taken the first place in my heart."

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shewrotesomething · 1 year ago

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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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distinguisheddingus · 1 year ago

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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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shxtodxroki · 1 year ago

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

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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itsdrawingmen · 7 months ago

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Completely randomly wanted to draw protective Zen

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married-to-google-translater · 10 months ago

Note

Can I request a yandere headcannon with 707,Jumin and V with a darling who love to cosplaying as a magical girl or neko

Jihyun Kim

You and Jiyhun would have been together for a while.

In the beginning, you wouldn't talk much about your hobby.

Maybe you're afraid that he wouldn't be interested…

But one day he came home when you were preparing your cosplay.

So that's where the whole situation started.

Jiyhun would surely have heard of this hobby.

He would work as a photographer.

So maybe someone would have asked her to take cosplay pictures earlier.

However, he would not have much knowledge on the subject.

He would certainly listen to the subject if you wanted to talk about it.

And if you asked, he would definitely take pictures of you.

Lots of pictures.

Jiyhun would really love you.

And he thinks you're most beautiful when you do something that makes you happy.

And this would definitely be the thing.

You went to different cons together a lot.

Saeyoung Choi/707/Luciel

Saeyoung was totally involved in this.

As we know, he would already be into cross dressing.

So he would know what you are talking about when you talk about your hobby.

And Saeyoung would probably know about your hobby before you even tell.

He ran a background check…

And Saeyoung isn't doing a bad job.

He would be enthusiastic about your hobby.

Definitely something you two could do together.

Couple cosplays are a thing.

And surely you would when he had no work to do.

Although Saeyoung would rather google what characters you could cosplay while working.

He would also give Vanderwood a headache.

Saeyoung would definitely love to make the outfits herself with you.

Nice thing to do together.

Jumin Han

You and Jumin had just moved in together.

You were unpacking your moving boxes.

And Jumin would be interested in why you would have one box full of different cat ears.

Jumin doesn't really know what cosplay is.

He's never even heard of it.

And he might not understand if you try to explain to him.

It would really be out of his world.

But he would try to understand.

And would listen to your explanation…

If it was something that would make you happy.

Jumin would really love to see you happy ;)

He would definitely like to support your hobby.

Things that are important to you are also important to him.

Jumin would probably support this hobby financially.

Or he could try to help you make outfits.

But a little warning.

Because Jumin really isn't terribly good at it.

However, it would be fun.

And if you dressed up as a Neko…

Ummmmmm

Well, let's just say that it wouldn't really bother Jumin ;)

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xelasrecords · 11 months ago

Text

Locus of Pain

Kim Jihyun x MC

NSFW

MC doesn't tell Jihyun she's hurt. He finds out anyway.

I'm back with smutty and messy ambiguous relationships! With GE Jihyun's personality. I will forever campaign for his GE personality until it becomes mainstream in fics and I don't have to put a disclaimer anymore.

TW: discussions on adult child abuse, self-destructive thoughts and actions, brief mild gore imagery, self-harm

Words: 4.5k

Masterlist Read on AO3

She stumbled into the apartment with a pained grunt.

She ought to feel bad for staining the floor with her blood, but she had more important matters to attend to. Her back was burning with lacerations and every step she took was straining the bruises that had burrowed into her muscles.

She tried not to swing her hands too much as she headed for the bathroom, disposing of her jacket at the foot of the bed. For once she was thankful for Rika's cramped apartment. It could be suffocating at times, but it was easy to live in. Jihyun said Rika had a taste of unassuming minimalism. She thought building a gilded emerald cult with thousands of followers was pushing the definition.

Gripping the edge of the sink, she clenched her jaw and started peeling off her blood-crusted shirt. The injuries shouldn't be too deep since the blood had stopped flowing down her back like a free-flowing motherfucker. But as she pulled the shirt over her head, it tore the barely knit skin apart, and warm blood started to trickle down again.

She cursed her thin epidermis. It was not supposed to tear over a mere picture frame thrown at it, even if the frame was large enough to cover half of the bedroom wall.

Her father had excellent aim and strength. He had proven that to her many times.

Sometimes she fantasised about breaking his skull in with a scorching hot pan, wondering if his hair would melt from the heat or if his eyes would bulge out of their sockets. Would he scream for her help? Would he plead for mercy or curse her for being a demon spawn? Then, she could blame him for fathering such an evil inside her.

Her stomach curdled with guilt. The resentment was hers alone, and he had loved her despite her selfishness. She couldn't shed away the primal care she had for him. She was her mother's daughter, after all.

Twisting her body in the mirror, she made a quick work of cataloguing her injuries. Two long gashes that dipped into her flesh but wouldn't require stitches, one blackening bruise near her ribs, and several cuts and bruises that stippled across her back. She tested her breathing. No wheezing. No punctured lung. An improvement from the last time. Jihyun wouldn't need to know.

She stepped into the shower and washed off the blood. The cold water chilled her bones. But it had to. It was better to feel all of it. She had asked for his wrath and now she dealt with the consequences. Besides, it helped with closing the wounds.

After she put on a pair of shorts, she reached for a bottle of alcohol from the medicine cabinet. Sharp gasps escaped her mouth every so often as she tried to pour just enough. Medicine was costly and she shouldn't waste it. The burn blinded her vision white and she hunched over the sink, focusing on the cold ceramic under her fingertips and the slicing of tiles beneath her bare feet.

When her sight had stopped swimming, she took a deep breath and bent her arm behind her in awkward angles to slap adhesive bandages to the wounded area. She grunted in frustration. It was tougher than she'd thought. She was nauseous from constantly looking up to check her reflection, the evening autumn draft was pricking at her exposed skin, and the plasters kept sticking to the wrong place.

She glared at the mirror. Do not faint.

How many nights had she spent patching herself up? And yet she still struggled. Her lack of progress was almost laughable.

She didn't think there were any glass shards embedded in her though. One good thing that came out of this. She tried not to think about the larger shard she had pocketed when the picture frame glass shattered, now buried under the bloody heap of clothes.

She froze when she heard someone punching in the door passcode.

She was about to kick her bathroom door close when Jihyun entered and switched on the lights from down the hallway. Their eyes locked, and he stopped in his tracks. Her throat constricted.

This was not how she wanted him to ever see her.

His face grew horrified, and he dropped his satchel in his rush to get to her. She had a fleeting worry that his satchel might have dropped onto the blood-stained floor and she might have ruined his fine leather bag.

Jihyun stood before her, his mouth opened and closed. She schooled her face into indifference and waited.

"You—" he started, "what happened?"

The impulse to lie was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't find a good reason to when he had caught her like this. She doubted he would believe her excuses. The day had been long and she was so tired.

"A jolly good ol' catch-up with my parents." Her tone was casual.

Jihyun watched her with a worried frown, then squeezed into the small space and ran the tap water through his hands. He was moving with a surprising efficiency as he lathered his hands with soap before scanning her injuries and her first aid supplies.

"Please let me help." His teal eyes were desperate. She had forgotten how luminous they were from up close. "You can't do this alone."

"You shouldn't have come here tonight."

"I'm well-versed in healing people," he urged. "I used to heal my own injuries when I was with Rika. I treated hers as well. I know enough, so you can trust me." His fingers twitched, almost reaching for her before dropping to his side. "Please."

More than the fact that she was found out, she hated that she had made Jihyun worry about her. The only thing she excelled at was to instil negative feelings in people who cared about her. Always wrath in her parents, sometimes concern in Jihyun.

Jihyun had never lost his head at her, but she was waiting for it to happen. No one had the patience of a saint, not even him.

It was a pity she had condemned him to another relationship where he had to play the caretaker. Letting him treat her would be an appropriate compensation for his scare. "Go on," she said. "But I should probably lie down."

Relief flooded his face. "That would be the best. Can you walk on your own?"

She nodded, but he held her arm and assisted her to the bed. He sat her down, slowly, and helped her settle into a comfortable position to lie prone in. She buried her face into the pillow that smelled faintly of mint leaves. It was Jihyun's side of the bed. It comforted her that he was permanent enough in her life that she could find traces of him in her private space.

"Has it always been this bad?" Jihyun asked quietly. The feeling of his lithe fingers inspecting her skin with clinical precision was unfamiliar. His touches were always loving, adoring, not stiff with anxiety. He had never seen her with weeping wounds. She had never let him into the truth.

"Only when I deliberately provoke them. Mother goes off the rails, father blames me for not caring about my own parents, I try to save myself before things escalate." She raised her head and smirked at him. "I don't always succeed though. Got a picture frame to my back, as you can see. Took being backstabbed by your family to the next level. They were supposed to hang it where their guests could see, but I doubt they'd hang it without the glass now. People would ask."

There was a brief silence before he spoke. "That's terrible." His voice was soft, barely a murmur. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know they are violent."

She shrugged. "You're not the one who should apologise. And they will anyway, once they think I've iced them out for too long. Not that it means anything."

He shook his head, and strands of aquamarine hair fell across his forehead. They softened the distress that wrought his features. "You're not a mouse they can play with."

"No, I'm just their daughter they can hurt," she said. Jihyun pressed a bandage against the grisliest gash across her back and she winced. "Do you think it'll scar?"

"It most likely will. Had it been any deeper, you would have needed stitches." He paused, his palm resting on her spine. "Why didn't you call me?"

"It didn't occur to me," she lied. She wanted to lay down her defences and curl into his arms. She didn't want to keep fighting for herself. There were times when escaping was better than fighting for nothing, but it wasn't something she could ask from him. Her cage was her own.

Jihyun's fingers curled against her skin, and she could sense the waves of sorrow unfurling around her. "Can you think of me from now on? It doesn't have to be all the time, moments when you are hurt will do. If you call, I will come."

"I think of you all the time, Jihyun."

"Oh. I didn't know that." The surprise was evident in his tone. He applied another bandage to her back, smoothing it cautiously over the raw wound. "But I know no one is meant to bear their burden alone. You have been through so much."

"So have you, love. I'm not special." She gave him a bitter smile. "Now, why did you come here unannounced?"

Jihyun studied her for several seconds. "I wanted to see you," he said. "You've been withdrawn lately, so I thought something had happened."

She chuckled. "I suppose this counts as something."

"I never had to imagine you in my position before," he said. "I thought you'd confide in me when you're hurt. It's what you always urge me to do. You taught me to be more trusting. But seeing you like this makes me realise how much fear you and Jumin must have felt when I took matters into my own hands." He let out a ragged sigh. "I don't know how I would cope if I came here one day and saw you unconscious on the floor."

Lucky he wasn't here when she blacked out from a concussion a few months ago.

She made a dismissive gesture. "Do as I say, not as I do."

"Only if you let me do the same thing."

She levelled a glare at him. "Definitely not."

Jihyun snorted but worked silently after. The stinging pain was dulling into low throbs. She had lost count of the bandages he used, but it must have been more than necessary. She felt the adhesives even on the spots that didn't require them. Jihyun was being excessive. After everything she had gone through, she was confident that a small, uncovered cut wouldn't be her reason to die.

He should know. He had been stabbed and was still alive fretting over her.

She heard him uncapping an ointment and felt a cool sensation on her skin. He carefully massaged the salve into the bruises, sending shivers throughout her body. How nice he was. How patient. How kind.

When he pushed her hair aside to tend to the base of her neck, her breath caught. His fingertips sent fire down her synapses. It had been so long since they did anything. The distance she put between them was growing taut. The farther she pulled, the harder she would crash back into him.

Her arm moved on its own accord when she grabbed Jihyun's fingers and pressed her lips to the back of his hand. The strong herbal scent from the salve burned her nose, but this smooth hand was his. Hers.

Jihyun was always there for her to come back to.

He was not home. Home, to her, was not something that she ever longed to go. It was the misery that strangled her into obedience and shrunk her world into a dark, bleak place to survive in.

He was her sanctuary on a far-off island. Nothing could get to them when they were together.

Jihyun let out a light chuckle that sang to her heart. "Let me wash my hands. I don't want to make you any more ill."

She squeezed his hand. "I missed you too, you know. I'm glad you're with me."

He stilled, then crouched beside her head. He tucked the hair that obscured her face behind her ear and kissed her temple before gently wrestling his hand out of her grasp. The shape of his lips was just as she remembered it.

She watched him rinse the blood from her clothes and exhaled in relief when he didn't stray to her trousers' pocket. She watched him clean his hands with water trickling down his forearms, the brown sleeves of his sweatshirt pulled up and collecting water at the elbows. She watched him storing the first aid kit and medicines in the cabinet to her preferred arrangement. She watched him doing useless things for her.

When Jihyun climbed into the bed and rested against the headboard, she asked, "Do you know what the worst part of this is?"

He stared down at her, eyes carrying a heavy sorrow. "That your parents don't know how to love you?"

"Not even close." She rolled her eyes. "I've known that all my life. Not being able to lean against anything is the real tragedy. Look at me, I can't even sit comfortably beside you."

"But you can come closer," he said slowly.

She raised her brows but let him guide her to lie on his chest, his fingers resting on her bare shoulders.

He was clothed and she wasn't and it was something she needed to rectify.

She tangled her leg around his and relaxed her head against his beating heart. It was thrumming to a rising tempo that mirrored hers. She toyed with a loose thread on the neck of his sweatshirt. "I wish you weren't so good at fixing up injuries like mine. I wish you never had to learn."

"It's all in the past now." He slipped his fingers into the gaps between hers and clasped them. "I'd go through it again if I had known it would help alleviate your pain."

She snapped up at him. "Your martyr streak needs to stop."

"I have stopped. Just allow me this one exception." He planted a chaste kiss on her mouth, then cleared his throat. "Will you meet your parents again?"

She tightened the thread around her forefinger until it looked like diagonally dissected blocks of meat and she could barely feel its existence. "I know they do horrible things sometimes, but I can't cut them off. It's not that easy. I still love them. When they're not mad, they can be easy to love."

Jihyun frowned at her finger and gently untangled the thread before snapping it off. "That's what makes leaving harder, isn't it?" The haunting in his face revealed the extent of horrors that he had experienced. An angel with a darkened, torn soul who was still rising high above. He was not her. She liked that about him. "It's easier to hate someone when they have only been awful to you. It's their residual goodwill that gives you hope that they will change. When I look back to how stubbornly I stood beside Rika, I understand. Left in the dark, we cling to the light. We forget who trapped us there in the first place."

She didn't want to admit that Jihyun was right. That he was right, yet it would not change anything.

She wondered if she had been drawn to him because the subconscious part of her knew he would understand. Jihyun knew how to make her feel less alone in the guilt and resentment and twisted love that she couldn't untangle herself from. Most people were not like him. She learned from a young age that if people found out about the abuse, they would either urge her to leave—which added unnecessary pressure on her because it was never an option—or give her pitiful looks while stumbling over their words.

"Jihyun," she said.

He drew his thumb over her chin. "Yes?"

"Don't go." She pushed herself up and crashed her lips into his.

It was fervent, maddening, and she poured all the tension from their time of separation into it. The yearning to see him. The stress from her parents meddling with her happiness. Everything she had been missing after being alone for so long.

Jihyun reciprocated with more caution, treading her lips like they were a treasure trove. He gave in eventually when she didn't show a sign of discomfort, his kiss matching her intensity.

She bit his lower lip and slipped her tongue into his mouth. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him. His hands were not sliding down her waist and everywhere else like he tended to. He kept his hold staunchly on her arms even as he deepened the kiss.

It hit her what he was doing. He was being considerate of her battered body.

She let out a sob into his mouth. Nobody had ever cared for her like this. She could stand all the violence flung at her, but one act of kindness felled her to her knees.

Jihyun pulled away in an instant, his glazed eyes searching across her face and body. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. "I was just thinking about you. You're wonderful. I missed you." Jihyun's expression was guarded, appraising her, and she let him. She had spoken the truth. She offered the truth so rarely that she would not omit more of it if it concerned his regard for himself. "I'm fine, Jihyun."

He gave a slow nod, and she tugged off his cashmere sweater. With a tender touch, she ran her hand through the ragged red patches of skin that stood out against his pale torso. Burn scars from a house fire. Both of them had childhood wounds woven into their very being. The past was made permanent on their skin.

Jihyun squirmed, seemingly self-conscious, despite her being familiar with the scars, but he made no attempts to stop her. He was beautiful, body and soul, she thought. He had more love and forgiveness in him than anyone she had ever known.

She trailed kisses along his jaw and sucked on the juncture behind his ear. He moaned and curved his body against her, and she smiled into his neck. It was amusing, the reactions that she could elicit out of him. No one could touch him as she could. He did not let anyone else know him intimately like this. He was only for her.

She suspected all of this played into his pleasure as well.

She twined her fingers around his hair, marvelling at the softness of it, and pulled it back to bare his throat. He had such a beautiful throat.

She didn't apply much pressure as she wrapped her hand around it, but his breath hitched. Her lips curved into a sly smile, her other hand wandering down his hard bulge. "I don't know why being choked always turns you on."

Jihyun held his gaze on her despite his reddening complexion. "I can feel you wanting me when you hold me like this."

"I do want you." She swung her leg astride him, straddling his hips and rested her forehead against his. The hard-on beneath her was hard to ignore. "It drives me out of my mind when I can't be with you."

"You shouldn't have pushed me away," he murmured. "I'll still want you, however you are, whatever condition you are in. You're always just you to me. Nothing can make me want you less."

"I'm sorry," she said. Jihyun closed his eyes, and she kissed his eyelid with a gentleness that she reserved only for him. "I'm sorry I left you alone."

He cradled her cheek, and she basked in the warmth of it. The safety of him. He was here and she couldn't fight the temptation to lose herself in him. "You didn't leave me alone. I belong with you. Anywhere you run to, you take me with you. I'm yours."

She tightened her hold on his throat to see his reaction. "You're mine," she whispered.

A slow smile graced his delicate face. "I am. I'm yours."

Jihyun drew her closer by the elbow and peppered kisses on her mouth, her chin, her throat, and her collarbones. He palmed her breasts and sucked her nipple while tweaking the other with his fingers. They hardened at his touch and she moaned his name, demanding him to be harder, rougher.

She needed to feel everything.

He bit her nipple and her hand slipped to the base of his skull, grasping at his hair. He was hers. His action and devotion were hers. It sent a deluge of pleasure down her core. Jihyun could be gentle, but he was also earnest to give her the satisfaction she sought.

She wanted him. She wanted him. She wanted him more than the freedom from her wretched life.

"I love you." She tipped his chin back. "I love you, Jihyun. Remember it."

He smiled up at her, his pupils blown wide with lust. "I love you, too."

She reached down and unbuckled his trousers. She had done more strenuous activities in a worse state, so fucking him wouldn't damage her already mangled body. But Jihyun stilled her wrist when he saw through her intention.

She narrowed her gaze. "I'm on the pill."

"You're hurt," he said. "I don't want to worsen your injuries."

"Have you not treated them?"

His grip wasn't loosening. "You need more time to heal. The wounds may open again."

"Then go slow."

Jihyun hesitated.

"Please," she croaked.

As soon as she uttered the word, she knew she had him. He sighed, but let go of her wrist. "You'll have to be careful. I'm stopping this if you push yourself too far."

"Brilliant."

Jihyun pulled down his trousers while she discarded her shorts. She lowered herself into him, relishing in the feel of him filling her. He ran his hands up and down her waist tentatively until he was sure that he wasn't touching any of the injuries on her back. Only then did he allow himself to move into her with practised ease. She held onto his shoulders and rolled her hips in tandem, burying her face into his neck and letting him control the pace. Jihyun had meant his warning and she was not eager to risk it.

It felt new. It felt familiar. It was what she had yearned for. His low grunts, her body slanting forward to hit the right spot, their skin sticking to each other in sweat and slick wetness.

Jihyun was slow, unhurried, with faint caresses down her back. His concern for her was easy to read. He was tracing back the pain that he couldn't protect her from. He might no longer bear a debilitating guilt, but she didn't think he could ever eradicate his need to shield her from misfortunes.

She couldn't blame him. It was the same with her, though the abuse done to her wasn't something that anyone could simply take away, and they both knew it.

She bit his earlobe, mumbling, "It's not your fault."

Jihyun tilted his face, and his lips brushed her cheek. "It's not yours either."

She stopped caring whose fault her source of agony was and thrust into him, picking up the pace while she dug her nails into his arms. He didn’t stop her, his hand snaking down to find her bundle of nerves instead.

She gasped and arched her back when he rubbed her. She was vaguely aware of the sharp jabs of pain in her back, but she welcomed them. Pain grounded her into him.

Jihyun's fingers were vigorous, and his thrusting was getting rougher that it twisted the coil in her lower abdomen. She writhed with need, whispering to him not to stop, and he listened, and it brought her higher and higher until the coil snapped.

She cried out in ecstasy.

Jihyun kept to his pace as she rode out the climax, not stopping despite her trembling legs and clearing haze. She focused on him overwhelming her in a way that annihilated her need for anything else. The alkaline tang of paint that lingered on him. His tightening grip on her bottom as she felt him reaching his climax. Him twitching inside her when he finally did, his muscles tensing as he came inside her. His pleasure-struck face that entranced her every time.

He was a marvel to look at, to have. He was hers. He had proclaimed it. He was the forest that shrouded her from the vultures circling above, the soft sand that sank her deeper into him with each pull of the waves, the hearth that kept her warm through the barren cold. With him, she could breathe.

She would give him everything he wanted. She would not let him go.

She slumped against him, their mixed fluids seeping down her thighs. He slipped out of her and she kissed the underside of his jaw. "I love you."

Jihyun's breath was still racing as he drew circular patterns on her shoulder blades. "Your parents didn't hurt you because you provoked them. They hurt you because they're abusive. It's not your fault."

She sighed. She had hoped he would let it go, but nothing could stop him once he made up his mind. "Knowing it doesn't make it any better."

"Do you really think so?" He ran his thumb up her inner forearm. She flinched and tried to jerk away, but he held onto her. The deepest scars had faded to silver, but the fresher ones were raised ridges along her skin. She had been careful, small cuts scattered on an easily hidden spot. She didn't realise he would notice. "Isn't this your form of penance?"

Her chest tightened. "It's the only thing I have control over. If I blame them and direct all my anger at them, I will hurt them. This way, the only person I hurt is myself. I'm not a weapon. I'm not a threat."

"Don't you think you've been hurt enough?"

She wore a thin smile and looked away. "Sure."

Jihyun's hands slid up her jaw and tilted her head back to him, his fingers resting on the pulse points on her neck. "You can be angry around me. It's natural to want to express your emotions. They're not something you're supposed to keep to yourself. Talk to me when you feel like turning to self-mutilation. I'm yours, remember? My ears are yours to talk to. My shoulders are for you to lean on."

She surveyed his pleading gaze with a twinge of pity. Jihyun was asking for more than he was supposed to receive. In time, he would see it.

Another waiting game had begun. She almost did not want to see the ending.

"All right. I'll do that."

Footnotes:

I went with Jihyun because I thought he'd be an interesting choice. The role reversal and all. He's forced to confront how he is seen through MC's eyes when he's involved in dangerous situations and refuses help.

MC's relief for living in Rika's suffocating apartment at the beginning parallels her feeling trapped in the familial cage that she doesn't want to leave. There's a reason why she doesn't move out of the apartment even after the cult drama is over. She's a bird caged too long that she can't take flight even if the door is open. She's not capable of leaving things behind, so she hoards everything she can (Jihyun) to herself.

MC thinking that her father "had loved her despite her selfishness" is the product of her parents' manipulation. Her belief that she's selfish if she feels negative emotions and wants anything at all is what drives her self-destruction, and ironically, her possessiveness.

With Jihyun, it's easy to make him fall into the rescuer role when the partner self-harms, so I was very mindful of depicting the discovery scene. I didn't want to romanticise it and make MC feel like if she got hurt more, she'd get more attention from him. Since this is GE Jihyun, he wouldn't default back to his old enabling methods.

I was dubious about making MC self-harm since I don't want this to be a gratuitous checklist of trigger warnings, but it makes sense for her to turn to cutting. If she has to be hurt, it might as well be by herself. Might as well be on her terms.

The nature metaphors are to show Jihyun's and MC's common interest in nature.

Are they actually in love or is it just oxytocin and loneliness? Who knows?

I felt pressured to write a romantic fic, but I haven't been able to these days so I turned to this. It brought relief somehow. This was cathartic.

I used to think I'd never write a possessive character in a non-antagonising light yet here we are. I compared this MC to the one from Wedge the Knife Under My Skin, but this one is blunter with her words and well, more possessive. She's bitter and sarcastic and resigned to her suffering. Fortunately, Jihyun is secure enough to see through her sharp defences.

The title is a twist on the locus of control concept in psychology, which is about a person's degree of belief on how much of their internal force governs their external life.

I don't know why I like to throw Jihyun into ambiguous relationships either.

Header Corner:

A quick process breakdown! Add a directional blur to the base footage > duplicate the footage, slightly shift the position and change the blur direction to get the hazy look > add a red filter overlay to fit the fic's bloody mood but retain the magenta in the background to resonate with the romance aspect > choose the appropriate angsty text and font!

Youtube | Goodreads | Letterboxd | Pinterest

#jihyun kim #mystic messenger #mysme #jihyun kim angst #jihyun x mc #jihyun kim smut #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger v #mystic messenger imagine #tw abuse #tw self harm #xela writes #jihyun kim fic

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momomallowart · 1 year ago

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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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mikoyamisheadcanonblog · 3 months ago

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Jumin Han's Relationship Questions (1)

💜Who Wakes up first in the morning:💜 Jumin would wake up before his S/O he is very much a person even on vacation or on break he has his set time he will wake up. Most of the time he will wake up earlier than when he is supposed to leave and watch his S/O sleep taking in their breath counting how much time they breathed within the hour and noticing when S/O is starting to stir awake. He does love making S/O breakfast first thing in the morning, morning coffee, and pancakes with Elizabeth the 3rd sitting on your lap.

💜Who’s the first to fall asleep at night:💜 His S/O is the first to fall asleep before him. Jumin is usually busy with work and being the director of C&R often comes home late. He does attempt to come home to share dinner with his S/O and chat about their day, after heading to their room where he will pet S/O’s hair and sing softly to them till they fall asleep. He is just feeling his heart swelling with such containment and giving her a gentle kiss on their temple before going to sleep.

💜What they playfully tease each other over:💜 His S/O can playfully tease him about his lack of skills with housework, or knowing modern slang, or just how regular people work and live. He takes it in good stride as he would also tease his S/O with his dry humor or compare them to Elizabeth the 3rd and such. His sense of humor is weird and such and sometimes he says weird things that would catch S/O off guard but still laugh.

💜What they do when the other’s having a bad day:💜 Throw money at the problem, he is rich, and he will throw whatever money he can at the problem to make it go away. His S/O was looking at this necklace before he went to work, he will buy it. They spoke of Spain; He will take them there. It probably gets overwhelmingly fast, but he will also offer a shoulder to cry on. If his S/O wants just his attention and to be just with him and listen to their worries he will be there. For his bad days, just his S/O being there having someone being there for him and loving him for who is, is enough for him.

💜How they say ‘I’m sorry after arguments:💜 Throw money at the problem, and he will be out all day after an argument, he will be feeling guilty and such. He will come back later that night with all kinds of gifts and stuff he knows his partner would love before apologizing to them and explaining how much they mean to the world to them. He will try to fix whatever bothers his S/O other and such. His S/O can apologize any way they feel comfortable, a song or art piece, or even using Elizabeth the 3rd he will forgive his S/O and such and keep the song or however they apologized.

💜Which one’s more ticklish:💜 His S/O probably but he does have a few ticklish spots, around his neck and under his jawbone he is a bit ticklish but that is a secret only his S/O knows of…..

💜Their favorite rainy day activities:💜 Shopping, his apartment is built for shopping he will take his S/O looking at anything and everything they want before both of them heading home and sitting and enjoying wine and discussing the day with Elizabeth the 3rd on his lap or his S/O. He at times will love the simpler things and life and sitting and drinking wine and watching the rain fall is one of them.

💜How they surprise each other:💜Gifts, Jumin’s love language is gift giving and he will surprise his S/O with an expensive gift he saw and thought of them, or vacation trips just the two of them with of course Elizabeth the 3rd or taking them to private screenings of their favorite movie or show even meeting actors. But the best surprise is when he comes home early and they spend the day cuddling. He gets surprised just seeing his S/O around him loving him for him, of course, if his S/O wants to surprise him bringing another cat into the relationship is always fun.

💜Their most sickening show of public affection:💜 He is completely enamored with his S/O and just in the RFA talking about how much he loves them and how being around them just brightens his day. It often leaves the other members speechless, of course, he isn’t against physical affection and such either. Hugging and kissing his S/O even while people watch and saying the words ‘I love you,’

#han jumin #jumin x reader #jumin imagine #jumin han #jumin x you #jumin x y/n #jumin x mc #mm rfa #mm jumin #jumin han imagine #mysme jumin han #jumin han headcanon

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heyheydidjaknow · 1 year ago

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.

58 notes · View notes