Summary: Always on opposite sides of the room, always narrowly missing one another, always just a second too late.
How many times can two people run in circles before they crash into one another?
Pairing: 707 x Reader
Word Count: 2.753
HI theres smut in this one
~
You swore he was avoiding you, meandering around the party, and mingling with everyone except you. Yet, you could feel his eyes lingering on your form, following your every move. You couldn’t help but wonder if last night's phone call had made him nervous, caused him to choose flight over fight.
He was standing at the bar, sipping on something. The two of you had briefly made eye contact, you offering a smile, only for him to immediately look away.
You were debating a drink of your own when an older woman abruptly stepped into your path and it took everything in you not to let out the most exasperated sigh anyone would ever hear. She was stout, but elegant– dressed in a green dress with a matching beret, and yellow scarf.
“[Name]! I am Artsy Moi! We spoke over email.”
You briefly furrowed your brows; You spoke to so many people it was borderline impossible to remember all of them. Artsy Moi….. Artsy Moi…… Oh! The art lady, duh!
“Y-Yes, of course!” You sputtered out, “Thank you for coming!”
“I wanted to get your opinion on implementing an art history curriculum into kindergarten classrooms, if you have the time-” She started.
It wasn’t very “Professional RFA Coordinator” of you to cut her off, but you had a prior engagement.
“Actually– I am so sorry, but there are a few things I must attend to. However, Jaehee would love to speak to you!” You gently grasped the woman’s hand, giving it a firm shake before pointing her in the direction of the brunette, “She’s the one right there, in the glasses.”
Artsy Moi, though mildly disappointed, seemed delighted to speak with anyone about her endeavors. She gave you a soft smile before leaving in pursuit of Jaehee.
You spun around, your eyes landing on…. Jumin. Who was very much blocking your path to the red-head.
Jumin placed a glass in your hand, a fancy champagne flute with details molded into the stem and bowl. It was cool against your palm, the golden liquid bubbling about.
”Vintage, timeless. Notes of yellow fruit, toasted almonds and wheat from the Chardonnay, combined with the fruit of the Pinot Noir.” Jumin recited, giving you a pleased smile.
”Sounds expensive.” You replied, tilting your head up to meet his eyes.
“700,000 Won.”
You gasped, your lips agape as you looked at the liquid money in your hand.
”I– know I put you in charge of refreshments but goodness, Jumin!” You furrowed your brows at him, “Mm-Mm! I can’t drink this. I’ll ruin it somehow.”
Jumin rolled his eyes, fondness glinting back at you, “This wine was merely chosen for members of the R.F.A. Drink it. Don’t let my fine tastes go to waste.”
You gave him an uneasy look as you tilted the glass against your lips.
Fuck, it was delicious.
You’d never had alcohol so smooth. Your taste buds had never been graced with such delicacy.
You couldn’t begin to think of what would compare.
“Jumin, this is so good-“
”I know.” He hummed, letting out a soft laugh at your reaction.
There it was again.
The feeling of his eyes on you. You'd gotten disgustingly good at recognizing it over the past few weeks. During party preparations, Seven spent entire afternoons pretending to work while watching you from the opposite end of the hall. Though, he thought surely you hadn’t noticed.
Your interaction with Jumin had no doubt drawn the red-heads attention. On instinct, you turned, eyes locking with him from across the room. He was standing between Zen and Yoosung, the two engaged in what looked like a very passionate conversation. Seven gave mindless responses, his golden eyes bouncing between you and the CEO-in-line.
The two of you had been walking circles around one another all night, somehow always on opposite sides of the room. Twice you'd caught him looking before he'd turned away. Once you'd nearly reached him before Zen hooked an arm around his shoulders. Another time you'd crossed half the ballroom only to spend ten minutes discussing floral arrangements with a guest. You’d made several attempts to cross paths but clearly there was always a guest waiting to intercept you; To rave about the party, elaborate on what you’d discussed in your emails, ask for you to point them in the direction of your aforementioned friends.
As the host of the party you were delighted to make conversation! It was your first event, and it was thrilling to meet everyone: guests and fellow RFA members.
You’d received the biggest hugs from each of your friends, minus Seven. Yoosung was the most excited to see you, Zen right in line behind him.
You managed to tear your gaze from Seven when Jaehee appeared at your side, giving you a warm smile.
“[Name]! Are you enjoying the party? There’s so many guests, I can only imagine what your inbox looks like. I just spoke with Artsy Moi, and oh my–”
You let out a soft laugh, “Oh gosh, it’s overflowing. Many of our guests tonight have already inquired about attending next year. I’m the tiniest bit overwhelmed, if I’m being honest.”
Jaehee clasped her hands together, “Oh that’s wonderful! Not that you’re overwhelmed, but you know what I mean. I hope we’ll have plenty of new guests next year. Perhaps, I can help you with managing our list?”
You nodded, swallowing down another sip of the champagne, “Of course! If you’re sure. I wouldn’t want you to have to handle this on top of your work for Jumin.”
“Assitant Kang is well managed. Surely she will be alright… However, I would like begin work on my project for designer cat collars, you see–”
You briefly locked eyes with Jaehee before pivoting your gaze to the other side of the room, Jumin’s voice beginning to fade as he spoke. Your attention was elsewhere now. You watched as Seven excused himself and slipped into the hall, the door closing behind him.
Should I follow him…. Is that a bad idea…… Maybe I shouldn’t…….
Seven had noticed you immediately when you entered the ballroom. He saw your smile, too embarrassed by the nonsense he spewed last night to offer you one back. Instead, he had done the only thing his over-worked, sleep-deprived brain could think of– Look away. Dumbass.
Every few minutes, he snuck a glance towards you. Always just out of reach– Talking with Jaehee. Then Jumin. Then a guest. Then being pulled around by Jaehee. It was a vicious cycle to watch. Slightly comical, if he really thought about it. The two of you had finally made amends and suddenly the universe decided to put you on opposite sides indefinitely.
He’d made a handful of attempts to find his way to you.
The first time, Zen had wrapped an arm around his shoulder, promptly spun him one hundred and eighty degrees and introduced him to a guest. The second time, Yoosung intercepted him to ask where the extra party favors were being stored. By the fourth attempt, Jumin had appeared at your side, placing one of his absurdly expensive champagne flutes into your hand.
Seven wasn't jealous.
Probably.
He watched your eyes light up after the first sip, whatever ridiculously overpriced vintage Jumin had imported evidently living up to the hype. You looked delighted. Staring into the bottom of his own drink, Seven decided he had his fill of the party and snuck off to the security room.
The noise faded as soon as he slipped past the doors, the familiar hum of monitors buzzing to greet him. Rows of camera feed illuminated the otherwise dark space, each displaying a different angle of the ballroom.
“Right.”
He stared at the screens, “This is somehow worse.”
On one monitor, you were still talking to Jaehee, though your attention seemed elsewhere. You laughed at something she said before your eyes drifted toward the ballroom doors. Toward the hallway he’d just disappeared into.
Seven frowned. He should’ve known you’d been watching him just as much as he’d been watching you.
“Ohhhh, [Name]. Please don’t.”
As if you could hear him begging you to stay put, you politely excused yourself from the conversation. Jaehee only briefly looked confused, surely putting the pieces together quickly.
He found himself leaning closer to the monitor, “Mm-Mm. No, nope, stay at the party please.”
You paused just outside of the ballroom. Glancing left, then right. Searching. Looking for him. A thousand thoughts ran through his head: lock the door, turn the lights off, pretend you’re not here, pretend you’re dead!
“Well that last one seems a bit dramatic…” He sighed, pushing his fingers up under his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
"...Seven?" Your voice filtered faintly through the door. "Are you in there?"
Silence.
“No…..?” Seven calls out, uncertainly–His eyes locking onto the monitor showing just outside the security room. There you were, in your pretty red dress that you obviously picked to match with him.
You let out a quiet laugh, the handle of the door twisting as you crack open the door.
“There you are.”
Seven offers a small, awkward wave, “Hey…”
You close the door behind you, leaning into the firmness, “So uhm… Can I ask you something?”
Seven pauses, taking a seat on the desk and giving you his attention, “Depends,” A smile tugs at his lips, “Is it about taxes?”
You furrow your brows, your nose crinkling with the movement, “No…”
“Oh, then probably.”
You let out the tiniest laugh, but it fades almost as quickly as it came. Your fingers find the beading along the bodice of your dress, absentmindedly picking at the tiny embellishments.
"...Did I do something?"
“What?” The words come out before he can even process them, “No.” He shakes his head so quickly his glasses fall down his nose.
“Well–” You pick at another bead, “It’s just that– I feel like you’ve been avoiding me all night…”
Your voice quiets, “Did I say too much on the phone last night?”
Seven’s expression softens, staring at you in a mix of understanding and simultaneous disbelief.
“You think you said too much?”
His expression softens when he notices the way you’re still picking at the beads on your dress. Carefully, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away, he reaches out and takes your hand.
"Hey." His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles and he tugs you closer, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
You finally meet his eyes.
"Actually..." He lets out a breath, almost amused at himself. "I'm pretty sure I was the problem here."
A small smile tugs at his lips.
"Do you have any idea how many times I tried to walk over to you tonight?"
You blink.
"You did?"
"Oh, yeah. Multiple times."
He gestures vaguely toward the ballroom.
"I made it halfway across the room once before Zen intercepted me. Then Yoosung got me. Then Jumin appeared with the champagne..."
He pauses.
"Actually, I think Jumin might have been the final boss."
You can't help but laugh.
"Seven..."
"I'm serious. The man has impeccable timing and an expensive wine collection. It's terrifying."
Your smile softens, and Seven's expression does too.
"But no... I wasn't avoiding you because of something you said."
His fingers squeeze yours gently.
"I was avoiding you because I don’t know how to even look at you after last night.”
You tilt your head slightly, strands of your hair falling into your face, “I don’t understand.”
Seven’s face flushes and he looks away, like he’s suddenly interested in anything else– monitors, wires, blinking lights.
“I said all the things out loud, and suddenly it wasn’t something I could cover up with stupid jokes.”
Seven looks back at you, biting the inside of his cheek, his thumb having paused its circles over your knuckles.
“You mean to tell me…” You start, your voice lighter– Teasing, “You avoided me all night because you were embarrassed?”
“Well when you put it that way, it sounds much worse.”
“It is worse.”
Silence.
He only stares at you, like he’s contemplating.
He leans in suddenly and he tastes of champagne– Sugary and sweet. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you. His lips find yours over and over again, his fingers wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. Your own fingers tangle in his hair, sliding down to push his glasses up and off his head. They clatter as they land against the desk.
“You have no idea… How long I’ve wanted this.” He murmurs in between kisses, his hands roaming over your form, messily trying to undo the corset at the back of your dress.
You’re gasping for air when he begins trailing kisses down your neck. He uses his nose to nudge your head back, pressing a small kiss under your earlobe before sucking a mark into the skin there.
“This little number,” He starts, pulling the panels of your corset apart, “Was hardly fair…”
“Seven–” You gasp out.
He swiftly lifts you onto the desk, sinks to his knees before you, his fingers bunching your skirts up around your hips. Seven pulls your underwear down at an agonizingly slow pace, his eyes locked with yours.
“Tease.” You murmur, quickly averting your gaze. You’re flushed in embarrassment now.
He huffs out a laugh, starting to leave kisses along your thighs. His thumbs gently spread you apart, one of the digits brushes over your clit, sending shivers up your spine and forcing a noise from your throat.
He presses his tongue flat against your clit, lapping at the bundle of nerves. His arms curl around your thighs, holding you against him. No matter how much you squirm against the desk, you are not getting away. The sensation is dizzying, you can barely hold yourself up with one hand, the other pressed against your mouth. It only gets worse when he pulls you forward, forcing you flat against the desk. He takes the nub between his lips, gently sucking, all too pleased with himself as you try to stifle your noises. Your free hand finds its way into his hair.
“Fuck-” You shudder out, back arching off the desk. That must push him over the edge because his lips are suddenly on yours again, his fingers having replaced his tongue and continuing to work you. He swallows down every one of your noises. It takes everything in you to push his vest off, your shaky hands desperately fumbling to undo the buttons.
Your hands splay across the plains of his chest, quickly sliding up to grasp his shoulders. He’s the one fumbling now, trying to undo his belt buckle with one hand. You decide you’d be much better at it than he is.
You push his hands out of the way, undoing the belt with ease.
His slacks fall halfway down his thighs and he pushes his briefs down with them. He presses into you without hesitation and you hook your legs around his waist. For a brief moment you are stunned that this is happening in the security room, your eyes flicker to the monitors, but your thoughts quickly melt away as his hips begin grinding into yours.
You’re yet again overwhelmed by the sensations– The way he rubs against your clit with each thrust, the way he’s pressing open mouthed kisses into your skin, the way his thumbs press into your hips– You were drowning in pleasure, doing your best to muffle your noises.
Seven had buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning softly with each movement. Fuck, he could get used to this. Taking you apart every night. His own personal heaven, watching you unravel. He felt greedy.
You clamp your hand over your mouth, only half stifling the sound that escapes you as electricity washes over your body and the coil finally snaps, your fingers digging into the fabric of his tux. He follows quickly after you, his thrusts becoming even sloppier than his kisses, his teeth pressing into your shoulder.
Seven leans his forehead against yours, the two of you panting, chests heaving.
“I suppose we should get back…” he murmurs and the disappointment drips from his words. Going back to the party is the last thing he wants to do. Quite frankly he wants to spend the rest of the night kissing you breathless.
“Or…. We could go back to my hotel……..” You offer, your eyes sparkling with a similar thought.
me when I got this message earlier: hmm, not, "Men! we're such simple creatures!" but "men are such simple creatures" without including himself? interesting... nonbinary Seven perhaps??
me a few minutes ago: manhater Zen AND more implications of Seven NOT being a man?? oh nonbinary/genderqueer Seven is MY Reality at least.
⏳Who would have thought 10 years later you’d still be answering emails, dealing with the strangest guests?
But this year the celebration is more special than the others. It’s been 10 years since you joined that shady chatroom and for some reason (maybe fate) were appointed as the organizer of the RFA Party. You never left, and for that you are grateful — you found friends and people who support you. You found love.
⏳After Party: A Mystic Messenger 10th Anniversary Zine is a project made by friends to celebrate a game that captured our hearts 10 years ago. As we navigated through heartbreaks and chatrooms at 3:00 am, we got to know each member and realized that we were in for a long ride.
That ride hasn’t stopped for many of us.
💕Who are we?
Just a bunch of fangirls, some who have been on this train ever since the game started and some that have hopped on through the years. We have been working on our pieces for a bit now and getting ready to share with the MysMe fans!
💕What’s the format of the zine?
It will be a digital downloadable file 🙂
💕What’s the price of the zine?
Completely free for all the MCs to enjoy.
💕When will the zine be available?
We're aiming to release sometime in September!
Come celebrate with us!!
Please be on the lookout for previews from our amazing contributors and follow us to be the first one to grab the zine once it’s available.
