My part for the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang project by the amazing team at @mysme-rbb ! I had the incredible opportunity of working together with the WONDERFUL @elvendara , please check out the fic that goes with these to get the full story! đđ
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Here is my collab piece for the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang event! I got to partner with the talented writer @rune-writes to make something for Yoosung đ â đ Essentially we came up with a story idea together, and then I drew something for it while Rune wrote a fanfic for it! :D
We decided on a story centering on Yoosungâs eye injury post good ending, with a bit of messy feelings and tender moments. It was a joy to work with Rune, and the fic is a heartfelt sweet-and-sour story that I really enjoy, and totally recommend checking out đ
 @mysme-rbb hosted this fan event where plenty more artists and writers teamed up to make some great MM content. Feel free to check out the others over there!
If you want to check out the fic, you can read it here! On AO3 and on Tumblr âš
Here is the first fic I wrote for the @mysme-rbbâ! Itâs pretty different from anything Iâve written before, and Iâm really excited to share it. I had such a wonderful time collaborating with AlyValery, who made this beautiful artwork. Check out her post here.
one
Zen falls in love with her first. For him, it is like leaping into cool, clear water.
There is something about her, from the first time he speaks to her (and she is just words on a screen then, voiceless and non-corporeal): something about her reels him in, makes his heart eel fizzy. It is only when sheâs in his home, thoughâsitting so calmly on his couch, hands clasped neatly in her lapâthat he realizes just how deep underwater he has fallen.
âSorry,â he says to herâand for what? For his small, underground apartment, when she deserves a palace? For bringing her here, or for the danger he didnât know she was in, or for the strange thickness he feels in the space between them?
She shakes her head, and a lock of hair falls into her eyes. She brushes it away with careful fingers and Zen feels that his heart is trying to fight its way out of his chest.
âYouâre like my knight in shining armor right now,â she saysâand in spite of it all, she speaks with a certainty that makes his head spin. For his whole life, he has been searching for the sort of sureness that seems to radiate off her. He feels dizzy as he sits beside herâleaving space between them, still (because she feels untouchable to himâbecause she is too wonderful for this world).
âThatâs me,â he says, giving her his best attempt at his usual sparkling smile. He wonders if she can sense how nervous she makes him.
âItâs okay,â she says, patting the space beside her. âYou can sit next to me, silly.â She knows: he sees it written in the resplendent smile on her face. Zen feels his cheeks flush. Itâs never been like this before: he has worked so hard to learn how to smile, and change the timbre of his voice, and angle his head just right so the light bounces off his jaw. He is not used to being caught off guard. Ah, but he finds it impossible to pretend when sheâs around: he is rubbed raw, like she has stripped him of his skin, leaving him utterly exposed.
âIf you want me to, babe,â he saysâbut he knows that his voice is stiff and he can feel the way his body tingles as he shifts closer to her.
âHey,â she says. She peeks up at him from underneath her lashes and there is a determined look in her eyes. A moment passes in which the world outside the window could burn to the ground and Zen wouldnât see. She takes his hand.
And this is it: this is the moment. Oh god, he thinks. Iâm done for.
Sheâs smiling up at him, tilting her head to the side to draw his attention to their intertwined fingersâas though he needed a reminder.
âIs this okay?â she asks him. He realizes heâs staring at herâis afraid, for a moment, that he looks like a fool, that sheâll toss her head and laugh that heart-stirring laugh and take her hand back. She doesnât, of course.
He squeezes her hand. Finds he can breathe underwater.
Zen always knows what to say. But here, on his too-small couch, in his too-small apartment, he doesnât have the wordsâdoesnât know how to tell her that his heart, and his head, and his whole life belong to her; ah, but the sparkle in her eyes tells him that she already knows.Â
Yoosung canât sleep. Itâs something about the way the stars are shining outside his window: too close, like he could stick out his hand and pull them from the sky. Heâs never wanted to believe the adage that lost loved ones look down on us from the starsâitâs too sad, he thinks, to leave behind your friends on earth and exist forever in the night sky, all alone. He doesnât want to end up stationed in the sky for living people to gaze at as they philosophize about life; he wants to be right here, where itâs warm and heâs real and he can hold the people he loves in his arms.
The people he loves.
Normally, heâd give up on sleepâthrow a blanket over his shoulders and open his game, where there would be friends waiting for him: strangers who know him just well enough to ask how heâs doing but not well enough to really listen to the answer. He used to think this sort of relationship was safeânaturalâideal.
But he doesnât think that way anymore.
He calls her, instead.
She answers right away, and she canât have been sleeping, because her voice sounds too clear.
âYouâre still awake?â he laughs, and she giggles. He wishes she were beside him, head on his shoulder as he looks out through the smudged glass window.
âSo are you,â she says.
Yoosung tells her about the stars. He tells her that the stars he sees are really in the pastâthat theyâre long goneâthat the past and present live together in the sky. A voice in the back of his mind tells him that heâs being dramatic againâthat heâs wasting her time, her precious sleep, with these thoughts.
But she doesnât think so.
âIâm looking out my window now too,â she tells him. âI wonder if the stars will carry my message to you.â
Yoosung finds that heâs smiling. He tucks his knees up to his chest, wiggles closer to the windowâputs a palm on the glass, thinks again that perhaps he could catch a star in his hand if he just reached far enough.
âWhatâs your message for me?â he asks. His heart races.
âIâm going to tell the stars,â she says. She whispers something, and he hears her exhale, like sheâs blowing on a dandelionâscattering her words into the night sky.
âNot fair!â he says. âI wanted to hear the message, too!â
âYou will,â she tells him. âJust wait.â
So he waits, hand on the glass, listening to the sound of her breathing through the phone. He counts her breaths: one, two, three⊠He wonders how it would feel to fall asleep to this beautiful sound; he hopes, with all his heart, that one day he will find out.
One of the stars seems to glimmer brighter, catching his eye. Itâs getting bigger, he thinksâmoving closer to him. And perhaps itâs his imagination (too active, heâs been told) or just a projection made by his desperate heart, but he feels a warmth wash over himâlike stepping outside and lifting his face to the sky on a bright summer day.
âDid you get it?â she whispers. His heart feels shimmery, like sheâs taken it in both her hands and sworn to keep it safe.
Jaehee is never afraidâbut today, she is terrified.
The key digs into her palm and she clutches itâtoo tightâin her sweaty, shaky hand. She canât remember the last time she felt this wayâlike her stomach is tied in a knot. As a child, perhaps, squeezing her pencil, waiting for a test to startânever as an adult; never like this.
Oh, and she is every bit as beautiful as Jaehee had imagined. When she was just a voice over the phone, Jaehee felt so much safer to say what she felt (even if what she said was such a tiny bit of what she really meant). But now she has a body, and a face, and these perfect, confident eyes, and Jaehee is certain she is going to lose her nerve.
Do it, she tells herself. Do it now.
âWill you be my partner?â she asksâand her voice sounds so much quieter than it did in her imagination. And in spite of everything thatâs been said, Jaehee half-expects her to shake her head, declining the offer with a perfect, polite smile. Why would she uproot her whole life, after all, for a woman sheâs known for just a few days?
Jaehee hardly dares even think beyond this: about the question sheâs really asking; about the answer she really wants.
âYes,â she says. Ah, and she says it with such conviction: like sheâs simply been waiting to be asked. Jaehee feels like a thousand tiny little fires have ignited inside her chest. She holds out the key with a trembling hand. This is it, she thinks: the moment to tell the truth. And by my partner, of course, I meanâŠ
She opens her mouth but the words are stuck in her throat. She hates herself for it: she is strong, she thinks. She can go to work with clear eyes after a sleepless night; she can defend herself with her bare hands. But thisâthe you are my everything, the I want you, the please be mineâit is impossible.
The key is goneâshe has slipped it from Jaeheeâs hand with remarkable deftnessâand she is moving closer, closer, and Jaehee is frozen in place as soft arms encircle her. She smells like the first buds of spring.
âI meanââ Jaehee tries to say, feeling that the world has turned sideways.
âI know,â she whispers. And there is an intimacy in her tone of voice that Jaehee has never heard before: the ballroom around them dissolves, and they could be in bed together, or on a plane carrying them thousands of miles away, or in a void consisting of nothing but their voices and breaths and bodies and hearts. âI know what you mean.â
âDo you?â
She doesnât say anything, but she shifts in Jaeheeâs arms, and Jaehee realizes what sheâs going to do right before she does it. She tilts her head andâandâwith almost unbearable tenderness, brushes her lips against the corner of Jaeheeâs jaw.
The sideways world rights itself. The air hums. The stars fall from the heavens.
âFriends donât kiss each other like that,â she whispers, and her breath on Jaeheeâs ear sends sparks shooting down her spine. âRight?â
Jaehee gathers her breath, the fragmented shards of her courage.
It is a cool April day, and the trees seem to sing a song of impending summer.
She gets home late that night. Her mother, who is seated beside her in the car, is telling her a story she canât quite followâsome friend of the family got some score on some test, and apparently this means that her mother is now disappointed in her. She sighs heavily; her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she leaves it alone, reluctant to get in more trouble than she seems to be in already.
The car pulls into the driveway.
âYou need to make sure you get some sleep tonight, okay?â her mother saysâand her voice sounds far away, like itâs coming from underwater.
âI still have a lot of studying to do,â she says, feeling stubborn. And itâs true that she has studying to do, but it is true, too, that it is almost midnightâthe right time to start over again tonight, if she wants to.
And she does: oh, to slip back into that world where she is beloved and everyoneâs salvation is at her fingertips.
Her mother looks back, halfway to the door; sheâs still sitting in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, one hand unconsciously cupping the phone inside her pocket.
âAre you coming inside?â her mother asks. She opens the passenger side door; the night air is biting on her bare arms.
âYeah,â she tells her. âYeah, just a minute.â
And her mother is walking ahead; tugging open the front door (too forcefully), keys jangling in her hand (too loud). She pauses in the garden; tilts her face up to see the sky.
Her muscles feel stiff and sore from nights of poring over books, eyes aching as she tries to make out the letters that swim around on the page. She feels like sheâs been running a marathon barefoot, gasping as she struggles to keep up.
In another universe, though, she is already at the finish line. In another universe, she has the power to mend broken hearts, soothe fears, save lives.
Are you out there? she asks the empty night sky.
A star falls.
Oh: and it feels like an answer. She pulls her phone out of her pocket: midnight exactly. Phone in one hand, she lays her other hand over her heart.
It is when the car door shuts behind her that Jumin realizes he is no longer afraid.
For ages, he has been on the very edge of the abyss of solitude. It would have been so easy, he thinks, to bury himself in that gaping emptiness where no one could reach himâto fall deeper and deeper until he was untouchable.
But she wrapped a rope around his waist and said if youâre going, Iâm going too. He knows that she felt it: the peril of standing on the edge; the understanding that one wrong move would have catapulted them both over the cliffâhidden them away together where no one could find them. She knew; she could have run away at any time.Â
She didnât.
And now he is alone in the garage, and the car thatâs carrying her away from him is fading into the distance, andâfor perhaps the very first time in his lifeâhe has no doubt that she will come back.
Heâs always believed that leaving means never returningâthat once someone is gone, they are gone forever. But she has driven away, and he finds that he doesnât feel scared.
He calls her, of courseâalmost without thinking, fingers pressing the buttons before heâs realizing what heâs doing. She laughs as she answers.
âDid you miss me already?â she asks. Her voice is weightless; he realizes that itâs been days since heâs heard her voice without actually standing beside her. She feels so much less tangible now that she is just a voice over a phone againâand still, he does not feel afraid.
âI did,â he tells her. âI miss you so much.â
Honesty: so bright it almost burns him.
He tells her that he wants to grow into a more mature man for her, and she listensâand it is this, perhaps, that he loves the most. She doesnât offer him platitudes, as the people around him have done his whole life: she doesnât say oh, but youâre fine the way you are; she doesnât dismiss him or diminish him or paint him a false picture of the way his world should be.
She listens.
She tells him that sheâs glad to have met him and he knows that she means it.
Her voice, Jumin thinks, is like crisp autumn air; he wonders if heâs ever been truly honest with anyone before.
âThereâs something I want to say to you right now,â he says. He finds that he needs to know how the words will taste in his mouthâneeds to know if heâs capable of saying them at all.
âWhat is it?â she asks, and he smiles because he can tell she already knows.
Heâs not standing on a cliff anymore, staring down into the abyss. Before he realized what she was doing, she led him awayâguided him to this new place, where he is warm and his feet are on solid ground.
âI love you,â he tells her. It tastes like sweet chocolate on his tongue; it is the truest thing heâs ever said.
It is far too late to turn back by the time Saeyoung looks at her sleeping face and realizes the magnitude of what he has done.
He is driving on an empty road that seems to stretch ahead infinitely. It is the space between him and his other halfâand the distance separating them is measurable for the first time in so many years. She has fallen asleep in the passenger seat, his jacket spread over her lap, her face perfectly serene. Her lips form a tiny, placid smileâas though sheâs content to be walking into fire with him. As though she doesnât have any doubts.
I am a monster, he thinks (not for the first time). What sort of despicable person lets a someone like her get entangled in their nightmare? She shines so bright that his heart aches.
She wakes (of course she does), and he drags his eyes from her face back to the road, pretending not to see. He wonders if there is still time to deposit her somewhere safe, to leave his heart in her care as he goes on alone.
If anything were to happen to her, that would be the end of him. Heâs sure of it.
âMorning, sleepyhead,â he says, keeping his voice light. But she knows better, of courseâsees through him the way she always has. She frowns and leans over to brush his arm with her fingers; his whole body shivers at her touch and he is ashamed, knowing she can tell.
âWhatâs wrong?â she asks him. He gives her his most convincing smile, but he knows itâs lopsided on his face. What has happened to him? She has shattered all his defenses; she has plunged headfirst into the dark pit of his fears.
âNothing,â he says; and she makes that clicking noise with her tongue that always disarms him, almost like sheâs saying shhhh, now tell the truth. âI shouldnât have brought you,â he says (hating the way his voice sounds, like he might just burst into tears).
She sighs.
âDo I have to tell you again all the reasons why youâre wrong?â Her sternness makes him smileâhe canât help it. He glances at her and her eyes are hard, glittering like the afternoon sun on the windshield.
âPlease do,â he says. His voice sounds hoarse. She shifts, sitting cross-legged, tucking her arms into the sleeves of his jacket. Sheâs so cute like this heâs afraid his heart will burst.
âIâm going to help you,â she tells him firmly. âYou may be the smartest person in the whole world, but youâre no good at staying calm.â
Sheâs right, of courseâhe never has been.
âYouâll do your best work with me beside you,â she says. âYou get us in and Iâll keep us safe. If you want to save him, you need me there, too.â
Saeyoungâs handsânormally so steady, because heâs trained them to be that wayâshake as he grips the steering wheel.
âIâve never really cared about staying safe,â he tells her. She huffs, frustrated, refusing to let him wallow. And then she reaches for him, brushing his hair off his forehead; though her fingers are cool, he feels that sheâs set his whole body on fire.
âToo bad,â she says. âI care about keeping you safe, Seven.â
Oh, and that name feels hateful to him when she says it: he can hardly stand the thought of her believing, even for a moment, any of the hundreds of thousands of lies heâs told. He wants her to see him for who he really is.
âThank you,â he murmurs; she smiles, a hand on his knee, and he feels that she is the brightest star in all the galaxies.
Itâs time, he thinks.
When they make it out alive (and in that moment, he decides that they will)âwhether it is today, or tomorrow, or the next dayâhe is going to tell her his real name. Because Seven is a conglomerate of pretense and brightly-colored lies; because Saeyoung is a version of himself that heâs hardly dared to dream about: a person whoâs loving, and honest, and good.Â
He can become that person, he thinks, for her. He wants to.
It is May. She counts on her fingers the number of exams she has left, feeling the shivering promise of time passing on her very skin. She can see to the end of the long, dark tunnel now: the delightful hollowness of summer afternoons, the wonder of falling asleep at night without a thousand anxieties dancing around on her pillow. She sees, too, the plane she will board in the fallâthe one that will carry her far away from here.
She sits at her desk, notecards stacked perilously high around her. Her phone buzzes; she checks it. Her head pounds.
âYou arenât playing that game, are you?â
Her motherâs voice from the doorway is harsh and she jumps, upsetting a pile of papers covered in nearly incomprehensible scrawl. She feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
âWhat does it look like Iâm doing?â she snaps, throwing her phone onto her unmade bed.
âJust checking,â her mother says stiffly. She buries her head in her arms.
I wish they could see me now, she thinks wildly. Her room is a mess; there are dark circles under her eyes; she hasnât brushed her hair. This house is a pressure cooker: the looming stacks of notes, and her motherâs stern voice, and the calendar of exams taped above her desk. She canât see straight anymore.
It is a sense of control, she thinks, that she needs. Here, she has none at all: every moment of her day is monitored, every ounce of her energy expended to prepare for these tests that feel meaninglessâthat will earn her numbers on a page and a ticket out of her hometown.
But in the other universe, she is strong, and she is confident. Perhaps most important of all: she is cherished.
And they are cherished, she thinks; she wishes she could tell them as much.
Do you know? she thinks at themâhard as she can, heart racing, knowing it is foolish (wanting to believe, anyway). Do you know how much you mean to me?
When Jihyun wakes in the small, sterile room, the moon has risen, and the first thing he thinks of is her face.
In his mindâs eye, he pictures her as he saw her last: slipping from the room with a determined smile, waving as if to reassure him that heâd see her soon. Groggily, he tries to think: this was hours ago, of course, and it must be evening now. His body feels heavy; he tries to open his eyes, and finds that he canât.
He lifts a hand to his face, feeling like heâs moving through thick liquid. Ah: there is a bandage over his eyes. He can feel it now: stiff and scratchy against his closed eyelids.Â
From somewhere in the room (which he can no longer picture clearly), he hears a quiet voice.
âV? Are you awake?
Itâs herâand he is somewhat surprised by the way his heart races. He didnât expect her to wait with him this whole timeâhe didnât realize that she was nearby.
âIâm awake,â he saysâand his voice sounds strange to him, like itâs coming from someone else. He hears a rustlingâsomeone is moving closer to the bed. Oh, and he catches a whiff of her scent; heâs never been able to quite place it, but it is absolutely intoxicating: like a garden he walked through once, long agoâor perhaps a flower that only grows in another world.
âIâm going to call the nurse,â she says. She is so close that he can feel her breath on his face. He reaches outâcatches her hand.
âWait just a moment?â he asks. He wonders if she can hear his heart.
How strange, he thinks. He is barely awake, and yet his heart is racing as though heâs just run a hundred miles.
âThey said it went really well,â she says. He doesnât miss the anxiety in her voice; he wonders how many hours sheâs been here, watching him sleep.Â
âYou didnât have to wait with me,â he says.Â
âOf course I did.â
Jihyun realizes that he is still holding her hand. His head feels so foggy from the medicine that made him sleep, but his body is waking up now, and heâs painfully conscious of how small her hand is in hisâtiny and almost unbearably tender. He wishes he could kiss every one of her sweet fingertips; he wishes he could see her face.
âThank you,â he says. He means thank you for staying here with meâhere in this room that smells strongly of disinfectantâbut he means so much more than that, too. She sighs in the way heâs often heard her sigh: like she wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. He wouldnât mind if she did.
âHow do you feel?â she asks instead. Sheâs being careful, tiptoeing around him; heâs not sure how to tell her that she doesnât need to.
âA little tired,â he admits. âBut otherwise I feel well.â He hesitates. âBetter than usual, actually.â
She laughs quietly; he feels he might do anythingâanything in the worldâjust to hear that laugh again.
âYouâre so strong,â she tells him, squeezing his hand. She is the one who is strong, he thinks.Â
Thereâs a noise in the distance: a gentle knock on the door. The doctor is coming back, he supposes; suddenly, he feels not at all strong. He holds her hand tighterâfinds that he doesnât want her to go.
âWill you wait for me?â he asks, despising the way his voice sounds. He does not sound like a man who is worthy of her attentionâhe knows he is not a man who deserves to be waited for.
But she holds his hand to her cheek, and her skin is so warm. Jihyun wonders if she understands what he is really asking: not stay with me now but wait until I become someone who can love you the way you deserve.
âOf course Iâll wait for you,â she says. She speaks slowly: each word seems to hold enormous weight.
Saeran sees the endless expanse of freedom extending in all directions around him, and feels that she is the very center of it all.
âAre you nervous?â she asks. He laughs; just moments before, he had felt that wayâwhen he was typing (fingers aching as they fell into their habitual pattern of worrying over the keysâeyes burning and throat itching as he tried to breathe the cabinâs stale air). But now that he is outsideâand she is standing beside himâhe feels that he has the power to do anything: to run till his feet give out; to see his brother again; to build a life for himself.
âNot anymore,â he says. She moves closer, her arm brushing against his, and he turns to press his lips to her hairline. She squirms at his side, making a delightful sort of purring sound; Saeran feels that he could hold onto her from now until forever and it wouldnât be enough.
He breathes in the mountain air: it smells like pine and grass and wind. Heâs never felt like this beforeâlike he is as strong as the earth itself.
âIâm happy,â she tells him. He feels her eyes on him and turns; oh, and sheâs more beautiful than the sky, he thinks, brighter and more expansive than any fantasy his fevered mind could have dreamed up.
âWhat are you happy about?â he asks. She takes his other hand; he wonders if she knows that he wants to scoop up the whole world in his arms and lay it at her feet.
âIâm happy youâre here with me,â she tells him. âIâm happy that youâre free. Iâm happy that youâre smiling the way you are right now.â
He is smiling, he realizes; he feels almost as if he could levitate off the ground. As if he could become the wind. As if he could cross into another universe to hold onto her heart.
âI love you,â he tells her, because itâs all he can think about. She catapults herself into his arms and he laughs, holding her close.
âI love you so much,â she says. âI just wantâŠâ
He knows. He brushes through her hair with his fingers, thrilled by the way she sighs as she snuggles closer. This is it, he thinks: the feeling of freefall that he has been seeking (and running from) all his life. The rhythm of her breathing against his chest ties him to the earth; he feels an absolute certainty in the sublime power of the universe.Â
Over her head, he looks at the sky. The clouds whisper to him: sheâs here, they seem to say. She is. She is.
Her body feels so solid in his arms, so real; and her love for him shimmers in the air all around him.
âThank you,â Saeran whispers into her soft, sweet skin, âfor being under the same sky.â
She finishes her testsâbids goodbye to her friends and familyâis startled by how much she cries.
She boards the plane with her ticket crushed in her sweaty hand. She sits by the window, palm against the glass, staring hard into the clouds.
In the distance, she can see the city sheâs leaving behind: the buildings blur into the mist, and she is crying again. For years, sheâs waited to run away from this placeânow, it feels so strange to be leaving it behind. She pictures her room in her old house: the books stacked in neat piles now, the clothes laundered and folded into her suitcase, the bed made. She wishes she could pull out her phone and open the door to the other worldâthe one thatâs offered her greater clarity than anything sheâs ever felt in her own.
But she canât, of courseânot here. And at the end of this long plane ride will be another airportâand a car rideâand then the university she worked so hard to get into: the promise of a future thatâs shimmering and full.
She holds her phoneâpowered offâin both hands. Here in the sky, she feels she could be in any world at all: her past, or her future, or their world, which still shines in her heart (perhaps brightest of all).
Iâm okay, she thinksâand she knows that she is. She has confidence in the future sheâs building for herselfâin the person sheâs becomingâin her own little corner of the universe.
She hopes that they know this. Their world feels both far away and wonderfully, impossibly close: inside her and all around her. She hopes that they are okay, too; that they are eating; that they are taking care.
Oh, she thinksârealizes, in a moment of sky blue clarity. Iâm not going back.
She is moving onâas she always knew she would. And they knew too, of course. They must have.
ButâŠ
I love you, she thinksâthinks it hard, phone in her hands, face pressed against the window, eyes reflecting the faces she thinks she sees in the clouds. I love you all.
From her universe to theirsâconnected only by lines of code and fervent feelings and a wish made on a falling starâshe hopes (wishes, prays) that her message reaches them.
The clouds shift: love, love, love, they seem to say. The plane carries her higher. The sky stretches around her in all directions: infinite. Expanding.
Seven with CMC Tanya on a date - at the drive-in cinema!
I had the honor to work along with @thatfanfictionchick, who Tanya belongs to and wrote absolutely perfect fanfiction to go along with this fanart! Please, go check it out!
This project is a part of of MysMe Reverse Big Bang @mysme-rbb ! Which basically means that there are tons of new fanfictions and fanarts from Mystic Messenger fandom!
Our idea was about a date with Seven. What does he like? Cars. And cosplays. Oh, heck you, drive-in cinema with a cosplay! We decided to choose Harry Potter fandom, since me and my fanfic partner both love it!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Bio: You just need a moment... a second to breathe as the world passes you by. Jumin sees you and he gives you a chance to slow down and find yourself again.
For the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang Project. @mysme-rbb
[Read on AO3]
[Check out my Partnerâs half here.]
The party felt like it was⊠alive.Â
There was just so much to do and so much to take care of that it was hard for you to function. You knew what was expected of you as the party coordinator but at the same time, this was out of your realm of comfort. You werenât the kind of person who tended to go out of their way to be chatty.
You were justâŠÂ
You.Â
Not that, that was a bad thing. It was just that you werenât as outgoing and bubbly as someone like Rika had been. She seemed to be the center of attention no matter what and you had always been more of a wallflower if anything. You didnât go out of your way for people unless you had the feeling that they needed help.Â
The need to help others overwhelmingly made you do things for others beyond your limitations. It meant that you ran yourself ragged without meaning to and by the time that you knew that you were overloaded, it was already too late. Your skin would crawl and you would feel sick to your stomach for quite a while.Â
It was the same old song and dance every day of your life when you were thrown into something you werenât sure you were prepared for. This party, for example, you barely had any time to be able to get the wind of what you were meant to do and somehow it came together.Â
It didnât seem like you made any mistakes.Â
But, you were physically far too aware of every detail that youâd made and nobody else had touched. You had just made your rounds over the party to check on everyone, mingling with the guests and trying to keep a smile on your face the entire time. It wasnât easy, but you were doing the best that you could.Â
What you didnât realize was that it was increasingly obvious to the one person that had been around you the most lately that noticed that something was wrong. The dread that coiled in your gut was far too strong to ignore but you were trying to hide it, trying to make sure that this party turned out the way that it was supposed to.Â
Breathing in deeply, you tried to disregard that cracking noise that came underneath it. It was always there whenever your anxiety flared and sometimes, it would be a warning that would be okay, and other times it was a warning that you needed to get away from everything. All of the lights and all of the sounds were just too much.Â
Your skin crawled and hissed at you to step away as the overstimulation of your senses grew stronger and stronger. It was one of those feelings where you could be perfectly fine to those around you who didnât know any better, but on the inside, you were trembling and shaking like a leaf in the breeze.Â
You felt pathetic and still overwhelmed by something as small as a party when you knew how to handle it. You knew how to control these feelings and ground yourself, but it was just so hard to think clearly with the thumping of the music and the chattering voices in the back of the room.Â
Thatâs why it surprised you when you felt a hand grasp at your wrist. You lifted your head to meet dark eyes and a gentle look. Jumin had appeared to you seemingly out of nowhere and nudged you in the direction of outside. You werenât in any condition to decline his offer but anything to get you away from the buzzing sound was fine by you.Â
Jumin led you out onto the balcony that overlooked the city, the sounds of the party now simply a distant hum against the sounds of the evening breeze and the occasional sound of cars driving by the building. The party was in a secluded and quiet little area of town so there werenât a lot of people clattering about outside.Â
You had never been this high up before nor had you had a view of the city like this. You let the buzzing feeling in the back of your mind rest where it was as you tried to find a distraction. You took a step forward and leaning over the edge to peer down at the world below. As quiet as it was, you could see things you never saw before.Â
Not just glimmering lights, not just people living their lives, but feeling like nobody else could exist at this moment apart from the two of you. It was peaceful. It was what you wanted. It was a moment to breathe and find yourself when it felt like the rest of the world was collapsing around you so quickly.Â
âI imagine itâs overwhelming to be in charge of something like this for the first time,â he said, leaning against the ledge next to you. âAre you doing alright? You havenât taken a moment to catch your breath since you arrived.âÂ
âThatâs very⊠astute, Jumin,â you said. You couldnât bring yourself to look at him just yet. It felt like that foreign feeling of wanting to cry was still there. You didnât want to worry him for anything. âI expect no less from you, though. Iâm⊠Iâll be okay. I just needed a minute to cool down.âÂ
Jumin didnât have to take a hint.Â
People were always joking and saying that he wasnât emotionally mature and he didnât know how to read into others, but he did. You knew that he did. For someone that everyone called a robot, he had always been checking in with you and making sure that you felt welcomed.Â
Sure, it had been strange how you felt, but Jumin didnât treat you differently because of it. He was ready to talk and converse with you about just about anything. He had a range of interests that couldâve made your head spin with how easily he could shift a conversation and talk to a person about anything.Â
Even things that he may have just started learning about. Jumin was always learning, and in a way, you wanted to be more like that. You wanted to see what it was like to handle the room instead of running away from it when it got tough. It was something that you had been working on all your life but it wasnât moving as fast as you wanted it to be.
âTake as much time as you need, then,â Juminâs voice drew you away from your thoughts once again. âYouâve done the hard work of coordinating this event. You donât have to handle this all on your own. Thatâs why weâre an organization.âÂ
âFunny you say that,â you felt a laugh come to your lips as you thought about all that Jumin had been doing for the party. Not even for the party, for everyone that was in the RFA. He had been making sure that everyone was safe from not only the hacker but from outside threats that they couldnât account for.Â
He was doing that without being prompted.Â
His compassion knew no bounds.Â
Jumin Han, if anyone, was the one that needed to know how much he was appreciated. He was even trying to help you right now instead of doing his tasks for the party. He was always the one that put his loved ones first and you could relate to that. It was just hard to imagine the sheer weight of it given the length Jumin went to.
It was above and beyond what you felt capable of yourself.Â
That was when you turned to look at him, âIt seems like youâve been taking care of everything yourself, too. I think if anyone needs a break, itâs you, Jumin.âÂ
Jumin chuckled. He gave you that rare smile that made you feel like you were on cloud nine all over again. âHow about we both take a break, then? I imagine they can handle things for a few minutes if weâre away.â
âI think thatâs fair,â you smiled. Sliding your hand across the balcony, you bumped your palm against his and he looked down at where your fingers interlocked. It was a simple gesture but he returned it, holding your hand tightly within his own as if it was meant to be. âThank you for saving me back there. I usually can handle it when it gets bad, butâŠâÂ
âItâs your first party. You want things to run smoothly,â he replied as if he had pulled the answer right from your mind. âI understand. There are things that we can control and things that we can not control. Donât worry too hard about it. Thanks to your delicate care, things are going to turn out wonderful.âÂ
âGive yourself some credit, we wouldnât have the party right now if now for how much youâve been looking out for everyone.âÂ
âI suppose we both have to be a bit less modest, wouldnât you say?âÂ
âJumin Han,  modest ?âÂ
âPreposterous, right? I imagine Zen would have an interesting response to that.âÂ
âHahaha⊠Jumin, you always know how to make me feel safe again.âÂ
You watched as Jumin stared back at the city lights and the skyline. He was lost in his thoughts but you were lost in him. If nothing else, you knew that you always had a safe place with Jumin and there would be nothing that could ever take that away from you. It was just what felt right to you and all you wanted to be.Â
With Jumin, you would have a peaceful place to hide away from the world, and you knew from the way he held your hand, that he felt the same way about you. Smiling, you looked back into the party hall and then back to Jumin as the faint music began to play once again. You figured it was a good time as any to have a dance.Â
And, the first man you wanted to share that with happened to be right there with you.Â
You looked at him and watched as his deep eyes returned to you, âIf I could be so bold, could I have a dance with you, Jumin?â
Jumin held your hand so tenderly and nodded. Thus began a dance shared between the two of you that stayed so sweet underneath those stars. âOf course, you can. I was going to ask you myself but it appears youâve beaten me to the punch. I admire that. You keep surprising me, and I canât wait to see what else you can do.â
And so, you swayed against him and felt that feeling of peace wash over you. During a busy night with everyone on their toes, you would enjoy this moment of serenity with Jumin as you intended. Even if the world was tumbling around you, there would always be Jumin to fall back on when you needed support.Â
We chose to have Yoosung and our male!MC (Daniel) make an apple pie together!đđâ€ïž
My partnerâs adorably amazing fic can be found over here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30866651
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
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Iâm super grateful to have been a part of this event and see the results. Everyoneâs arts and stories are SO so good!!
This event is full of such amazing, super creative artists and writers; and of course, the mods- who did a fantastic job at organizing everything and made it possible for us to join!