ᶜʳᵉˢᵗᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ /

[teddywestside]

[mmjaeho]

the day builds like a tower from an unstable foundation ( bad morning, bad day ) teetering on the edge of crashing to the ground by the time night falls. the last day he had off was a week ago. the last time he had relaxed? too long to recall, if he’s honest. unless you can count turning boneless in his office chair with the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers and his glasses hanging limply in his free hand as he nursed a headache that even magic couldn’t vanish away. but he pauses in his office because, something reverberates in his skill that he’s making a mistake. what was he forgetting? he was about to apparate to grab liquor and some food, go home and pass out for the next━ oh, that’s right... he freezes halfway through his wand swipe intending to take off and he casts a thoughtful frown at the ground.

a long, mildly beleaguered sigh before something clicks. like stones clanking together to set a spark in his mind. but there’s nothing serendipity about his gently acknowledging that it isn’t so bad. of all the mandatory on his schedule at the moment, this one thing doesn’t even make the list of those that bother. because she had been staying at his apartment, too large for him before and now it felt smaller. but oddly, not too small, merely, full. like there had been just space enough for another presence and rather than crowded it felt balanced. he blinks long and slow, picks up his phone in the same instance. consideration and bright, tentative nervousness causing him a frown that she can’t see through the receiver pressed to his ear.

☎ → ( 7:38pm ) [ 품절녀🐱 ] //      …      @minheemm​  .

click ! hey... i’m off the clock. i haven’t eaten today but, i’ll bring home jamaejip. would you like me to bring you something ?

he holds the phone to his jaw, stashes his wand to walk and talk to her. the sound of her voice over the receiver requires a quiet moment of adjustment for him. he rarely even answered her calls and texts on a good day ( here he was calling her first and that might be even stranger ) was she stretched out on the couch ? wandering the kitchen ? a person in his home without his being there ( he was rarely there ) someone he barely knew yet... there was both an imperative and a vague interest, feeding into each other. a promise that he would do better, the tension of these months he had been all but ignoring her presence ( he needed to remind himself that this isn’t really a business relationship, though it feels like it sometimes )

he makes small talk, and it’s odd but not uncomfortable for him.

are you at t━ our apartment? i can come to you if you aren’t.  lately i haven’t been home until you were already asleep. and i know i leave before you wake up as well... that isn’t...on purpose. my schedule is an issue, i don’t know if our parents decided to tell you that marrying me is like marrying all of ymmc... probably not since that isn’t exactly a selling point for a bachelor, huh? ( he laughs, quietly, awkwardly. )

[mmjaeho]

choa ‌:

@mmjaeho​

08:37PM  — 💬 ➠ 《 LJH 》  : sorry for running late! i’m omw sorry! 08:51PM  — 💬 ➠ 《 LJH 》  : looks like you’re running late too i don’t feel so bad now 😔 09:06PM  — 💬 ➠ 《 LJH 》  : our table’s in the back by the windows. veerrry nice view 👀 09:23PM  — 💬 ➠ 《 LJH 》  : i ordered us some drinks, hopefully you’re a fan of red wine 09:24PM  — 💬 ➠ 《 LJH 》  : [ image ] 10:14PM  — 💬 ➠ 《 LJH 》  : our waiter asked when you’re gonna show up. are you? 10:47PM  — 💬 ➠ 《 LJH 》  : it’s okay. goodnight

when choa woke the next morning, she had hoped to find a wall of text explaining what had happened, some apologies, or excuses, even, waiting for her. or anything that would justify the humiliation she suffered last night, waiting all alone for someone who hadn’t planned on coming at all. she didn’t blame him for standing her up ( their long history together was anything but stellar ) but what did bother her was the underhanded way he went about it. it didn’t suit him, or at least what she remembered of him. lee jaeho was never the kind of man that beat around the bush, and it was something she admired—his candor. but where was that candor last night ? she hoped he didn’t think she was liken to glass. she can handle rejection, has experienced it for more than half of her life—what was one more disappointment to add to the long list of others ?

( you have no one to blame but yourself ) choa knew from the start what she was getting into when she entangled herself with him again—years after their last attempt at kindling something between them. choa knows she isn’t his first priority, nor his second, or even third; perhaps she wasn’t a priority at all to him, and that was fair. when they were together, on her terms, he hadn’t been her priority either; only seeking him out when she wanted or needed him. she took him for granted, she knew that now. but back then, choa hadn’t been ready for anything, yet he had done his best in putting her back together, making her feel human, making her feel special. he was what she needed at the time, but he wasn’t who she wanted. but now ? yes, she wants him. more than anything. no more games. no more playing coy. they were both adults now, no longer teenagers playing at love. things have changed. they’ve changed. she hadn’t known, back then, what it was she wanted out of him, but she does now. she wants whatever he’s willing to give, in the short amount of time they can be together. they had an expiration date, and choa feels as if that day was soon approaching—because he’s getting married. to someone else who wasn’t, and probably never will be, her. thinking of the inevitable end, choa blinks back the tears threatening to fall. taking a deep breath, she pulls herself out of bed and prepares for the rest of her day. the world continued to move, even though she could not. 

dressed for the day, she pulls out her phone to call him, gnawing on her bottom lip as she waits for him to pick up—he doesn’t. ( no surprise there ) waiting for the dial tone, she leaves him a message, one she hopes he’ll listen to and answer, “hey, it’s me again. you’re probably busy right now, but i just wanted to check up on you, see if you were okay. if you’re free do you wanna meet up ? i’ll be at the tea house in hongdae, the one i used to study at all the time—” she presses her phone against her cardigan muffling the warped sound of apparition once she’s a safe distance away from her complex. landing safely in an alley away from her destination, she finishes her voicemail  “—i’ll wait for you.”

choa makes her way towards her favorite haunt, a melancholic cloud hanging over her head when she enters, thinking of the inevitable conversation they would have. she greets the host, waiting to be seated since there seemed to be a rush. she didn’t need to wait too long, thankfully. once seated, choa thanks the host before placing her bag across the back of her chair. nervous, and unsure if she could stomach anything, she wrings her hands together, eyes glued to the door, her heart in her throat as she waits for him.

he certainly reads them. at least, a few.

shoves his phone back into his coat pocket like laying a fucking brick. no plan to take it back out ( he does, at least once more, against best judgement ) his expression so unkindly and inhospitable, a wintry of inviolability that was never there before. everyone in the halls of ymmc accustomed to sliding out of his way like they were all cogs and he was such a vital piece that they all naturally just moved around him. he kept everything running smoothly, all of the pieces working there stayed in tact, in place, as long as he could remain unblocked on his path. lee jaeho stalking the halls, a methodical pattern to his movement when he assuming the role of healer, or of the Lee in the building ( in the lack of his father’s presence ) it wasn’t out of the ordinary. it was commonplace to see him briskly chasing a cool line, what wasn’t so usual, was the was his usually assessing ( but ultimately harmless searching, doing his job, keeping things in line ) had turned sharp, a gleam to his gaze, like the sharp side of a blade catching the light. the way every look implied he was searching for a loose thread to cut loose. and it isn’t any of the staff that were at fault. ( his phone buzzes ! again ) the muscle of his jaw jumps in place and a healer that he turns to a little too fast freezes in place ( stop messaging ) “transfer the moon patient to C1, send in hanbin. he’s doing much better ; he can handle this.” he implies she should move out of hanbin’s way and give him the lead with his tone and she picks it up, he sees in her gaze. the way she bobbles a nod an of course. and he takes off, sheathes the blade and everyone keeps their job today ( buzz ! ) his expression is stone.

her name is minhee ( his father had called him to deliver the happy news at dusk, nearly 6pm ) jaeho thinks of the name. it sounds nothing like choa. that’s okay, for the best, really. he goes to sleep without looking at the remainder of the messages. even in his sleep he frowns. 

this time, he leaves his phone in his office. he’s tired of the buzzing ( the way it makes things feel urgent, gives the stakes of not answering a hum of recognition that leaves his fingers tingling ) and by the time he returns to said office, he’s missed more. haunting near his desk, wondering if he even wants to look. eventually, he can’t avoid it any longer. he should stop behaving this way, it isn’t in his nature to run from things, so it’s with a cool swipe that he listens to the voicemail.

and it’s with a much, much cooler frost to his expression that he slips on his jacket and apparates nearby to her. everything in him is tensed with something supremely controlled to a point of snapping as he finds his way there, peels open the door and his expression he meant to be neutral garners him at least a few double takes.

he spots her instantaneously. her favorite all the way to the exact section she preferred. his eyes jump over her features, it feels nostalgic, and sad. watching the last episode of a drama, saying goodbye to a loved one before they move. he doesn’t ask to sit down just does. doesn’t say a word until he’s propped primly in his chair, leg crossed over the other, the dent between his brows leading a gruff, “hey,” there’s no pretext to the somewhat grim way he doesn’t feel like he needs to explain to her something is wrong. they had played this game too long not to know. she’s too damn smart. “i’m not free, but i made some time.” he curtly throws the words onto the table, “would you like to eat lunch?” it sounds more miserly than it should, but he means it.

[mmjaeho]

hello all, i’m sky, allow me to introduce my hellish muse, jaeho. my schedule is clear for a while so i’ll likely be online to plot and chat for anyone interested. hope to see you angels. until then, here is an introduction to my evil dude. before that, please note that i have connections and an about page if you navigate to my blog. edit: *this post is shamefully long i am so sorry…

Keep reading

[mmjaeho]

updated in every way, including now, with (jazz hands x2) terrible plots !

i know he is old and not boyfriend material and also evil but he will (quietly, reluctantly) love you please love him. also, i’ll pay you 2032923232323 dollars to consider making a Lee family canon. that is all have a nice day.

[mmsunwoo-blog]

FOUR WALLS

[mmjaeho]

sunwoo‌ :

he shifts uncomfortably in the examination chair, mentally preparing to confess all this and more to a certain, disapproving scowl, which ( unfortunately ) sunwoo is all too familiar with.

his inner turmoil, however, dissipates as soon as the door opens, revealing—“jaeho hyung !” csi: yosul will just have to wait then, at least until the itching of his skin and the tightness in his throat goes away. 

“nice to see you again, i guess ?” he tries to hide the sheepishness with a chuckle, but instead it comes out forced. awkward.

it’s exactly the same as always. jaeho’s running the halls of ymmc during his off days with no games to patrol, neither pro nor ymmc matches and you might think it would be a day off. if he weren’t lee jaeho, the lee jaeho, it might be. but not only is he primed in his preparations for taking over the family business and odd twenty years from now ( but somehow that’s still soon enough that his father, ever image obsessed, has began the grooming ) he’s personally responsible for the prominent cases who cross the front desk. namely, the park’s, because of the more than mild contributions and maintenance to the lee family magical medical facilities on a near daily basis. it affords them some perks, one being that jaeho personally took care of them ( it wouldn’t be a perk that came in handy for most, but sunwoo wasn’t like most, it seemed ) because of sunwoo’s penchant for ending up here so often, jaeho had entirely desensitized to this particular chore. besides, it was much easier to take care of sunwoo when knowing how much sunwoo meant to his brother haesung.

jaeho enters the room with a curt nod, eye glimmering with something that might be poorly concealed mirth as he tosses ( yes tosses, in an incredibly professional manner that only the most esteemed healers would ) sunwoo a potion. his arms cross his chest but he can’t help the way he almost smirks when he hears that mildly awkward tone. “i’ve started keeping those on hand,” he motions to the potion with a nod of his jaw ( not willing to uncross his arms from his chest, because then he’d look too casual and he still has an image to uphold ) “it would be nice to see you if it wasn't under the circumstances,” he sounds nearly like he does when he speaks to sung, that lilt of gentle reprimand that doesn’t land anywhere close to genuinely scalding, but sticks somewhere in the gear of badgering, “you do know that you don’t have to put everything you see into your mouth without looking at it first?” he shouldn’t complain ( and isn’t actually ) because in reality, sunwoo’s presence does help to summon his little brother more often, and any excuse to see his brother more is enough for jaeho to be thankful. despite his best efforts ( he was actually trying, which is even sadder ) his arms drop away and his expression opens into something close to warm, “take care of yourself, please.” 

[sungmm]

& heartfelt.

[mmjaeho]

sung ‌:

the hallways of the hospital are familiar, almost second nature by now. sung dawdles before heading into the patient examination room- delays his inevitable check-up by chatting with one of the healers who used to take care of him as a sickly child when they cross paths. he smiles sheepishly as she chides him about not visiting her more often, then pinches his cheeks before she goes back to her rounds as if he’s still eight and not on the cusp of adulthood. it’s not as if he avoids the medical center, per se, ( sunwoo’s in here, like, every week so it’s sort of impossible ) but the recent talk he had with appa has made him hesitant to step inside the building as if he’s afraid it might finally close in on him.

that claustrophobic feeling ebbs away at the thought of getting to see his older brother, so he lets himself into the room and heaves himself up onto the table, legs left to dangle idly. he’s usually not the first one to get here; jaeho is nothing if but punctual. luckily, sung has the patience of a saint. he taps his fingers against the table absentmindedly, legs swinging to an imaginary beat.

sung hears the click of the door opening first before he sees jaeho himself, lips forming into a pout as he looks up from where he’s jamming out to the music inside his head. “hyung! you’re late,” he whines, appearing almost annoyed with his older brother before the pretense drops and he grins goodnaturedly.

“did you go on your lunch break yet? i want to go eat samgyeopsal after you’re done making sure i’m not, like, dying.” his eyes widen hopefully at the thought and he sighs dreamily, oblivious to jaeho’s own inner turmoil.

there’s only so fast a pace he can set for the halls of ymmc before the soles of his shoes burst into flame ( and then everyone really will think he’s a demon crawling the earth ) and it only after two separate interruptions that he had given up all but running. every minor interruption, just a few moments here or there, was another to make him late. he doesn’t do late, not under normal circumstances, and especially ( tripled, quadrupled, someone-is-about-to-lose-their-job if one more person dares ) when sung is involved. so perhaps it’s fate, or maybe it’s the fact that the next healer who casts him a look as if to ask for help, snaps her trap shut in the same instance ( looks down and around as if there were something better to look at suddenly ) but whatever it is, he makes it without another incident. and he’s only late by ten minutes but it’s more than he ever felt comfortable with ( being nothing if not punctual ) his brother’s little whine feeling a bit like he had walked on stage and instantly caught a tomato to the face before even performing his spoken word. he quirks an eyebrow that is both typical hyung behavior, and casually teasing at once. the grin he catches is extra satisfying and jaeho’s shoulders unwind from pent up tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying. “i got held up in the hall...about 10 times,” he strolls forward, shrugging out of the jacket he wore over his white coat and withdrawing his wand in the same breath. he busies himself casts his small array of maintenance and diagnosis spells without a thought for how natural it was after all these years.

his focus is on sung more than his motions ( but this leaves his expression painfully flat and neutral as he distributed his focus between reading spells and charts, and his playful, warm-hearted brother ) “i have not eaten. rumors around here are that i don’t need to eat, i just feed on the souls of my employees,” he looks up from where he had been focusing on his hand to give sung a smile ( the spells are turning up blues and pinks, positive to neutral, nothing faulting in immune system; and jaeho relaxes exceptionally ) “but samgyeopsal sounds much better.” he agrees easily, lips had tugged into a grin earlier and it wasn’t fading now that sung’s health seemed mostly routine. “have you been feeling well? tired lately, or weak? please eat well, more than just junk food,” he fires off routinely, feeling his age and profession as he carries on with conversation while simultaneously doing his job. “how’s class? it seems like i haven’t seen you in a week, even though i’m pretty sure it was only a week or something thanks to sunwoo,” he waves his wand to dispel the dazzling glyphs and dancing aurora that had been signaling through magic sung’s physical health, his hip propping against the counter nearby, “you should call hyung more, sungie.”

his heart is on his sleeve, as it always is around his siblings, sung no different. the only real difference being that, due to sung’s health and the nature of their relationship, he had been feeling extra sensitive lately. worrying if sung was doing well at yosul where jaeho could no longer provide daily check ups. it was worse these days, when their father had been running amuck, demands and pressure as usual. jaeho had wanted nothing more to protect sung, always. it was becoming more difficult, with the hours he picked up. and gods did he have so much to talk to sung about. so much he wanted to say, to question, so much of his worries to sort through. yet, he blabbers on rather than express it openly. his nature hoping to stop him from worrying his little brother ( that’s never, ever his goal )

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

So, if you are too tired to speak, sit next to me because I, too, am fluent in silence.

R. Arnold (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

[mmjaeho]

junsu ‌:

do you not want to be in baek ho?

his question stirs him from his thoughts, blinking up at the other and shaking his head immediately. “no! i mean, i do! baek ho has the best quidditch players, and the coolest aurors, and tigers are strong and—” the words come tumbling out of his mouth reflexively; word vomit. he stops himself the moment his thoughts catch up to him: what would jaeho think of him if his reasons were this vain? he bites his lip.

“it’s just…” he starts, wondering if it’s okay to tell someone something like this, before throwing caution to the wind and saying it anyways: “baek ho is supposed to be brave. i don’t think i’m very brave…” (he figures the only reason he’s telling him this is because he trusts jaeho more than he leads on). he’s looking down at his fingers fiddling on his lap before his woven brows relax into a smile as he looks back up at him; beaming.

“but it’s just like hyung said: maybe the gat knows more about me than i do about myself.”

the nearness to concern melts off of his features at the way junsu jumps to clarify. the rapid pace, the small, extremely conscious way he pauses, starts over seeming a bit unsure. jaeho had seen many years of junsu in his office, had grown so fond of him that it was all too easy to count the boy among his own siblings when sorting through his priorities. perhaps ( no, most definitely absolutely, without a doubt ) he wouldn’t be able to easily express this concept to the normally playful boy. but he still felt it, still struggled to suppress it from time to time. the comment about quidditch is the beginning, something blooming kindly between his ribs, and with every word, he feels it wrap around his bones ( this fondness like a tangle of vines ) jaeho blames his sentimental self for the way junsu’s smile makes him smile ( ever so slightly ) back.

“hyung thinks baek ho is lucky then,” his usual nature dims, the typical way he finds in projecting that teasing, playfully harassing tone, is nipped in bud. cut short for something more genuine ( “since the quidditch team will have you cheer them on,” he doesn't add aloud, but he thinks it and he knows the smirk that barely tilts his lips must give him away a little in its fondness ) he reels himself back in, neutral yet again but his words are guiding and familiar. “why do you think you aren't brave?” jaeho asks, finds himself to be quite genuinely surprised. all of the memories conjured to mind of the hijinx a young junsu had gotten into, trying to mischievously ( and quite bravely, when facing the potential wrath of The Grim Reaper Lee Jaeho ) sneaking his way in time and time again ) “maybe you’re just thinking about it the wrong way. strength can mean a lot of things, if you ask me.”

but it’s his own comment turned back against him that hurts to hear. because, just as much as when he had said it, jaeho still agreed. and it stil brought forth that brimming pool of self-doubt and disappointment in himself. he nods. “you still have a lot of growing up and learning to do. anyway, baek ho is more than just strong. baek ho are usually kind people, and i know first hand; they don’t like to give up on the things they love or believe in.” jaeho doesn’t smile but he raises an eyebrow that clearly insinuates through to the heart of the matter in its soft implication. “i mean, sounds about right to me. does it?”

[kdramaspace]

[astralogus]

- ̗̀ get physical

[mmjaeho]

cheol‌ :

perhaps he’s just imagining it, but cheol feels a slight change in the atmosphere after jaeho admits a little fact about himself. the clinical way that jaeho focuses on him contradicts the casual way he spoke. it’s a small thing, a little piece of him that he shares with cheol, but it’s enough to cause a slight shift in demeanor. with a quirk of his lips, cheol chases the proverbial rabbit down the hole.

“really? i never knew that about you—not that i knew a lot to begin with,” he chatters away, rotating his arms like ordered. his mind is running a hundred miles an hour, piecing together what a younger lee jaeho could have been like. overcome with curiosity, the carmine haired teen fires away, mouth moving faster than his mind could keep up. hopefully it doesn’t annoy the mediwizard. “what was your school house ? what position did you play ? were you any good ? did you play on varsity ?”

the han family can be dangerous, or maybe, jaeho is just a bit soft when it comes to those close to his siblings age. he can never tell ( and ultimately, rarely allows it to shine through to the light of day anyway ) because cheol is endearing, quaint here spilling his thoughts without a worry, the intrigued trace of his eyes over jaeho’s hands. “are you feeling self conscious?” he drops the question briefly after a comment on ego and jaeho knows all too well about the woes of ego and the way the psyche can blow back and forth during youth. he recalls his days in yosul with little effort ( he isn’t that old ) the way everything had been a fight, a matter of proving himself and his worth, competitive and bullheaded. “though i’m not a professor,” he comments lightly ( he fights the pull of his lips into a smirk and ultimately fails, at the mischievous comment ) (( this one doesn’t remind him of himself, or of his siblings, but of junsu which, admittedly, wasn’t much different )) “you should refrain from telling me about any trouble you’d be up to. i’m an affiliate required to report back, you know.” it isn’t a question but a lighthearted warning. he doesn’t mean it ( it’s odd that he doesn’t but, when he assess himself, since when was he that kind of man )

his thoughts are melting back to days of glory ( when every day was a fight ) in yosul. he had loved quidditch, loved to fly and loved to win. those days, his broom was an escape from his burdens, the wills of his father and at times, he misses those days. ( when he could fly off at his own whims ) he nods, signaling with the raise of his brow and asking before he moves forward, “i’ll just check your vitals by hand, to be certain, if i may?” checks the vitals by hand ( pulse, pupils, his touch firm and quick so that the touch and inspection was quick, off-hand ) his focus remains largely on his words rather than his actions. “in yosul, i played quidditch from year one until year seven for house cheong ryeong, so yes, i played all years, including varsity. you’re looking at a certified chollima beater━ i used to enjoy playing quidditch very much. these days, i watch quidditch matches for a living and take care of the players, so things could be worse. but if i had known quidditch would stay in my life for as long as it would,” he has finished his inspection by now and stepped back, props against the nearest surface with his arms crossed over his chest as he speaks ( he’s always the type to talk too much ) “━i think, more than anything really i’m just glad i didn’t listen to my parents and went ahead with what i wanted to do anyway.” he realizes how it sounds ( especially from a man who had just lectured cheol about rules ) but he doesn’t care. “i wasn’t good enough to go pro but━ anyway, quidditch can be good for you. just make sure that when you’re out there on the field you know that i’m the one who’s going to be picking you up if you get hurt.” he doesn’t know if that’s a warning, a threat, a reassurance. his tone is too ambiguous, so he offers a small smile that seems easier now that he’s spilled so much information.

[taehyungiez]

[mmeunji-deactivated20190814]

family first.

[mmjaeho]

eunji‌ :

as she gently tapped a rhythmic pattern on the door of his office, she didn’t actually bother to wait for any approval to enter, cracking the door open just far enough to peek her head in. “hey, any chance you have some time for your favorite sibling?” she asked sweetly, her tone deceptively innocent, as if she was asking rather than informing him he’d just have to make some time for her. after all, jaeho shouldered the most responsibility out of their siblings, something he’d done just to make sure she and the other’s wouldn’t have to. consequently, that also meant he worked ridiculous hours, it wasn’t the first time eunji had gotten creative when it came to squirming her way into his busy schedule. “it’s been so long since i last got to spend time with you. i haven’t even seen you since school started.” 

with no quidditch games and no patients on his agenda for the time being, one might think jaeho would take a break ( could take one ) but, the pile of documents on his desk begged otherwise. if he were just another healer, one in a hundred, he might be able to ignore them. but he’s less a healer, and more...well, the eldest of the lee children, chaewook’s son, and someone who had too many obligations to rest━ especially when his father had been not so subtly primping him to take over control of the hospital responsibilities in the event of an emergency, and likely, in their entirety one day. but, it’s just another day in the life of lee jaeho, being largely immune to the pinching pain of stress between his shoulder blades, the way he felt exhausted or the dull haze of dissatisfaction that haunted him. if there were one thing that made it all worth it, it was the welcomed way his siblings smiled at him when they met. and it was days like these ( as a knock resounds on his door ) that he can reap the benefits of being a self-sacrificing, severe workaholic who never shares his burdens, just withstands. the door pries away before he can even look up and consent. the easy features of his sister brightening the area like a sun had crested beyond the darkness that looms in his dreary office. he raises a brow at the comment, and being who he is ( and who she is ) the pen he had been gripping too tightly in stress is tossed away as he relaxes. “that doesn’t even sound like a question.” he teases, “you’re so busy these days, i’ll have to start scheduling days into your calendar instead of the other way around,” jaeho smiles ( nothing tepid and measured and cold like usual but something commonplace among his siblings and compulsive ) “get in here,” he sounds soft even to his own ears, no telling what others would say and he voices it half as a joke, but half entirely  serious, “if anyone hears, they’ll never let me hear the end of it; i have a reputation to uphold.” 

he leans back in his chair with a sigh that he hopes doesn’t sound as heavy as it feels parting from his lips. a look that accompanies a thoughtful grin, “ju jak, huh?” in yosul himself, he might have felt a prickle of prejudice, but in his age and at the sight of his sister who he felt such prideful love for, he can’t find the space to feel less than obliging. “━you like it?”

[livelovelunch]

[mmjaeho]

hello all, i’m sky, allow me to introduce my hellish muse, jaeho. my schedule is clear for a while so i’ll likely be online to plot and chat for anyone interested. hope to see you angels. until then, here is an introduction to my evil dude. before that, please note that i have connections and an about page if you navigate to my blog. edit: *this post is shamefully long i am so sorry…

Keep reading

[mmjaeho]

updated in every way, including now, with (jazz hands x2) terrible plots !

i know he is old and not boyfriend material and also evil but he will (quietly, reluctantly) love you please love him. also, i’ll pay you 2032923232323 dollars to consider making a Lee family canon. that is all have a nice day.

[mmjaeho]

mmdaeil‌:

“Jesus fucking christ–,” he gasps out, voice hoarse, white spots dancing across his eyes even as they shoot open–body curling in on itself like a wounded animal, free-hand reflexively reaching for shoulder.

this time, they’re quick enough, fingers curling tightly around his wrist. separate sets of hands pry his legs straight, holds them down by force. the throbbing in his head intensifies–he can feel the pressure of something soft above his brow, as well as a wet trickle down the side of his head, into his hair.

he can barely make out the sharp movement of their lips through his hazy line of vision, and there’s nothing in his ears but white noise.

tw; blood  ━ it happens in a blink, dizzying in the entrancing way it slams into jaeho just seconds, moments, breaths, before it actually happens. chalk it up to experience, or maybe it was because he had been specifically watching, but the terror of  ‘ please fucking move ‘ doesn’t even have time bang out like a gong inside of his skull, before daeil is plummeting to the ground. ( he had seen it coming, why did he like this job again ?) he and his medics are on the move before dead weight can meet ground ( oh that’s right, he doesn’t ) and he’s there first, as is his job to be, wand out at the ready, a medi-wizard at his side who he barks at in that voice ( it’s probably one, of many, reasons people think he’s a jerk ) “get him in.” it’s a pointless order, they would do it anyway, but he has a need for control that wrenches his heart from his chest. he doesn’t look up and around at the way the whole stadium, players and viewers alike, had frozen like a picture-frame. silence and then deafeningly more loud than even the cheers, the roar of shock. he snaps and points at the remaining of his team, a silent order that they now and long ago have understood to mean: take up the line. they don’t even ask, just line up and watch with hawk eyes while the commentators upend the crowd with calming distractions as they carry away the body on the padded stretcher, hovering above the ground with a wave of his wand.

the holding room they take daeil to is a far cry from ymmc private rooms, but he intends to inspect first, as is typical. the singular assistant he keeps with him needing only a single stinging glare from him to assume the position of holding legs down and apprehending the boy from sitting up as he gasps out, the energy of his pain soaks the room and it’s times like this that jaeho is thankful he isn’t an empath ( if his sister were here, not only with her aversion to blood, but with her empathy, she would struggle ) (( it’s why he’s the one in this room right now )) “daeil, stop moving or we’ll restrain you further━ ” his tone is tight, but he can’t be sure if daeil can even hear. he motions to his associate to make faster work of straightening daeil’s legs out, something that proves to be difficult with the boy in such pain. “stop moving.” jaeho snaps, his tone leaving no room for questions as his companion gets limbs steady, jaeho both moves closer, his hand pressing a towel to soak up blood as he swishes his wand in rapid succession, firing off a myriad of spells: a╭ diagnosis spell  ( a painting of horrifyingly beautiful colors erupting like fireworks over daeil’s head, the vulgarity of red and cloud of green visualizing the pain and jaeho doesn’t even need to be a medi-wizard to recognize that ) the follow-up of╰ episkey to the frightful gash above daeil’s forehead which had been furiously making it’s presence known with gush of blood. ( no wonder the boy has a concussion ) “I’m going to get you a calming drought, and something for the pain too,” ( by he, he means his companion, and the sound of a throat clearing behind him, is answer enough that his implied order is well received ) “but you need to calm down until then for me. can you do that?” he asks carefully, his head lowering so that their faces were near. his eyes and nose are close enough that his breath fans over bloodied face of daeil, and he casts another spell to wick the blood away for clear skin. “no sleeping, no resting. you have a concussion.” it isn’t phrased with much kindness, but the left hand that presses to daeil’s face softens to a cup, gentle pressure applied to cheek to assert his presence, hopefully keep daeil’s attention.

[mmjaeho]

musicismyweapon‌:

“Once you achieve success, there are many things you gain. Once I succeeded, I realized something. Success only has value if you have family that you can share it with.”

[mmjaeho]

♔ + ☠

♔ angry text

✉️ → ( ᴛᴀᴇꜱᴜɴɢ ) : if you keep ignoring my advice, i’ll inform my monthly report that you’re not fit for quidditch. tell me i’m not being serious, i dare you.

i’m only this insistent because your health is the most important thing. you are aware, right?

☠ misguided advice text

✉️ → ( ᴛᴀᴇꜱᴜɴɢ ) : sometimes i can almost see you making last second decisions. don’t lead with your instincts all of the time, that’s why you’re so reckless.